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"Race you to tenth av," he says, and takes off down the pavement like a shot.
She scuttles after him, shouting indignation at the head start he's given himself.
But she can't stop the big, stupid smile from spreading across her face. She never can when she runs. Only, lately she's been wondering whether the smile would be there if she ran by herself.
She's kind of afraid to try it and find out.
Somewhere along the way he relents and slows up so she can catch up, glancing over his shoulder with his eyes glowing in amusement and his own big grin making him boyish and beautiful.
She doesn't slow down a bit and pelts right past him, and she hears his laughter as she carries on at top speed round the bend.
At tenth avenue they arrive in a perfect tie and thunder to a stop and they're both panting puffs of steam into in the air with each heavy breath. Claire leans forwards on her knees, catching her breath, the sheer thrill of life pounding through her veins like lightning bolts and she wonders how she ever used to live without this.
"Good job," he says, patting her back. Friendly, approving, just like a good boss should be.
But maybe he lingers, lets his hand just rest, warm and steady on her shoulder. And she tilts her head and smiles at him, her brilliant smile, and she doesn't know it yet but it's the one that makes him exhale slowly and wonder if he's seeing stars.
****
Running turns into breakfast, once a week, after a run. Then twice a week not long after that, and soon they just have a tacit understanding that they'll meet most mornings at the little cafe near the hospital, and she will order pancakes drowned in maple syrup and a pot of green tea.
He laughs at her over the rim of his sophisticated black coffee and forkful of eggs, and she merely smiles blissfully back at him as she shovels more pancake into her mouth, and obligingly lets him steal from her plate when he's done with his.
She doesn't know when she started feeling more comfortable with Neil Melendez than anyone else in the world, but that's a thing that's happened, and she's not going to challenge it.
Because she loves the way it feels when they're together, so warm and steady, like deep breathing when almost every other close relationship she's ever had with other people has been fraught with anxiety and complication.
He is a slow motion adagio, in a life that's full of staccato beats.
She likes when they walk to the hospital together after, arms brushing as they go. She feels unbidden butterflies in her stomach when he doesn't seem to mind that everyone else see them coming in together almost every day, deep in conversation, and walks her right to her locker and then to their first consult of the day where he slides effortlessly back into boss mode.
She catches Morgan looking raised-eyebrows at her walking in one day, nudging Park in the ribs.
Then she sees Audrey Lim staring one morning, and her sunny smile fades. She glances at Melendez, but he hasn't noticed Lim, and she feels a knot forming in the pit of her stomach.
Whatever she thinks this is, whatever she wants it to be, it can only be a fantasy that lives inside her head.
He's her boss, and she's pretty sure her other boss is still very much in love with him. The only way this could end for her is badly, and she so wants to avoid the crash and burn.
But the trouble is, she's also got no idea how to unwind herself from him, not when the parts of her that were so broken seem to be healing right around the parts of herself that she's already given over to him.
It's like he's inserted himself directly into her heart, a surgical incision he's made only to bind it up and help her heal, like thread sealing up a wound.
****
The weeks pass, and she keeps running and meeting with him in spite of her reservations. She's careful to be professional, keeps a little buffer of distance that she thinks will protect them both. He's his usual charming self, gentle and teasing, and for a while she thinks she can get her feelings back under control.
But she's lying to herself, because every day she feels the knot tighten a little further. Before long, it's a distraction, this burgeoning yearning she has to be close to him, and she doesn't know what to do about it.
She finds she can barely breathe when he sits by her waiting for scan results. Her heart races when he pauses to speak to her after a consult. And even in the OR, with her fingers busy holding someone's life together, she's so very aware of him that she wonders whether she's becoming a liability with a scalpel in her tense hands.
"You okay?" he asks, after she's been quiet all day at work. Even though they've got an interesting case in, and normally she'd be the first to speak her mind.
She looks up at him, surprised out of her reverie.
"Uh, yeah," she says, blinking. He looks at her pointedly and drags the chair out on the other side of the table from her.
"What's going on?" he asks. "You've been quiet all week."
"Sorry," she says, clicking the button on her pen distractedly. He waits expectantly for her to say more, used to her confiding in him now, and she meets his eye at last.
She exhales.
"I... don't know what we're doing," she finally admits, and watches his eyebrows rise.
"Okay," he says. "With myocardial infarction guy?"
She shoots him a look. "No. Well, yeah, him too. But that's not what I'm talking about."
"So what is?"
She thinks he already knows where this is going, because there's a tiny frown creasing between his eyebrows and an intense look in his eyes, but he seems to be set on making her voice it because he looks at her expectantly.
"Us," she says bravely. "I don't know what's happening with us."
He finally looks down at his hands, then, breaking their tense exchange. He looks a little uneasy, nervous even, like he wasn't expecting her to really say it, to bring it into life in spoken words. It's a relief, actually, his discomfort. It means it's not just in her head, that he can feel it too, and he's just as uncertain as she is.
Swimming around in choppy waters, with no idea if there are sharks.
"We- we're friends, Claire," he says softly. "I care a lot about you." He avoids looking at her as he speaks, and she's suddenly so tired of this, of pretending and saying the right things and keeping things tidy.
"Well I can't stop thinking about you," she says.
She gets up and walks to the bus stop while he sits and stares.
****
They don't see each other outside the hospital for a week after that confession, as if by mutual agreement. It makes her feel sick, bereft even, but she tells herself this is how it's bound to be from now on, so she'd better get used to it.
She goes for a run once and it rains and she hates it, so she stops that.
But that makes her feel even worse, like she somehow can't be a whole person by herself, so she tries again on a Friday night, doggedly running her usual route, only this time she trips on a cracked paving stone three blocks from her apartment and twists her ankle as she stumbles to the ground.
She allows herself a few tears of frustration as she limps back home to dress her scraped knee and ice her swelling ankle with it propped up on her coffee table.
She throws the TV remote onto the sofa in annoyance when a quiet tapping on her door forces her back onto her feet twenty minutes later. She assumes it's her cranky neighbour, complaining about the volume again like he always does when it reaches a decibel level within the range of normal human hearing.
"I swear to God, Mr Giuseppe, I cannot turn it down any-"
She stops abruptly, and stares for a moment.
"Oh," she says. "It's you."
"It is," he says. And he looks at her with this complex mix of contrition and hope. "Can I come in?"
She sighs heavily, and steps aside from the door so he can pass her. He looks weirdly alien standing there in her flat, dressed in jeans and a dark shirt, but she shuts the door behind him and hops back over to to couch.
"What happened to you?" he asks, frowning as he takes in her bedraggled appearance, still in scuffed running gear combined with the ice pack on her foot.
"I tripped," she says, carefully neutral. He sighs and comes to sit on the coffee table right in front of her so she has nowhere to look but at him. He lifts the ice pack, inspecting her ankle with one practised hand, nimble surgeon's fingers gentle on her bare skin.
"This is why it's not a good idea for you to run without me," he says, with a small wry smile.
"I kind of figured that was how it had to be now," she says, as lightly and unaffectedly as she can bear. He sighs again, and replaces the ice pack carefully.
"Why? Because of what you told me the other night?"
"Obviously. I know it was dumb, I'm your resident and it was inappropriate, and you would never-"
"Claire," he says, and it's impossible to miss the gravity in that one word. She almost feels her eyes water, and blinks as she averts her gaze. He's still looking at her with those unfathomable dark eyes and she feels like her whole world is about to either fall on its head or fly.
"I can't stop thinking about you either," he says, and her eyes dart back to him.
"Oh," she says.
The world takes flight.
****
It's not like the movies.
She doesn't fall into his arms there and then, and they don't declare undying love for each other on the tiny sofa in her rented apartment.
All the reasons this is a really bad idea are still there. Him being her boss. The hospital board. The other residents. Lim.
But she has to admit she feels like she can suddenly breathe again after his confession. She's been feeling like an idiot, blurting out her feelings for him, feelings she only hoped were actually returned with no certainty at all that she didn't misinterpret everything he ever said.
But, it seems, they are.
He leans his elbows on his knees and rubs his forehead tiredly as she watches with steady unblinking eyes. She's remarkably calm, sitting there with a swollen ankle still on the table next to him, but she doesn't say anything.
"It's just- nothing can happen," he says, unusually faltering. "Not that I'm assuming anything would, I just-"
"It's just you're my boss and we can't go there," she says at last, and he inclines his head. "I know."
"But I don't want to stop seeing you either," he confesses. He glances to his right and moves the ice pack around a bit, checking the swelling underneath. She knows it's an excuse for something to do besides meet her eye, but she lets him fiddle with it anyway.
"You shouldn't walk on this for a few days," he remarks. "Good job it's the weekend."
"Yeah," she says thickly, and tries not to register that his hand is still wrapped around her ankle, dextrous fingers light on her bare skin.
"So what do you want me to do?" she finally says, her nervous energy welling up in a sudden surge of bravado. "Just keep being your obedient resident? Play nice? I don't think I can do it, I'm sorry, but I-"
And then something wild seems to snap in him and he's leaning forward all at once and then suddenly, suddenly, she is kissing Neil Melendez on her sofa like there's no tomorrow.
****
It is still not like the movies.
They break sharply apart a few moments later and he's breathing heavily and looking at her fearfully, knowing that he's just crossed about a thousand lines in the sand that they've both been toeing for months.
She feels like her insides are on fire and crackling with electricity and spinning in a tidal wave all at once.
"I, uh," he says, sitting back. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..."
She purses her lips, trying to get a handle on what's just happened. "Yeah, that was awful," she says dryly. "Loads to complain about."
Her heart is actually racing.
In spite of himself he laughs, and some of the tension eases between them. He levers himself off her table and sits down next to her instead, reaching for her hand after a moment's hesitation.
It feels strange but familiar to have his fingers laced with hers.
"You're not an easy habit to break, Claire Browne," he says quietly. She turns her head to look at him. "I thought I could just... turn it off. Go back to how it was before. But I don't think I can. I don't want to."
He looks at her, so much trepidation in a face that's so used to self assurance.
And though there are thousands of reasons not to and even more questions with no answers to speak of, she puts a hand on his shoulder and pulls him down to her again, the ice pack falling to the floor and her ankle forgotten as she slides into his lap and hopes she never has to let go.
***
Eventually, they both come to their senses and he helps her limp from the sofa to the bathroom so she can shower and dress for bed, and then he half-carries her across the apartment to her bedroom but he doesn't cross the threshold there. She smiles to herself at this restraint, and leans in the doorway as she looks up at him.
"Thank you," she says, and a smile quirks the corners of his mouth.
"Anytime," he replies, and he leans in for a last, stolen kiss, his hands resting briefly on her hipbones as he draws back and his gaze flicks between each of her eyes searchingly.
"I have no idea how we're going to do this," he admits, and she gives him a bracing sort of smile.
"Me neither," she says, because it's true, it seems impossible, but she is struck by a sudden sense of conviction that they will at least give this thing they've started a chance. She can't remember feeling like this about anybody before and she's not in a rush to give it up.
It's so tempting to tell him to stay, that it's late and she has a sofabed (if he wants it), but she knows it would be a bad idea. Either because he'd refuse, or maybe because he wouldn't, and they both know where that would end.
It doesn't stop her enjoying the feel of his lips lingering against hers before he finally pulls away.
"I'll come by tomorrow?" he says, and she raises an eyebrow, surprised. "To check on the ankle, obviously. Good patient care is everything."
She laughs. "I'd like that," she says.
She is still smiling well after he has gone.
****
They didn't exactly set a time for him to come back, so she's caught unawares halfway through breakfast when he knocks.
She eyes him in the doorway as she bites a piece of toast, tilting her head at him.
"Couldn't get enough of me, huh?" she says cheekily, letting him in. She's wearing possibly the oldest, rattiest t-shirt she has and a pair of worn to death leggings, but somehow she's not even embarrassed about it.
A man who's seen her covered in blood and pus and a surgeon's cap has seen it all anyway.
He looks a bit sheepish but reaches for her immediately, hands resting on her lower back.
"Maybe," he says, resting his forehead against hers. "But don't act like you weren't in there thinking about me all night," he says provocatively, nodding towards her bedroom, his familiar cocksure smile spreading across his face. In spite of herself, she's caught out by the blush that creeps over her cheeks, betraying the direction of her thoughts. He laughs.
"Knew it," he says.
She takes a mutinous bite of toast, before he steals the rest off her and invites himself into her kitchen to help himself to coffee, and to hand her a cup as well.
She decides she quite likes the scene they make, him on her sofa with a cup of her coffee, beckoning her to curl herself in next to him while she sips her own and finishes reading the news on her phone.
Her ankle isn't up to much but they manage to hop her out of the apartment and into his car so he can drive them to the park for some fresh air. She tries not to let her mind run away with her, thinking about future Saturdays involving him and maybe a dog or even a pram, but it's worryingly difficult to stop herself from dreaming.
She tells herself it's just nice not to have to worry about anybody seeing them out here, and to be able to relax without all the eyes of St Bonaventure on them.
But she can't help thinking this golden weekend can't last forever.
Monday will come, and when it does, what will follow is anyone's guess.
****
Sure enough, the new week arrives and Claire hobbles into work with a sense of building trepidation.
It'll be the first time she's seen him at work after things changed, and she has no idea what she's supposed to do. Act like nothing has changed, is the obvious answer, but the more she thinks about that the less she has any idea what on earth she acted like before.
And there's absolutely nothing she can do about how her heart races when he walks in, suit neatly pressed and collar suitably undone to show off the uppermost prongs of his stag's antler.
And all she can think about is when she will finally get to see the rest of it.
"What's wrong with you?" Morgan demands, her usual charmless self. Claire panics for a moment, thinking her thoughts must be written all over her face, then realises Morgan's talking about her ankle.
"I twisted my ankle running," says Claire truthfully, and then she meets his eye.
He gives no sign of recognition, just looks down at his tablet. "I got a fifty-three year old male needing a thoracic aortic dissection repair," he says. "Park, Reznick, you're with me. Murphy, Browne, you're with Dr Andrews."
It's not unexpected, and it's mostly a relief that she doesn't have to stand two feet away from him for the rest of the day. Even if it does feel strange to have him ignore her so thoroughly, and to leave the room without a second glance at her.
The case she works on with Shaun is nowhere near as interesting as Melendez's, but at least it's Andrews standing across the table and not Lim. She doesn't know if she could take that extra level of awkwardness, and possibly a helping of guilt as well.
Her ankle is throbbing like hell by the time the day is over and she's wearily collecting her stuff from her locker. Morgan is chattering non stop about the dissection repair but Claire lets it wash over her, barely hearing a word.
She starts wondering instead if she's going to see him tonight.
"Claire? Are you even listening to me?" Morgan gripes, and Claire rolls her eyes at her.
"Listen, all I got today was an appendectomy and a smashed thumb," she says. "Least you can do is not go on about the amazing surgery you were in.'
Morgan gets a sly look on her face.
"Well, Dr Melendez was pretty impressive," she says, flicking her hair back. "But then he always is, isn't he?"
Claire shoots her a worn look. "Nice try," she says. She shoulders her backpack. "See you in the morning, Morgan."
But her heart beats a little fast on the way out.
It occurs to her that if Morgan's already making those kind of jokes, it can't be long before the rest of the world joins in.
And she doesn't think it's going to be harmless fun from everyone.
****
He texts, but doesn't come over.
Not til Thursday night, anyway. They're both held up by late schedules, it's true, but there's definitely an element of nervous avoidance. At least, there is on her part, and she's not sure but she suspects it's twice as bad for him.
He's her superior, and he's meant to make the right decisions for both of their careers.
But on Thursday, she finishes early, and heads home for a long shower and a bowl of pasta in front of the TV after a gruelling week. He rosters off later than her, and doesn't say anything before turning up on her doorstep again.
She smiles a little uncertainly, and lets him in.
He looks completely inscrutable as he turns slowly, facing her, and she's full of a sudden dread that he's about to say he's changed his mind, come to his senses, doesn't want to bring the storm that this path will inevitably bring over their heads.
But then he suddenly reaches for her hips, fingers pressing into her skin and backing her up against the door as his mouth covers hers before she even has time to exhale her surprise.
"Sorry," he says, his lips still pressing against hers. She blinks, her lips parted against him. "It's been killing me to ignore you all week at the hospital. I've been waiting to do that since Sunday."
"I thought you might have had second thoughts," she confesses, and he draws back slightly, frowning.
"I haven't," he says. "Have you?"
"What do you think?" she replies, and she grasps his shirt collar and pulls.
It's a while before they surface again, and her hair is loose and her cheeks flushed and her clothing rumpled when he finally lets go.
"I guess we should talk," he says, even as his hand rests underneath her shirt on her stomach and strokes in tantalising circles.
"Or we could do," she replies, closing her eyes as his lips land at the top of her throat. It's not the sensible option, but she's so tired of waiting, and being cautious Claire. Of missing out on things she wants because she can't quite let it go.
So she lets go.
"That could work too," he says huskily against the tender skin of her collarbone.
And this time he picks her right up off her feet and carries her to the bedroom, where he doesn't stop at the door and instead takes them right inside.
And finally, Claire Browne gets to see every single line of his tattoo.
****
"For the record, this was not what I came over for," he says, later, when he's lying in her bed draped in nothing but her and still breathing fast from their exertions.
She looks up at him from her position against his chest.
"You disappointed?" she asks. He smirks.
"Yeah. I was only after some small talk."
"I didn't notice anything small about it," she replies, earning her a laugh and a reprimanding squeeze of her hip.
He shifts slightly and runs his thumb over her bare shoulder, tilting his head to look at her properly.
"I know this thing is going to get really complicated," he says. "But I want you to know, this is the best thing that's happened to me in a long time."
"Me too," she says softly, laying her hand against his cheek.
"And I am going to do whatever it takes for this to work out."
"So what do we do about work?" she says, sighing. It's the big fat elephant they've been ignoring for the past week.
He looks uneasy. "I guess we don't tell anyone until we have to. I'll work with the other residents a little more. Not all the time, but as much as possible."
"It'll be a shame to miss out on learning from you," she says a little wistfully.
"I am a great teacher," he says. She rolls her eyes, but she means it; part of what made her residency great was being with him in action in the OR, watching the best of the best.
"As disgustingly arrogant as that is, I'm not denying it," she shrugs. "But I can handle being in the same OR as you without jumping you."
"I'm more worried about whether I can say the same," he says, and rolls them so she's pinned beneath him. "But there are other things I'm prepared to teach you," he says, and he lowers his lips to hers.
And she lets him distract her, giving over easily to the feel of his skin on hers, but some part of her mind knows one thing clearly.
That conversation isn't over.
****
It's an odd mix of excitement and uneasiness that follows.
He confesses he didn't exactly intend to find himself sneaking around with a coworker again, not after the messy fallout with Lim, but in reality that's exactly what they're doing.
They get dinner together after work, but only at places at least a mile from the hospital.
They spend nights in each other's beds, but go into work separately, and make sure not to arrive at the same time.
And lately, they've been furtively stealing kisses in the break room between jobs, culminating in a near miss with Shaun almost walking in when he's got her up on the countertop with his hand down her scrubs.
They have to spring apart and pretend to be discussing his new craniectomy patient, to which Shaun eagerly adds his own input, and seems not to find it strange that Claire is for some reason sitting on the counter with scrubs askew and a hot blush on her cheeks.
But there's never really any telling what Shaun's deduced and stored away, and what he's missed altogether.
The more time they spend together the more helpless Claire feels; long gone are the days where she could still fathom what her life would look like without him in it, and it's terrifying.
He confesses as much to her one evening, when their skin is still cooling in the air in his bedroom and her leg is thrown over his.
"This feels different," he says, running his fingers through her hair. "It feels... right."
"Even though so much could go wrong?" she asks, eyes soft and honest on his.
"Yeah," he says quietly. "This isn't just a fling, Claire. I'm all in in this."
She turns her head and smiles. "Me too," she whispers.
And all the while she tries not to hear the quiet whistle of a storm gathering on the horizon.
****
In the end their downfall is not Shaun, or Morgan, or Park.
It's not even Lim, coming over unannounced to Neil's flat on a Wednesday. He's laughing over his shoulder at something Claire's said as he unwittingly opens the door, and the laughter dies on his face as he turns and sees Dr Lim on the doorstep.
"Audrey," he says loudly, and Claire freezes. She keeps looking straight ahead and sits perfectly still, knowing she won't be in view provided he is careful where he stands.
"Hi, Neil," says Dr Lim, her voice warm and hopeful. "I'm sorry to turn up like this. It's just- I've been thinking a lot. And the thing is... well. I can't stop thinking what a mistake it was for us to break up. We were so good together, and I... I guess what I'm trying to say is I miss you," she says with a low laugh that makes Claire feel sick.
There is a long pause.
"Audrey, I..."
He sounds so awkward, she thinks, and for a brief moment she wants to laugh hysterically at the ridiculousness of the situation. She's dating her attending who's dated their chief of surgery, and now she's hiding on the sofa from her not knowing whether she hopes Neil admits to their relationship or not.
"I'm seeing somebody," Neil says carefully. And there's another long pause.
"Oh," says Dr Lim. Claire feels sorry for her then, knowing how it feels to suffer disappointed hope. She suspects she felt something of the same when she found out he was seeing Dr Lim.
The circle of life, she thinks.
But the overriding thought in her head is a prayer that Lim will just turn around and leave before she sees any further into the apartment.
"That's great," says Lim, her voice admirably calm. "I'm- I'm happy for you, really."
"Audrey, I'm-"
"I hope it works out for you," she says quickly. And miraculously, Claire hears her footsteps, and him closing the door. She stands up.
Neil sighs and drops his head.
"Shit," he says, rubbing his forehead. Claire watches him in painful silence, and he sighs and reaches for her, tucking her against his shoulder comfortingly.
"I'm sorry," she says, the urge to say it too strong even if it's not exactly her fault.
"Pretty sure she's my ex, not yours," he says, smiling ruefully down at her.
"It's going to come out eventually, isn't it?" she says glumly.
He doesn't say anything, because he knows she is right. And it's only two weeks after that until it's proven true.
It's stupid, really. But they've got too comfortable and they're holding hands in the park on a Saturday, and who should jog by but Dr Marcus Andrews, oddly out of place dislocated from the hospital, but every bit as hawk eyed.
"I think we need to have a chat," he says coolly, as all three of them lock eyes and Claire begins to hear the death knells sounding over her and Neil.
****
She's stomach-turningly nervous walking through the doors of St Bonaventure for the first time in a long time, the morning after the discovery in the park.
Neil left exceptionally early that morning, telling her not to worry, that he'd see her later. She knows he's gone in to try and head off Andrews before he gets to the hospital board.
At the morning briefing Lim is the only attending there, and she doesn't give Claire a second look. Morgan starts jabbering about a paediatric cardiology study in Seattle and Park argues back. Claire relaxes slightly; everything is normal, and nobody's mentioned Dr Melendez, and it looks like-
Oh.
She sees him standing on the other side of the glass wall, his expression grave as he meets her eye. He jerks his head slightly, come over, and she tries not to look at anyone as she excuses herself from the room.
"What's happening?" she asks him. A muscle jumps in his jaw.
"He's told the board. We're being dragged into an HR hearing."
"What?" she gasps. It feels like ice water has been dumped down her back.
"I'm sorry. He did it last night. I didn't even get a chance to speak to him," he says. "They want to speak to you now."
She swallows hard.
It's violating, what they make her sit through. Probing questions over every little detail of their relationship. Who started it. When it became sexual. Whether she ever felt uncomfortable, or coerced. Whether Dr Melendez used his position to get her into bed. She's no doubt Andrews relished the chance of planting that suggestion. His rivalry with Dr Melendez is far from dead.
She has to hold back from yelling at the drab blonde woman sitting across the shiny walnut table, trying to be calm and convincing and sensible even as she's boiling with rage over the insinuations they're making about her and Neil's relationship. A relationship which is more loving and understanding and supportive than any other she's known in her life, that's being made to seem like something seedy and wrong.
But when all's said and done, she knows they don't really have a leg to stand on.
No matter how pure her feelings seem, he is her superior and it is undoubtedly an inappropriate work relationship; she knows in her heart of hearts that it cannot end well for either of them.
When she looks at his bleak expression after she's done with her interview it's all she can do not to cry on his shoulder.
The hospital gives its ruling three hours later. Neil is suspended from working with the residents.
Claire is ordered to work exclusively under Dr Audrey Lim.
****
They agree, quietly, that they can't see each other anymore. The rumours fly all over the hospital and Claire thinks about quitting every single day. She's not a quitter, but the problem is she's no longer got any credibility, any respect, and to add to that the awkwardness of seeing Dr Lim is agonising.
She's professional of course, giving Claire fair surgeries and calm instruction. But Claire can feel the tension between them every second, and she is uncomfortable ninety-five percent of her day.
Morgan's shocked, looking at Claire with a mix of wonderment and derision.
"I knew you had the hots for him, but I didn't think you would actually go there. It's career suicide," she says bluntly. Claire's too drained to respond.
Park doesn't say anything, but she can sense he's also disappointed. He's a stickler for doing things right, and she doesn't think sleeping with the boss is in his list of Park approved actions. But he's not outwardly unkind to her, and he doesn't bring it up to her face, which is a small kindness.
Shaun's response is unexpected. Claire had thought he would be either utterly uninterested, or simply tell her she was an idiot, but in fact he asks a lot of probing questions.
"When did you know that you were in love with Dr Melendez?" he asks, staring somewhere into middle distance. "Was it before or after I caught you flirting with him?"
"Af... after," Claire says, befuddled. "I didn't- I wasn't-"
"Does Dr Melendez make life easier for you?" Shaun cuts in.
She frowns. "I guess not," she says. "Not easier. But better."
"More difficult is better?" he asks.
Claire sighs. "Fuller is better," she replies. "Like solving a complex equation."
That seems to make sense to him, and he smiles vaguely. "I think you two would be a balanced equation," he says, before hovering his hand in the vicinity of her shoulder in his own quirky way as he turns to walk off. She's oddly touched, and thinks at least one person in the team isn't judging her, at least Shaun sees what her relationship really is.
But none of it changes the fact that she has to go home alone and curl up in her empty bed, missing the warmth of him in both her bed and her life.
So when her phone buzzes at one AM she is there to open the message, unable to sleep and resigned to bad TV alone on the couch.
Her heart thumps when she reads it.
I'm coming over.
****
She's sitting cross-legged on her sofa facing him.
He looks like crap and she knows she can't look much better.
"Are... you okay?" she says. Stupid question, but she needs to fill the silence and she can't think of anything that will make this better.
"Of course not," he says heavily. "I'm doomed if I do, doomed if I don't. Either I have to give you up to salvage my position at the hospital or I have to give up my career to have you," he says. And the knots in her stomach tighten at the inscrutable look in his eyes.
"Surely you didn't come over here just to tell me that," she says, a hint of resentment in her voice, because it's not like this isn't destroying her life too, and she's so tired of feeling like it's her fault.
"No," he says, face softening like dawn dissolving frost. "No. I came over because- well, even if both options suck it's still not a hard choice, Claire."
She can hardly dare to look at him, so he reaches out and gently tilts her chin.
"I'm not giving up on you," he says. "Not for a second."
So he stays, and when he carries her to bed that night he makes love to her perhaps more slowly, more tenderly than her has before, running his hands over every inch of her body like he's committing each plane to memory, and she feels like it's more meaningful somehow, that this is the moment where they say I choose you, it doesn't matter what they say.
And she wakes up late with his arm over her midriff and his scent all around her and it's hard to be too afraid of what lies ahead if the picture has him in it too.
****
Time passes.
Ultimately, there's only one option, and that's not working in the same team anymore. The hospital makes that very clear.
Either Claire goes, or he has to, and they spend a long time chewing over this.
Dr Lim gets Glassman involved because she says it's not appropriate for her to manage the situation, not with her own history with Melendez. It's awkward, and Claire avoids her gaze.
But to be fair, Dr Lim is a consummate professional.
"I just want you to know, I'm not punishing you because of-" she stops, sighing.
"I know," says Claire quickly. "And- I'm sorry. Things just happened, I never meant to-"
"I know," says Lim, shooting her a quick, sardonic smile. "I've been there."
Claire smiles awkwardly, and nothing more is said. She doesn't think it will ever not be awkward between them, but she also thinks they're both decent, professional enough people to not make the rest of her residency excruciating.
And in the end, it's actually him that leaves.
He comes home that night (and yes, she has already slipped into thinking of his place as home, sue her), drops onto the couch beside her and looks at her for a long moment.
"I got offered Chief of Surgery at Sacred Heart," he says.
She snaps shut the book she's reading so fast it thuds to the floor.
"What?" She says. "I didn't know they were hiring- I didn't know you were applying-"
"I know," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't want to make a big deal of it."
"But it is a big deal," she says, reaching for his hand. "Sacred Heart is an amazing hospital, but I know how much St Bonaventure means to you."
"It did," he says simply. "But now other things mean more. And it's a step up, Claire, it would be a good offer regardless of anything else. Audrey isn't going anywhere anytime soon, so I've hit the ceiling at St Bonaventure. This just has the added bonus of resolving our little HR issue in one hit."
She looks into his eyes for a long moment, gauging the expression she finds there, and then.
Then she launches herself into his arms, and he laughs as she clings to him and finds his lips with hers.
Maybe this solution isn't perfect, but the more she sees of life the more she doesn't think perfect exists, but what she has here is close enough to make her feel like she couldn't have got it more right.
****
They marry eight months after Claire finishes her residency.
Shaun and Morgan are in attendance, as are Glassman, Lim and Andrews. In fact, as the years have gone by Andrews has mellowed a bit, and it turns out they have more in common than they thought. She likes working with him.
She walks down the aisle with Shaun on one side and Morgan on the other, which is bittersweet, because though it reminds her she has no family in attendance she at least has dozens of people there who care about her. Her oldest friends, her newest friends. They're all there, and they get to watch as she walks down the aisle of a little out-of-town church where Neil's waiting in a tuxedo with all the trimmings.
He has never looked happier.
His family is large and jubilant, and his little sister is one of Claire's bridesmaids, along with Morgan and her college best friends. There's a sweet completeness to it all that makes Claire want to drop to her knees at the altar and say a prayer of thanks, and she makes a mental note to do that later, when there's not two hundred people watching her.
There's music, so much music, and laughter and happiness that could raise the roof that night.
And then, a few months later, Dr Lim moves on to another hospital in California, and again there's an opening for Chief of Surgery back at St Bonaventure.
But Neil doesn't apply, and says that someday that job will be hers.
"You'll be better at it than I ever would have been," he jokes, and she gives him an enigmatic smile.
"Well, actually it might have to wait a while," she says. He cocks an eyebrow questioningly.
"You're going to be a dad," she says.
And it's the start of a whole new story.