Chapter Two : Careless

I let out a long breath. According to my watch, I've been chaining back to back surgeries for more than 24 hours. I had done worse before, of course, but recently, sleep seems to be avoiding me, or I've been avoiding it. I don't know if I have slept more than four hours straight since I've been here. On top of that, I've also lost most of my hunger, which means I've barely been eating, so I definitely can't say I'm on top of my game. I could feel a huge headache coming and I was feeling weak, but I'll keep going anyway. All I need is to be back in the OR, and I know all of it will go away like magic. Surgery has this effect on me – on most surgeons, to be true.

I should head for the dining tent to grab something to eat, but I really don't want to eat. I've lost interest in many things since Allison died, and food was one of them. Plus, sitting alone with my thoughts is something I'd rather avoid. So, instead of doing what I should, I headed for the ICU to check on the patients I operated on earlier. I was flipping through the chart of my most recent patient, that I finished operating on only eight hours ago, when I heard a voice behind me.

"- You're up already, Altman?"

I knew who it was even without looking, because only one person could call out to me like that, and also because we operated together on this patient, so his presence here made sense. I didn't even bother to look up from the chart and nodded. He didn't need to know that, instead of going to sleep like any normal person would do, I squeezed in two more surgeries – the first one was rather short because the patient died halfway through, but the second took more time.

"- Have you eaten breakfast yet? If you haven't eaten yet, maybe we could grab something together?" he asked me, and this time I looked up from the chart. My gaze met his, and I was once more taken aback by the color of his eyes – a pure, deep blue, like a rushing river. Those eyes never failed to show his emotions, which I found surprisingly charming – and I hated myself for it.

If I learned anything about him during the time we worked together, it's that he was a hopeless optimist. Always hoping for a good outcome, and smiling even when it wasn't. I've avoided his attempts to befriend more than once, and yet he still keeps trying. Either way he didn't know how to read the room, or – and that's what I think, because he's definitely not stupid – he didn't care and wanted to be my friend anyway, which was really kind, but it seriously irritated me.

Fortunately, one of our co-workers, whose name I can't remember, saved me from answering by asking if we're free for surgery. I instantly tossed aside the chart and nodded, Hunt on my heels.

We broke into the ER tent, following my co-worker. He motioned me towards a patient, and I took a sharp breath before stepping forward. I assessed the injuries quickly and grabbed a ten-blade, and the second I'm cutting through the flesh, the rest of the world disappears. No more hunger, tiredness, headache or whatever, just me, my patient, and the surgery. Hunt follows me, and I'm glad because no matter how much I complain about him as a person, I can only admit that his surgical skills are flawless. When we're operating, we understand each other, we anticipate the other's every move, in one word, we just fit, and that's a feeling I love. We barely exchanged words during the surgery, because they weren't needed, we just knew what to do, and barely four hours later, we were done without any complications.

I made my way through the tent to reach the scrub room – which is more like a scrub corner in the OR tent, and all the things I pushed aside came back at me like a train. I vaguely heard Hunt congratulating me for my work, but his voice was distorted, twisted, and I could see black spots in my field of view. I try to hang on the sink, but I miss it, and it's when I fell face-first on the ground that I realize I might have pushed a little too far.

I blink several times, trying to focus my vision, and it comes back slowly. Once my vision clear, I tried to recognize where I am – quite easy, a bed in the ICU. I straightened up, looking around, and I met a pair of piercing blue eyes.

"- Theodora Grace Altman," he said slowly, holding something that I assume is my chart, a teasing smile floating to his lips, like he just earned a precious piece of information.

I didn't answer and just stared at my watch. I've been out for a little over seven hours, which means it should be safe for me to try to stand up, so I started by sitting on the edge of the bed.

"- Careful," he told me, his smile disappearing for a more serious expression, and I rolled my eyes.

"-I'm fine," I answered him.

"- Really? Because I've been asking at the dining tent, and they haven't seen you eating a full meal in a while. Just small things and takeout. I've also been checking your surgery records, and they're telling me that you've barely been sleeping either."

He stopped, looking at me, expecting an answer, but I just fixed my gaze on the ground between my feet, because I had nothing to say. It's the truth, I can't deny it, but I didn't want to give him an explanation for my behavior. He waits a little longer before speaking again.

"- You're acting really carelessly with your life, do you know that?" he asked me, his eyes sharp. I look up again and my gaze crosses his, his eyes looking like a weapon tearing through my eyes to reach my soul. "If you keep going like that, at some point, you're going to die."

"- Well, what if that was the whole point?" I answered, almost yelling that single sentence.

The second those words crossed my lips, I regretted saying it. I couldn't believe I had just said something so personal to someone else, someone I barely knew. Somehow, saying those words was so empowering, because it was a truth I never even admitted to myself.

The sentence expressing my most intimate truth seems to linger in the following silence. He doesn't know what to answer, and I don't know what he could answer. His eyes, which widened in surprise when I talked, are now softer, almost kind. The silence lasts a few more seconds before he breaks it.

"- You should talk to someone. I'd say a shrink would be best of all, but even if it isn't a shrink, you should at least talk to someone. It looks like you're holding so much pain… so much pain I think it's gonna destroy you if you don't do anything."

"- So what, you're expecting a long and painful confession?" I snap at him, finally breaking our long, too long eye contact. I'm sure I didn't hold eye contact that long with someone for at least the last month, and it's kind of nerve-wracking. All of this, though – this sharp answer, this brutal escape – was only a way to defend myself, because I know he's right. It's just above my strengths right now. The memories are still too recent, too painful to share them with anyone, not that I had everyone I'm close to enough to talk with. Letting someone else get close to me at the moment is not something I'm ready to do, because I couldn't bear the possibility of losing someone else. So it's a dead end, and I'm stuck alone with my feelings.

The only answer I got from him was a sour grin before he left the room, and I felt a guiltiness make its way into my heart. The only thing he wanted was to be nice, and I just blew him off. I feel sorry about that, but I had to do it, for my own sake. So I just lay back on the bed and wait for the guilt to wash off, because I know eventually it will, and at this moment, I'll be able to get up and get through another day.

Hey! I'm sorry this took so long to finish… I struggled a lot while writing this chapter, but I've finally been able to produce something I don't completely hate. I promise I'll have the third chapter out faster. Anyway, thank you for reading it, and I hope you enjoyed it!