It's early January when they first hear rumors of a viral outbreak of a new disease overseas. Max doesn't think it's anything to worry about just yet. Maybe it's optimism, maybe it's denial. Then the first few cases are discovered in Washington, USA. It starts sweeping across the nation, and panic starts to set in at New Amsterdam Medical Center. There is still so much unknown about how the virus works. By late February, the first cases of COVID-19 reach New York City, and soon, New Amsterdam is overfilled, understaffed, and underprotected.

There's not much they can do for the patients who come in with the virus except isolate and hope that they won't need to intubate. They quickly realize that once someone is placed on a ventilator, they rarely get well enough to come off.

Death after death, the staff video-call the patients' loved ones for a last goodbye.

It is brutal, but might not have hit so close to home if Vijay hadn't gotten sick too. Worry starts to eat away at the staff, concern for their friend overwhelming as he is put on one of the few ventilators.

After a while, there is so much death, it almost starts to feel normal. Helen can feel herself slipping away, desensitizing herself to the pain. She goes up to the roof most nights to look at the sky and breathe in the cold air, hoping to feel something again.

One night, Helen hears the door to the roof open and then click shut. She doesn't have to look, but she knows it's him. She can feel him walking toward her, but he stops when he's 6 feet away. Damn social distancing.

"Getting away from it all, huh?" Max asks, slightly muffled through the mask. He's not quite sure what to say. The pandemic hit them hard. Words can't be enough. "I wanted to check in on you. See how you're holding up."

Helen is silent, unable to get a grip on how exactly she's feeling. Max can sense that, and starts walking a little bit closer. Helen puts on her mask. The last thing she wants to do is put him at risk.

"I know it's been... a lot, but I just wanted to make sure that you know, it's okay to feel sad, angry, hopeless… all of it. You're entitled to feel it all."

Helen realizes he's looking out for her, knowing that the last time she was surrounded by an enormous amount of death, she had numbed herself to it.

He's probably 3 feet from her at this point. "Helen, just so you know, I'm always here if you need me."

Suddenly, she turns toward him, brings him in for a hug, burying her face in his chest, and starts sobbing. He cradles her head, and gently rocks her while whispering something soothing she can't make out. After a minute or two, she releases her death grip from around his waist, and straightens up enough to look at his face.

"I'm sorry, I know you have Luna to worry about," she blubbers.

"Hey, don't worry about it," he consoles, gazing into her eyes. "She's with her grandparents, remember. And if I get it at all, it'll be from the patients, not from you."

Helen's breath is still hitched as she tries to control her sobs. "Thank you... for checking in on me. Making sure I'm still feeling. It's been really hard, but just having you here helps. I can't do this without you."

He smiles through his mask, remembering the time he had said those very words to her.

"You know I can't either." There is a pregnant pause, both knowing how significant they are to each other. "You know what, screw social distancing between you and me. Neither of us have anyone else right now. You can be in my pod."

Helen's eyes are glistening with tears, reflecting the city lights. "Thank you," she whispers. "You know, you may think I saved you," she begins.

"Well, you did. I owe you my life," Max interjects

"But you saved me too, from a life of cold and numbness. We saved each other."

Helen has already as good as confessed her feelings to Max. If only he could let go of his guilt, allow himself to move on from Georgia, maybe they could feel everything together.