The next day at work, after staying up half the night to finish it after signing a lease on her new apartment, April put the trial summary in Stark's inbox, and waited for some acknowledgement from him that he'd seen it.

It never came. The most noteworthy event of the morning was that he had made no sarcastic mention of her being unable to control her yawns during rounds.

The afternoon was a little busier, with one scheduled routine surgery followed by a second. She and Stark had gotten out not too long ago, and were wrapping up the day by reviewing Jamie Sullivan's labs and scans, the last of which had finally come in, when both of their pagers went off at the same time. "It's Ben," she said, already starting to run. "911."

They got to his room just as Sherri was being pushed out of it, sobbing, by a nurse. Inside, Ben was in respiratory arrest. Even through her own stress, April couldn't help but admire the way Dr. Stark remained perfectly calm. His actions were deliberate, considered, and fast. He worked quickly without crowding her out, and thanks to his skillful ministrations, Ben's breathing stabilized quickly. But it was April who spotted the anomaly in the numbers on the machines surrounding the small boy.

"It's not type 1, there's no ventilation/perfusion mismatch," she said, stepping around the bed to put her stethoscope on Ben's chest. She listened, as Stark turned his head to look at the pulse-ox monitor.

"Hypoxia and hypercarbia," he murmured, confirming her opinion. "What do you hear?"

"Labored breathing effort," April said, frowning. "But it - it sounds like his breaths just aren't big enough."

"The tumors are getting too large for him to compensate for," Stark said, picking up the chart and skimming it. "We're going to have to take him into surgery to clear at least some of the mass."

"Now?" April asked, taken aback. "The last I saw, he wasn't scheduled for it for another two weeks."

"Unless you want him going into respiratory arrest every few hours until then, yes, now," Dr. Stark said, although without the usual bite she'd come to expect. "I'd hoped to shrink the tumors before going in, so that we'd have a better chance of leaving more intact lung tissue, but it's clear he has less time than we thought." April nodded, looking grim. "Go explain, get the consent from his mother, and meet me in the OR."

April hurried away, and Stark bit his lip, pausing to look down at Ben for a moment. He put a large hand on Ben's small arm briefly, knowing there was nothing to be said, and that the child wouldn't hear him anyway. Then he followed April out of the room, stopping to alert the nurses station that the patient needed to be prepped for surgery immediately, then continued down the hall, taking a mental inventory of his own needs.

He could use some caffeine before scrubbing in, and he was willing to bet April could, too. They'd both been at the hospital for a full shift already, and this surgery could potentially take several hours. He decided to make a detour to the espresso stand in the lobby.

Several minutes later, April walked briskly into the scrub room of OR 3, pulling her hair back into a ponytail and settling her scrub cap over her head. She was about to start running the water when the door opened behind her, and Dr. Stark's deep voice said, "wait."

She turned around, about to ask if he didn't want her scrubbing in after all, but the words died on her lips as she saw that he was holding out a small coffee cup. She raised an eyebrow. What was this?

"Here," he said, seeing her hesitation and holding the cup further out toward her. "Friendly gesture. I drank mine on the way, this could be a long surgery."

She took the cup from him slowly, still feeling thrown off-balance. His word choice didn't slip past her. Were they friendly now? "Uhh, thanks." She took a sip as he turned to the wash basin, and tasted extra-rich espresso and a hint of sweet cream. "Is this a doppio?" she asked in surprise.

"Yeah," Robert said, feeling a twinge of unease. "I figured you could use the extra shot, you were yawning earlier today. Is it too strong for you?"

"No," April said quickly. "No, actually...it's my favorite." He could practically hear the wheels turning in her head, wondering, but he kept his head down and continued scrubbing, hoping he hadn't overdone it.

"Huh," he said mildly. "Lucky guess." Drying his hands, he finally met her eyes, giving a mild smile as he backed out the opposite door into the OR. "See you in there." The door swung shut behind him, and April took another long sip of her cup, wondering how she should feel about this.

Watching her obliquely through the glass, pretending to busy himself with prep work, Stark saw her draw the cup away from her lips and consider it, skepticism clearly written on her face. Then her eyebrows lifted, along with the bow of her mouth, as the corners of her lips were tucked downward toward her chin, and she took a last long drink, tilting the cup and her neck.

He'd seen that expression once before - right after he asked her out, the first time, and he was pretty sure it meant, why not? Looking down at the instrument table for real now, he allowed himself a small smile. Take two. It wasn't much, but it was a good start. Lucky guess, indeed.

.

.

**** Please review. ****