Author's Note: Again, thanks for taking the time to leave me feedback or just letting me know you're reading. It definitely keeps me motivated ;-) And just because I love you guys (and writing Clarke & Reese), I'll have a new chapter posted every two to three days.


SAVIOR COMPLEX

Chapter 3

This was becoming a habit with the young woman. Of course, how could Jeff judge? He'd been at Molly's more nights than not the past week, too. There was no sign of her boyfriend, the lab technician. What was the kid's name? She hadn't talked much about him, either. Maybe they were on the outs... Maybe... Well, what did that matter to him, anyway?

It did make him sad, seeing her sitting alone at the bar, nursing a brightly colored drink that didn't match her current mood in the least. She sat with her gaze fixed on the far wall, looking off into somewhere much farther away, he imagined. Or maybe much closer, inside of herself, analyzing everything she'd done and said over the past week, mulling thoughts over until there was nothing left but pulp.

He sighed, picked up his beer, wound his way through the thickening throng of customers, and took the seat beside hers before someone else could nab it.

"Don't beat yourself up over it, Sarah," he said. "It's not your fault."

"I messed up." She absently rotated her glass of red liquid. "And someone almost died."

She pushed the cranberry and vodka away and buried her face in her hands.

He'd been trying to distance himself from Sarah... especially after Natalie... Because if someone who knew him so well thought there was something potentially inappropriate going on between him and the younger woman, then the gossip was at an extreme level. And yet, even knowing some of those gossipers were present in the bar, he couldn't bring himself to care about the rumors, not when the quirky, usually cheerful young woman seemed so down.

So he only hesitated briefly before placing a hand on her back, hoping it was a welcome comforting gesture and not crossing a line. It just seemed the right thing to do, to reach out to someone who, well, was becoming a friend. Thankfully, her shoulders only sagged, as if his touch had released some of the tension she was feeling.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked. Her brown eyes snapped to his face and her brow furrowed as she studied him.

Okay, so it had sounded a little bit snarky and mocking despite his intentions. Dr. Sarah Reese could be every bit the headshrink, but also appeared every bit just a young woman alone in a bar. So yeah, he'd been reacting to the latter, had since that night, if he were honest.

Apparently, she had received it as a criticism, however, for she stood up and threw some cash on the bar and reached for her coat.

Jeff did the same, and with the crowd (which seemed to have begun packing-in in earnest), found himself standing so close to the younger woman that when he looked down at her, all he could see was her curly hair, wild and free from the bun she usually constrained it to.

Was it the source of the strawberry scent, an aberration to the strong odor of booze filling the bar?

"Excuse me." It wasn't addressed to him but to the crowd, which parted a few inches, enough for the slender woman to try to shoulder through. He followed her through the milieu, which broke near the door, and grabbed her wrist before she could exit.

Confused brown eyes looked at him, and he realized the severe irony in watching and following her and then grabbing her wrist. He released her, unsure why he needed to keep her from just waltzing off insulted and angry with him, unsure why it was so important that she like him, talk to him. Maybe because he felt like she needed rescuing right now. Maybe she was right. Maybe he did have a Savior Complex.

"Please, Sarah," he said, relieved that she was still there. But then again, she was looking at him in that way of hers. She just couldn't turn off the curiosity, despite the fact that she had quite enough of her own troubles on her mind. "I think you need to talk to someone."

"I told Dr. Charles everything," she said, but didn't looked relieved about it. Which was odd. From what Jeff knew of the psychiatrist, he was extremely effective. Not just in a head-shrinky way, but in an actually helping people way. He was a good guy. And he seemed especially fond of Sarah, so Jeff couldn't imagine that the psychiatrist had raked her over the coals.

"Sometimes it's easier to talk to someone we're not close to," he said, hoping his expression was an open one. Again he had to wonder why it was so important to him that she be able to talk to him, like him.

She nodded, but her lips remained firmly pressed into a line. She was still staring at him with her brown eyes, wielding them like a surgeon with a scalpel intent on exploratory surgery. Did she not realize that she was the one who needed a cancer excised?

"Would you like to go somewhere more private?"

"My place or yours?" The words tumbled out of her mouth and her eyes widened before she squeezed them shut and shook her head. "I didn't mean..."

She opened her eyes and seemed relieved to see his smile. "I'd like to tell you about my day, Jeff."

"I'm a good listener," he said, opening the large, ornate wooden door for her. It was the bar's 'interest piece' as Gabriela Dawson liked to call her treasured find. He had to admit, it was a nice door.

...

"Can I get you something to drink?" Sarah asked, standing awkwardly in her kitchen. The cab ride had been silent but not unpleasant. Not that it would've mattered if they'd discussed things in front of the cabby. Their ears tended to be professionally deaf. But, it still had seemed like it had to wait. At least, she hadn't said anything. And he hadn't pressed her to. They'd kept each to their side of the backseat, silently looking out the windows.

"Just some water would be fine," Jeff said, not thirsty but giving her something to do in the hopes that it would make her less nervous. He didn't think that she distrusted him or thought he might try something, but... It was an awkward situation, wasn't it? They were still mostly strangers, even if it sometimes felt like they were good friends. Okay, he felt comfortable around her, at least.

He sat down at her small kitchen table. Maybe seeing he had no intention of going further into her apartment would calm her. Women rightfully got edgy when men they didn't know all that well were in their private space, alone with them. She didn't know what he wanted from her. For all she knew he was just playing nice to get her naked. Which he'd only thought about once or twice since that night at Molly's when she'd gotten all tipsy and bubbly and cute as fuck. (God, he was just a man, even if he had no intention whatsoever to even let her know that he found her attractive; of course he'd looked.)

"Here." She set a glass of water on the table before him and he thanked her, but apparently she wasn't ready to face him yet.

"I'm going to make some tea." She picked up a little red enamel kettle off the stove top and moved to fill it up in the sink returning it to a high flame to heat. "You want some?"

"No, thank you." He took a sip of water however, because his mouth had gone a little dry as he watched her reach up into a high cupboard shelf to retrieve a mug and the tea leaves. She seemed an entirely different creature in jeans and a t-shirt (which road up to reveal a wedge of perfect smooth skin, just above a flash of bright pink underwear).

Her movements were relaxed as she went about preparing her tea to steep, her gestures more loose and natural. He'd noticed the same thing in her the other night when she'd bought him a beer and they'd chatted for hours. Her entire demeanor at the hospital was a carefully studied and constructed image, of confidence and professionalism.

The compassionate, intelligent person she was always remained as far as he'd seen. It just was apparent to him now that she was trying to fit in, find her place at the hospital. Jeff could identify with that. He was having a damned hard time figuring out his place. And it didn't help that Dr. Will Halstead seemed to have some issue with him. If Jeff had to guess it was because of Nat.

Finally, she sat down across from him with her steaming mug of tea. The ceramic sported an image of the original Mr. Spock's face, one eyebrow lifted in paradoxically indifferent curiosity. How appropriate for the young woman. He sat up straighter because it was a small kitchen set and her shins brushed against his long legs crammed beneath the wooden table top.

"So..." he said, watching her sip at the hot liquid, looking at him over the rim of the mug cradled in her hands. "How was your day?"

She smiled and set the mug down. "Awful. I almost lost a patient today due to suicide. Psychiatry rarely has measurable results. But that's an undeniable failure."

"Have you considered it was due to factors outside of your control?" Jeff tried to hold her intelligent (and pained) brown gaze, but it dropped to the contents of her Star Trek mug. "That ultimately, people are responsible for their own decisions?"

"That's a simplistic view of things," she said.

Jeff shrugged. "I'm a simple guy, I guess."

She laughed, shaking her head.

"I don't think that's true at all, Jeff Clarke." Then her surgical gaze appraised him again, as if deciding which was the best approach for dissecting him to see what was inside. "You are... complex."

Well, she knew how to get under his skin. He had to break eye contact himself, shifting as if he found the wooden chair uncomfortable. When really, he found the way she could stare him down -not aggressive but simply with curiosity- unsettling. Usually, he was the one so comfortable in his own skin, the one observing and dissecting. But he had his blind spots, such as his cheating, murdering ex-wife. Only, that had been willful stupidity on his part and not true ignorance.

"We're supposed to be talking about you," he said after he'd given himself a second to reclaim his composure. A girl over a decade his junior shouldn't be able to stare straight through him with eyes as sage and piercing as an one of those old masters in a Kung-Fu movie. She shouldn't be able to control their conversation with such ease.

"Why is this particular patient getting to you?" he asked. There. The flicker of pain and self-doubt in her eyes, in her pretty face.

"I shouldn't be discussing it," she said, shutting down. Damn.

"Have you used any names?" He reached out, touched the wrist of her hand that was curled tightly about her mug of tea. It brought her attention back to him, along with a shy little smile that pretty much stole his heart. "You haven't broken any confidentiality."

"That's splitting hairs, and you know it."

He smiled. "Don't you trust me?"

"I barely know you." Ouch. That hurt more than it should have. He withdrew his hand.

She reached across to curl her fingers into his, surprising him. "But even knowing it's not reasonable, I do trust you."

And that shouldn't please him so very much. What was with this young woman? He really couldn't remember ever caring so much what someone thought of him. Maybe it was that Savior Complex she'd been telling him about the other night. Maybe he felt like she needed his help, his protection. He'd been a firefighter. There'd been plenty of people in need of his help. Only they'd been willing to accept it, asked for it. Sarah, he'd have to win over first.

And it seemed like he was.

"This patient had lost his fiancee, suddenly, horribly." Jeff wondered at how she'd make it as a psychiatrist. There was probably a narrow threshold for how much empathy a therapist could possess. And if she had too much...

"It destroyed him. He had a history of depression prior to the traumatic event and..."

She shook her head as she trailed off.

"I'm no shrink," Jeff said. "But it sounds like he was already in a dark place. Sometimes you just can't reason with someone when they have that darkness in them."

"I can't believe that, that some people are beyond help," she said.

Jeff swallowed down his reply. Why should he burst this young woman's optimistic bubble? Just because he'd been around, had seen how hopeless and helpless people could become, how far down into the darkness they could fall. It had always torn at his heart, still did, but he'd accepted his inability to protect and help everyone. All he could do was try his best and live with it.

Dr. Sarah Reese still existed in a different, better world. "I think he just needed to feel like someone was really hearing him, understanding his feelings... It's easy to become confused."

Jeff tried to keep his voice even, but, "Are you excusing his stalking you?"

"No. No, I'm not," she said. "It was inappropriate. It crossed a line. And Dr. Charles has taken over his care himself, to explain the difference between a therapist and a friend. He was just in a vulnerable place and..."

Jeff kept his mouth shut, only watched her as she tried to convince herself. She met his eyes and slumped, sighing.

"I guess I am excusing it," she said. "But can't you understand where the poor guy's coming from? He's looking forward to coming home to the woman he loves only to find that she's... gone."

Jeff had to look away, out her kitchen window. It faced the building next door, providing a spectacular view of stained brick. But all he was seeing was Lisa's face when he asked her about the affair. He'd come home from Iraq but the woman he loved had been gone, a stranger in her place.

"I can understand," he said, avoiding her direct gaze. Her too direct, too piercing gaze. He got up. "I'd better get going."

She frowned at him, standing up as well. "I said something that upset you."

It was a statement. Her brown eyes studied him intently, trying to find the sore spot she'd poked.

He smiled and shook his head, dismissing her concern (and those damned clever eyes of hers)... hoping she'd let the issue drop.

"It's just getting a little late," he said.

"I guess..." Her eyes searched his face, his body language. He felt like a specimen under a microscope. He didn't think he was that interesting or mysterious, but he supposed people had said it took a while for him to truly warm up. And yes, he tended to keep a lot of stuff to himself.

"Good night, Sarah," he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. He'd intended it to throw her off from her attempt to peel him open and examine his heart and soul. Only he found himself knocked a little off kilter, hesitating instead of pulling away after the chaste peck to her soft skin. Because that strawberry scent he'd detected earlier really did belong to her; fresh and sweet. And was it her shampoo? Or perfume? Or lotion? Or the scent of her skin?

He was nose to nose with her. And her brown eyes were no longer scouring, searching, but had apparently found a way in. More than that, she was pouring out a torrent of emotion. She looked like she wanted nothing more than for him to kiss her. But also, nervous and terrified of that desire.

Her shoulders were slender but not fragile beneath his hands. And he wasn't sure if he was holding her back or about to pull her close. He opted for self-control.

He took a step back, putting some distance between them before he released her. As if she would jump him... He was being a fool. The effects of the two beers he'd drunk at Molly's had long since worn off, so he had no real excuse. And he'd better get out of there before he really did do something inexcusable.

"I'll see you at the hospital," he said, before turning and heading for the door. He'd find a cab along the way. He needed some air, some cold air free from the aroma of a strawberry field.

"Good night... Jeff..."

When he turned to close her door behind him, she was standing in the hall, baffled expression on her pretty, young face. Maybe it made him a coward, but it was also the smart thing to do. He closed the door and tried to put Sarah Reese out of his head.

Except, her confidence to him about Derek Gavalas hadn't reassured him in the least. He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket as he descended the front steps of Sarah's building. The hour was in the realm of late, but honestly would only be considered 'getting late' by old ladies. No wonder she'd thought his bolting odd. Okay, it had been odd no matter the excuse.

He found the contact he was looking for in his phone. It rang a few times and Jeff wondered if maybe he was disturbing the guy over something trivial, being a paranoi-

/Halstead./

"Hey, Jay. It's Jeff Clarke. You worked on the case involving my ex-wife a few years back."

/Yeah, Jeff. I remember. How you doing?/

Well, the detective didn't sound annoyed, so it was worth a try, right?

"I'm good. I'm actually working over at Chicago Med now. And I'm concerned about a colleague... Was wondering if you could look into a patient of hers for me…? Off the books?"


A/N: Is Clarke being paranoid or is he right to listen to his instincts? How's Sarah feeling about her unsolicited new friend? More soon… Excitement to come a little later. ;-)