[Six]

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Frank wasn't going to lie — he was a poor liar, as Kim liked to remind him whenever he tried his hand at it — working without Stephen's lead was strange. He'd done so in the past, of course, when the team was split along two cases. In his first couple of years at the NIH, he and Kate had found themselves on a number of work-related excursions to the boondocks while Stephen took the press liaison (Christian Anders) and the resident (Anthony Taylor) to whichever medium or major city that required his attention. This was back when Kate was just a lowly pathologist, peering down at microscopic samples instead of fiscal reports. Later, when Natalie came on board temporarily and then permanently, the two had shared a much friendlier camaraderie than he and Kate had, taking the cases closer to home when Connor took pity on Frank's marriage.

So, he could claim quite honestly that having Natalie in lead was pleasant — downright heavenly, in comparison to Stephen's heavier hand — but it was strange. First and foremost, the NIH hadn't been able to free up an office for the poor woman, so she remained stationed in her lab, where she spent more time on paperwork than she did blood work from her outstanding patient trial. Whenever he popped in for a visit, she was handling manilla files instead of slides and petri dishes, and if that wasn't the saddest damn thing he'd seen all year (Stephen's wild ride off the wagon included), then he was certain it was at least near the top of the list.

The second thing he'd noticed, even only three weeks into the new regime, was that they took far fewer cases. This, naturally, could be due to a sudden upswing in general good health in the States, but he'd tell the first person to say that to him that they were full of bullshit. Americans were just as unhealthy as they had ever been — all you had to do to see that was turn on the news. So, he correlated this new development with the upswing in personnel from the other teams on the second floor, not just interacting more with Natalie, but with Miles, Eva and himself. He'd had an argument last week with Jeremy Fields (team two's diagnostician) about the finer points of hot sauce; three months ago he hardly knew the man's name. This meant she was collaborating with teams two, three and five (everyone knew that team four was full of misanthropes and only seemed to take cases in the Southeast). Natalie was delegating.

Stephen had a moral aversion to delegation; if he'd ever bothered to ask Frank's opinion on the matter, Frank would have told Stephen that that is what had cost him his marriage.

Strange didn't mean bad. In fact, Kim had noticed the difference in him by week two; he hadn't seen his wife smile so freely in over a year. His daughters could now count on him to make it to their dance recitals without what had become a tradition of reluctantly delivered excuses for his absence. He wanted to take notes on Natalie's leadership style and instruct his old friend to follow them to a T upon his return.

"Not going to lie," — he'd started many sentences spoken to Natalie with that very clause — "I might have bene a little skeptical about your promotion when I heard about it."

Natalie was pressing a pair of fingers long the arch of her brow, her face contorting in a way that made Frank think his words had hurt her feelings, "Yeah? Me too, pal."

Frank laughed, "Not anymore, though. I'm practically reciting sonnets about your virtues to the girls. Hell, I think they've written a few of their own."

At this, Natalie laughed. With her promotion had come a certain reserve, but Frank had noticed that falling away as the network of colleagues who adored her grew in number. If there wasn't a Durant fan-club brewing in the wings already, there would be before the quarter was out. She was a fish in water now, and it was beginning to dawn on her that that was the case.

Realizing she was was being subjected to something resembling a real conversation, Natalie closed the folder she had been digging through when he'd walked in to her lab. They'd just finished a case in South Carolina that morning, and after a flight had been back in DC at noon. Now they were toiling away the hours until the clock struck five, and he was pretty sure that file was just a collection of her paperwork on the last two days.

"This is just temporary, Frank."

"Doesn't mean I can't enjoy the next eleven months."

At this, she rubbed her jaw, and Frank was left to wonder if she'd developed an aversion to compliments. But when her hand shot to her neck with a wince, he worked through his mental catalogue of all of her seemingly negative reactions to the team and realized…now…that each expression could also be catalogued as a response to physical pain.

He looked at her skeptically. He was no doctor, but he was opinionated.

"You ever see a doctor after we got back from Colima?"

At this, she scowled for real, "For what?"

This time Frank laughed, "Uh. Nat, you had a building fall on you. I can think of no universe where someone walks away from that without an injury, say, to their neck."

"It's been three months," she protested, but he could see her doing the mental math in her head. Maybe what she had considered the product of bad posture wasn't. Maybe, when the pain had begun a little over a month prior, it was only the delayed effects of an injury. Because, yes, a building had fallen on her, and no, she had not seen a doctor.

"Might wanna get that checked, Stephen." Frank had taken to calling her that when she was being especially stubborn, it usually illicit a scrunched up nose on her part, and this time was no different.

"That line's not going to work forever, you know. I'll build up an immunity to it."

"We've only got eleven months to see."

"Keep that up and I'll send you to North Dakota with Miles."

And then, a second later, before he could respond, Natalie added, "I'll make an appointment."

Frank smiled, as strange as it was, he liked the new regime. The new regime ruled with a light touch. The new regime had yet to punch anyone. The new regime had a soft spot for the people who cared.

And if Stephen ever bothered to ask, he'd tell him just as much.