Happy New Year! Sorry it's taken me a while to upload, but I've drafted three more chapters, let me know what you think!
Stella, meanwhile, headed to the relative quiet of the locker rooms, walking with her head bent low to hide the tear that ran down her left cheek. Pity was an emotion that Stella Bonasera had never been able to deal with, or accept, when directed at her, and worry and concern fell into the same category. Stella was proud of her strength and knew that others valued her strength of mind, if not always her stubbornness. She was the first to admit that the determination with which she clung on to these traits was childish, but it wasn't about to change.
From the tender age of 8, when her best friend at St. Basils was ripped away from her by well-meaning foster parents, who turned their back on the small, skinny Italian-Greek girl, Stella knew that she wasn't going to fare well in the adult world if she burst in to tears at every available opportunity. Twenty, thirty years later she was not about to relinquish this grip on her emotions and give in to the barrage of upset threatening to spill with every pitying glance thrown in her direction. Settling herself against her locker for a second, she steadied herself, and took two deep breaths. She reached around in to her locker for an aspirin, and then a second, which she swallowed dry.
"Shouldn't do that on an empty stomach, you of all people should know that, Stel." Sheldon smiled sheepishly at her from the bathroom doorway, and her immediate anger at being patronized went out of the window as she met his eye, and met kindness rather than disappointment.
"If you'd had the week I've had, Hawkes, you'd be restraining yourself from swallowing the whole packet!" Stella smiled manfully back, but the smile failed to reach her eyes. "And how do you know I haven't eaten yet?" She challenged him, almost playfully.
"I am a doctor, Miss Bonasera, and it's my guess that you haven't eaten properly for a good three weeks. But, you know best, I'm just a lowly ME…" His words rang true, but his eyes twinkled and he grinned at her, praying only that she would smile back.
He needn't have worried. She beamed at him, elated that someone, anyone, was treating her like Stella, and not like someone with a problem. The moment was tarnished by Stella's need to yawn, which was accompanied by an embarrassing belly rumble.
"Therein lies your answer," He continued to tease. "Breakfast? My treat." He asked, but he knew the answer before she had even opened her mouth.
"I can't, Sheldon," Her eyes apologised for her silently. "Mac needs these done by eleven, which gives me," here she glanced down at the delicate silver watch on her right wrist, "approximately forty-eight minutes to finish them. Next time." She moved to leave, but Hawkes beat her to the door, and opened it for her.
"I might just take you up on that offer, Stella. You can't blame a guy for trying!" He tried to remain light-hearted – lord knows he'd made more progress than anyone else – but he sounded deflated, and she felt awful.
Arming herself with a smile, she clacked back down the halls on her favourite heels, leaving the younger ME staring at her retreating figure.