"I told you to bounce!" Cameron roars, his voice echoing throughout the lab, which has fallen entirely silent as everyone watches him tear into Kirsten.

"I told you that I almost had him!" Kirsten shouts back, leaning in. She refuses to be intimidated by him. They've had this fight before, but never like this. This time it's different. She stayed in too long, and for the first time, Cameron had to bounce her himself after the two minute mark. She made it out unscathed, but she's never seen him this angry. "I needed another five seconds, tops!"

His eyes are almost entirely black in anger, that trademark green nowhere to be seen.

"You were already over! I had to bounce you! What part of how dangerous that is don't you understand?" He hisses. She folds her arms across her chest. As much as she could never be frightened of Cameron, there's something about seeing him like this that unsettles her. He's almost unrecognizable.

"You're overreacting." She mutters. "I'm not Marta, okay? And I'm fine!"

He stares at her, the anger in his eyes burning like an ember.

"You're right, you're not Marta. Marta's dead. She died protecting you. And you know what? I almost did too. Not that you care. You're reckless, and careless, you might as well be suicidal." He spits.

The silence in the room turns electric, Kirsten rearing back as though he slapped her.

"Wait, Kirsten-" Cameron's backpedalling, regret written all over his face. Anguish replaces anger. She shakes her head, backing up slowly until she bumps into the desk.

"No, you're right." She says, eyes wide, filled with something like betrayal. "Um, I'm sorry. I'll just…" She turns around, fleeing up the stairs and out of sight. With her gone, Cameron feels the silence in the lab for the first time.

"Shit." He mutters, rubbing his temple. A hand comes out of nowhere, smacking him soundly in the back of the head. "Shit!" He says again, spinning around to see Camille standing behind him, glaring.

"What's wrong with you?" She shouts, livid. He shrinks away from the sound of her voice.

"I know, I'm an ass." He says, hanging his head. "I'll fix it."

She eyes him warily.

"You better." With that, she turns on her heel, retreating to the cluster of lab techs hovering by the fish tank. He waits for about ten minutes, then climbs the stairs, heading for the breakroom. There he finds Kirsten, huddled over the tiny table with a mug in her hands. She looks dejected, even her ponytail hanging a little limper than usual. The pang of guilt in his chest worsens.

"Hey, Stretch." He says, smiling apologetically. When she looks up, he can see a ring of red around her eyes. That hits him like a punch to the gut. Kirsten never cries.

"Hey." She says, quickly looking back down at the table.

He sighs.

"Kirsten."

Her gaze stays fixed on the table top.

"I was out of line. I'm sorry." He's always hated apologizing, but nothing could make him feel worse than he does now, looking at this broken version of his favourite person and knowing it's his fault.

"It's fine." She shrugs. "It was all true, so." She mutters something that sounds like the truth hurts under her breath. He winces.

"It wasn't true." He argues. "I mean yeah, you can be reckless. But it's only because you're trying to help, it's not because you're careless. That's-" He breaks off, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to find the words. "I know what it's like to care about something so much you forget what it can cost you. I don't know what it's like for you, being so emotionally invested in the cases. But I know that I was willing to stop my heart for you, and I would do it again."

At that, she looks up.

"I worry about you. I can't even think sometimes, when you're in the fishtank." He says softly. "You're important to me, Stretch."

She sits back in her seat, frowning at him.

"You think I don't know what it's like to worry about someone? Do you have any idea what it was like for me when you didn't wake up?" The anger from earlier is back in her voice. "That's what you're worried about, right? That I'll fry my brain, that I'll be a vegetable?"

He blinks.

"I guess-"

She cuts him off.

"Well I've been through that. So don't tell me I don't know the cost, Cameron." Her voice wavers, and her lip is wobbling, and he feels like his heart is breaking. It's beginning to seem like all he does is hurt her. "I know it, maybe better than you. And I don't forget, okay, but I can't do my job if I'm constantly terrified of it." She swipes her hand angrily across her cheeks, rubbing at the tears that have escaped.

"I didn't-"

"You're important to me too, and you don't get to shout at me, and call me suicidal, not after what you did, and-" Now she's crying so hard he can barely understand her, and he does the only thing he can think of. He pulls her into a bone-crushing hug, wrapping his arms so tightly around her that she couldn't fall apart if she tried. And she is trying.

"Okay, okay." He sighs as she wraps her fingers in his shirt, sobbing. "I'm sorry." He presses his lips to her temple, fighting the pressure behind his own eyes. "I'm sorry I'm such an asshole." She cries for a while, and even after her breathing slows she keeps holding on, pressing her face into his chest.

"You are." She says after a while, voice muffled into his flannel.

"What?" He looks down at the top of her head.

"An asshole." She says, pulling away. He smiles.

"Yeah, I know. I just-"

"You worry." She finishes for him, sighing. She leans back into him. "Me too."

He doesn't let her go, arms holding her flush against him. She doesn't make any move to pull away again.

He still worries, and she starts joking that it's his blood pressure Ayo should be monitoring during the stitch. There are a couple more close calls, and he doesn't handle them particularly well, but he tries. They both do. She learns to listen a little better. They make it work because they have to. Eventually it gets a little easier, but Cameron still yells when she takes unnecessary risks. He's yelling at her the first time he tells her he loves her. She shouts it right back at him. They don't speak for three days after that, until she shows up at his door at three in the morning, wearing his shirt and pajama bottoms, soaked to the skin. They make up, and make it official, and quickly learn that their job isn't any easier to navigate as a couple. Some of their fights are so bad Maggie threatens to shut the program down. But it's worth it. All Kirsten needs is a fistful of flannel, and the argument is over, one way or another.