At the crack of dawn, Sam found herself dragging to catch a pace up to the other nurses after she'd been jammed the moment she'd gotten there. She had been dumped with loads of work, finding her own nursing ability level elevated. She couldn't see why every time the nursing staff found its stress levels on the high she felt the full effect of it.
It was her job, and the only difference of it was the knowledge that someone else's life depended upon her abilities. Her lifestyle from day to day depended upon it, and that's why her best kept secret was getting ready to flee into the open. It wasn't just about her, but it was about Alex, too.
She pushed the meds quickly into the patient, her own stress finding its release as she pulled the syringe away from the finally still body quickly on its way to surgery. That had been their quickest run of the night, time totaling to 11:14. She found herself just centimeters away from her Croatian lover, both of them watching the body being rushed away by Dr. Dubanko and his team for surgery preparations, and the sound of the syringe dropping to the floor seemed to ring out throughout the room.
She had to remind herself to keep it together, for the first time they'd found themselves alone together in a room since they'd arrived at the hospital. She glanced at him, turning on her heel to start clearing the room as though she had nothing better to do. She was torn, feeling overly imperfect for loving someone she knew she couldn't.
"We worked well together," his voice treaded along the line of nervousness and gloating. She knew why he sounded nervous; the double meaning of his statement could be taken wrong by anybody, but her. "I mean, that was quick. Eleven minutes and fourteen seconds."
"Yeah, that was quick," she agreed like it was an afterthought, like he was an afterthought. She continued restocking the cabinets and the shelves, putting clean utensils out. She ignored him to her greatest ability, her heart weighing heavy at her secrets that she hadn't quite shared with him. Of all people that should be told, it was him; he was the one that loved her. "We always work well in a trauma."
"We work well in other places too, you know," his voice was hardly suggestive as he stepped towards her, her back facing him while she was leaning against the counter composedly. He sighed in a desperate attempt to collect himself, his hot breath awkwardly hovering across her skin. "What was that to you?"
"Luka," her tone was that warning tone again, but it contained a hint of desperation and pleading as well. Beginning to feel the warmth of his body against her, she was slightly surprised by his bravery and sharply took in a deep breath. "It was never just sex for me, if that's what you think."
"Then why?" His voice was near a whisper as he gently grabbed her elbow, silently asking her to turn and look at him. He soon dropped her elbow, leaving behind all hope, and shoved both of his hands in his pockets.
"Because, Luka," she closed her eyes, turning around and facing him. Opening her eyes, she found herself looking at him just centimeters apart. If she closed her eyes, she could still see his face. "I just wanted to be close to you. I wanted to remember what it would be like to be with you one last time."
He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, stepping closer to her until he could almost feel her bones against his.
"What is, uh," his voice trailed off momentarily as he looked down at his shoes. He resisted the temptation to pull his hands from his pockets and force her eyes onto his; even more, he resisted the temptation to pull his hands form his pockets and reach out to touch her. Once again, the next move was hers. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Luka," she sighed deep in the back of her throat, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She hoped to block the pain from hitting her hard in the chest, because she knew that the blow would knock the wind out of her. She was stalling. She didn't want to tell him, especially at work where she'd see the pain that she'd caused him. "Don't do this. Not here."
"I don't see why, Sam. I don't see why we can't just start over, or even slow down," he shook his head, recoiling when she formed the wall of arms between them. He cringed as he seemed to feel himself slipping away from all hope he'd had. He reached out and pressed his palm against the counter behind her, making the moment a bit more awkward.
"Because it doesn't work like that. It can't work like that," she bit her bottom lip, uncrossing her arms and smoothing her hands down his sides. She had the worst timing, letting him in just weeks before she'd no longer… "As much as I wish it did, it doesn't."
"You keep saying that, but I don't understand how it doesn't," he shook his head, his body shivering under her fingertips pressing into his skin. He'd waited for her move, and now he was so totally helpless with her. "If it's about Alex, he and I are friends again. He knows how I feel about you."
"It isn't just about Alex, Luka," she struggled to keep her voice calm and collected, from letting it all go. She seemed to do it to keep herself from letting him go. She was certain about something though, after all of the trouble that they'd put each other through it was no wonder that they weren't together. "It's more complicated."
His eyes traveled with her as she stepped away from him, taking her hands with her, and he was left feeling alone like he'd never been with her before. He looked at her like she was a stranger in the night, and he let her pas by without another word. He was once standing so near that he could hear, feel, her slightest breath, but now he could hardly recognize her.
If she said it was more complicated, he had to trust her when she said so.
"I get it."
"No, I don't think that you do," she turned away from him as her body was surrounded by the boring black and white checkers painted on the floor tiling.
"It's complicated why we can't be together," he shrugged nonchalantly, as though it was no big deal and didn't phase him a bit, but his tall frame was slouching with guilt and deception. He thought that he was fooling everyone to say that he didn't, nor hadn't, cared for her all along but he was the only one being fooled. "It was fun, but that's all it could be. We had fun."
His nonchalant words hit her hard in her chest and nearly knocked her off of her feet, the guilt of telling him what she'd needed to tell him all along being overridden by pain. She herself had been deceived by none the wiser than doctor Luka Kovac, and she felt a fool to see that. She was hurt that his total person had changed towards her within seconds.
She suddenly realized that it was easier for him to act like they'd never existed as one being than for him to be told that it was too complicated to actually be that being.
"Luka…"
"No," his firm voice interrupted her, a wave of his hand cutting her off. He forced a smile as he shoved his other hand in his pocket and he let a slightly tearful gaze stare into her eyes. "Hey, I understand…Completely."
He turned on his heel and made a move towards the double doors out of the trauma room, his palm flat outward to press against the door. He didn't hesitate in his step, his smile didn't falter as though it was clearly painted on, and his tears didn't rise or fall from his vision. He was still in body and in spirit. He'd isolated himself within seconds to convey his truth.
"Luka," her voice made him halt in his step just as his hand came intact with the door, pushing it open for all to see in the small gap, "we're moving to Miami."
His smile slowly dropped from his face. His partly cloudy vision with a slight chance of rain escalated into one hundred percent chances as a tear slid down his cheek. His hand dropped from the path of the swinging door until it came back towards him and downright hit him square in the nose.
He half stepped backward, his hand flying up to his nose. He almost found himself on the floor with the hesitation, but instead the cold feeling of blood dripping over the tops of his fingers forced him to draw his hand away.
The door continued to swing; quick, and then slow, and then slower, and then slower, until it stopped. The passing faces falling nearly agape at the sight of the damaged doctor. Just how damaged had he become?
He turned towards her on his heel, tiny droplets of blood splattering down his nose from his forehead as a tiny creek of blood flowed from his nostril. His eyes looked dark, or scorned. He locked his vision on her, almost all feelings fleeing completely from his body while he stuttered for words to come out.
Finally spitting it out, his voice was hoarse as though paved by a gravel rock road.
"What's in Miami?"