Author's greetings, and sincere apologies: Greetings, one and all. Firstly, I would like to say that I am very sorry for the lack of updates. The last two weeks have been busy beyond all believability… henceforth, I wasn't able to get this done until now.
Secondly, I want to thank you all for reviewing. A review always makes my day! I love to hear from you. Trapped in a Matchbox, thankyou! I love to think that writing can work at emotions like that. anonymous01, thanks for being understanding about the updates :), soaringmonkeymuffins, great name, and no – this is not going to be a Carter/Abby story (I refuse to use words such as 'carby' or 'luby') and I'm sorry if anyone was expecting it to be that way… I am writing with what the episodes are giving me. That means that at the moment, Carter is interested in Wendall, and in the not too distant future Abby will be hooking up with Jake. Lady Piper1, I'm glad you thought the flashbacks felt real.

An Extra: If anyone can tell me where I plucked the title for this chapter from, I will be amazed… and congratulate your taste in music.

Author's Disclaimer: I most definitely do not own ER. I'm only borrowing it for awhile. But by George, it's fun to play around with…

Chapter 5 – Lost in a Lost World

Abby had no idea how long she sat there for.

With Susan's arm fitted snugly around her shoulders, Susan's hand giving her left shoulder a gentle massage every now and then, as if to remind her she was still there – and still not alone – and Susan's calm, composed silence never breaking whenever Abby felt one of those spasms of hot shivering course through her body… she lost all track of time. It could have been ten minutes, ten hours, even ten years… and it wouldn't have mattered. There didn't seem to be any notion of time in this bizarre new world, where she was the patient and Susan the Doctor… where she was dependant upon another. It was a strange, surreal feeling, being dependant on another person, when you had grown up used to playing the dependable part. She was used to responsibility, used to having to be the reliable one. She was used to being the one who was just there for everybody else. Perhaps that was why she'd been a good nurse? Perhaps that was why she'd wanted to be a good Doctor?

Or perhaps that was why she felt as though she was standing ten metres away from her own body, peering down on a forlorn, dishevelled doctor with thin, slouched shoulders, blonde highlights and smudged eyeliner who was in Dark Hour – who had done what she had promised herself she would never do: she had fallen into that big, black pool of emotion. She'd let go of the tree branch… she'd gotten on the rollercoaster. Something was different, though. Something kept bringing her back to herself, just when she thought she'd never find her own body again. It was that arm around her shoulders. It was her link with the world outside.Without meaning to, Abby suddenly shivered again. Warm spasms of some unearthly feeling sped through her muscles, travelling down her spine and right through to the tips of her fingers. Coupled with the pain that was already there, it came borderline to being unbearable – Abby suddenly craved a few aspirin. She could have sworn she had a temperature. Of course, part of her only expected it – the human body wasn't made for such stamina when it came to breathing life into another person's lungs. As a result, her own body was impossibly drained. Just the same, harbouring some vague, cynical hope that her body would obey her, Abby willed the pain to go away. She was tired, and her arms were just plain killing her. It made sense. If her mind wouldn't obey her, how could she expect her body to?

Occasionally, a few silent tears would seep form the corner of her eyes and run down the edge of her face, making little clear trails across her temples and onto Susan's lab coat. She couldn't tell where they came from… wether it was because her arms hurt, or because her body just needed some sort of physical outlet, but she didn't try to stop them. She thought a few times about how Susan's coat would look after this night was through. It would probably have to go out for dry cleaning, knowing all the mess she'd made about crying on it. Abby wondered wether or not she could afford to pay Susan's bill for her. She hadn't finished her shift… would she still get paid? She thought a few times about how she would have to get herself a new coat, a nice clean one with the words 'A. Lockhart, M.D.' stitched neatly in blue across the breast. She thought about it, wondering if they'd give her a second one after what she'd done to the last one. She even thought a few times about where her old one might have ended up. Tossed to the ground in some unknown Chicago side street? Left to rot in a garbage can in who knows where? Abby even imagined herself holding a memorial service for the poor, bloodied coat. R.I.P, lab coat – you served me well. Despite herself, she could have chuckled… but for the most part, Abby just let her mind meander freely across time and space, across glimpses and fractions of old memories and across things that had never bothered her until now.

Abby wondered how her mother was. She wondered how Eric was doing, wether or not Maggie was getting a taste of her own medicine, so to speak… it had been too long since she'd got in touch with either of them. She shouldn't have left it alone for so long. What if she… hadn't been around tomorrow to call? What if she'd never seen her crazy, mixed up family again? Would they want to know what had happened to her? Her mind quickly ruled the possibility of telling them… she couldn't let them know. She couldn't let them know about anything. Abby suddenly had a frightening image in her mind, of her mother speed-demoning it down to Chicago to hold her baby's hand… She couldn't handle that, not now, perhaps not ever. Besides – Eric needed her far more. Maybe one day, she'd tell them. Maybe. But first, she had to figure things out for herself.

The gurney suddenly squeaked slightly, and Abby jumped as her train of thought was abruptly derailed. Right now, every little noise seemed to get to her, and she couldn't explain why.

Suddenly, Susan took a deep breath beside her.

Oh no. Please, no.

"Abby, I'm going to have to call the police, you know."

Abby suddenly lifted her head away from Susan's shoulder, swiftly ending the entire moment. For some reason, the fact that the police would be involved had never entered her mind. Not when she was lying on the seat of that car, waiting for whatever end was to come… not when she was reliving the entire event in her mind, not even when she'd first seen Susan in the ambulance bay. She'd never thought about it.

The blood in her veins suddenly sped about ten times faster than it should have, and the odd, unearthly feeling in her stomach returned… like she was going to boil. Like she was a kettle over the flames, about to explode. There was no way she could talk to the police. There was no way. For one thing, she didn't want the others to know. She didn't want to come to work, and to have them all stare at her like she was a patient brought in for domestic abuse… hell, she wasn't some new showcase! She wasn't going to be stared at like a freak show. She didn't want them to stare at her and know. She didn't want any of their well meant advances, well wishes or the unbearable compassion in their eyes… she didn't want anyone to feel sorry for her.

For another thing, she'd promised. She'd given her word. Who knew? Perhaps they could come back. Perhaps they could find her. Perhaps Little C could make good on that promise of his. Maybe he would come back and blow her head off.

Abby swallowed and pressed a hand to her neck. Her body was threatening to hurl once more.

"No, Susan… I – I can't."

There was no way. No way in the world. You see? Irrational Abby surfaced, like some sadistic force lying dangerously inside her. I told you. I told you, but you didn't listen. Why did you tell her? She doesn't understand. How could she possibly understand? Now she's going to make you spill your guts to a bunch of cops. What happened to objective over subjective? No one understands you… no one. You're alone. You'll always be alone. That's the way you are. Always.

"I'm sorry, Abby," Susan went on, sighing and running a tired hand through her hair, "I don't want to do it as much as you do, but…"

Sure you do, rational Abby sassed smoothly. Thankfully, she managed to bite her tongue before anything remotely similar escaped her lips.

"Susan, I can't." Abby's cracked voice spoke again, as she stared unblinkingly into the darkness. The darkness was good. It was constant. Dark was always dark. And no one could see you.

"I'm sorry, Abby." Susan replied quietly, evenly. "I don't want to call, but you know I have to. What happened tonight was against the law… you know it, Abby."

Abby inhaled a deep breath. She did know it. It was just that evil, paranoiac part of her mind that tried to trick her into thinking that Susan was out to get her… Were she a Doctor and Susan a patient, she knew she would have done exactly the same thing. She knew Susan was honest, and she knew Susan would never use excuses at time like this. Susan was a Doctor, and a damn good one, too. If only she wasn't.

We're all hypocrites…

"I know." Abby breathed in a throaty whisper, leaning forward and gripping the edge of the gurney tightly with cold fingers. "I know, I just… not tonight. Please… I can't – not tonight."

She could hear Susan sigh. She's right, she's right, she'd right… logical Abby tried to tell her, still fighting a losing battle desperately. Abby clenched her teeth and gripped the edge of the gurney tighter, till her knuckles were white.

"Heeey…" Susan's tone suddenly changed as she murmured, giving Abby's arm a little nudge. "You're going to turn your Bp into a basketball score, and a bad one too, if you don't loosen up a little. Relax… okay? Let me take it."

"No, no…" Abby grumbled flatly, but they both knew there was little or no real resistance in her voice. She was just a tired, cranky, little kid… and she began to relax a little as Susan wandered across to the bench. Both her mind, and her body. Bp was something she knew about. She could handle that. She took them everyday. She was also glad that some things went without saying. This was Susan's way of telling her 'You know I think you're wrong, but we'll play it your way for awhile, ok?'. At least, that was what Abby's mind supplied. That was what Abby hoped.

The lamplight suddenly flickered a few times before blinking brightly on, and Susan was sitting beside her again, a blood pressure cuff in her hands.

"Ok, give me your arm."

"No…" Abby mumbled, resisting only slightly when Susan reached in and grabbed it anyway. Her muscles were too tired to defy, so in a matter of moments Abby sat motionless with the rubber cuff around her upper arm, slowly squeezing her. She was used to the sensation. In med school, they'd tested each other's Bp's over and over again, learning all the nitty gritty bits about how it worked and why it worked and all that jazz… the fact that she could never seem to get over was that a rubber cuff was cutting off the flow in one of your arteries. Weird.

Slowly, the cuff began to deflate, and Abby strained her eyes to see the reading. It was hard, in the darkness. Susan had to swivel them both around and face Abby's arm towards the glow of the lamplight… but eventually, she ripped the velcro away with a piercing tear that made Abby wince, announcing, "Perhaps a little higher than normal. Not too bad, but be careful, Abby, ok?"

"Ok." Abby mumbled wearily, rubbing her upper arm. Her blood was flowing again. Just like that, with a rip of the velcro… weird. When you thought about it, it was overwhelming, the amount of power you had when you were a Doctor. Power over life and death.

Was it any different to holding a gun?

"Abby?" Susan began, as she dropped the cuff to one side and turned to watch her friend with concern.

"Yeah?" Abby cleared her throat, shifting her position slightly.

"I know it wasn't easy for you to tell me what you did."

Yeah, no bull, quipped Abby's mind. On the outside, her head nodded once politely.

"And I want you to know… I'm gonna be here, ok? If you need to talk, if you need to cry, If you need to scream…" Susan laughed a little, drawing the smallest of smiles from Abby.

"…but seriously, though. When you need someone…" Susan smiled, letting actions speak for themselves and pointing a nicely manicured finger at herself.

Abby nodded quietly, grasping the depth of the offer that Susan's words hadn't said. She knew what Susan was offering – she knew that Susan was taking a perilous step in offering herself as an emotional punching bag. It was a brave thing to do, considering Abby's past.

Logical Abby applauded. Even Irrational Abby was being slowly won over… hey, maybe she understands more than we give her credit for. Maybe she doesn't even need to understand. Maybe that's the secret… she just stays there. Maybe you're not so alone after all.

"But there're one more thing."

Hold it, hold it. No more, please… no more.

"What?"

"Do you need me to tell anyone else? It might be easier that way."

To her credit, Abby thought before answering. Perhaps it was best that way. She didn't want to have to tell anyone herself… she couldn't handle that. She just couldn't. Perhaps it was best that everyone else knew. Best for them to avoid the same danger. Better the Devil you know, than the Devil you don't?

Then again, it was so easy for her to sit here in the darkness, while Susan went about everything for her. She didn't deserve a friend like Susan. She didn't deserve anyone that was so unselfish… how was it that the best people always got stuck with such train wrecks? It wasn't right.

"Ok."

There was more that Abby wanted to say. There was so much more she wanted to fit into that one 'Ok', more than she thought she could ever put into words. She wanted to blurt out to Susan about how good a friend she was… about how she didn't have to do all the things she'd done. She wanted to burst out loud with how much Susan really meant to her at a time like this, she wanted to thank her for taking her Bp, for being so kind, for knowing exactly what to do during Dark Hour… she wanted to tell her about the guilt she felt over being a crappy friend in return, about how she'd somehow pay the dry cleaning bill, about just how afraid she really, truly was… There was so much more she wanted to say.

But for now, a simple 'ok' would suffice.

"Ok." Susan replied with a friendly smile.

---

"I still say she was attacked. You just never know who's waiting on the streets. I mean… don't you think a Doctor should have, like, certain rights?"

"Rights? I don't recall such a word in existence." Susan Lewis quipped offhandedly as she brushed past the admit desk, with a quick upward glance at the board. It was a special talent of hers… the ability to regenerate a cynical comeback after having entered a conversation midway, without even looking up. Her mother had called it a tribulation… Susan preferred to think of it as a talent.

"I mean, for a safer workplace," Morris replied as he took a large mouthful of donut. He was sitting on top of the admit desk, trying desperately to balance a coffee cup, two charts, and a rather large, be-sprinkled donut. It wasn't working. The coffee kept rising dangerously close to the cheap, paper rim whenever he moved his arm in the slightest, he was getting donut icing all over his fingers and there was already a very suspicious, brown mark smudged across the name of 'Miss Stella Crotchet'.

Sam glanced up from her computer monitor, cocked a wary eyebrow, and mustered one of her most withering looks: the kind she kept for people whom she was meant to respect, but just couldn't find a reason as to why. Or the kind she kept especially for Morris. Either way, it was about the same.

"Huh. Try being a Nurse for a day. You'll never complain about rights again."

Morris took a sip of his coffee, moaning an "Oh, crap!" as a spattering of brown liquid landed on his shirt collar. He resolved to placing his coffee cup down on top of the computer monitor, and rubbing furiously at the brown stain with a napkin.

"I dunno," he went on between furious dabbing, "But how come Abby walks off a shift at night, stays away for, I dunno, a few hours and then comes back looking like…" he paused and leaned in to make sure that Susan wasn't within hearing distance, "A patient?"

Sam scowled and thrust the coffee cup back into his hands.

"I don't know, but it's none of our business."

"Actually, It sort of is. I have an announcement for you all, so to speak," A voice suddenly cut in at Sam's elbow, turning out to belong to a tired looking Susan Lewis. Morris jumped, sprouted a 'geez', and stopped dabbing at his shirt collar. Doctor Lewis always managed to catch him off guard. Darn.

"You talked to Abby?" Sam craned her neck around and frowned.

Morris, having settled upon leaving the charts beside him, the coffee on top of those, and the donut in his free hand, and fixated his gaze upon Susan.

"Yeah," Susan replied flatly, placing a hand on her hip. "Hey, Sam? Do you think you could find Carter and Neela? I think Carter's in the hallway… Tell them to come straight here. We'll get this over and done with while there's a lull."

" 'K". Sam flashed a quick smile, before scooting off. Morris frowned as he spotted an ugly coffee wring encircling the details of a suture, and seized the opportunity to return his coffee cup to the top of the monitor.

"Don't even think about it, Morris!" Sam's voice suddenly barked from somewhere across the floor.

"Crap…" Morris blurted, sitting his half-eaten donut over a napkin on his lap, and retrieving his coffee from the top of the computer screen. "I swear," he mumbled, "All women have eyes in the back of their head."

Susan chuckled. It was perhaps the first time she'd laughed in a couple of hours, and it felt nice, if weird. If Morris wasn't good for much else, at least he could provide some unwitting laughs.

"It happens." She smiled, before turning around to view the state of the chart rack. Well, she thought, could be worse.

Morris took a bite from his chocolate donut. Something suddenly took a hold of him… wether it was the desire to act like an impish child simply out of spite, or to test wether his statement was true, he quietly went to push the computer mouse aside and set his coffee down on the mouse mat.

"Don't even think about it, Morris," Susan intoned dryly without even turning around.

"Crap," Morris grumbled, retrieving his coffee cup with a scowl.

After all that, it was cold.

"Damn paper coffee cups," he griped to himself. "Couldn't hold heat in a nuclear explosion."

---

"Neela?"

"What?" Neela flitted her gaze guiltily from the papers she'd been studying to see the pretty, blonde Sam standing eye level and searching her face. Neela hadn't meant to appear guilty. Her face, especially her eyes, was often the thing that betrayed her. Patients could see it, other Doctors could see it, and she could see if she looked in the mirror. If some people wore their fear on their sleeves, she wore hers in her features.

She didn't mean to look guilty, but she felt guilty. She felt like she should be clapped in irons and carted downtown for violating the terms of friendship: friends were always there for one another. No matter rain, hail or shine, friends were always there. And she was here. Not there, but here. Here, being just outside the elevator doors, with lab results in her hands. Here, as opposed to there. She wasn't there in exam two. She wasn't there for Abby. Worst of all, she was giving herself excuses as to why she wasn't there. Bumping into Doctor Carter had been bad enough, but now her mind was telling her just how important lab results were. Her mind said that work came first. What an awful phrase, she thought with a silent moan.

"Hello, Neela? You there?" A few dainty fingers waved in front of Neela's eyes, in the effort to bring her down to reality. Neela shook her head and hastily snapped to attention. Was she there? No, she wasn't.

"Uh, no, I'm not. Sorry."

"Hey, it happens." Sam proffered a warm smile, visibly straining her eyes to catch a glimpse of the papers in Neela's hands as she went on. "Listen, Susan wants us all at admit, pronto."

"Oh, is that so?"

Sam nodded, as Neela wordlessly handed her the lab results and the pair turned around to make their way through the hallway.

"Any clues as to what this might be?" Neela continued cautiously, biting nervously at a cuticle. It was a bad habit. She knew she had to stop some day.

"Abby."

One word was all it took. Perhaps Neela had known the answer before Sam had given it. Whatever, she'd asked anyway. She felt stupid. And she hated it.

"Oh, right."

"You been to see her at all?"

Neela felt a warm blush rising to her cheeks.

"No, I – not yet."

I plead guilty…she said silently to herself, as charged.

"Labs back on Aster James so soon?" Sam remarked, slightly astounded as her eyes scanned the information. "Wow, they must really be getting efficient up there."

"Either that, or it was a really simple test. Look-" Neela removed her cuticle from the clutches of her teeth and pointed, "Positive. First time."

"Man, that's gotta be tough. She's what, how old?"

"Seventeen."

Sam tucked a blonde curl safely behind her ear and quickly handed the labs back to Neela.

"That's hard."

"My thoughts exactly…" Neela mumbled, nail returning to her teeth. Hard for Aster, hard for her. The world was hard, hard, hard – and getting harder.

They were approaching the admit desk fast and already a crowd was gathered, with Susan just visible amongst them, waiting silently in front of the board. So Susan was duty-bound to tell them something. Neela was suddenly stuck with the realisation that this was it – This was where they all found out what had happened. This was where they all learned the reason why Doctor Abby Lockhart was in exam two, at this very moment. And if Susan was obligated to tell the staff, then it must have been something dangerous.

This was where Neela would be told that which she had failed to find out for herself.

Suddenly, she felt like she'd just walked into County General for the first time, asking to see a Doctor because Med Students were supposed to start their rounds today.

---

"Now, some of you may have already heard that Abby was brought into tonight, as a patient."

"Some? That would have to be the understatement of the year," Ray murmured through his teeth, receiving the 'witheringest' of looks from Sam. Now that, he would have called the most withering look of the year. He raised his eyebrows, shooting back an innocent glance that said 'What? Don't look at me, I didn't do nothin'! and leaned heavily against the admit desk. Sam couldn't decide wether he was hiding his apprehension with feigned 'coolness', or wether he just had no clue whatsoever. It was the kinder part of her heart that decided upon the former.

Susan either didn't notice or pretended not to, and folded her arms as she continued speaking. Over and over in her head the Susan Lewis voice of reassurance, or her conscience – she couldn't decide which – kept reminding herself: This is a co-worker you're talking about. No feelings whatsoever will get in the way of this. You are announcing the misfortunes of a co-worker to… a bunch of other co-workers. Co-workers who just happen to be friends… some of them. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that you cool it, Susan Lewis. You are the Chief of Emergency Medicine. If you don't tell them, then they'll find out when they least expect it care of some by product of a rumour, and that would be bad. Very bad. So cool it. You can do this.

"Well, as Chief of Staff, and as a co-worker to both Abby and yourselves, I am obligated to tell you to be on your guard." Susan paused. That sounded like a load of bull to her ears. She may as well have been some stuffy judge in a high court who could barely see the little people over the podium. They didn't even sound like words she'd ever used before. She wondering if she could go on. She'd delivered the hook and the bait, now she actually had to reel in the entire fish – and she wasn't sure if she was sturdy enough to hold it steady.

Susan glanced across at her attendings… Luka, standing with his arm protectively around Sam's small frame, as if afraid that whatever had happened to Abby might happen to Sam if he ever let her go. Maybe it could… if one Doctor had been forcibly taken from a Chicago ambulance bay, why couldn't a Nurse? Susan's gaze flitted across to Carter, standing silently by himself. Here was a man who had loved both women, for a time. Susan had once told him he was hopeless. Well, it had been true… he was. But she'd also said he'd eventually figure things out… and he had. Now it was his turn to tell her. It was his turn to be the adult. When she looked a little closer, she noticed his eyes said what his silence didn't… they told her to go on. Tell it like it is, he said without moving his lips. So Susan swallowed, dipped her head a little and lowered her voice ever so slightly… and continued. No euphemisms this time, no stuffy words. She had to tell it like it was.

"Tonight, Abby was taken at gunpoint from our ambulance bay." There, she'd said it. Susan could hear the intakes of breath, and could feel the air thicken. It was as if she'd just set off a canister of tear gas… only she couldn't hear anybody cry. She didn't dare think about the waver in her voice, though, or dare look at another person. She couldn't stand to. She knew what their eyes would say without them having to speak any words. Something akin to 'Oh my God', or any other string of profanities… mostly, she knew they'd all be distressed, and she'd already dealt with one distressed person that night. One was enough. She knew they'd be distressed, because she was too. It was one of the most heart rending, disturbing things in the world to visualize pretty, volatile, sarcastic, physically and emotionally fragile Abby trapped in the backseat of a car with the cold barrel of a gun resting against her head. It was something you saw in movies, not in real life. It was something that happened to people across the other side of the world, not to people you knew. It was something Susan wouldn't have wished upon her worst enemy, let alone one of her best friends.

"She was abducted for a time, forced to treat a gunshot victim, and then returned to the ER. Physically, unharmed. Emotionally… time will tell."

Susan never would have believed that a place could be so quiet as to be able to hear a pin drop. A lot of those old sayings she didn't hold with much legitimacy, until they actually happened – then she often came to think that perhaps those old wives knew what they were talking about. Susan could have sworn that if someone had dropped a pin just then, she would have heard it, loud and clear. Even Ray and Morris were deathly silent.

"The reasons I've had to say this are as follows. Firstly, it's best that you all understand the situation now, as opposed to discovering it in your own time. I'd rather have you know than try any snooping. Secondly, I want you all to remember that no one is safe. From now on, no one, I repeat, no one, is to wait on the Paramedics in an empty ambulance bay."

"No one?" Pratt suddenly questioned seriously from somewhere near the chart rack. This time, Susan looked straight at him.

"No one. Not even you." Pratt nodded in compliance. Susan was very aware of the oddness of the situation… this was the first all shift she'd seen of Pratt being calm and compliant. Even he was affected.

"Now I have to ask you all," Susan continued, her voice perhaps taking on a teacher's tone, "not to go and see her. If you have to go into exam two, please keep it strictly business. We'll be keeping her till morning for observations, and I have to ask you all to respect my order. You can go back to your patients, now."

Nobody moved, and Susan hesitated. She'd told it like it was. That was that. Still, no one moved. It suddenly struck Susan that she'd finished on a rather harsh note. So, as a quick afterthought, she offered, "Thankyou all for coming. I'm sorry I didn't have better news."

It wasn't much, but it was true, and it was all she had to offer right now. She honestly was sorry she didn't have better news for them. She was sorry for Abby, and for all the things she'd seen in one night. She was even feeling sorry for herself, sorry for the fact that she'd had to speak out. Sorry for the fact that she wasn't even a hundred percent sure she was handling this right.

Luka reluctantly released Sam from his protective grip, but not before applying a quick kiss to her blonde curls. Carter rubbed the back of his neck, and slowly swung around to leave. Ray tried to appear cool and calm, but accidentally collided with the edge of the admit desk as he disappeared. Oooh, that's gotta hurt, Susan winced as she watched Ray curse silently and rub his bruised hip. Soon Pratt was nowhere to be found, and even Morris threw his coffee in the trash with a distasteful expression and snuck away with the remaining half of his donut. Eventually, there was only Neela, her dark eyes flitting nervously about and the cuticle of her index finger suffering an untimely death between her teeth.

"Neela?" Susan began, moving in on the nervous Intern.

"Do you need me to stick around an extra hour or so after my shift?" Neela suddenly blurted out. "I finish at five, but if you want me to stay, I can take Abby home."

The next thing Susan did, she didn't even think about. Perhaps it was maternal instinct, or perhaps it was just Susan instinct. She didn't even know Neela very well, apart from a few exchanges in the lounge or a few words of instruction during a trauma. And after the way she'd let her have it earlier on… well, what could she do? Her patient satisfaction scores had sucked. For some reason, though, when she looked down she didn't see a brainiac British Doctor with sucky patient satisfaction scores and a penchant for chewing her nails… she saw a frightened kid, who was doing the only thing she could manage right now to care for a friend. So, without thinking, Susan smiled and placed a hand on Neela's upper arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"That would be great."

"Ok. Thanks." Neela smiled timidly, shaking a few black curls away from her face.

Susan smiled and turned to head for the lounge. Reality was slowly leaking back in, and she knew it. She must have spent about an hour in that room with Abby, but she'd lost track of time. It had bordered on the unbearable, listening to her relive everything. Abby may not have known, but for that one, critical hour, exam two had held no dry eyes – none.

Susan groaned, leaning an arm against the door to the lounge and pushing with all her body weight. It was absolutely unbelievable, that after all this, she still had paperwork to finish. The world waited for no one.

Still, at least she wasn't hiding out anymore. Or being a crab. That was a good thing. Perhaps there was one friend that she would definitely keep.