I hadn't been this excited about a shopping trip in a long time. I had gotten some new work out clothes, true, but that wasn't what I was excited about. I ran my hands down the black slimming dress. I hadn't worn a dress in who knows how long. The fabric even made it look like I had soft curves instead of pure muscle. The neckline swooped wide across my shoulders, but still fed to the long sleeves. I looked like a pretty classy lady. Now, all I had to do was wait to ask Mattie out to dinner.

We had been on several coffee dates now. It was only an amount of time before he could find an evening that he was free. As much as I loved coffee with him, something more interesting was bound to happen.

I could see myself smile in the mirror when my cell phone rang. Caller ID said it was Mattie. He was probably just calling to remind me about our date tomorrow.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Hey, uh, Jules." His voice sounded... off.

"What's going on? Are you feeling okay?" I asked suspiciously.

"I'm not feeling so hot." He threw in a cough for good measure. "I'm going to have to cancel y-our date tomorrow." I could hear him shushing someone in the background.

The longer he talked the easier to put two and two together. "Dr. Jones, would you put Mattie on the phone?"

"Shit," he said under his breath. "I can't do that, Jules."

"What did you do?" I asked in irritation. I didn't like my plans being cancelled. Especially by someone else.

"Look, Matt's kind of had a rough day. I thought I'd take him to a bar, and now he's really drunk. I didn't know he had a date until a moment ago, but it's pretty apparent he's going to be very hungover tomorrow morning."

I couldn't believe this. "What happened? Let me talk to him."

"Alfie, is that her? Is she coming over?" A familiar voice said in the background on Alfred's side of the line.

"He's asking for me," I said.

Oh, God damn it," Alfred said.

"What is it now?" I asked, yet somehow dreaded the answer.

"I'm on call tonight. The hospital just ordered me in. Shit..."

"Are you going to get in trouble?" I asked.

"Trust me. I'm not the one that's been drinking, but someone needs to take care of him. Can you take him home?"

"Excuse me?" I laughed. "I don't exactly know where..."

"Look, the bar is on Maple street and 3rd. I've really got to go. There's an emergency. Just get here quick before Matt embarrasses himself even more."

He hung up. What was I supposed to do? I mean, it was Mattie. I had to help him.

"Where are you going?" my gaurd dog of a brother asked me. I was nearly to the door.

"I've got to go out for a bit. Little errand to run," I said.

I knew what my brother was thinking. This was a very important time. The championship was coming up. He had me on diets and supplements and sleep schedules and training schedules. He was even more of a micromanager than usual.

"Don't stay out too late," he warned.

Once I was out of there, I was running. Westley would be proud. God damn it.

It didn't take as long as I thought to get down to Maple street. Lucky for me, the first bar I found was the right one. He was there at the bar. Between two women. They were probably swarming around him because he still had his scrubs on and the alure of a single doctor was irresistible. If my blood wasn't racing from running, it sure was now. But who was I to be scared away be a little competition.

"Matthew!" I said loudly to get his attention.

His face lit up when he saw me. Very slowly. His brother was right. This man was drunk.

"Jules!" he happily slurred. "You're here! I'm so glad!"

I wormed my way over to him. This was a whole different style of fighting. This was unfortunately done by tender touches rather than a good punch to both of their faces.

"Are you feeling okay?" I asked gently, running my hand over Mattie's shoulder. "I heard you asking for me."

He placed his hand over mine. I took the opportunity to give him a territorial kiss. He was sloppy and smelled like booze, but it was enough to drive those girls away with a scoff and a "whatever."

"Alfie said he called you to reschedule our date. I didn't know he meant right now..." He leaned closer. "I'm not exactly ready. I'm a teensy bit drunk."

"That's okay," I reassured him. "I'm just here to take you home."

He started giggling. "Your place or mine?"

I blushed for both of us. "Mattie, we aren't exactly..."

"What do you want to drink?" Mattie practically shouted. "Me and the bartender are friends."

"I really don't want anything. I really think we should just leave," I insisted. Damn, how many drinks had he had? Why did Alfred let it go this far?

"I don't want to go home yet," he said sadly. " Can't I just stay here? With you?"

I felt bad for him. Alfred said he had a bad day. And I really did want to be there for him. I did want our relationship to develop beyond superficial cups of coffee. I sat on the barstool next to him. "Can we just both have some water?" I asked the bartender

Mattie didn't say anything for a while. He didn't even touch his water. Just how bad was his day?

"Mattie, you should drink something," I said with concern. "Flush out your system."

"Have you ever accidentally killed someone in the ring?" he asked out of the blue.

I was shocked by his dark implications. Mattie didn't usually talk like this. "No," I said carefully. "The matches have rules to prevent accidents like that. We wear padding and gloves. Certain fighting moves are even banned to keep a fight from getting lethal, though accidents do sometimes happen."

He was quiet for a moment. "I've killed lots of people."

My heart stopped. "I'm sure that's not true."

He nodded. "It is. I killed two people today."

"Mattie, I'm sure you didn't kill them..." I said calmly, getting over the initial shock. He was a doctor. Death was bound to happen in a hospital.

"They were under my care, and they died. It's the same thing," he insisted loudly.

"Shh, shh." I placed my hand on his shoulder again. "It's not the same thing. I'm sure you did all you could."

"One was eighty-one." He nodded. "Died in her sleep. Her heart failed. The other one..." His voice caught in his throat. "The other one was seven. Little boy with cancer. He was in so much pain..."

My heart broke for his. He started to cry. "I hate clinical work! I hate it! You spend so much time with a patient and then they're just gone. Gone forever. Alfred's so much better at it than me."

He swirled around the water in his glass. "That's part of the reason I like working in an ambulance so much. You see patients for a couple of minutes, than you push them off to someone else."

I felt helpless. I had no idea how I was supposed to relate. "Mattie, you...have so much love in your heart." He looked desperately at me. "You really care for people. I could tell. When I woke up and you were there in that ambulance, I never felt more cared for in my life. Your patients know that, too. They're so lucky to have you looking after them."

I stood up. "It's hard. I understand. It's hard. To try your at something only to feel like you're not good. But you're not alone. I want to be part of this. Your good days and bad days. I want to hurt when you hurt and celebrate when you celebrate. I want to be there to remind you that you are so much more than the bad things in life. You are loved regardless."

I held his head close to my chest. His arms eventually circled around my waist as he cried. I smoothed my hand over his wavy hair.

"Are you doing okay?" I asked once he had calmed down a bit more.

"I don't feel very good..." he slurred.

"Alright. Let's get you home." I adjusted my grip on him to carry his weight better.

"Need help getting him out?" the bartender offered. He sounded grateful to finally get him out of the establishment.

"Thanks, but I've got this. I can carry him back if I need to," I said.

Through a bit of rough communication, I finally managed to get Mattie to his apartment. He was heavy and lethargic. He only threw up once on the way there into a trash barrel. He could walk somewhat, but he was far to clumsy to make it back all the way on his own. I reached my hand into his pocket and found his keys.

"It's the silver one," he breath, his exhale hot and heavy with alcohol. "In the middle."

I opened the door. I didn't have time to sightsee. I looked around only a moment to figure out where the bedroom was. I got him on his bed and took a minute to breathe. I went back to the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and filled it up with water. I took just a sip and brought it back for Mattie.

"Here. Drink this," I ordered.

He drank this time. Chugged really. "This is really weak," he commented with a disgusted face.

"I brought a trash can over. Try your best to aim for that if you're gonna throw up and sleep on your side..." I instructed. I had had a few too many hangovers back in my day.

"Come closer," he whispered wiggling his fingers toward me.

I obliged by sitting on the side. He reached for my face.

"You look so beautiful," he said reverently. "And muscley."

"Thank you," I said. I pulled the glasses from his face and placed them on his nightstand. "You should try that line again when you aren't so drunk."

"I want to see more..." he mumbled.

"Wha-"

He sat up enough to start kissing my neck. He used one hand to move up my thigh and the other one to start pulling down the neckline of my dress.

"Mattie..." I breathed.

That seemed to only encourage him. He pressed harder into my thigh, bunching up the fabric. His lips inched towards my breast.

My head was starting to fog up. I felt warm. It was like he was passing his drunkeness to me. "Mattie, you need to stop. You're drunk..."

"But you feel so good," he whined. His hand shot up under my skirt. The shock sprang me into action.

"Mattie!" I shouted. I pushed the sleeves on one of my arms back up and slapped him hard across his face. He flopped back onto the bed.

I frantically pulled at the edges of my dress. "I asked you to stop." My voice was shaky. I hit him. God, I didn't mean to hurt him. It was instinctual.

He didn't respond at first. I thought maybe I had knocked him out.

"Ow," he eventually groaned into his pillow. "Sorry."

I sighed. He was drunk. He probably wasn't going to remember any of this. I turned away.

"Please don't leave me, Jules," he muttered pathetically.

"Do you want to sleep in your scrubs?" I asked him as I worked on taking off his shoes.

"No," he said as he shook his head.

I unclipped his name badge from his chest and put it next to his glasses. I pulled the top layer off from his chest, leaving him in his undershirt. "Want me to do your pants, too?"

He nodded at that. I carefully untied the drawstring and pantsed him, throwing his scrubs on the floor. He laid on top of his covers nearly naked.

I went into his bathroom to refill his water and grabbed a bottle of painkillers. He was going to have a nasty headache in the morning.

"Jules," he exhaled when I came back.

I set the water and medicine on his nightstand, which was becoming rather full. "Yeah," I answered.

"Thank you, and I'm sorry," he said groggily.

I cracked a smile. "It's okay. You weren't thinking straight. I'm sorry for slapping you."

"Stay with me until I fall asleep?" he asked.

"Mattie, it's late..." I tried to protest, but apparently he only needed me to stay for two more seconds. He was zonked out before I even finished my sentence.

I tried to come back home quietly, but it was all in vain. Westley was waiting up for me.

"It's late," he scolded. "Where were you?"

"Eh, I was..." I tried to think of a good explanation.

"What happened to you? Did you go out drinking?" Apparently my disheveled look was for some cause of alarm.

"Look, my friend was really drunk, and I needed to help them home. It took longer than I thought," I told the truth.

"Do you know how worried I was? You could have gotten in an accident," he continued to berate.

"West, calm down. I'm an adult. You're my manager, not my babysitter. So what if I went out?"

"You do realize the championship tournament is two weeks away. You have a good chance of winning, but you're not focussed..."

"Are you kidding me?" I shouted. "Do you know how many years I've worked for this? I'm the one fighting out there. I'm the one taking all the punches. You can just sit there and criticize me all you like, but I'm doing my damn best. I deserve one night, just one night of you not breathing down my neck."

He didn't say anything. He cleared his throat. "That's true. You're the one that's fighting, not me. I would if I could. You know that. If I seem overbearing, it's because I'm really proud of you, sis. I really want you to win..."

My heart sank. "West, shit, I didn't mean it like that."

"No, it's fine," he said gruffly. "I'll leave you alone. I wanted to start you on the boot camp tomorrow, but we can do something else. I'll let you have a break instead. That could be good for you, too." He got up from the couch and hobbled over to his room. His knee must be hurting again.

"West, wait." I stopped him. "I'm proud, too. Everyone knows that you're the best manager out there. Hell, I wouldn't have gotten anywhere without you. I don't need a break. It's just late. I'm tired. Tomorrow, I want to start boot camp. I want you to train me. My date got cancelled, so I'm all yours."

He frowned. "That's too bad. You know I keep your phone during boot camp. Won't you want to tell your boyfriend?"

I sighed. "He wouldn't remember even if I told him. I'll send him a text, and that's going to have to do it."

I walked over to my brother and mussed up his hair. "I appreciate you waiting up for me."

"Go to bed," he ordered, a little embarassed. "You can sleep in. I'm going to make you work hard these next two weeks."

I gave him a smile. "I expect nothing less."

I won't be able to talk to you for a while. I hope you understand. I need to work out and really know who I'm up against. That means whatever we have is going to have to be on hold. Sorry. I'd like to see you, but I can't for a while. I hope you feel better.