A second chapter..? wha..? Enjoy!

10 Months Later

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Nanao patiently listened to the nurse on the other end of the line recount a situation that was much too minor to call the on-call surgeon over. Name, her.

She should be used to such things, really, because even on a rare day off Nanao seemed tied up with work. Either research at home for a patient or phone calls from the hospital kept her busy.

So as she stood at the stove waiting for the hot water to boil, she finished up her phone conversation with the hospital and laid the phone close by, knowing it would be a matter of time before it rang again.

Eyes on her kettle, she mused how awkward she felt in her own house. The simple task of making tea felt odd after such a long stretch of days spent at work. Handling cookware instead of scalpels, running the sweeper instead of a bypass machine. Folding her laundry instead of covering a patient with blankets. Little things like that struck her as bizarre.

Things that others probably thought nothing of.

She almost felt like a normal woman at the moment. Just by making tea the good way, with a stove and kettle. Not the powdered junk the hospital kept stalked. She wondered if feeling pride in herself for doing something useful in the kitchen was a sign of how lame she was becoming outside of work hours.

She rubbed at the tense muscles of her neck absently, wondering why everything had changed so much. It seems that lately, she had immersed herself fully into her job. Leaving the rest of the world somewhere far behind. She had always spent long days at the hospital, but this past year was nothing more than a blur. She had thrown herself into it, not giving herself room for anything else. Like her strange thoughts.

Or a decent cup of real tea, for that matter.

Nanao decided at that moment that she should take up a domestic hobby. She really was losing touch with the real world. Maybe it would help ground her? Although any kitchen-related activity beyond basic was foreign to her, she entertained the idea of taking up baking. Or maybe learning to make something interesting, like candies.

Something to make her feel like she could function like any other person, anyways. To keep this place from feeling so oppressive in its silence. Maybe if it smelled of yeast and sugar, it would seem homier.

At the very least, it might help her figure out how to relax.

Nanao let out a sigh and glanced around her kitchen ruefully. Who was she kidding? She would treat cooking like she did everything else: with single minded perfectionist tendencies. It wouldn't be fun once she set her personal stakes so high. It would be a competition, then. With herself, sure, but still a competition.

No, cooking wouldn't never suit her. At the end of the day, it was just better to focus her efforts elsewhere. She was a doctor, and little else, sadly. Who was she trying to kid?

She ran an absent hand over the countertop, wondering why she bothered keeping this place, anyhow. It was pretty, sure. Big, spacious, and close to the hospital. It was spotless and organized, just like she liked. Her furniture was all contemporary, and so rarely used it all still looked brand new. It was always strange to her when she was here, because it didn't feel like hers, not really. It felt like a hotel half the time. A place to do laundry and sleep. There was very little personal touches to the place. She didn't really need all this. It was just her, after all.

When the doorbell rang, Nanao froze. What an unfamiliar sound to hear, she mused as she made her way to the door. She was hardly ever received company. Maybe a mailman or some utility personal.

She tugged on her plain white t-shirt and smoothed her loose hair out. Faded blue jeans and bare feet, jeez. She was in comfort clothes, hardly appropriate for guests but it couldn't be helped now with someone waiting.

Swinging the door open, her breath left her fast and hard.

There was a man on her porch. A very large and handsome one. Her own blood roared in her ears as she felt a jolt race through her.

It was Mr. Kyouraku.

Looking like a million bucks, if she were honest. Dressed in expensive, dark clothing, his long hair was tied back, face still unshaven, and a hesitant smile on his generous lips.

Her knees felt weak, suddenly, as she took in the sight of him. Gods above, he looked amazing. His skin was a golden, sun kissed hue now. No hint of the paleness from before. His storm cloud eyes were clear and warm. He had put on weight, at least double what he had used to carry on his once-lean frame. All of it in solid, heavy muscle tone from what she could tell. The signs of a body come back to life, of doing the kind of physical activities he had been unable to do in the past few years.

Nanao took in a shaky breath. He was here, healthy and strong and just smiling down at her, ready for her reaction.

As she stood gaping, he waited patiently for her to come to terms with his presence. Shunsui watched as his little surgeon worked through all the emotions playing across her pretty features. Shock, mostly. But then, to his delight, a pleased look settled over her as she leaned heavily on the doorframe, as if she needed it for balance. She looked him over many times in stunned, but eager, silence.

"Hello again," he offered softly.

It had taken him a while to track her down. He had called her office so much over the course of the past several months that he knew every word of her voicemail by heart, every tilt of her voice over that damned recording. He had never left a message, though. He had always planned to, right up until the little beep sounded, that is. Then he just couldn't seem to find whatever words he needed to say to convince her to call him back. He would simply hang up, and try again another day. It was a ridiculous cycle he had played, each empty message chipping his confidence away a little more.

He had shown up in person at the hospital a few times, too, but she was always in surgery or otherwise busy. He had never had the nerve to request someone to page her, not wanting to interrupt her work.

Months slipped by where he had stopped trying all together, when he had decided he would move on and leave her be. Where he realized he must have developed an obsession somewhere along the way with the woman, and he needed to step back. He told himself she couldn't possibly feel what he had, or she would have made an effort. She would have called if she felt even a tiny spark of how he felt. He warned himself during those stretches that it wasn't healthy, or normal for that matter, to fixate on someone so much.

But like an addict, he had relapsed again and again. He would realize he was thinking of her at the strangest times. He would find himself in a flower shop, wondering if he should send her something. Or come across a book in a store that made him wonder if she would enjoy it.

Then one day, just last week, he had found himself back at the hospital. But again, he was told she was busy, this time in a meeting. Determined for this to be the very last attempt, he was able to wheedle his way into getting information on where she lived. Nurses were so chatty, after all. Especially to charming and witty men. Flattery could get you everywhere in life.

But looking at her now, he found himself at a total loss again. Just like with the voicemails, he had nothing. She was stunning in her plain clothes, glossy black hair framing her face, with those cute glasses on. He wasn't prepared for the sight of her looking so…well, natural. He had grown accustomed to the intimidating image she projected at the hospital, of a doctor in charge of everything she did. But like this?

He was embarrassingly mesmerized by her all over again.

And still, she said nothing. Just stared up at him. He had imagined what she would say many times to him just showing up here. He had imagined her angry and insisting he leave. He had even entertained the idea of her happy to see him. But he was more prepared for her accusing him of being a stalker, because really, he was borderline with this, probably.

He had imagined several scenarios. But he had never imagined her calm silence, this…acceptance she had about her now.

As if she had always been expecting him.

She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose before stepping aside and making a welcome gesture.

His brows rose in surprise, but he didn't hesitate. He stepped inside quickly before she might change her mind. As she closed the door behind him, he took in her simple, Spartan décor and smiled to himself. It was all so neat and orderly, everything matched in neutral tones. Very like her, he figured, to not have any unnecessary frills in her home.

He wondered what she would make of his home, as colorful, and overly cluttered as it was.

"How do you take your tea?" she asked as she stepped around him and made her way back into her kitchen as if nothing were amiss. As if they were old and comfortable friends.

He laughed, a low and unbelieving sound, following after her as if tethered. This was so much easier than he had imagined. This perfect consent of his presence. Perhaps she had missed him as much as he had her.

"Anyway you're serving it is fine by me," he said, entering the kitchen and taking a seat at another gesture from her.

Crossing his arms loosely on the table top, he watched every move she made, content to see her in a domestic capacity. With her back turned to him, he shamelessly raked his gaze down her lithe body, approving of the way her jeans hugged her gentle curves. Those hospital scrubs had hidden a delectable figure.

"So trusting of my judgment, still?" she murmured, bringing his attention back.

"Hm. It hasn't led me astray yet."

Her hands stilled momentarily and her shoulders stiffened just a bit, as if remembering something unpleasant before she shook it off. With practiced ease, she poured him a mug and passed it to him, careful to not let their hands touch. She collected a container of sugar cubes, a small pitcher of cream, and a jar of honey from around the kitchen and placed them within easy reach on the table. All the while avoiding his watchful gaze.

Pouring herself a mug, she leaned back on the counter, unwilling to sit with him just yet. She was feeling too restless for that.

"I should probably ask why you're here," she said, cradling the hot cup to her chest as she finally met his eyes again. There was some unfathomable expression in her gaze, making it impossible for him to even pinpoint her mood right now.

"That would be a wasted question, though," he advised. "You already know why I'm here."

"Perhaps asking how you found my residence, then?"

Her expression never tightened, he noted. She wasn't upset then, just curious. "Chatty nurses."

"Of course," she sniffed. She could just imagine how easily a man like him could get what he wanted from any female. Even her address, apparently.

"I've tried to contact you…" he started, then thought better of it. She had been avoiding him intentionally, after all. He wasn't sure he wanted to know why, not just yet anyways. Right now, he was feeling quite pleased with his situation, and he didn't want to ruin it. He was in her home, in her presence again, and he intended to soak it up. With a wave of his hand, he murmered, "You know what? Never mind."

"You mean the numerous hang ups on my voicemail?" She smirked and took a sip from her mug.

"You know about those, huh?" he winced.

"I do have caller ID. But, you never left a message. Why?"

"I never had the nerve to." He admitted.

Something in her gaze softened at that statement. "You never struck me as the type to worry over calling a girl."

'A girl'? Is that what she thought of his infatuation of her? He almost opened his mouth to correct her error, and potentially make himself look like a lovesick fool, until he comprehended something.

Amusement. In those lovely eyes of hers. She was teasing him, he realized. Frustrating woman. He was an anxious mess, and she was teasing him. Leaning back in his chair, he tried for a nonchalant tone, "Well. Regardless, here we are."

"Yes, indeed," she murmered, shifting her weight on her feet. The first real sign he'd noticed of her own anxiousness.

"I had given up trying a few months back, actually. Decided it was better left alone."

"Oh? That seems to have worked out well for you," she commented, and he saw her lips twitch.

"Yes, clearly," he grinned.

She glanced down into her cup, mulling over this whole position she had found herself in. Gods, was he really here? How did that even happen? It had been such a normal, boring day. But with him in here it felt like a summer morning, hot and new, bright and full of possibility. Sunshine and fresh air filling these walls with his very presence.

"So here you are, to…what, exactly?" she asked, unsure what she even wanted to hear.

There was a hesitant silence after that, and Nanao waited with her eyes averted for him to answer.

"I needed to…ah," he rubbed a hand over his face, searching for words. "I couldn't leave it alone. I don't know why I'm here, exactly. I just knew I needed to come. To see you. Talk with you. It wasn't right leaving things the way they were. Too much was left unsaid."

"It's been almost a year."

"Yes. It has."

"I would think that after so much time, a man would have put it all behind him."

"I tried," he shrugged, giving her a steady look. "And failed. Have you thought of me?"

Still so blunt, she thought. "Some."

"Is that all?"

She wouldn't say that she had locked all of her thoughts of him up tight, sealing them away in a dark and aching corner of her brain. She would never express how when he did cross her mind, she would miss him in a frightening way. In ways she wasn't comfortable with. It undid her, to think of someone she had known so briefly could impact her on so many levels.

She wouldn't tell him that, because by the look he was giving her, she didn't have to. He had already read it in her expression.

"Yes. Just some."

"Hm. Well, that's not very encouraging."

"I imagine not," she smiled a small smile, covering it by taking a sip of her tea. She crossed her ankles, feeling more relaxed. The movement drew his eyes down her body, pausing at certain areas without a hint of discretion.

Nanao blushed. Brazen, unabashed man.

"How have you been?" he asked, meeting her eyes again.

"Fine."

"You really aren't giving me much, are you?"

"I answered your question. I haven't been doing anything exciting since we last saw one another. Just…working," she defended.

And it was the truth. She had submerged herself into work. She hadn't given herself the opportunity to make a bad decision, like calling the number he had left for her so long ago. She kept her days so busy and full, that when he did cross her mind she didn't have time to dwell on it. She had lost herself in her job, and refused to acknowledge the hole left behind. She spent her days in the hospital now, more so than ever before.

"Hm. Well, anything new at work, then?" he asked, and it reminded her of something she had been wondering about.

"Yes, a few things. Turns out Dr. Kurotsuchi's contract wasn't renewed. It's made the work environment very comfortable."

"Oh? And who is that, exactly?" he asked innocently, and she saw it then. His total lack of surprise. She had figured he had a hand in it somehow, but here was the proof.

"No one you want to know."

"I'm sure I'd agree with that," he grinned, realizing he had been caught. "Why would they let him go?"

"The rumor was that some high-profile patient filed a complaint," she said dryly.

"Funny how things turn out so well, hm?"

"Yes, I suppose. So…that's mine. Tell me how you have been?"

He stood, not in the slow, slightly unbalanced way she was used to seeing him rise when he had been in the hospital, but in a fluid movement that spoke of new vitality. Leaving his untouched drink on the table, he came towards her.

Nanao's spine went ramrod straight, her grip clutching her mug as if it were a lifeline. What was he doing?

He stopped in front of her. Much too close, almost touching, as he placed his hands on the counter on either side, caging her in. He smelled amazing. Some light, musky cologne, maybe? Or just a mix of different scents, she wasn't sure.

"I had this beautiful doctor, once," he began, in that low timber that made her skin tingle with awareness. "She told me that I would feel like a new man when she was done with me."

Nanao licked her suddenly dry lips, and his gaze dropped to the movement before meeting her eyes again. She could only stare up at him, towering over her from his height. She knew this was inappropriate, that he was leading them in a direction she knew they shouldn't take. But damn if she couldn't think of a single thing to say to make him step back.

"And, as it turns out, that was very much the truth. In more ways than one, actually. You want to know how have I've been? Would you like to know what you've done to me, Doc? Would you like to hear how I can't seem to get you out of my head? How every time I see the scar on my chest, I remember your hand on it that first day? How my dreams have been consumed with those enchanting violet eyes of yours?"

Nanao wished she had a way to hide the tremble in her hands, missing her white coat terribly. The liquid in her cup jumped, and when he noticed, his wide lips curled into a smile.

Just as he opened his mouth to say more, her cell phone went off like a banshee, loud and blaring in the silence between them. Nanao jerked, hot tea sloshing over onto her hand at the startling, unexpected noise.

She hissed quietly at the little burn, then fixed him with a look. Setting her dripping tea mug behind her on the counter, she informed him, "That's my hospital line. I need to take it."

"You're sure you have to?" he asked in a tone that made her blood race, his gaze scorching.

No. "Yes."

"It's only a temporary reprieve," he warned, cocking an eyebrow. He didn't move an inch, and she could only stare up at him as he reached over and plucked the ringing phone from the counter to hand it to her, never taking his eyes off of her own.

She hit the button and brought it to her ear, just as he grabbed a kitchen towel from her stove and reached for her hand.

"Dr. Ise here," she greeted, a little breathless, cradling the phone with a shoulder as he slowly wiped off her wet hand. She listened as the nurse on the other line rattled off some adverse reactions one of her post-surgical patients was developing.

When her hand was dry, Nanao watched as he inspected the tiny red mark from the spill, and blew a cool breath over it that echoed through her entire body.

Then, while she listened to the nurse's voice over the line, he leaned in to nuzzle her hair, taking a deep breath of it and planting a kiss on her jaw, before finally moving back.

He grinned down at her and she scowled back. He was taking an awful lot of liberties with her, wasn't he?

As she gave the nurse on the line some orders, trying to keep her head where it needed to be right now, he wondered out of the kitchen into the next room.

"Dr. Ise, hold just a minute, let me grab that chart," the nurse said, and she heard the jingle of the hold line kick in.

Phone to her ear as she waited, Nanao trailed after her wayward guest, finding him in her living room, examining her book collection by the fireplace. Did he notice one whole shelf was of his work? All collected before she had ever even known him.

He obviously did notice, as she watched him trail his fingers over their spines, a soft smile lingering on his handsome face. What was he thinking?

Before she could ask, he was moving again, looking over the rest of her bookcase.

"What are you doing?" she questioned around the phone.

"Snooping through your stuff," he answered without hesitation, putting a book back and focusing on the few family pictures she had set out.

"What? Why?" Nanao thought she should probably be appalled at his lack of manners, but she couldn't say it didn't fit his personality.

He laughed quietly and moved down the hallway to check out the back rooms. "You got to nib through my chest. It's only fair that I nib through your belongings, isn't it?"

She rolled her eyes, not overly concerned. His logic made a strange sort of sense, she supposed. There wasn't anything incriminating in her house, anyways.

Wait, was there?

Her thoughts were interrupted as the nurse came back on the line then, and their conversation resumed.

Shunsui stood very still, feeling something tender and remarkable wrap through him at his finding.

He was in Nanao's bedroom. And there, on the little wooden table next to her perfectly made bed, was a frame. And inside of it? The note he had left her when he was discharged from the hospital. Right next to the book he had gifted, as well.

He sat down on the edge of her bed and reached out to lift the frame, rereading what he had written her that day. He had been trying so hard to talk with her following the surgery. This note had been his last attempt before he went home. He had just scribbled it down quickly, feeling broken hearted and rejected. He didn't even remember what he had wrote down, until he skimmed over it again now.

And yet, she had saved it.

And framed it.

And kept it by the most comforting and personal thing in the house; her bed.

Running his fingertips over the glass, he felt such a powerful longing at that moment, along with a heady surge of possibilities.

Nanao came to the doorway a moment later, cell phone in hand as she hit the 'end' button. She took in the sight of him, sitting on her bed. She shook her head, thinking he really didn't have any personal boundaries.

But then she noticed what he had found, and all the humor left her in a rush. What he had in his hands was damning on so many levels. That note was the one thing in her home she didn't even consider the ramifications of him finding.

His eyes rose to meet hers, and she felt her stomach drop out,

"You've taken pains to keep this safe and close, Doc," he said, replacing the frame to its spot carefully.

"Don't call me that," she said, for lack of something better to for her defense. Every time he referred to her as such she felt a twinge of wrongness. She leaned back against her bedroom wall, and eyed him closely to discern what he was thinking.

"I can't call you Doc anymore? What would you prefer then?"

"Just Nanao. I'm not your doctor, not anymore."

"No. You aren't," he agreed easily, standing. "Tell me why that letter was so special to you?"

"That was the nicest thing I've ever been given," she explained, flushing pink in embarrassment.

"Is that the only reason?" he asked, moving slowly toward her.

"It's…one of the reasons," she said, hesitantly.

"And the others?" he prompted.

"Well, for one, it was a reminder for me. That everything that happened…was real. It was my proof, I suppose, that I hadn't imagined it all."

He smiled broadly at that admission. "Do you have that good of an imagination? I'm not so sure I could have dreamed up those feelings, personally."

"The physical proof helps," she insisted.

"How could you doubt that it happened?" he wondered, curious.

"Nothing actually happened between us," she pointed out logically.

"Word it however you want to," he grinned, undaunted. "This thing between us, it's very extraordinary, nonetheless."

"Well, then, yes. That's what I meant. It was a reminder of that," she murmured, heating even more.

"You avoided me. A lot. I had begun to think that perhaps it was all more one-sided on my part."

"I had no intention of ever seeing you again," she answered honestly.

"Why not?"

"It's…complicated."

"Try, please?"

"I don't know how…I mean, I don't know that I could explain it."

"Tell me what would make you turn away from the spark between us? With all that potential, all the possibilities," he stepped close again, desperate to understand. "Because I have to say, I can't think of anything that would make me forget. We could have something beautiful, sweetheart."

She was quiet for several moments, just staring up into his eyes. Finally, she asked, "You flat lined on my table. Did anyone tell you of that?"

"Yes, actually. It was in the report I got on discharge. What does that have to do-?"

"-I…I hesitated, alright? I choked up. Because the one thing I had tried so hard to avoid had hit me at the worst possible time. You were dying, and I froze. I felt fear instead of confidence that I could bring you back. I forgot everything I had ever been taught in that moment. I wasn't a doctor when your heart stopped beating, I was just a scared woman."

"You came back to yourself, obviously, since I'm standing here now," he said reasonably.

"Yes. But that…it changed me." She crossed her arms tightly. "Afterwards, I realized how wrong it was, and I realized how dangerous the whole situation could turn. You needed me to be your doctor, and for a moment there, I couldn't be that for you."

"Don't do that to yourself-"

"-you could have died while I drowned in indecision," she snapped, cutting off his words. "That's never happened to me before. Ever. I've never felt so helpless. It crushed a piece of me, and I'll never get it back. So, yes, that letter is special to me. Because it really was the best gift I've ever gotten, and it does remind me of how you made me feel, but then…it also reminds me of how badly I screwed up. Of what could happen when I don't follow rules, when I let my control slip. It reminds me every time I look at it that I almost let you die because I couldn't do anything else but be afraid that you would."

He frowned at her assessment, understanding where her head had taken her.

Under that intense scrutiny of his, she looked away, ashamed.

"No, look at me, Nanao," he insisted. When she didn't, he clasped her chin and turned her back to him. She met his eyes again and he saw in her gaze how badly she had beaten herself up over this. "I want you to stop doing that to yourself. Do you understand? No matter what happened that day, it doesn't matter anymore. Because in the end, you fixed what couldn't be fixed. You did what no one else would or could. I owe you my life. And I owe you my thanks, my respect, and anything else I can give to you. You pulled it off, sweetheart. How could you not be happy with the outcome, regardless of what happened in between?"

"I am happy with the outcome. But I can't forget my mistakes."

"No, you shouldn't forget mistakes. But, you should give yourself credit where it is due, also." Grasping both her hands, he pressed them over his chest, where she felt the steady beats under her palms. "On that day, I was given something I've never had before. And no matter how badly you may think it went, I remember it very differently. When I woke up after the surgery, my first thought was 'I knew she could do it.' I felt so much pride in you. How could you ever think you made a mistake that day?"

Tears welled in her eyes, and she stubbornly refused to let them fall. "Is that what this is? You feel like you need to repay me somehow?"

"No, you frustrating little woman," he chuckled, his own eyes stinging as he reached out and cradled her face gently with both hands. "I told you that I had fallen in love. I meant that with everything I had. And I still do."

"You don't know me. Not really," she said, fisting her hands in the material of his shirt. She felt like she could barely hold herself upright.

"I know you're allergic to tomatoes," he said, and she laughed around her tears despite everything. Unable to help it, he wrapped her in his arms. As she tucked against his chest, he treaded a hand through her silky hair, murmuring against the crown of her head, "I know that you love to read. And I know you have a hot temper buried under that calm façade. You care more about others than yourself. I know that you have an amazing mind, talented hands, and an honest heart. I know you're unaware of how beautiful you are, of how perfect I find you."

"Is that all?" she asked, smiling against him. He laughed, relieved.

"One more, yet." He pulled back, enough to see her eyes and make her understand how badly he wanted. "I know that if you would let me, I would make you my whole world for the rest of my life. Which happens to have been recently extended."

When she inhaled sharply, and he saw the same wanting mirrored in her eyes, he didn't hesitate. Before she could draw another breath, he slanted his lips over hers.

Nanao felt something inside her break apart with that first touch, flooding her with such yearning she knew she would never be the same. Unable to help it, she responded instantly to his relentless kiss, the tug of his teeth, and the swipe of his tongue. Her mouth opened for him as he gripped her by her bottom and pulled her against him desperately.

"We could be tremendously happy together," he breathed against her swollen lips as she worked at the buttons of his shirt. "Build a new life with me, Nanao. You're it for me, and I want it all. Please, god, tell me you want that too?"

"Yes. I want it," she assured as he buried his face against her neck, the stubble of his jaw rough and abrading. She clutched him tighter still.

With a pleased laugh, he tugged them away from the wall and to the bed. As she shoved the shirt from his broad shoulders, he laid her back on the mattress.

She breathed in the scent of his skin as he pulled her clothing free.

He took his time, savoring every moment as he traced the curves of her body with his mouth and hands.

He wrapped her silky hair in a fist as she trailed kisses down the scar of his chest, and headed lower, still.

He cried out, with total abandon, when they finally joined. Fingers intertwined and hushed promises exchanged as they climbed higher. Loving every soft whimper she made as he claimed her.

And when the sun rose in the sky the next morning, casting its bright light through the curtains, they lay awake and exhausted. Tangled and bound around each other. Body and soul.

"I know where home is, now," she murmered sleepily. She felt the rise of his chest under her as he took a deep, satisfied breath.