"Detective Halstead," Willa greeted and handed the chart of the patient she had just discharged to Maggie. "Your stitches aren't ready to come out yet."
He held up the file in his hand. "Here on official business," he explained. "Our stabbing victim wants to press charges."
She nodded, remembering the patient that came in with an ambulance a few hours earlier. "He's in surgery right now, but you're welcome to wait though I'm sure things are busy at the District."
"Are you trying to get rid of me, Dr. Atticus?"
Willa tried and failed to keep her face neutral. "No," she said. The silence that followed was interrupted by the loud blaring of Willa's phone making her jump a little. She fished it out of her pocket, and the number on the screen made her stomach drop. "Excuse me. I have to take this." She turned around, walking to the doctor's lounge in long strides to get some privacy.
"Mark, what's going on?"
"Willa, hi, we have a situation." She listened to the administrator explain the situation - what her father had done, that they'd been forced to sedate him, and that Nurse Brenda was shaken by the incident but not seriously injured. She had only been scraped by the makeshift blade, and one of the other nurses had cleaned the wound and put a bandage on it.
"Okay," she sighed. "I'll let you know if and when I can come out. Thanks for calling me."
"No worries, Dr. Atticus. Speak soon." Once they'd hung up, Willa threw her phone on the table with more force than intended just as Jay walked in. She didn't acknowledge his presence, just ran her hands over her face and tried to keep the tears from falling. She was unsuccessful.
She knew he saw them. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," she lied, drawing in a deep breath. "You'll have to excuse me; I have to talk to Goodwin. Good luck with your case." She brushed past him and left the lounge without looking back. The part of her that had been happy to see Jay had evaporated; it was overshadowed by that phone call from Mark Collins. She tried to compose herself in the elevator on her way up to Goodwin's office but doubted she looked any better than when she stepped onto it. Once at Goodwin's door, she knocked and waited for the go-ahead.
Goodwin stood when Willa came in. "Dr. Atticus, are you alright?"
Willa shook her head. "My father attacked a nurse at his care facility," she explained, feeling the tears welling back up. "I'd like the weekend off if possible so I can go see him."
Sharon nodded. "Of course," she agreed without a moment's hesitation. "I'll move some things around and make it work."
"Thank you." She knew Sharon heard the strain in her voice, and at this very moment, she didn't have it in her to try and pretend it wasn't there.
Sharon gestured to one of the sofas in her office, and Willa had half a mind to sit down. Violence wasn't generally a part of her father's illness, and though she knew it was a possibility, she'd hoped it would never actually happen.
Sharon sat next to her. "Is the nurse okay?"
"Yes," Willa assured her. "It's only a shallow flesh wound, thankfully."
There was a knock on the door, and Dr. Charles entered. "Dr. Atticus." Her eyes jerked to him, and she knew from the look on his face that Sharon had paged him while she wasn't paying attention. Part of her was happy he was there, someone who had been a calming and compassionate presence in the month since she moved her. He understood her situation and had helped her find a therapist after the move. At the same time, she was not in the mood to be psychoanalyzed right now.
Willa blinked the tears away and stood. "I have to get back to the ED."
Both Goodwin and Dr. Charles' brows drew together, and a look was obviously shared between them.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"I'm fine, Dr. Charles," she insisted and made her way to the door. "Thank you for giving me those days off; I'll let you know the details when I do." She left, closing the door behind her, nearly knocking Connor over in her hurry to get out of there.
He stopped. "Whoa, Willa, are you okay?" She gave him the short version in an effort not to burst into tears yet again and was moderately successful in her attempt. Connor gave her a hug, allowing herself to be entirely surrounded by him, and she gladly returned it before they walked to the elevator to go back to the ED. Any hurry he had been in seemed to have taken a backseat.
"Detective Halstead is here to speak to your stabbing victim," she informed him as they stepped off the elevator. Just as she expected, Jay was still hanging around, although it made sense since he was waiting for news on the victim, so he knew when he'd be able to speak to him. Their eyes met, but Willa quickly averted her gaze.
He approached. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she answered, keeping her voice even. "I have patients to see. Good luck with your case."
"You already said that."
"Well, I meant it," she retorted. She took her stethoscope from the pocket of her lab coat and slipped it around her neck, then went to the nurse's station to grab a chart. Maggie gave a brief description of what the patient was here for.
Jay was still with her, his eyes slightly narrowed. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes, dammit, just leave me alone," she snapped and walked away to greet the patient. Jay turned around to face Dr. Rhodes, who was updating a chart, with a stumped look in his eyes.
"What?"
Connor clicked 'save changes' on the chart and looked up. "I think she's been asked that question about a dozen times in the past twenty minutes," he explained. "I'm sure she appreciates your concern."
Jay frowned. "Do you know what's going on?"
With his hands in the pockets of his scrubs, Connor sighed. "I do," he answered. "But it's not my place to say, so if Willa wants you to know, give her time to tell you herself."
Jay nodded. With a pat on the detective's shoulder, Connor made his way to treatment three, where Willa was examining a patient. He leaned against the door frame, observing her as she did her job.
"Okay," she said. "Looks like a bad round of pneumonia, but I'd like to run a few tests just to make sure. I'll be back to check on you in a little while. Excuse me." She slipped off her gloves and threw them in the waste bin. She made eye contact with Connor as she left the room. "Don't," she warned and went to a computer to order the tests. She kept her eyes trained on the screen and off the area where Jay stood talking to his brother.
"He cares about you," Connor noted matter-of-factly.
Her head jerked up. "He met me two days ago."
"I think you'd be surprised," he argued. "I cared about you when we met."
Willa raised an eyebrow. "Because I was crying, and you needed someone to save."
He nudged her shoulder. "Worked, didn't it?"
She snorted. "You got lucky."
Willa picked up her phone. "Hello?"
"Have you eaten?"
She furrowed her brows. "Of course, I ate."
"Willa?" Connor said knowingly.
"I ate!"
Her front door swung open, and Connor entered with a large pizza box and keys in one hand and his phone pressed to his ear in the other. "So, you're telling me that I'm not going to find moldy pizza in your fridge?"
Willa lowered her phone and ended the call as Connor kicked the door closed behind him. "What are you doing here?"
He walked into her apartment like he had so many times before and placed the pizza box on her kitchen counter before moving to the fridge, where he found something moldy though not pizza.
He held up the Tupperware container. "What's this then?"
Willa set her laptop down on the coffee table and rose from the couch to grab the tub out of his hands. "Lasagna," she informed him. "And it's not moldy."
"When did you make it?"
Her ears grew red. "Four days ago," she mumbled, placing the container back in the fridge.
"So, it's moldy."
"It's not," she argued. "What are you doing here, anyway?" He grabbed a wine glass from the cupboard above her sink and poured a glass for himself from the open bottle of red wine on her kitchen counter. Connor was a man of refined tastes, and he didn't always appreciate her choice of cheap wines. After one too many complaints, she'd told him to get lost if he was so dissatisfied with it. Now, he drank it without objections.
"I know you," he said, taking a long sip of the wine. "You don't eat when you're stressed, and this situation with your dad is stressful."
Willa grabbed two plates from a cupboard, handed one to Connor, and placed a slice of pizza on it. "He's been talking about it for months," she began, walking back to her couch. "But his paranoia's been a lot worse since I moved away and don't see him every week."
Connor joined her on the sofa. "And now someone's hurt."
Willa took a bite of the pizza. "Yeah," she agreed. "And it's impossible to get a flight to New York on such short notice."
Connor turned up the volume on the TV she had running in the background and changed the channel to the one that showed Willa's favorite reality TV Show, Married at First Sight. She secretly suspected that she'd gotten Connor hooked on the show after forcing him to watch on more than one occasion. It was the kind of show she watched to unwind after a long day of treating patients, mainly because it didn't require a whole lot of brainpower. They sat in companionable silence, eating their food, drinking their wine, and watching the absolute chaos that was on the TV.
"You know," Connor said as he got up to get them a second slice of pizza during a commercial break. "I can make some calls and see if I can't get you on a flight to New York."
"I can't ask you to do that," she said. "I'll just look at trains or bus tickets."
Connor snorted, handing her the plate with a fresh slice on it. "Absolutely not. Who would I be if I didn't use my name and influence for something insidious like getting my friend on a plane to see her dad?"
Willa groaned. "Fine," she agreed. "I appreciate it."
Later, when Willa walked him to the door as he was about to leave, he paused and looked at her with a knowing look that she wasn't sure she liked. "You should talk to Jay."
It took everything in her to not close the door in his face, but instead, she let out a heavy sigh. "I know," she said, letting the defeat hang in the air. "I will make sure to when I see him again."
"He's just worried about you, and I have it on good authority that he's a good man."
"Even if you hate his brother?"
Connor frowned. "I don't hate Will," he argued. "We just don't see eye-to-eye on everything."
"Sure," she said, smirking. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Author's Note: Once again dedicated to my beloved friend, Jess! This has all the Connor Rhodes content she's been hoping for, so I hope she likes it. I'd love to hear your thoughts, so be sure to leave a review and let me know what you think. Follow me on tumblr at itscapokaybye.
