Chicago Med fic: Redemption (3/8)
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT
-o-
Enough wasn’t enough, though.
At least, it had to be maintained. Will had to continue working hard, and he had to keep pushing the boundaries of what everyone thought possible for the hospital. It took all his time and energy, sure.
It was exhausting and stressful, but he found that he did genuinely like his job. The challenge was gratifying in its purpose, and it gave him the chance to practice medicine in a whole new way. The long hours and constant pressure gave him little room for a personal life, but that was probably for the best. Now that he was the boss, he appreciated the nuances of interpersonal workplace policies a little better. He made a point to be friendly to everyone, but he kept his boundaries firm.
Most of the time, that was easy. No one really wanted to go out for drinks with the boss.
There was, of course, one exception to every rule.
Here, that exception was Dr. Barringer.
Helena.
She had asked to be on a first name basis, but the transition was harder than he’d thought. With Natalie, he’d blurred the lines between professional and personal so much that it had led him to make the worst mistake of his career. That was on him, not because he wasn’t a capable doctor, but because he had refused to maintain his own boundaries.
He couldn’t do that here.
Dr. Barringer would have to stay Dr. Barringer.
After seeing her in action, Will concluded that his initial impression of her was accurate: she was a damn good surgeon, on par with anyone he’d worked with back in New York or Chicago. She knew it, too, but she was still invested in the hospital. While everyone else seemed content to keep their distance from Will, she found excuses to bother him.
She stopped at the coffee pot to discuss the weather and ask for another scrub nurse. She came to consult on cases he didn’t request her for before suggesting that they put a rush order on their next drug shipment to combat their dwindling supply. She told him stories about her childhood in the elevator and then reminded him that she needed to reschedule the staff meeting back an hour to coincide with her surgical schedule.
He couldn’t tell if this was a purposeful approach on her part, if she knew she was combining her personal side with her ambitions in order to gain more favor. Or maybe she really was just trying to be his friend.
Honestly, he wasn’t sure which answer he preferred.
He just knew that he never shied away from talking to her, and every time he saw her coming, he found that he was smiling.
Even though he knew she always wanted something.
Today, when she showed up in his office, bringing the coffee to him, he knew it was something big.
“What? I can’t bring you coffee?” she asked innocently when he demanded to know what she wanted.
“You’re Chief of Surgery, not my personal assistant,” Will pointed out.
Dr. Barringer wrinkled her nose at him. “You actually make Mikayla get you coffee.”
Will sighed. “Of course not. But you get my point.”
“That you’re a misogynistic asshole in disguise?”
“Hey!” Will objected. “I am still your boss.”
She held up her hands. “I know, I know,” she said, putting the coffee on the desk in concession. “And you’re right. I do come to ask for a favor.”
Will rocked back in his seat expectantly. “Okay.”
She drew herself back, and she seemed to weigh her words carefully. “I need approval for a pro bono surgery.”
Will reached for the coffee and narrowed his eyes at her. “We do them all the time,” he said. “Just fill out the form. You don’t need special permission.”
Dr. Barringer was clearly hedging, however. There was more to the request. “This one is different.”
He took a sip, and he noted that she’d bought it from an actual coffee shop. It was good coffee, which meant he needed to be prepared for a big ask. “Oh?”
“I can’t do the surgery here,” she said.
Admittedly, Will wasn’t sure what request he had been expecting, but this one caught him off guard. “I’m not sure I follow.”
For Dr. Barringer, it was clear she was all in now. “I need to take the patient into the city.”
The statement didn’t make a lot of sense. “Well, we can get a transfer to one of our sister hospitals,” he suggested. “That’s one of the advantages of the network--”
But Dr. Barringer was shaking her head before he finished. “No, it’s not feasible. Those hospitals are all too far away -- I’ve checked. The closest option is four hours away,” she said. “The stability of the patient would be at risk, and there’s no way she can be away from her family that long.”
At this point, Will knew he was missing several critical pieces of information to make this request have context. “Who is the patient?”
The small look of anxiety on Dr. Barringer’s face indicated that Will had asked the right question. Though she was usually poised and confident, he finally saw her falter. “Her name is Regina,” she said, sounding less like a doctor now. “She’s been a volunteer here for years, longer than most of the staff. I nearly quit my first month in, but Regina showed me why it matters that I’m here -- that we’re all here. Ever since then, I’ve been volunteering in her neighborhood in return for her service since then. I know her, I know her family -- she’s the best of the best. I can’t let her die.”
There was a part of Will that was ready to remind Dr. Barringer that they had to keep their emotions out of things -- and that maybe she was too closely involved with this case to have judgment. That would be the strict, by the book way to approach things.
That didn’t make it right.
He remembered the lesson of nuance he’d learned from Dr. Dunst.
He kept a steady gaze on Dr. Barringer. “So, what’s wrong with her?”
Dr. Barringer looked mildly surprised at the question -- and then slightly encouraged. “Tumor,” she said. “On her kidney.”
“Okay,” Will said, drumming his fingers on his desk. “And why can’t we do the surgery here?”
At that, Dr. Barringer produced the file and held it out. Will took it as she explained. “There’s far too much vascular involvement, including several major arteries. It’ll take a lot of precision to make the right cuts without having her bleed out. The tools exist -- and they’re fairly common in most developed countries, but we don’t have them here.”
Will opened the file, skimming the background and going to the imagery. The tumor was clear as day on the MRI, and an up close look showed it for the beast that it was. If anything. Dr. Barringer was downplaying its severity. “So she’s at risk of rupture,” he concluded with a quite diagnostic take.
“Honestly, I’m surprised it hasn’t ruptured yet. She’s been complaining of back pain for years, but I just finally got her to sit down for a scan yesterday,” Dr. Barringer explained.
Will flipped through a couple more pages, taking in her number for blood work. “She’s admitted?”
“As soon as I saw what it was, I insisted,” Dr. Barringer said solemnly. “I’ve tried to soften the prognosis for her, but that thing is a bomb just waiting to explode. Without the tools of a better facility, she’s dead. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow -- maybe next week. But if it ruptures, she’ll be dead before anyone cuts her open.”
That kind of language made it sound hyperbolic, but Will couldn’t deny the file right in front of him. More than that, he couldn’t deny the expertise of Dr. Barringer. Personal connection or not, this patient was in dire need -- a need that Will knew his hospital, for all its progress so far, couldn’t possibly fulfill.
He chewed his lip for a moment, flipping back and forth through the file again as he contemplated his limited set of options. “Both Mercy and New Covenant are equipped for this kind of surgery,” he said. “But we don’t have any working relations with either hospital. We don’t share privileges. They mostly pretend like we don’t exist, and I’ve tried reaching out. They don’t have any incentive to change that.”
She nodded, keeping her posture rigid now. “I know that.”
“So you know that what you’re asking -- to do a pro bono surgery in another facility -- is virtually impossible,” he said. “I mean, what if we just discharge her. Let her go over there and have them admit her without any knowledge that she was here?”
“No, because she’s not insured,” Dr. Barringer said. “The reason those hospitals keep their prestige is because they control who goes in and out of their facility. New Covenant doesn’t even have an ED for just that reason.”
“All that notwithstanding, it’s still impossible,” Will said.
“No, I know that what I’m asking is impossible for anyone else,” she said. “But for you? Well, you’ve managed to show us what possible really is here.”
He rocked in his chair, trying not to let the compliment go to his head.
She knew it was working, though. “I wouldn’t have come here, asking for this favor, if I didn't think you could do it. If I didn’t think you would.”
In some ways, he knew she was buttering him up, feeding his ego to get the results she wanted.
But in other ways, he sort of thought she wasn’t.
He didn’t know her well, but he thought he might know her well enough.
Well enough to try anymore.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do, but I’m not making promises here.”
Whatever her previous motivations, her face flooded with relief. “Thanks, Will.”
He watched her go, hoping somehow -- for Dr. Barringer and her patient -- he might be able to deliver.
-o-
Everyone talked like he had worked miracles so far, but Will knew it was nothing of the sort. The changes that had happened since his tenure were the results nothing but hard work.
Some sacrifices, sure.
But mostly hard work.
And calling another hospital that didn’t respect him or anything he stood for in order to ask a favor?
That was the hardest kind of work at all.
He spent all afternoon on the phone, calling between the two facilities, talking his way up the corporate food chain. He went from one reference to the next until he finally got connected to each Chief of Staff by way of begging, groveling and fawning.
At New Covenant, the Chief of Staff barely gave him the time of day before telling him no and to please stop bothering his staff. His luck was a little better at Mercy, where the Chief of Staff made amused chitchat about the changes going on. He expressed the vaguest of interest in how Will had pulled it off, and Will was quick to deflect.
“We’re still growing, still working,” he said. “Nothing like the quality facility you have over there.”
“Oh, Dr. Halstead, we don’t need to play the game,” he replied. “My assistant takes copious notes. I know why you’re calling.”
“Then you’ll know it’s a very good cause,” Will said.
“We do provide a limited number of pro bono cases per year,” the man said.
“And this is an excellent case for it,” Will continued vigorously. “Local woman, vested in volunteer work. And I did talk to your surgical chief. She sounded interested.”
“Dr. Paloma is eager to try new vascular work,” he said. “Maybe if you transfer the patient here, let us review the file--”
Will was on the phone, but he still shook his head. “We’re not transferring the patient until we have a guarantee that this is going to happen,” he said. “And my surgical chief would very much like to be involved.”
At this, he got a scoff in return. “We don’t share privileges. We never have,” he said. “I mean, the quality standard--”
“Is rapidly changing, like you’ve already said,” Will said. “And frankly, you’ve said it yourself. This case isn’t just difficult. It’s a publicity heyday. It’s a publishing case, for sure.”
“Which is naturally why your surgical chief wants in,” he surmised.
“Normally, I’d say yes,” Will said. “But I wouldn’t be pleading here for a publication. There’s a patient’s life at stake here.”
“And you want an expensive surgery performed for free with input from one of your doctors,” he returned, a little sharper now. “All I’m seeing is gains for you, detriments for me.”
Will took a breath and backtracked rapidly. “That would be unfair of me to ask, I know that,” he said. “Look, I know I have no standing here. I know I’m new to this town, and I know that this hospital is hardly one with a stellar track record.”
“If you’re looking for me to disagree--”
Will didn’t let him finish. “I’m calling because there’s a patient that needs help, and we can’t do it by ourselves,” he said, trying to boil it down to its most basic, compassionate parts. “So I’m more than willing to work with you on your terms, but we need to maintain some control over the outcome in order to feel comfortable with the arrangement.”
“A consultation--”
“No, privileges,” Will said. “You grant privileges for Dr. Barringer, and she works alongside your team as a co-lead on the case.”
There was a small huff on the other end. “I’m still not seeing the gain for us.”
“Co-lead, but not the face of the operation,” Will said. “Because we are not fronting any of the cost, we get none of the monetary gain. We cede rights to publicity and publication.”
“And your Dr. Barringer has agreed to this?” the man asked, clearly skeptical.
Will nodded, even though he hadn’t asked this specifically. But he knew why Dr. Barringer had come to him. And he found that he trusted her well enough. She had trusted him with her patient -- her friend. This was the most he could do to honor that trust.
“Dr. Barringer’s primary concern is the patient, nothing more,” Will said. When there was hesitation on the other end of the line, Will continued pitching his case. “I know I’m still asking for a lot, I’m not oblivious to it. But whatever differences we have, I’d like to think we’re still both focused on the same thing: patient outcomes. Your facility is known for the quality of its work and the integrity of its patient care.”
“You’re Chief of Staff, too, you know it’s a balancing act,” he replied.
“The profit has to be weighed against doing the right thing, I know,” Will said. “But I think you can leverage this case to make it worth your while. And I think maybe this can be the start of a much more positive working relationship between our facilities.”
“Well, time will tell on the front,” he said with some restraint. “But your offer is valid. Let’s set up a meeting with our lead surgeons to discuss the matter more fully. Say, 3 PM today?”
“Three PM, great,” Will said, grinning with relief as he scrawled the note on his calendar. “Thank you so much for your consideration.”
“Yes, Dr. Halstead,” he mused. “Don’t make me regret it.”
-o-
Really, Will’s first concern should have been preparing the file and readying the legal paperwork to make formal ties with another hospital for the first time. It was a major step, and although it wouldn’t garner any actual publicity, Will knew what it meant. The first time was always the hardest. If this went well, he could be forging a whole new relationship that gained them connections and credibility -- two things his hospital, for all of its scrappy can-do attitude -- was in short supply of.
Yet, before he could focus on any of that, he had one other matter he could not put out of his head.
He found Dr. Barringer just finishing up a surgery. She looked tired, and she made no pretense as she greeted Will.
“Oof,” she said, taking out her hair and throwing her surgical cap in the laundry. “A personal visit? So this is either bad news or some kind of reprimand I don’t deserve.”
She was joking about expecting the worst, but Will couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “Guess again,” he said. “I just got off a long call with Dr. Stacy.”
She made a little face. “Dr. Stacy?”
“Chief of Staff at Mercy,” he said, leaving out the facts for her to follow.
It took a second, but her eyes widened. “You called! And they listened?”
She spoke with a breathless anticipation, couched in disbelief.
Will could only grin wider. “More than that -- they accepted,” he said. “They’ll grant you privileges, and let you do the surgery on Regina at their facility alongside their head surgeon.”
Dr. Barringer seemed to be holding her breath. “Pro bono?”
“Pro bono,” Will confirmed.
Dr. Barringer had been nothing but a consummate professional since Will met her, but this time, she still squealed like a little girl. With a whoop of excitement, she clapped her hands and then rushed forward, hugging him with a sudden ferocity that Will had no time to circumvent.
Will staggered back, not sure what to do with himself as she quickly recovered and disentangled herself. Still beaming, her cheeks were flushed red. “Sorry,” she said, reaching up to straighten her hair as she still grinned. “That’s just the best news ever. I didn’t think you’d actually be able to pull it off.”
Inexplicably, Will could feel his own cheeks reddening. He took an intuitive step back from her, trying to regain his own composure. “I told you I’d do what I can,” he said. “But you have to understand, I had to make concessions to get this to happen.”
This brought her enthusiasm back in check, but only slightly. “Okay,” she said, back in her professional default now. “What concessions?”
Will took a deep breath and tipped his head with some regret. “You have to forfeit all publication rights to the case,” he said. “You also do not get to be lead surgeon.”
Dr. Barringer nodded, a small line between her brows as she considered those terms. “But Regina still gets the surgery?”
“Assuming the consultation goes well today,” Will said. “I’ve shared the files, but their surgeon still wants to do an in person assessment.”
She was still nodding, as if that much was a given. “And she won’t have to pay?”
“If the surgeon agrees that Regina is fit for surgery, then yes,” Will said. “It’s entirely pro bono. She won’t pay a thing.”
For the concessions Will was asking, Dr. Barringer hardly seemed to flinch. Instead, she gave Will a quizzical look. “And you think I won’t agree to those terms?”
“They’re not small asks,” Will said. “I would understand if you had reservations.”
This time, she snorted. “How can I have reservations when she is getting free surgery that will save her life?” Dr. Barringer posited incredulously. “I am ambitious, yes, but I am a doctor first and foremost. My patient’s well being -- my friend’s well being -- is the only thing that matters here.”
It wasn’t surprising, perhaps. Though, sometimes this job was so difficult that it was easy to obscure the truth. They were doctors here, and everything Will was doing worked toward that same, inevitable conclusion: to save lives. That was what made all the work, all the sacrifice worth it.
Sometimes, it felt like he was doing this all alone.
He wasn’t, though.
At least, today he wasn’t.
“In that case, I’m glad I could help,” he offered.
With a moment’s thought, she hugged him again. This time, it was less impulsive. The gesture was not sudden and robust, but targeted and firm. It still sent a tingle down his spine, but he managed to hug her back.
Stepping back, she smiled at him. “Thank you. Honestly, I didn’t know what to expect when I asked for this favor, so this -- this is unbelievable. Truly unbelievable.”
“Well, anytime, Dr. Barringer,” Will said. “I’m just glad I could help.”
Now, she tilted her head, her expression turning just a little funny. “Will,” she said, the name rolling off her tongue far more naturally than should be possible. She seemed to be thinking as she studied his face, like she was trying to puzzle out the impossible. “You really should call me Helena. I’ve told you that already. I thought you and I were on a first name basis now.”
“I’m just not sure it’s appropriate,” Will said, allowing himself an air of regret. He shrugged apologetically. “I’m just trying to maintain proper boundaries.”
“Boundaries are fine,” she said. “But so are friends. Dr. Barringer and Dr. Halstead can get a lot done, as we’ve proven so far. But I think maybe it’s possible that Will and Helena might do more.”
She was appealing with logic. She was appealing with emotion.
In truth, she was appealing with a lot of things.
And Will wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with that.
-o-
His personal equivocations aside, the plan went exactly as he’d arranged. Dr. Barringer -- Helena -- accompanied the patient over to Mercy, and Will took time to meet personally with the Chief of Staff to iron out the details with flattery and good will. While Helena discussed the case with the surgeon, Will was tied up in meetings to pinpoint the legalities and sign the appropriate paperwork.
By the end of the day, Helena had the surgery scheduled, and Regina had hope. Will had saved a patient, saved his Chief of Surgery and possibly saved his hospital’s reputation all at the same time.
It wasn’t bad for just another day at the office.
Not that Will was getting cocky or anything.
He didn’t dare.
-o-
Helena, on the other hand, seemed quite content to relish the moment. She was chipper all week, and the day of the surgery, she was positively glowing. By the time she got back to the hospital, the outcome was already plastered all over the news.
Revolutionary New Procedure Saves Life at Mercy
Mercy Surgeon Takes Vascular Surgery to the Next Level
It even made international headlines. The Chief of Staff at Mercy got quoted left and right, and no one -- not once -- mentioned Will’s hospital in relation to the case.
Even though that had been the plan -- and the necessary price to get the surgery completed pro bono -- it was still a hard pill to swallow. On the administrative side of things, Will was too aware of what he’d given up to get this win. Saving the life was always the priority, but he understood the perspective now. Saving one life was important; saving more lives, though, would always be the goal.
Sitting there, watching another hospital get credit for their diagnosis and their work -- Will had to remember why he’d started this. That was the only way to know for sure he was getting to finishing it the right way.
No matter how hard he tried to spin it in his mind, the whole thing left him feeling deflated. He had to turn off a series of news broadcasts with a gloating surgeon and snippets of Regina’s husband thanking them for all their hard work.
Instead, Will locked up for the night, told Mikayla to go home, and wandered his own hospital. He meant to just check up on each floor -- he liked to stay visible, keep involved -- but he ended up in the administrative wing once more. Most everyone else had gone home for the night -- Dr. Duvernay was an exception, having fallen asleep at his desk again -- before he came to Helena's office.
For some reason, he wasn’t surprised to find her there.
Knocking on the door, he let himself in.
She looked up at him and smiled. Charts were scattered across her desk, but she clearly wasn’t getting much work done. If Will was a distraction, he had the distinct impression that he was a welcomed one.
“Hey,” he said. “I thought you’d be at home.”
That was a lie, in some ways. He knew her better than he let on. He knew she’d be here.
Her smile back at him suggested she knew it, too. “Yet you stopped by my office anyway.”
Will didn’t need to blush, and he sat himself down. His office was small. The rest of the administrative staff had nothing more than a desk and two chairs. Helena had a window that was literally five feet from another building. “Well, I was thinking about you.”
“Another lie,” she said, rocking back in her chair with a loose sigh. “You were thinking about the surgery.”
Will raised one shoulder. “Kind of hard not to. It’s been all over the news.”
She nodded. “Yeah, cheeky bastards,” she said, scrunching her nose up. “Their surgeon is an arrogant asshole even in surgery. Sometimes it makes me glad that I settled for such crappy pay and publicity to work here.”
Will chuffed. “So you couldn’t tolerate a little snobbery for a reliable paycheck and world class facilities?”
“Eh,” she said, not quite indifferent but thoughtful somehow. “I guess it’s just a distraction.”
“How do you figure?” Will said. “They did save Regina’s life.”
“I know, which is why there are no hard feelings. I got what I wanted. I finished what I started,” she said. But then, she shook her head. “But they wouldn’t have done it if not for the press. They had be cajoled. They had to make a deal. And I just don’t get it.”
Will nodded along as she spoke, offering his commiseration. “There was a time I didn’t get it either,” he said. “But I’m on the other side of the desk now. I get it a little better than I want to admit, I think.”
She made a face and sat forward once more. “No, I’m not buying it.”
“What?” he protested. “I have to balance the bottom line at the end of the day. If I can’t do that, then the hospital closes and we help no one.”
“But you still did what you had to do -- not for the hospital, but for the patient,” she said. “I know the compromises you made to get this thing to happen. You haven’t totally sold out to the dark side.”
He smiled fondly, hoping that she was right. He doubted himself, but he found that it was difficult to doubt her. “So, I heard it went well,” he said, bringing the subject back around. “But what about your assessment? How did you think it went?”
“Snobbery aside, it was impressive work all around,” Helena admitted. “I’m not always sold and big and flashy things, but sometimes, they really do work.”
“So Regina’s going to live?” he asked.
At this, she started to smile. “Regina’s going to live. By all accounts a long and happy life.”
The depth of Helena’s passion only made Will more aware of what he’d forfeited here. “You deserve credit on this one,” he said. “She’s been your patient from the start.”
“I don’t want credit,” Helena said. She shook her head, reorienting herself. “I mean, sure, who doesn’t love a headline and a publication, but that’s not why we do it, is it?”
She was asking a question she knew the answer to.
She was asking a question they both knew the answer to.
But sometimes, you had to say it. “No, I don’t think it is.”
He hadn’t said much. In truth, he hadn’t done much either, but her gaze softened toward him. “Thank you, Will,” she said. “Sincerely. Thank you.”
The use of his first name was still telling. From the start, he could have reprimanded her, but he liked the way it sounded. He didn’t want to put her off, when he was honest with himself. He liked the way he felt when he heard it. “Any time, Helena.”
If his name was good to hear, hers was better to say.
And the moment between them grew heavy, laden with the things they hadn’t allowed themselves to say. The gratitude was one thing, but it was only the surface. Beneath, there was the familiarity and fondness. The friendship.
The possibility.
He had dared not disturb it; he hadn’t trusted himself. But the boundaries were slipping. The protocols were weakening. And Will’s resolve wasn’t as strong, wasn’t as clear, wasn’t as objective as it used to be.
“Do you want to get a drink?” she said, voice lilting with a touch of hope. “My treat.”
It was a funny idea. Did he want to get a drink? As if it was so simple. What Will wanted had never been the definition of what he needed, and he’d trained himself to think about the world in different ways. He couldn’t afford to be self indulgent. He couldn’t afford to lose perspective.
Not when he’d come so far.
“No,” he said, because some truths were inevitably contradictions, and he was always going to have to pick a side. “I think we’re both better off turning in for the night.”
She drew back, face suddenly guarded. She flattened her lips into a wan smile as she nodded. “Yeah. I guess so.”
She didn’t sound convinced; he didn’t feel convinced.
But the choice was made.
He had to hold to that.
He had to.
Getting to his feet, he rapped his fingers gently on her desk. “Goodnight, Helena.”
Now, her smile seemed only sad as he retreated. “Goodnight, Will.”
He could feel her eyes on him as he left the office, and he willed himself to not look back.
-o-
After that, Will went home. In truth, he didn’t much remember going home, but he got there nonetheless. He was tired, and it was late, but he threw something together from the leftovers he had in his fridge. Takeout was easier, sure, but he was a guy with a family history of heart disease. If he was going to take his job seriously, then he had to take his health seriously as well.
Besides, thinking about cooking his own food allowed him to not think about Helena.
And he wasn’t thinking about Helena.
He wasn’t thinking about her sitting in her lousy little office, finishing her charts into the night. He wasn’t thinking about her falling into bed with her clothes on, too exhausted to get changed. He wasn’t thinking about how she’d wake up early, head over to Mercy to check on Regina, all before her shift the day next.
No, Will wasn’t thinking about any of that at all.
In fact, he was so not thinking about all that, that he was distracted when his phone rang. He picked it up absently, still warming up his dinner, expecting it to be Jay on the other end.
To his surprise, it wasn’t Jay.
It was Natalie.
“Oh, hi!” she said, clearly just as surprised as Will was. “You answered! I mean, you finally answered. I’ve called a few times--”
Will’s mouth was hanging open, the food sizzling on the stove. He blankly turned the heat down, and he tried to remember how to speak. “Yeah, I saw the messages--”
“But you hadn’t answered,” Natalie continued, in a flustered rush. “I figured you were busy or that I hadn’t figured out the timezones.”
“I should have answered,” he said abruptly. He drew a breath and shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“No, Will, it’s fine,” she said. She grew quiet for a second. “I mean, like I said, I know you’ve been busy. Jay’s told me all about it.”
“Well, don’t believe everything Jay tells you,” Will warned lightly. He turned the stove off now, removing the pan from the heat. He wasn’t sure it was done or not, but he knew he wasn’t going to be eating now.
“He says you’re off, saving the world,” she said. “I know he misses you, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve never heard him sound prouder.”
Will shook his head, starting to pace beyond his small kitchen. “That’s nice of you to say, but you don’t have to put on an act for me, Nat.”
“No act. I’m serious,” she said. “It’s hard enough starting over when you have a whole support structure in place, but to go all the way to Africa? Start over on your own?”
“It’s not really starting over,” he said. He lifted his shoulders and made his way into the living area, letting his long strides roam. “It’s more like finishing what I started.”
“Either way, it’s impressive,” she said. “Are you doing okay?”
That was what you asked in normal conversation, but it really was a question. He laughed a little. “I think so, yeah. How about you?”
“Yeah, me too,” she said. “I mean, I grew up in Seattle, so this was always home. Owen has his grandparents and his cousins. The job isn’t as good as Med, but it’s work, you know? It’s my chance to be the kind of doctor I thought I was.”
“Natalie, what you did was for your mother--”
“What I did was stupid,” she said. “And I dragged you down with me.”
“I made that choice,” he said, stopping at the window and looking out on the street. It was a quiet night, unobtrusive and simple. “Just like I made this choice. Everything that happened, I still don’t regret it. I think I’d do it again.”
She was quiet for another moment, and he could hear her gather a breath. “I know,” she said softly. “I miss you, Will.”
There was something wistful in her voice. Or maybe he just wanted to hear something wistful. He couldn’t be sure; he might never be sure. “I miss you, too,” he said finally, not sure what else to say. He wetted his lips and made himself smile. “I really hope things are going well for you -- you and Owen.”
“They’re okay,” she said, and she seemed to rush her words. “I mean, not as good as I let on sometimes, but they’re okay. But I mean, I can’t pretend that I don’t have regrets.”
He nodded, pacing to the couch and sitting down. “I have a few myself.”
This time, when she breathed in it was slower, and there was almost a trembling to it. “I just -- I Just really miss you, Will. I really do.”
The admission was gentle, and he could hear the desperation to it. It was something she’d been trying not to say, but the inevitability of it was plain to both of them.
All their years together. Best friends, to lovers to more and back again. They had pulled each other apart, and had started to put the pieces back together. It was just impossible to say what the picture looked like from opposite sides of the globe.
But the feeling of it, the emotion.
Distance had not made that abate.
Note in the slightest.
She sighed now. “I wish I could see you. Talk this over, make sense of everything that’s happened, everything we’ve been through. Everything we are.”
It was necessary to acknowledge both the certainty of the longing and the uncertainty of the meaning. They both knew too well that it was easy to love what you didn’t have. Making it work in the flesh was another story.
Yet, the possibility of it.
Will couldn’t pretend like he didn’t think about it, too. Even when he tried not to, even when he did his best to put it out of his mind, the idea of it was still there. The open ended question. The unfinished story.
His throat was tight, and he blinked his eyes to keep them from burning. “Well, if you’re ever in Africa.”
“Won’t your tour -- your contract, whatever -- be up sometime?” she asked suddenly, sounding almost hopeful. “I talked to Jay a few weeks ago. He said that your contract was short-term.”
Will forced a small laugh. “Jay would say that,” he said, knowing how hard this was for his brother. “But it’s really not that simple. I made a commitment here, and I have to finish it. I started this one a long time ago. I got to tie up the loose ends if I’m ever going to make sense of what I’m doing.”
She was quiet for a moment, but he could hear her inhale. “I understand,” she said. “No one likes loose ends, Will. So, you know. Maybe when you’re done there, we can catch up.”
Tie up some loose ends of their own.
She didn’t say it, but she didn’t have to.
They were both thinking it.
“Yeah,” he said, wishing it were that easy. Wishing that something was that easy. “Maybe.”
“Keep in touch, Will,” she said. “I mean it. Please, keep in touch.”
The request was gentle; the request was teeming with need. The potential of its realization, though, he thought neither of them could say for sure.
Yet, he was loath to deny it to her.
“I’ll try to do better, Natalie,” he promised. “Really.”
“Good,” she said. And he could hear her hesitation just like it was his own. “Bye, Will.”
“Bye,” he replied, and he waited for her to end the call. He held the phone, listening to the silence, as if he could hold onto the connection with her as well.
It didn’t work like that, of course. At this point, Will had no idea how it actually worked, but through a series of trial and error, he was coming to terms with how it didn’t. And this was what he knew, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
Natalie was a world away. It was easy to let his mind drift away from her.
Helena, on the other hand.
Well, Helena was another story completely.
Natalie was the unfinished story, the one with the open ending that was yet to be written.
Helena was the story he hadn’t started yet, ripe with potential.
He was supposed to see things through, he knew that. But he was also supposed to keep his focus. Natalie was a weak spot for him. He couldn’t let his guard down around her -- for his sake and hers.
Maybe the problem wasn’t that Natalie’s story was left open. Maybe the problem was that their story was done -- and Will just hadn’t come to terms with the ending.
Because Will was in Africa.
Natalie was in Seattle.
That seemed like a definitive ending to him.
He put the phone down, lying back on the couch and closing his eyes.
He had let go of everything else, and now it was time to let go of her.
-o-
Will finished his dinner, shoveling it down without tasting a bite. He took the time to clean up in the kitchen before returning a few texts with jay and crashing into bed. He woke up feeling tired, still, but it didn’t matter. He got up, got showered, and showed up to work early as usual.
To his surprise, he found Helena waiting for him outside her office. She was grinning and holding two cups of coffee. She offered him one.
“As a thank-you,” she said with a sly smile.
And that, he had to think, seemed like the definitive start of something.
He watched her go, awestruck. He was moving forward with everything else, it seemed. It might be time to move forward with his heart as well.
-o-
The idea was easy in theory. He could understand it from a psychological perspective. In fact, he could even make a strong case for it.
However, in practical application, he found it much harder to navigate.
Mostly, because this was Helena.
Smart, tenacious and beautiful. She was the kind of woman who knew what she wanted and did not hesitate to get it. The moment he’d called her Helena, he’d invited this familiarity, and she took the invitation seriously, it seemed.
Excessively so.
They had been friendly before, but Helena’s efforts were far more overt now. The coffee was just the start. She showed up to his office for lunch, asking if he had plans while he had no chance to say no. He could cite protocol, but he keeps the door open, and he found he didn’t want to tell her no.
In fact, he wanted to say yes.
To everything.
To lunch dates, coffee runs, downtime in the locker room. He wanted to say yes to her stories and her jokes and everything about her. She could make him think; she could make him act. She could make him smile and laugh like he hadn’t smiled or laughed in close to a year.
More than that, she was an excellent second in command. As he started to trust her more, she rose to the challenge -- and then some. She stepped up to be a leader among the staff, and she started lending him a hand with his overwhelming number of administrative duties. It wasn’t always an official thing, but she was there to listen, she was there to sort the papers, and when he didn’t know which way was up, she was the one who could ground him.
It wasn’t a quid pro quo; Will was sure of that.
It was just that she understood him.
And he understood her.
In theory and in application, that was pretty damn good.
-o-
One evening, while approving acquisition forms, a call came in on his cell. He grinned when he answered it, quickly putting the papers aside. “Adam!”
“Halstead!” came the buoyant reply back. “It is good to hear your voice!”
“Yours, too!” Will said. He rocked back in his chair. “How have you been, man?”
“The ED is open again, so we are back to being busy,” he said. “I think we’ve made some improvements along the way. You would like them, I think.”
“I’ll bet,” Will said. “And you guys are open already? That’s fast?”
“Well, I was motivated,” Adam said. “A doctor with no patients -- it is not a good thing, I think.”
“The name of the game is saving lives,” Will agreed. “That’s just crazy, though. I wish I could see it.”
“You can see it,” Adam said. “You are Chief of Staff, yes? You have vacation days.”
Will snorted. “You know how it is. Too much to do.”
Adam made a sound of dismissal. “How are things, then?”
“Things are good,” Will said, feeling upbeat. “The hospital has been in the black for two months now, and I’ve managed to get a few pieces of equipment fixed--”
“No, no,” Adam cut him off. “I mean, how are things going? For you?”
“What? Oh,” Will said. He frowned a little as he thought about it. “Well, I’m pretty busy between the administrative stuff and running shifts in the ED.”
“No, this is no good,” Adam said.
“What? It’s very good,” Will said.
“No, I knew I could not let you out of my sight,” Adam said.
“Adam--”
“You’ve become all work and no play again,” Adam said, sounding disappointed.
“I’m just trying to get it done,” Will said, but his protests would never be enough.
“I will have to send you back to your last posting where you were shot,” Adam told him seriously. “All in all, I think you were safer there.”
“Now, you’re just being ridiculous,” Will said.
“Yes, but so are you!” Adam cajoled. “You have come so far here! Do not forget why you came!”
“I came to work!” Will said, protesting in earnest now.
“Ah! There is the mistake!” Adam rejoined. “You were supposed to come to live!”
Will audibly groaned. “Adam--”
“Just promise me you will be open to it, hm?” he said. “That sometimes you will say yes?”
“Adam--”
“Halstead, if you are my friend, truly my friend, then you will promise me,” Adam insisted. “That sometimes you will say yes!”
“Okay, okay!” Will relented. “When the time is right, I will definitely say yes.”
Adam huffed a little over the call. “It is good that you are such a good doctor,” he said. “Because you are truly a horrible liar.”
-o-
The thing was, it didn’t come up often. Will was so busy in his role as Chief of Staff that the idea of a social life was just sort of quaint. As the boss, he wasn’t invited out to things like he used to be, and with all the balls he had in the air, there just wasn’t time to say yes. He made appropriate appearances, of course, and he made time to spend with each of his department heads, but it was a very pragmatic social life compared to before.
And, besides, there was only one person asking.
Really asking, anyway.
Helena started it as a joke, but as time went by, he suspected she was serious. She asked him out to lunch. She asked him out to dinner. She asked him to coffee, drinks -- anything and everything.
He said no. And no and no and no and no.
Then, one day, he said yes.
“Wait, what?” she asked, taken aback. “Did you just say--”
“Yes,” Will said, heart fluttering his chest. “I can do drinks tonight.”
Her mouth fell open. She was rarely flustered, but he’d caught her off guard this time. “Oh, splendid,” she said, fumbling for a coherent response. “I mean, if we’re doing drinks then we should probably do dinner, too.”
“Yes,” Will said again. “Sure.”
Her eyes brightened and her face lit up. “That’s excellent!” she said. “See you tonight? After my shift?”
“I’ll meet you out front,” he said.
He watched as she went away beaming.
That was yes, then.
That was yes.
-o-
Of course, after yes, Will was faced with the reality of it. Had he just agreed to a date? An actual date? With a successful, smart and attractive surgeon?
There was a time when he would have felt like that was completely natural. In his younger days, he was a bit of a ladies man, and he’d never particularly had problems asking women to go out with him. Even with Sabeena, it had been an easy transition from colleagues to lovers, and he’d taken it entirely for granted.
He’d taken her for granted, obviously. He’d loved how easily she’d fed his ego, and he’d probably loved that more than he’d loved her. They’d been an odd couple, to say the least, both ambitious but different in basically every other way. He hadn’t wanted to lose her, sure. But he had never asked himself why.
He was asking why now -- about that and everything else.
So why had he said yes to Helena?
Was it Adam’s invective? Was it Jay’s concern? Was it his own hazardous self confidence creeping back into the picture?
Or was it just her?
Was it just Helena?
Because he did like her. She was rapidly becoming his best friend, and she’d made it clear that she wanted that to be more. To pretend like the attraction wasn’t mutual wasn’t just foolish -- it was impossible.
But to actually date her?
What did that look like?
He had no confidence in his old moves or tricks. He was grappling with the idea of reentering the dating scene as an older, wiser and more sober person. He couldn’t be carefree and flippant. He couldn’t just follow his heart where it led. His heart made terrible decisions.
Was this kind of interpersonal relationship even sanction? Was he breaking the rules by dating a coworker at all? He was her boss in some regards, but they were both subject to the hospital oversight committee. Should he clear it with them? Wouldn’t that be an invasion of Helena’s privacy?
And what was he going to do on this date? What was he going to talk about? Should he offer to pay for her? Should he not offer to pay for her? And what was he going to wear? Would she dress up? They were going out right after work, and Will had scrubs, scrubs and more scrubs.
He could go home over lunch for something more fitting, but he didn’t know what was more fitting. Two doctors on a date -- scrubs might work. If he got changed, and she didn’t, he might imply that this was more serious than she intended.
But then, if she dressed up and he didn’t, then he would be implying that he didn’t care that much?
The quandary preoccupied him for the better part of the day. He got behind on his paperwork and spaced off two meetings before his assistant finally got him back on track. He was so busy making up the lost time in the afternoon that he didn’t have any more chances to dwell on his doubts.
Instead, he scrambled to finish up, and when her shift was over, it was all he could do to race downstairs, still in his scrubs, and meet her in the locker room.
She was there, already. Waiting for him.
In her scrubs, for what it was worth. But she had done her makeup fresh and was carrying her bag.
When she saw him, she smiled. “Hey!” she said. “You made it!”
“I made it,” he said. “But barely.”
“Long day?” she asked.
“They’re all long days,” he told her.
She came up alongside him, nodding to the door. “All the more reason to leave now,” she said. “Or this place will suck us both back in.”
He reached back and opened up the door for her, gesturing for her to go through. “You lead,” he said. “And I’ll be right behind you.”
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT
-o-
Enough wasn’t enough, though.
At least, it had to be maintained. Will had to continue working hard, and he had to keep pushing the boundaries of what everyone thought possible for the hospital. It took all his time and energy, sure.
It was exhausting and stressful, but he found that he did genuinely like his job. The challenge was gratifying in its purpose, and it gave him the chance to practice medicine in a whole new way. The long hours and constant pressure gave him little room for a personal life, but that was probably for the best. Now that he was the boss, he appreciated the nuances of interpersonal workplace policies a little better. He made a point to be friendly to everyone, but he kept his boundaries firm.
Most of the time, that was easy. No one really wanted to go out for drinks with the boss.
There was, of course, one exception to every rule.
Here, that exception was Dr. Barringer.
Helena.
She had asked to be on a first name basis, but the transition was harder than he’d thought. With Natalie, he’d blurred the lines between professional and personal so much that it had led him to make the worst mistake of his career. That was on him, not because he wasn’t a capable doctor, but because he had refused to maintain his own boundaries.
He couldn’t do that here.
Dr. Barringer would have to stay Dr. Barringer.
After seeing her in action, Will concluded that his initial impression of her was accurate: she was a damn good surgeon, on par with anyone he’d worked with back in New York or Chicago. She knew it, too, but she was still invested in the hospital. While everyone else seemed content to keep their distance from Will, she found excuses to bother him.
She stopped at the coffee pot to discuss the weather and ask for another scrub nurse. She came to consult on cases he didn’t request her for before suggesting that they put a rush order on their next drug shipment to combat their dwindling supply. She told him stories about her childhood in the elevator and then reminded him that she needed to reschedule the staff meeting back an hour to coincide with her surgical schedule.
He couldn’t tell if this was a purposeful approach on her part, if she knew she was combining her personal side with her ambitions in order to gain more favor. Or maybe she really was just trying to be his friend.
Honestly, he wasn’t sure which answer he preferred.
He just knew that he never shied away from talking to her, and every time he saw her coming, he found that he was smiling.
Even though he knew she always wanted something.
Today, when she showed up in his office, bringing the coffee to him, he knew it was something big.
“What? I can’t bring you coffee?” she asked innocently when he demanded to know what she wanted.
“You’re Chief of Surgery, not my personal assistant,” Will pointed out.
Dr. Barringer wrinkled her nose at him. “You actually make Mikayla get you coffee.”
Will sighed. “Of course not. But you get my point.”
“That you’re a misogynistic asshole in disguise?”
“Hey!” Will objected. “I am still your boss.”
She held up her hands. “I know, I know,” she said, putting the coffee on the desk in concession. “And you’re right. I do come to ask for a favor.”
Will rocked back in his seat expectantly. “Okay.”
She drew herself back, and she seemed to weigh her words carefully. “I need approval for a pro bono surgery.”
Will reached for the coffee and narrowed his eyes at her. “We do them all the time,” he said. “Just fill out the form. You don’t need special permission.”
Dr. Barringer was clearly hedging, however. There was more to the request. “This one is different.”
He took a sip, and he noted that she’d bought it from an actual coffee shop. It was good coffee, which meant he needed to be prepared for a big ask. “Oh?”
“I can’t do the surgery here,” she said.
Admittedly, Will wasn’t sure what request he had been expecting, but this one caught him off guard. “I’m not sure I follow.”
For Dr. Barringer, it was clear she was all in now. “I need to take the patient into the city.”
The statement didn’t make a lot of sense. “Well, we can get a transfer to one of our sister hospitals,” he suggested. “That’s one of the advantages of the network--”
But Dr. Barringer was shaking her head before he finished. “No, it’s not feasible. Those hospitals are all too far away -- I’ve checked. The closest option is four hours away,” she said. “The stability of the patient would be at risk, and there’s no way she can be away from her family that long.”
At this point, Will knew he was missing several critical pieces of information to make this request have context. “Who is the patient?”
The small look of anxiety on Dr. Barringer’s face indicated that Will had asked the right question. Though she was usually poised and confident, he finally saw her falter. “Her name is Regina,” she said, sounding less like a doctor now. “She’s been a volunteer here for years, longer than most of the staff. I nearly quit my first month in, but Regina showed me why it matters that I’m here -- that we’re all here. Ever since then, I’ve been volunteering in her neighborhood in return for her service since then. I know her, I know her family -- she’s the best of the best. I can’t let her die.”
There was a part of Will that was ready to remind Dr. Barringer that they had to keep their emotions out of things -- and that maybe she was too closely involved with this case to have judgment. That would be the strict, by the book way to approach things.
That didn’t make it right.
He remembered the lesson of nuance he’d learned from Dr. Dunst.
He kept a steady gaze on Dr. Barringer. “So, what’s wrong with her?”
Dr. Barringer looked mildly surprised at the question -- and then slightly encouraged. “Tumor,” she said. “On her kidney.”
“Okay,” Will said, drumming his fingers on his desk. “And why can’t we do the surgery here?”
At that, Dr. Barringer produced the file and held it out. Will took it as she explained. “There’s far too much vascular involvement, including several major arteries. It’ll take a lot of precision to make the right cuts without having her bleed out. The tools exist -- and they’re fairly common in most developed countries, but we don’t have them here.”
Will opened the file, skimming the background and going to the imagery. The tumor was clear as day on the MRI, and an up close look showed it for the beast that it was. If anything. Dr. Barringer was downplaying its severity. “So she’s at risk of rupture,” he concluded with a quite diagnostic take.
“Honestly, I’m surprised it hasn’t ruptured yet. She’s been complaining of back pain for years, but I just finally got her to sit down for a scan yesterday,” Dr. Barringer explained.
Will flipped through a couple more pages, taking in her number for blood work. “She’s admitted?”
“As soon as I saw what it was, I insisted,” Dr. Barringer said solemnly. “I’ve tried to soften the prognosis for her, but that thing is a bomb just waiting to explode. Without the tools of a better facility, she’s dead. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow -- maybe next week. But if it ruptures, she’ll be dead before anyone cuts her open.”
That kind of language made it sound hyperbolic, but Will couldn’t deny the file right in front of him. More than that, he couldn’t deny the expertise of Dr. Barringer. Personal connection or not, this patient was in dire need -- a need that Will knew his hospital, for all its progress so far, couldn’t possibly fulfill.
He chewed his lip for a moment, flipping back and forth through the file again as he contemplated his limited set of options. “Both Mercy and New Covenant are equipped for this kind of surgery,” he said. “But we don’t have any working relations with either hospital. We don’t share privileges. They mostly pretend like we don’t exist, and I’ve tried reaching out. They don’t have any incentive to change that.”
She nodded, keeping her posture rigid now. “I know that.”
“So you know that what you’re asking -- to do a pro bono surgery in another facility -- is virtually impossible,” he said. “I mean, what if we just discharge her. Let her go over there and have them admit her without any knowledge that she was here?”
“No, because she’s not insured,” Dr. Barringer said. “The reason those hospitals keep their prestige is because they control who goes in and out of their facility. New Covenant doesn’t even have an ED for just that reason.”
“All that notwithstanding, it’s still impossible,” Will said.
“No, I know that what I’m asking is impossible for anyone else,” she said. “But for you? Well, you’ve managed to show us what possible really is here.”
He rocked in his chair, trying not to let the compliment go to his head.
She knew it was working, though. “I wouldn’t have come here, asking for this favor, if I didn't think you could do it. If I didn’t think you would.”
In some ways, he knew she was buttering him up, feeding his ego to get the results she wanted.
But in other ways, he sort of thought she wasn’t.
He didn’t know her well, but he thought he might know her well enough.
Well enough to try anymore.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do, but I’m not making promises here.”
Whatever her previous motivations, her face flooded with relief. “Thanks, Will.”
He watched her go, hoping somehow -- for Dr. Barringer and her patient -- he might be able to deliver.
-o-
Everyone talked like he had worked miracles so far, but Will knew it was nothing of the sort. The changes that had happened since his tenure were the results nothing but hard work.
Some sacrifices, sure.
But mostly hard work.
And calling another hospital that didn’t respect him or anything he stood for in order to ask a favor?
That was the hardest kind of work at all.
He spent all afternoon on the phone, calling between the two facilities, talking his way up the corporate food chain. He went from one reference to the next until he finally got connected to each Chief of Staff by way of begging, groveling and fawning.
At New Covenant, the Chief of Staff barely gave him the time of day before telling him no and to please stop bothering his staff. His luck was a little better at Mercy, where the Chief of Staff made amused chitchat about the changes going on. He expressed the vaguest of interest in how Will had pulled it off, and Will was quick to deflect.
“We’re still growing, still working,” he said. “Nothing like the quality facility you have over there.”
“Oh, Dr. Halstead, we don’t need to play the game,” he replied. “My assistant takes copious notes. I know why you’re calling.”
“Then you’ll know it’s a very good cause,” Will said.
“We do provide a limited number of pro bono cases per year,” the man said.
“And this is an excellent case for it,” Will continued vigorously. “Local woman, vested in volunteer work. And I did talk to your surgical chief. She sounded interested.”
“Dr. Paloma is eager to try new vascular work,” he said. “Maybe if you transfer the patient here, let us review the file--”
Will was on the phone, but he still shook his head. “We’re not transferring the patient until we have a guarantee that this is going to happen,” he said. “And my surgical chief would very much like to be involved.”
At this, he got a scoff in return. “We don’t share privileges. We never have,” he said. “I mean, the quality standard--”
“Is rapidly changing, like you’ve already said,” Will said. “And frankly, you’ve said it yourself. This case isn’t just difficult. It’s a publicity heyday. It’s a publishing case, for sure.”
“Which is naturally why your surgical chief wants in,” he surmised.
“Normally, I’d say yes,” Will said. “But I wouldn’t be pleading here for a publication. There’s a patient’s life at stake here.”
“And you want an expensive surgery performed for free with input from one of your doctors,” he returned, a little sharper now. “All I’m seeing is gains for you, detriments for me.”
Will took a breath and backtracked rapidly. “That would be unfair of me to ask, I know that,” he said. “Look, I know I have no standing here. I know I’m new to this town, and I know that this hospital is hardly one with a stellar track record.”
“If you’re looking for me to disagree--”
Will didn’t let him finish. “I’m calling because there’s a patient that needs help, and we can’t do it by ourselves,” he said, trying to boil it down to its most basic, compassionate parts. “So I’m more than willing to work with you on your terms, but we need to maintain some control over the outcome in order to feel comfortable with the arrangement.”
“A consultation--”
“No, privileges,” Will said. “You grant privileges for Dr. Barringer, and she works alongside your team as a co-lead on the case.”
There was a small huff on the other end. “I’m still not seeing the gain for us.”
“Co-lead, but not the face of the operation,” Will said. “Because we are not fronting any of the cost, we get none of the monetary gain. We cede rights to publicity and publication.”
“And your Dr. Barringer has agreed to this?” the man asked, clearly skeptical.
Will nodded, even though he hadn’t asked this specifically. But he knew why Dr. Barringer had come to him. And he found that he trusted her well enough. She had trusted him with her patient -- her friend. This was the most he could do to honor that trust.
“Dr. Barringer’s primary concern is the patient, nothing more,” Will said. When there was hesitation on the other end of the line, Will continued pitching his case. “I know I’m still asking for a lot, I’m not oblivious to it. But whatever differences we have, I’d like to think we’re still both focused on the same thing: patient outcomes. Your facility is known for the quality of its work and the integrity of its patient care.”
“You’re Chief of Staff, too, you know it’s a balancing act,” he replied.
“The profit has to be weighed against doing the right thing, I know,” Will said. “But I think you can leverage this case to make it worth your while. And I think maybe this can be the start of a much more positive working relationship between our facilities.”
“Well, time will tell on the front,” he said with some restraint. “But your offer is valid. Let’s set up a meeting with our lead surgeons to discuss the matter more fully. Say, 3 PM today?”
“Three PM, great,” Will said, grinning with relief as he scrawled the note on his calendar. “Thank you so much for your consideration.”
“Yes, Dr. Halstead,” he mused. “Don’t make me regret it.”
-o-
Really, Will’s first concern should have been preparing the file and readying the legal paperwork to make formal ties with another hospital for the first time. It was a major step, and although it wouldn’t garner any actual publicity, Will knew what it meant. The first time was always the hardest. If this went well, he could be forging a whole new relationship that gained them connections and credibility -- two things his hospital, for all of its scrappy can-do attitude -- was in short supply of.
Yet, before he could focus on any of that, he had one other matter he could not put out of his head.
He found Dr. Barringer just finishing up a surgery. She looked tired, and she made no pretense as she greeted Will.
“Oof,” she said, taking out her hair and throwing her surgical cap in the laundry. “A personal visit? So this is either bad news or some kind of reprimand I don’t deserve.”
She was joking about expecting the worst, but Will couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “Guess again,” he said. “I just got off a long call with Dr. Stacy.”
She made a little face. “Dr. Stacy?”
“Chief of Staff at Mercy,” he said, leaving out the facts for her to follow.
It took a second, but her eyes widened. “You called! And they listened?”
She spoke with a breathless anticipation, couched in disbelief.
Will could only grin wider. “More than that -- they accepted,” he said. “They’ll grant you privileges, and let you do the surgery on Regina at their facility alongside their head surgeon.”
Dr. Barringer seemed to be holding her breath. “Pro bono?”
“Pro bono,” Will confirmed.
Dr. Barringer had been nothing but a consummate professional since Will met her, but this time, she still squealed like a little girl. With a whoop of excitement, she clapped her hands and then rushed forward, hugging him with a sudden ferocity that Will had no time to circumvent.
Will staggered back, not sure what to do with himself as she quickly recovered and disentangled herself. Still beaming, her cheeks were flushed red. “Sorry,” she said, reaching up to straighten her hair as she still grinned. “That’s just the best news ever. I didn’t think you’d actually be able to pull it off.”
Inexplicably, Will could feel his own cheeks reddening. He took an intuitive step back from her, trying to regain his own composure. “I told you I’d do what I can,” he said. “But you have to understand, I had to make concessions to get this to happen.”
This brought her enthusiasm back in check, but only slightly. “Okay,” she said, back in her professional default now. “What concessions?”
Will took a deep breath and tipped his head with some regret. “You have to forfeit all publication rights to the case,” he said. “You also do not get to be lead surgeon.”
Dr. Barringer nodded, a small line between her brows as she considered those terms. “But Regina still gets the surgery?”
“Assuming the consultation goes well today,” Will said. “I’ve shared the files, but their surgeon still wants to do an in person assessment.”
She was still nodding, as if that much was a given. “And she won’t have to pay?”
“If the surgeon agrees that Regina is fit for surgery, then yes,” Will said. “It’s entirely pro bono. She won’t pay a thing.”
For the concessions Will was asking, Dr. Barringer hardly seemed to flinch. Instead, she gave Will a quizzical look. “And you think I won’t agree to those terms?”
“They’re not small asks,” Will said. “I would understand if you had reservations.”
This time, she snorted. “How can I have reservations when she is getting free surgery that will save her life?” Dr. Barringer posited incredulously. “I am ambitious, yes, but I am a doctor first and foremost. My patient’s well being -- my friend’s well being -- is the only thing that matters here.”
It wasn’t surprising, perhaps. Though, sometimes this job was so difficult that it was easy to obscure the truth. They were doctors here, and everything Will was doing worked toward that same, inevitable conclusion: to save lives. That was what made all the work, all the sacrifice worth it.
Sometimes, it felt like he was doing this all alone.
He wasn’t, though.
At least, today he wasn’t.
“In that case, I’m glad I could help,” he offered.
With a moment’s thought, she hugged him again. This time, it was less impulsive. The gesture was not sudden and robust, but targeted and firm. It still sent a tingle down his spine, but he managed to hug her back.
Stepping back, she smiled at him. “Thank you. Honestly, I didn’t know what to expect when I asked for this favor, so this -- this is unbelievable. Truly unbelievable.”
“Well, anytime, Dr. Barringer,” Will said. “I’m just glad I could help.”
Now, she tilted her head, her expression turning just a little funny. “Will,” she said, the name rolling off her tongue far more naturally than should be possible. She seemed to be thinking as she studied his face, like she was trying to puzzle out the impossible. “You really should call me Helena. I’ve told you that already. I thought you and I were on a first name basis now.”
“I’m just not sure it’s appropriate,” Will said, allowing himself an air of regret. He shrugged apologetically. “I’m just trying to maintain proper boundaries.”
“Boundaries are fine,” she said. “But so are friends. Dr. Barringer and Dr. Halstead can get a lot done, as we’ve proven so far. But I think maybe it’s possible that Will and Helena might do more.”
She was appealing with logic. She was appealing with emotion.
In truth, she was appealing with a lot of things.
And Will wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with that.
-o-
His personal equivocations aside, the plan went exactly as he’d arranged. Dr. Barringer -- Helena -- accompanied the patient over to Mercy, and Will took time to meet personally with the Chief of Staff to iron out the details with flattery and good will. While Helena discussed the case with the surgeon, Will was tied up in meetings to pinpoint the legalities and sign the appropriate paperwork.
By the end of the day, Helena had the surgery scheduled, and Regina had hope. Will had saved a patient, saved his Chief of Surgery and possibly saved his hospital’s reputation all at the same time.
It wasn’t bad for just another day at the office.
Not that Will was getting cocky or anything.
He didn’t dare.
-o-
Helena, on the other hand, seemed quite content to relish the moment. She was chipper all week, and the day of the surgery, she was positively glowing. By the time she got back to the hospital, the outcome was already plastered all over the news.
Revolutionary New Procedure Saves Life at Mercy
Mercy Surgeon Takes Vascular Surgery to the Next Level
It even made international headlines. The Chief of Staff at Mercy got quoted left and right, and no one -- not once -- mentioned Will’s hospital in relation to the case.
Even though that had been the plan -- and the necessary price to get the surgery completed pro bono -- it was still a hard pill to swallow. On the administrative side of things, Will was too aware of what he’d given up to get this win. Saving the life was always the priority, but he understood the perspective now. Saving one life was important; saving more lives, though, would always be the goal.
Sitting there, watching another hospital get credit for their diagnosis and their work -- Will had to remember why he’d started this. That was the only way to know for sure he was getting to finishing it the right way.
No matter how hard he tried to spin it in his mind, the whole thing left him feeling deflated. He had to turn off a series of news broadcasts with a gloating surgeon and snippets of Regina’s husband thanking them for all their hard work.
Instead, Will locked up for the night, told Mikayla to go home, and wandered his own hospital. He meant to just check up on each floor -- he liked to stay visible, keep involved -- but he ended up in the administrative wing once more. Most everyone else had gone home for the night -- Dr. Duvernay was an exception, having fallen asleep at his desk again -- before he came to Helena's office.
For some reason, he wasn’t surprised to find her there.
Knocking on the door, he let himself in.
She looked up at him and smiled. Charts were scattered across her desk, but she clearly wasn’t getting much work done. If Will was a distraction, he had the distinct impression that he was a welcomed one.
“Hey,” he said. “I thought you’d be at home.”
That was a lie, in some ways. He knew her better than he let on. He knew she’d be here.
Her smile back at him suggested she knew it, too. “Yet you stopped by my office anyway.”
Will didn’t need to blush, and he sat himself down. His office was small. The rest of the administrative staff had nothing more than a desk and two chairs. Helena had a window that was literally five feet from another building. “Well, I was thinking about you.”
“Another lie,” she said, rocking back in her chair with a loose sigh. “You were thinking about the surgery.”
Will raised one shoulder. “Kind of hard not to. It’s been all over the news.”
She nodded. “Yeah, cheeky bastards,” she said, scrunching her nose up. “Their surgeon is an arrogant asshole even in surgery. Sometimes it makes me glad that I settled for such crappy pay and publicity to work here.”
Will chuffed. “So you couldn’t tolerate a little snobbery for a reliable paycheck and world class facilities?”
“Eh,” she said, not quite indifferent but thoughtful somehow. “I guess it’s just a distraction.”
“How do you figure?” Will said. “They did save Regina’s life.”
“I know, which is why there are no hard feelings. I got what I wanted. I finished what I started,” she said. But then, she shook her head. “But they wouldn’t have done it if not for the press. They had be cajoled. They had to make a deal. And I just don’t get it.”
Will nodded along as she spoke, offering his commiseration. “There was a time I didn’t get it either,” he said. “But I’m on the other side of the desk now. I get it a little better than I want to admit, I think.”
She made a face and sat forward once more. “No, I’m not buying it.”
“What?” he protested. “I have to balance the bottom line at the end of the day. If I can’t do that, then the hospital closes and we help no one.”
“But you still did what you had to do -- not for the hospital, but for the patient,” she said. “I know the compromises you made to get this thing to happen. You haven’t totally sold out to the dark side.”
He smiled fondly, hoping that she was right. He doubted himself, but he found that it was difficult to doubt her. “So, I heard it went well,” he said, bringing the subject back around. “But what about your assessment? How did you think it went?”
“Snobbery aside, it was impressive work all around,” Helena admitted. “I’m not always sold and big and flashy things, but sometimes, they really do work.”
“So Regina’s going to live?” he asked.
At this, she started to smile. “Regina’s going to live. By all accounts a long and happy life.”
The depth of Helena’s passion only made Will more aware of what he’d forfeited here. “You deserve credit on this one,” he said. “She’s been your patient from the start.”
“I don’t want credit,” Helena said. She shook her head, reorienting herself. “I mean, sure, who doesn’t love a headline and a publication, but that’s not why we do it, is it?”
She was asking a question she knew the answer to.
She was asking a question they both knew the answer to.
But sometimes, you had to say it. “No, I don’t think it is.”
He hadn’t said much. In truth, he hadn’t done much either, but her gaze softened toward him. “Thank you, Will,” she said. “Sincerely. Thank you.”
The use of his first name was still telling. From the start, he could have reprimanded her, but he liked the way it sounded. He didn’t want to put her off, when he was honest with himself. He liked the way he felt when he heard it. “Any time, Helena.”
If his name was good to hear, hers was better to say.
And the moment between them grew heavy, laden with the things they hadn’t allowed themselves to say. The gratitude was one thing, but it was only the surface. Beneath, there was the familiarity and fondness. The friendship.
The possibility.
He had dared not disturb it; he hadn’t trusted himself. But the boundaries were slipping. The protocols were weakening. And Will’s resolve wasn’t as strong, wasn’t as clear, wasn’t as objective as it used to be.
“Do you want to get a drink?” she said, voice lilting with a touch of hope. “My treat.”
It was a funny idea. Did he want to get a drink? As if it was so simple. What Will wanted had never been the definition of what he needed, and he’d trained himself to think about the world in different ways. He couldn’t afford to be self indulgent. He couldn’t afford to lose perspective.
Not when he’d come so far.
“No,” he said, because some truths were inevitably contradictions, and he was always going to have to pick a side. “I think we’re both better off turning in for the night.”
She drew back, face suddenly guarded. She flattened her lips into a wan smile as she nodded. “Yeah. I guess so.”
She didn’t sound convinced; he didn’t feel convinced.
But the choice was made.
He had to hold to that.
He had to.
Getting to his feet, he rapped his fingers gently on her desk. “Goodnight, Helena.”
Now, her smile seemed only sad as he retreated. “Goodnight, Will.”
He could feel her eyes on him as he left the office, and he willed himself to not look back.
-o-
After that, Will went home. In truth, he didn’t much remember going home, but he got there nonetheless. He was tired, and it was late, but he threw something together from the leftovers he had in his fridge. Takeout was easier, sure, but he was a guy with a family history of heart disease. If he was going to take his job seriously, then he had to take his health seriously as well.
Besides, thinking about cooking his own food allowed him to not think about Helena.
And he wasn’t thinking about Helena.
He wasn’t thinking about her sitting in her lousy little office, finishing her charts into the night. He wasn’t thinking about her falling into bed with her clothes on, too exhausted to get changed. He wasn’t thinking about how she’d wake up early, head over to Mercy to check on Regina, all before her shift the day next.
No, Will wasn’t thinking about any of that at all.
In fact, he was so not thinking about all that, that he was distracted when his phone rang. He picked it up absently, still warming up his dinner, expecting it to be Jay on the other end.
To his surprise, it wasn’t Jay.
It was Natalie.
“Oh, hi!” she said, clearly just as surprised as Will was. “You answered! I mean, you finally answered. I’ve called a few times--”
Will’s mouth was hanging open, the food sizzling on the stove. He blankly turned the heat down, and he tried to remember how to speak. “Yeah, I saw the messages--”
“But you hadn’t answered,” Natalie continued, in a flustered rush. “I figured you were busy or that I hadn’t figured out the timezones.”
“I should have answered,” he said abruptly. He drew a breath and shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“No, Will, it’s fine,” she said. She grew quiet for a second. “I mean, like I said, I know you’ve been busy. Jay’s told me all about it.”
“Well, don’t believe everything Jay tells you,” Will warned lightly. He turned the stove off now, removing the pan from the heat. He wasn’t sure it was done or not, but he knew he wasn’t going to be eating now.
“He says you’re off, saving the world,” she said. “I know he misses you, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve never heard him sound prouder.”
Will shook his head, starting to pace beyond his small kitchen. “That’s nice of you to say, but you don’t have to put on an act for me, Nat.”
“No act. I’m serious,” she said. “It’s hard enough starting over when you have a whole support structure in place, but to go all the way to Africa? Start over on your own?”
“It’s not really starting over,” he said. He lifted his shoulders and made his way into the living area, letting his long strides roam. “It’s more like finishing what I started.”
“Either way, it’s impressive,” she said. “Are you doing okay?”
That was what you asked in normal conversation, but it really was a question. He laughed a little. “I think so, yeah. How about you?”
“Yeah, me too,” she said. “I mean, I grew up in Seattle, so this was always home. Owen has his grandparents and his cousins. The job isn’t as good as Med, but it’s work, you know? It’s my chance to be the kind of doctor I thought I was.”
“Natalie, what you did was for your mother--”
“What I did was stupid,” she said. “And I dragged you down with me.”
“I made that choice,” he said, stopping at the window and looking out on the street. It was a quiet night, unobtrusive and simple. “Just like I made this choice. Everything that happened, I still don’t regret it. I think I’d do it again.”
She was quiet for another moment, and he could hear her gather a breath. “I know,” she said softly. “I miss you, Will.”
There was something wistful in her voice. Or maybe he just wanted to hear something wistful. He couldn’t be sure; he might never be sure. “I miss you, too,” he said finally, not sure what else to say. He wetted his lips and made himself smile. “I really hope things are going well for you -- you and Owen.”
“They’re okay,” she said, and she seemed to rush her words. “I mean, not as good as I let on sometimes, but they’re okay. But I mean, I can’t pretend that I don’t have regrets.”
He nodded, pacing to the couch and sitting down. “I have a few myself.”
This time, when she breathed in it was slower, and there was almost a trembling to it. “I just -- I Just really miss you, Will. I really do.”
The admission was gentle, and he could hear the desperation to it. It was something she’d been trying not to say, but the inevitability of it was plain to both of them.
All their years together. Best friends, to lovers to more and back again. They had pulled each other apart, and had started to put the pieces back together. It was just impossible to say what the picture looked like from opposite sides of the globe.
But the feeling of it, the emotion.
Distance had not made that abate.
Note in the slightest.
She sighed now. “I wish I could see you. Talk this over, make sense of everything that’s happened, everything we’ve been through. Everything we are.”
It was necessary to acknowledge both the certainty of the longing and the uncertainty of the meaning. They both knew too well that it was easy to love what you didn’t have. Making it work in the flesh was another story.
Yet, the possibility of it.
Will couldn’t pretend like he didn’t think about it, too. Even when he tried not to, even when he did his best to put it out of his mind, the idea of it was still there. The open ended question. The unfinished story.
His throat was tight, and he blinked his eyes to keep them from burning. “Well, if you’re ever in Africa.”
“Won’t your tour -- your contract, whatever -- be up sometime?” she asked suddenly, sounding almost hopeful. “I talked to Jay a few weeks ago. He said that your contract was short-term.”
Will forced a small laugh. “Jay would say that,” he said, knowing how hard this was for his brother. “But it’s really not that simple. I made a commitment here, and I have to finish it. I started this one a long time ago. I got to tie up the loose ends if I’m ever going to make sense of what I’m doing.”
She was quiet for a moment, but he could hear her inhale. “I understand,” she said. “No one likes loose ends, Will. So, you know. Maybe when you’re done there, we can catch up.”
Tie up some loose ends of their own.
She didn’t say it, but she didn’t have to.
They were both thinking it.
“Yeah,” he said, wishing it were that easy. Wishing that something was that easy. “Maybe.”
“Keep in touch, Will,” she said. “I mean it. Please, keep in touch.”
The request was gentle; the request was teeming with need. The potential of its realization, though, he thought neither of them could say for sure.
Yet, he was loath to deny it to her.
“I’ll try to do better, Natalie,” he promised. “Really.”
“Good,” she said. And he could hear her hesitation just like it was his own. “Bye, Will.”
“Bye,” he replied, and he waited for her to end the call. He held the phone, listening to the silence, as if he could hold onto the connection with her as well.
It didn’t work like that, of course. At this point, Will had no idea how it actually worked, but through a series of trial and error, he was coming to terms with how it didn’t. And this was what he knew, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
Natalie was a world away. It was easy to let his mind drift away from her.
Helena, on the other hand.
Well, Helena was another story completely.
Natalie was the unfinished story, the one with the open ending that was yet to be written.
Helena was the story he hadn’t started yet, ripe with potential.
He was supposed to see things through, he knew that. But he was also supposed to keep his focus. Natalie was a weak spot for him. He couldn’t let his guard down around her -- for his sake and hers.
Maybe the problem wasn’t that Natalie’s story was left open. Maybe the problem was that their story was done -- and Will just hadn’t come to terms with the ending.
Because Will was in Africa.
Natalie was in Seattle.
That seemed like a definitive ending to him.
He put the phone down, lying back on the couch and closing his eyes.
He had let go of everything else, and now it was time to let go of her.
-o-
Will finished his dinner, shoveling it down without tasting a bite. He took the time to clean up in the kitchen before returning a few texts with jay and crashing into bed. He woke up feeling tired, still, but it didn’t matter. He got up, got showered, and showed up to work early as usual.
To his surprise, he found Helena waiting for him outside her office. She was grinning and holding two cups of coffee. She offered him one.
“As a thank-you,” she said with a sly smile.
And that, he had to think, seemed like the definitive start of something.
He watched her go, awestruck. He was moving forward with everything else, it seemed. It might be time to move forward with his heart as well.
-o-
The idea was easy in theory. He could understand it from a psychological perspective. In fact, he could even make a strong case for it.
However, in practical application, he found it much harder to navigate.
Mostly, because this was Helena.
Smart, tenacious and beautiful. She was the kind of woman who knew what she wanted and did not hesitate to get it. The moment he’d called her Helena, he’d invited this familiarity, and she took the invitation seriously, it seemed.
Excessively so.
They had been friendly before, but Helena’s efforts were far more overt now. The coffee was just the start. She showed up to his office for lunch, asking if he had plans while he had no chance to say no. He could cite protocol, but he keeps the door open, and he found he didn’t want to tell her no.
In fact, he wanted to say yes.
To everything.
To lunch dates, coffee runs, downtime in the locker room. He wanted to say yes to her stories and her jokes and everything about her. She could make him think; she could make him act. She could make him smile and laugh like he hadn’t smiled or laughed in close to a year.
More than that, she was an excellent second in command. As he started to trust her more, she rose to the challenge -- and then some. She stepped up to be a leader among the staff, and she started lending him a hand with his overwhelming number of administrative duties. It wasn’t always an official thing, but she was there to listen, she was there to sort the papers, and when he didn’t know which way was up, she was the one who could ground him.
It wasn’t a quid pro quo; Will was sure of that.
It was just that she understood him.
And he understood her.
In theory and in application, that was pretty damn good.
-o-
One evening, while approving acquisition forms, a call came in on his cell. He grinned when he answered it, quickly putting the papers aside. “Adam!”
“Halstead!” came the buoyant reply back. “It is good to hear your voice!”
“Yours, too!” Will said. He rocked back in his chair. “How have you been, man?”
“The ED is open again, so we are back to being busy,” he said. “I think we’ve made some improvements along the way. You would like them, I think.”
“I’ll bet,” Will said. “And you guys are open already? That’s fast?”
“Well, I was motivated,” Adam said. “A doctor with no patients -- it is not a good thing, I think.”
“The name of the game is saving lives,” Will agreed. “That’s just crazy, though. I wish I could see it.”
“You can see it,” Adam said. “You are Chief of Staff, yes? You have vacation days.”
Will snorted. “You know how it is. Too much to do.”
Adam made a sound of dismissal. “How are things, then?”
“Things are good,” Will said, feeling upbeat. “The hospital has been in the black for two months now, and I’ve managed to get a few pieces of equipment fixed--”
“No, no,” Adam cut him off. “I mean, how are things going? For you?”
“What? Oh,” Will said. He frowned a little as he thought about it. “Well, I’m pretty busy between the administrative stuff and running shifts in the ED.”
“No, this is no good,” Adam said.
“What? It’s very good,” Will said.
“No, I knew I could not let you out of my sight,” Adam said.
“Adam--”
“You’ve become all work and no play again,” Adam said, sounding disappointed.
“I’m just trying to get it done,” Will said, but his protests would never be enough.
“I will have to send you back to your last posting where you were shot,” Adam told him seriously. “All in all, I think you were safer there.”
“Now, you’re just being ridiculous,” Will said.
“Yes, but so are you!” Adam cajoled. “You have come so far here! Do not forget why you came!”
“I came to work!” Will said, protesting in earnest now.
“Ah! There is the mistake!” Adam rejoined. “You were supposed to come to live!”
Will audibly groaned. “Adam--”
“Just promise me you will be open to it, hm?” he said. “That sometimes you will say yes?”
“Adam--”
“Halstead, if you are my friend, truly my friend, then you will promise me,” Adam insisted. “That sometimes you will say yes!”
“Okay, okay!” Will relented. “When the time is right, I will definitely say yes.”
Adam huffed a little over the call. “It is good that you are such a good doctor,” he said. “Because you are truly a horrible liar.”
-o-
The thing was, it didn’t come up often. Will was so busy in his role as Chief of Staff that the idea of a social life was just sort of quaint. As the boss, he wasn’t invited out to things like he used to be, and with all the balls he had in the air, there just wasn’t time to say yes. He made appropriate appearances, of course, and he made time to spend with each of his department heads, but it was a very pragmatic social life compared to before.
And, besides, there was only one person asking.
Really asking, anyway.
Helena started it as a joke, but as time went by, he suspected she was serious. She asked him out to lunch. She asked him out to dinner. She asked him to coffee, drinks -- anything and everything.
He said no. And no and no and no and no.
Then, one day, he said yes.
“Wait, what?” she asked, taken aback. “Did you just say--”
“Yes,” Will said, heart fluttering his chest. “I can do drinks tonight.”
Her mouth fell open. She was rarely flustered, but he’d caught her off guard this time. “Oh, splendid,” she said, fumbling for a coherent response. “I mean, if we’re doing drinks then we should probably do dinner, too.”
“Yes,” Will said again. “Sure.”
Her eyes brightened and her face lit up. “That’s excellent!” she said. “See you tonight? After my shift?”
“I’ll meet you out front,” he said.
He watched as she went away beaming.
That was yes, then.
That was yes.
-o-
Of course, after yes, Will was faced with the reality of it. Had he just agreed to a date? An actual date? With a successful, smart and attractive surgeon?
There was a time when he would have felt like that was completely natural. In his younger days, he was a bit of a ladies man, and he’d never particularly had problems asking women to go out with him. Even with Sabeena, it had been an easy transition from colleagues to lovers, and he’d taken it entirely for granted.
He’d taken her for granted, obviously. He’d loved how easily she’d fed his ego, and he’d probably loved that more than he’d loved her. They’d been an odd couple, to say the least, both ambitious but different in basically every other way. He hadn’t wanted to lose her, sure. But he had never asked himself why.
He was asking why now -- about that and everything else.
So why had he said yes to Helena?
Was it Adam’s invective? Was it Jay’s concern? Was it his own hazardous self confidence creeping back into the picture?
Or was it just her?
Was it just Helena?
Because he did like her. She was rapidly becoming his best friend, and she’d made it clear that she wanted that to be more. To pretend like the attraction wasn’t mutual wasn’t just foolish -- it was impossible.
But to actually date her?
What did that look like?
He had no confidence in his old moves or tricks. He was grappling with the idea of reentering the dating scene as an older, wiser and more sober person. He couldn’t be carefree and flippant. He couldn’t just follow his heart where it led. His heart made terrible decisions.
Was this kind of interpersonal relationship even sanction? Was he breaking the rules by dating a coworker at all? He was her boss in some regards, but they were both subject to the hospital oversight committee. Should he clear it with them? Wouldn’t that be an invasion of Helena’s privacy?
And what was he going to do on this date? What was he going to talk about? Should he offer to pay for her? Should he not offer to pay for her? And what was he going to wear? Would she dress up? They were going out right after work, and Will had scrubs, scrubs and more scrubs.
He could go home over lunch for something more fitting, but he didn’t know what was more fitting. Two doctors on a date -- scrubs might work. If he got changed, and she didn’t, he might imply that this was more serious than she intended.
But then, if she dressed up and he didn’t, then he would be implying that he didn’t care that much?
The quandary preoccupied him for the better part of the day. He got behind on his paperwork and spaced off two meetings before his assistant finally got him back on track. He was so busy making up the lost time in the afternoon that he didn’t have any more chances to dwell on his doubts.
Instead, he scrambled to finish up, and when her shift was over, it was all he could do to race downstairs, still in his scrubs, and meet her in the locker room.
She was there, already. Waiting for him.
In her scrubs, for what it was worth. But she had done her makeup fresh and was carrying her bag.
When she saw him, she smiled. “Hey!” she said. “You made it!”
“I made it,” he said. “But barely.”
“Long day?” she asked.
“They’re all long days,” he told her.
She came up alongside him, nodding to the door. “All the more reason to leave now,” she said. “Or this place will suck us both back in.”
He reached back and opened up the door for her, gesturing for her to go through. “You lead,” he said. “And I’ll be right behind you.”