Mark's new landlord talked him into buying a car – a 'good deal' just for his new tenant. And all of Mark's stuff fit in the car. At least – everything he had with him. His furniture was still a couple of days away but Susan donated the mattress off her sofa bed and a few things for the kitchen.

"I'll get them back to you as soon as my stuff arrives." He took the box she offered and put it on the floor below the passenger seat.

"No hurry."

"Thanks." He shut the passenger side door. He didn't know quite what to say next.

Chloe came out of Susan's building, James in her arms and little Suzie walking at her side.

"There's my boy." Mark stepped around Susan and took James from Chloe, lifting him high. James giggled right on cue and Susan was smiling again. She'd convinced herself that asking him to stay wasn't an option. He clearly didn't want to but if she made it clear she wanted him to stay he probably would. If she could redo the past eighteen months or two years she was sure neither of them would be going anywhere without the other right now. Oh, what she would do to have that chance. But now she could only accept the consequences of her own stupidity, her fear and independence that now only looked like arrogance.

Mark put James in her arms and kissed her on the cheek – lingering just long enough to through her off, once again.

"I'll see you tomorrow." He crossed to the driver's side of the car and waved to James. With a simple smile, and only a fleeting tinge of regret which Susan assumed she'd imagined, he got into the car and drove away.

Christmas decorations were up way too early. As usual. But it seemed earlier this year – as it did every year. Susan spotted Mark and James going into the staff lounge on her way to her last patient. They had alternate shifts most of the time, and they swapped James from the doctor starting to the doctor finishing every twelve hours or so. The routine wasn't difficult to keep up with. The sleep patterns on the other hand took a while to get used to but they managed most of the time. Until a week before Christmas when Mark got the kind of head cold that makes you want to curl up and die in a warm, dark room with a cold compress on your eyes.

Susan took the week off, despite the boss's many complaints, to look after James and with the intention of helping Mark to soup and blankets and cold compresses and vicoden... But he insisted she keep James away from his contagious sniffle.

It was Thursday before Chloe offered to take James.

Susan let herself in the back door, calling out a hello so she wouldn't scare him. He didn't reply and she found him sitting on the floor in the kitchen, leaning against the cupboards, looking like death on legs.

"Oh, man." She knelt down and helped him up and back to bed.

"I was just going to get some ice but I got dizzy." He lay back and let her pull the covers up.

"I'll get it." She took off to the kitchen and returned to find him asleep. The glass of ice she deposited by his bed and found a thermometer.

He groaned and rolled away when she tried to put it in his ear.

She laughed softly and sat down on the side of his bed that he'd just vacated. With one hand on his warm neck she held the thermometer in place, "It'll only be a second."

102. No wonder he felt awful. "When did you last take vicoden?"

"I dunno." He mumbled and rolled onto his back, forcing his eyes open.

She found the packet and a half empty glass of water amongst the clutter by his bed.

"I'm fine. You shouldn't be here. If you get this then who's going to look after James?" he took the pills.

"I have a strong immune system and by the looks of it, enough white blood cells for the both of us." She took the glass and put it back beside his bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Fantastic." He let his eyes shut as his head fell back onto the pillow.

She watched him, wanting to touch him but holding back... for a moment or two. A warm damp flannel sat on the pillow beside her so she picked it up and wrapped some ice in it then dabbed it softly on his forehead.

"Thank you." He whispered.

She held it in one place and stroked the side of his face with her other hand, not even thinking about what she was doing.

He almost opened his eyes but he wanted to enjoy her touch while it lasted. He was so hooked on her. The minuscule contact when transferring James from one pair of arms to the other wasn't nearly enough. For once, in the stupor of exhaustion and a dead weighted head, he let himself get lost in that touch.

In a moment he turned his head and kissed her hand.

Susan stopped in her tracks.

Mark pretended he was asleep.

She slowly got up. Her first instinct was to run away but actually leaving was more than she could summon. So she tidied up, putting the numerous glasses and mugs in the sink and filling a clean one with iced water. She cleared up the empty medication boxes and dirty tissues (including an empty box). She found a clean flannel and exchanged it for the stale one on his forehead.

While she worked Mark stopped pretending to sleep and actually slept. Better than he had all week only because he wasn't alone and of all the people that could occupy his tiny apartment she was top of the list, filling the void better than she knew.

Dishes clean and ice trays full she returned to his room and sat at his bedside again, unable to resist though she knew such familiarity couldn't be wise.

He opened his eyes with a sleepy smile.

"Hey." She whispered in the dim light of a bedside lamp. "Would you like something to eat?"

"You don't have to..." he started.

She smiled, "And you want to get up and get it yourself?"

"Not particularly."

She took the flannel from his head. "Soup and toast? There's a couple of tins in your cupboard."

"That'd be amazing." He lifted himself up to a sitting position.

"Okay." She smiled and left again.

She moved the TV into his room and sat beside him like they'd done so many times on her sofa bed. He'd woken up when the vicoden kicked in and the soup was finished. But now they were both getting sleepy. Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan were chasing each other around New York in the umpteenth repeat of Sleepless in Seattle.

"I don't get it." Mark turned to Susan.

"What?"

"I mean, they don't even know each other and yet they think they're supposed to be together."

"It's just a movie." Susan grinned, turning to him as another ad break came on. "But I'm guessing you don't believe in 'meant to be' then."

He shrugged, "I don't know. I guess not. I thought Jen and I were 'meant to be' and I wrong – ten years later. I mean how are you supposed to know? And who decides? I think maybe it's just a cop out – people can't take responsibility for the fact that they screwed something up so they say it just wasn't meant to be."

"Yeah, I guess." She knew enough about men to know that he wasn't implying anything. But if he had been he probably would have been right.

"What do you reckon?" he took his glass from his bedside and took several gulps.

She watched him, glad he seemed to be feeling better, and glad that maybe that was partly her doing. "I don't know. I've certainly never been really convinced that something's destiny. But that doesn't mean it's not possible."

"If everything that happens is 'meant to be' then that just doesn't account for so many things. Like... well, for example, if someone had told me I'd be here two years ago I would have called a psych consult. But would I take it back? No – of course not. And does that mean all this was 'meant to be'?" he shrugged. "Maybe it was meant to be different and we just missed the boat."

She met his eyes, a little afraid of what she'd find.

"Yeah. It could be very different."

He nodded.

"I mean, if I'd never left Chicago..."

He smiled – knowing full well he probably would have proposed marriage by now if he'd been given the chance.

"Very different." She left all she thought unsaid.

"But there's no way we can ever know which road is better cause we only get to travel one road."

She nodded, "very deep." She smiled, breaking the tension as the ad break ended.