When her alarm clock rang at quarter to 6 the next morning, she immediately knew that she wasn't well.

Ava groaned and blindly reached out for her phone. As she cracked her eyes open to disable the alarm clock, she found that she had to blink away a heavy crust that was intent on gluing her eyelids together.

God, all her joints seemed to have grown 50 years older overnight. Despite their stiffness, she reluctantly pulled herself into a sitting position, quilt pooling at her hips, and assessed herself. Her eyes were leaky, not to mention her nose, judging by the dried crusts she could feel all over her face. Her throat was still constricted and painful, her stomach reeling unpleasantly and her head throbbing.

This isn't some small virus. I must've contracted Doctor Latham's cold, she concluded glumly. Doctor Latham had been so ill last week that he'd taken leave and left her and Connor alone in charge. From what she knew about her attending, that was something that never happened.

She carefully slipped out from her warm sanctuary, sock-clad feet touching the hardwood floor. She stood up and was pleased that at least she wasn't dizzy.

She made a beeline for the sink in the en suite bathroom and didn't bother to wait till the water warmed. Using her hands, she splashed her face with the icy liquid and gently rubbed away all the dried guck on her face.

When she looked up into the mirror, her heart sank at the sight. She didn't look well, either. Her eyes were red and squinted, her skin whiter than usual, save for two, cherry-red patches on her cheekbones. And her hair was frizzy and curling unrulily at the ends. She'd probably sweated during the night.

She frowned at herself. Damn! She didn't want to miss work. But there was no way that she could, nor wanted to show up there in this state. Sure, she could consult on cases, assess patients and write post- or preop notes as long as she kept a safe distance from the patients and took all the necessary precautions, such as disinfecting her hands very often. However, there was no way that she could concentrate well. She was most definitely unfit for surgery.

The best thing to do was to call in and ask for a couple of days of sick leave like Doctor Latham had done.

First, she needed some pain relief though. She opened the cabinet behind the mirror, searched through the boxes of medicines, slightly amused at what an assortment she'd collected already, and popped out two Tylenol-cold-and-flus into her hand. She swallowed them dry and winced as they scratched against her sore throat on the way down.

Next, headed to her living room to scavenge through the files in her bookcase for her work contract. The contract contained all the necessary phone numbers and protocols for these situations. Luckily, since she was a highly organised person, it didn't take her long to find it.

Shivering, she sank into her couch, dialled the correct number and held the phone to her ear.

"Gaffney ED, how may I help you?"

She recognised the voice; "Hi, Maggie."

"Doctor Bekker? Is that you?" the nurse sounded slightly confused. Ava didn't blame her, she sounded strange to her own ears.

"Yeah, I've come down with a cold. Can I ask for the next couple of days off?"

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry you're not well! Lemme just check the schedule…"

She held her breath, silently praying that there were enough cardio surgeons on call.

After a few moments, Maggie spoke again, "I'm really sorry Doctor Bekker, but today we're understaffed! Until about 11 a.m. there's no one else to cover the cardiac ICU since Doctor Latham and Doctor Rhodes are each scrubbing in on a valve replacement until then and the other residents either have surgery too or are out sick. Tell you what, how about you cover the ICU till Doctors Rhodes and Latham are free; just round on the patients and attend to them if any emergencies arise? I'll cancel your own procedures for today so that you can go home as soon as they're done."

She sighed dejectedly, "Ok, I'll be there in half an hour."

"Thank you, Doctor. I'll process your sick leave request. I'll give you 3 days after today, ok? You can always come back sooner once you're well."

"Thanks, Maggie."

"No problem. Again, I'm sorry about today. See you soon!"

She cut the line.

"Dammit" Ava muttered to herself and headed back towards her bedroom to grab clean scrubs and underwear. She'd wear them from home, not change at hospital like she usually did. That required extra energy which she didn't have.

After a quick shower, she layered herself well with a tank top and a tightly-fitting dark grey sweater before pulling on the navy scrubs. She wrapped herself in her coat and scarf and headed out.

This time with both car and umbrella.

Connor Rhodes was quietly humming to himself as he methodologically sutured the porcine mitral valve into his patient. The OR was eerily quiet. The scrub nurse kept stealing glances at Marty the anaesthesiologist, who was engrossed in a crossword puzzle. He didn't mind, in this part of the surgery, until he finished the suturing and would require assistance in closing the sternum, he didn't really need her to be focused.

It wouldn't be so quiet if Ava were here, he thought to himself. Whenever they had surgery together, she kept him on his toes. She was constantly chatting about stuff.

In the beginning she questioned his relationship to Robin. After they broke up and he was intent on getting her back, she joked about his finding his "gift of self-flagellation fascinating". Then, once he realised that she was right (not that he admitted it to her); that it was a fool's errand, that Robin didn't want him anymore so he should respect her decision, she couldn't use that topic as leverage anymore so she switched to inconsequential ones.

Sometimes, she wouldn't really be addressing him, but he still listened. Like when she'd comment on the weather and compare it to her experiences in South Africa. Other times, she'd directly try to get him open up about his family.

She would also frequently quote the latest medical articles or ask them all to suggest places of interest in Chicago.

He mostly let her do the talking, it amused him to no end how she could keep the entire OR entertained. Especially when she wasn't entertaining them with his personal life. He avoided answering any questions about his family and only gave curt answers to other questions. Not because he didn't want to converse, but because the scrub nurses had grown to love her and answered for him. Her accent, zero knowledge of pop American culture and love for gossip coupled with her inability to mince her words, had grown on all of them.

Connor frequently found himself hoping for big cases or even cardio-related traumas for more OR time with her. There was something about her, an aura, that drew him to her. But after his recent failures in relationships; Sam Zanetti and Robin Charles in quick succession, he wasn't anywhere near ready nor interested in pursuing something with Ava. She deserved better than some meaningless one-night stand or being his rebound. Plus, he wasn't sure if the sexual attraction he felt towards the slender woman was just one-sided. Sure, she loved teasing him and was very forthcoming, but she also behaved that way towards others.

He shook his head and attempted to push her out of his mind.

It didn't work. Instead, his mind replayed last evening to him. He remembered the way she'd initially looked kind of nervous to be in such close quarters with him in unfamiliar waters and how she'd seemed so small against the wide seat. The way her lips curled upwards when he interrupted the beginning of a passionate ramble about ditching the car for the environment. He'd also noticed her drifting off into sleep and forcing herself upright far too often for 10 o'clock in the evening, and that she barely tried to inject sarcastic remarks about the whole encounter. She had definitely not been her usual bubbly self the last couple of days.

He hadn't thought much of her sneeze and thick voice until now. A little sore throat and congestion happened to all of them once in a while, it was part of the whole doctor package, plus it seemed absurd that Ava Bekker was capable of succumbing to a serious cold. But now, as he replayed last night's events in his head, he started to wonder if maybe she had contracted Doctor Latham's cold.

He hoped not. According to their attending, the 3rd day of being sick had been hell. "I even had to give myself an IV bag to remain hydrated since my stomach wouldn't retain anything. Oh, and painkillers were my best friends. Not off-the-counter paracetamol, no, that had no effect. I had a colleague prescribe me some diclofenac" he had told Connor when he returned healthy back to work earlier this week.

Thinking of the devil, the OR doors whooshed as they opened and closed with none other than Doctor Latham entering.

"Doctor Rhodes!" he heard his attending greet from behind him.

While continuing his stitching, he replied, "Finished your valve replacement already, Doctor Latham?"

"Indeed I did" Latham said in his typical, curt style.

He was aware of the tall doctor walking up to him and stopping behind his shoulder. As he looked down at his work, Connor asked lightly, "What brings you to my OR, Doctor? Checking I'm still a competent fellow?"

"Ah, no. I have complete confidence in your skills. I just came to inform you that you and I will be taking over Doctor Bekker's surgeries today. She's not feeling well and will leave hospital to get some rest as soon as you're done and can relieve her."

His heart sank, she was sick then. There was no way in hell she would willingly give up her surgeries to him. He glanced at his attending, "Did she get your cold, Doctor Latham?"

The tall surgeon nodded regretfully, "Unfortunately it appears so. I asked her to list her symptoms and they're one-to-one what I experienced. Can I count on you to find her after this procedure and tell her she can go home?"

"You can."

"Excellent." Latham disappeared quietly and half an hour later, Connor finished closing his patient up. "Dress the sternal incision, then take our patient to the ICU. I'll check in on him shorty" he instructed his scrub nurse.

"Yes Doctor" she replied.

He gave her a little wave and headed to the scrub-room, discarding the gown and gloves in the medical waste bin before exiting the OR. He quickly scrubbed out, then he hurried towards the nurses' station of the cardiac ICU, pulling off his cloth cap in the process.

He soon spotted Ava's blonde, bowed head behind the counter. As he slowed down, not wanting to seem to eager, he called out, "Doctor Bekker" to get her attention.

She glanced up at him, giving him a glimpse of her drawn face from where she was sat behind the station.

She really didn't look well; she was white as a ghost save for her red eyes, cheeks and nose. Her hair was pulled into a braid on her right shoulder. It was nothing like her usual, elegant and neat style; rouge strands of hair were fanning her face and the braid's end frayed wildly.

It would've been comical if this were a film, she looked like a cartoonised human. Or a humanised cartoon. He wasn't sure which.

"Wow, Doctor Latham wasn't kidding when he said you weren't feeling well. You look terrible!" he said as he leaned onto the countertop in front of her.

She narrowed her eyes, "Why, thank you, Doctor Rhodes". Her voice was hoarse and thick; he almost missed the sarcasm.

"I'm here to take over. You can go home…" He frowned, still considering her, "…can you make it home? You look drained."

She slowly stood and handed him the chart she'd been writing in. "Mr. Granger in room 10 keeps coding, don't let him die" she said croakily before trudging off towards their locker room. He stared after her, brow still puckered, worry lapping at him.

"Ava" he called. She turned around, surprise evident in her features. He opened his mouth, not really sure what he was about to say, but she beat him to it.

"I'm fine, Connor. No need to worry about me."

She gave him a watery smile which did not convince him, then turned again and continued her awkward-looking gait.

But he couldn't help worrying. After all, her reddened cheeks suggested she was running a fever and her stiff posture probably meant that she was in pain. She really shouldn't be driving in this state.

What?, the rational part of his brain snapped at the part that was feeling guilty at letting her walk off like that alone. What possibly could you do? You're needed here, there's literally nothing you can do for her.

But someone needed to do something, no? Ava was in a foreign country and hadn't been here long enough to develop any romances; he was quite sure of that. Otherwise, she wouldn't be constantly asking about places of interest; her date would be taking her to them. She'd also have arrived late to work at some point or she would have daydreamed in the OR. Just as she could always call him out when he'd spent the night with a 'date', there was no way she could hide something like that from him.

So, that meant that there was no one she could call if she needed help. There was no one who could check up on her. She had no one to make sure she was stocked up on painkillers and soup.

I'll go check on her after work, he decided against his better judgment. That's what friends did, right? They were there for each other. Even though they had a competitive rivalry going on when it came to surgery, he did consider her to be a friend, not just a colleague.

Ok, but until then, you need to be focused, the rational part said grumpily.

So, the rest of the day, he didn't allow his thoughts to linger on Ava. Instead, he covered the ICU (Doctor Latham took over when he was in the cath-lab or OR) and performed one of her surgeries next to some emergency stents of his own.

At 8, when his shift was finished, he rushed to his locker to change into comfortable clothes; jeans, a snugly-fitting dark jumper and leather jacket.

If the cold is as bad as Doctor Latham described it, it wouldn't harm if I gave her some hospital-grade pain meds to knock her out. Giving her body a long sleep would definitely help her recover quicker.

So he stopped at the medicine supply closet before leaving to pack few bags of saline, syringes, plasters and bandages and a hefty dose of injectable painkillers into a cloth bag.

Finally, he headed to his car. Good thing he'd given her a lift home yesterday. He would've still gotten his hands on her address somehow, but that would have been creepy.

Mind spinning with concern for Ava, he started the engine and redrove the same route as last night.