One

"There she is!"

The smile on Sarah Reese's face said it all. She walked through the door of the Gaffney Chicago Medical Center ED and beamed at the charge nurse, who was approaching her with open arms.

"Hotshot is back for her first day of residency!"

The announcement was totally over-the-top, but that was Maggie Lockwood all over. Sarah couldn't help but laugh as she gladly accepted the bear hug from the very over-excited woman.

"Oh, Maggie," Sarah said with a grin. "It's so good to see you!"

Maggie finally let her go, and returned her grin. "You know it's only be a month, right?"

"Longest month of my life," Sarah replied automatically, now walking side-by-side with everybody's favourite nurse in the direction of the doctor's lounge.

"See," Maggie said fondly, her arm casually across Sarah's shoulders, "this is why you're my favourite."

"Hey!" came the indignant cries of the three ED doctors in the centre of the football. Maggie's laugh, however, said it all - she'd got them good.

Sarah paused to take in the scene, one hand pushing the door to the doctor's lounge open behind her.

Yeah, she thought to herself, this will never get old.

It had been three months since her official first day of residency. One thing was for sure, a trauma residency was no joke. If she wasn't on shift, she was on call. And if she wasn't on call, she was at home with every medical journal she could possibly get her hands on. She'd always been an overachiever, but this kind of study was something else. She knew she was good at her job - damn good, if she did say so herself - but she was still learning. Trauma in the ED, that she could handle. Trauma as a surgeon in the OR ... well, that was something else entirely.

Lucky for her, she happened to be in a fairly long-term relationship with a very successful surgeon - a trauma specialist himself - who was more than happy to point her in the right direction. He wasn't a fan of reading journal articles, though. Connor Rhodes preferred to learn by doing.

He'd had the strangest combination of medical training she had come across yet. The man had gone to college in New York, then onto medical school in Mexico. He'd completed his residency back in the States, then headed off to Saudi Arabia, where he was paid very handsomely to not leave an unsightly scar on anything, ever. He'd been back in the US, working at a small ED in upstate New York for about six months now. About six weeks ago, he finally - finally - called to say he'd got it. His dream job.

At her hospital. In Chicago.

Don't get her wrong, it wasn't that she didn't want to work with him. Not at all. It just ... Well, if she were honest it felt awkward. Gaffney was the very first place in the entire world Sarah had ever just been herself - not someone's sister, or someone's daughter. Just Dr Sarah Reese, MD. It felt good.

The week before he was due to start, she'd found herself confiding this in Will Halstead, and ED doctor who had taken her under his wing as a medical student and been a big part of the reason she chose to pursue actually treating patients, as opposed to her original plan of pathology.

"Wait - you know the new guy?"

She raised an eyebrow and threw him a look.

"Oh," he said, realisation suddenly dawning on his face. "You know the new guy."

"Uh-huh."

"And that's awkward because ...?"

"You know what - forget it," she said quickly. "I should be talking to Maggie. Or Nat."

"No, no," he interjected immediately, jumping up from the couch in the doctor's lounge and blocking her way to the door. "Come on, it's me. Just Will. The guy who first made you take a shot."

"I hate shots."

"Okay, bad example," he backpeddled. "How about drinking your first whiskey? You liked the whiskey, right?"

Another raised eyebrow told him all he needed to know.

He shut his eyes and hung his head forward. "You're a whiskey drinker, aren't you."

"Always have been," she confirmed with a nod. "But thanks for playing!"

She made to leave, but his frantic gestures somehow got her to stay put.

"Look, Sarah," he said kindly, "it's only a big deal if you make it a big deal. Honestly, no one needs to know. I won't be telling anyone anything. This is just a private conversation between friends, right? It goes no further."

"Yeah, because you're so great at hiding your feelings."

That had his attention. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

She sighed. "I know you, Will. You'll go full big-brother-mode on him and suss him out the second he walks through that door. And everyone around here knows you treat me like a little sister. They'll put two and two together in a heartbeat."

"Hey, I can be discreet." At her scoff, he added, "When I want to be."

"Uh-huh," she said sarcastically. "And how is your not-girlfriend?"

He glanced to the side quickly, where they both saw a very pregnant Dr Natalie Manning writing up paperwork at one of the desks in the football. Quickly, he said, "She's fine. And that's entirely beside the point."

"No, Will," Sarah sighed, a hand on his shoulder. "That is the point. Everyone in this place knows about your feelings for her. Except, somehow - well, her."

"That's different," he said strongly. "The timing's wrong. It's only been a few months since -"

"- I know, I know," she said exasperatedly, very aware they had had this conversation at least six times now. "I was here."

A comfortable silence fell between them then. The conversation was over - Will was absolutely no help, as expected, but he had definitely told Sarah what she needed to hear: It wasn't a big deal unless she made it a big deal. So she decided not to make it a big deal.

As they walked through the door back into the ED, Will couldn't resist asking in earshot of everyone else, "So what's this guy like, anyway?"

Sarah actually rolled her eyes at that. He'd promised not to say anything about the who, not about the what, after all. She should've seen it coming.

"What?" she heard her other favourite nurse, April Sexton, asking interestedly. "There's a guy?"

"There is a guy," Will answered her gleefully, watching Sarah walk away from him with her shoulders squared and her head held high. "And I'm guessing he's tall, dark and handsome - right, Sarah?"

If they'd been anywhere else, she would have raised her arm above her head and thrown him a very rude gesture. Instead, she crossed one arm over the other and threw it at him behind her, under her elbow. She knew he'd seen it - the sounds of laughter followed her out into the hall that lead to the elevators.

She'd faced a lot of questions in the week since Will's seriously irritating announcement. No one had an answers, of course, but everyone in the department seemed to have a theory: Nat thought it was cute and fairly new; Maggie was convinced he was high-profile and needed to keep it a secret; and April was starting to wonder if he was married. Ethan, however, didn't seem to care.

"It's her business, not ours," she distinctly heard him saying to the nurses as they were all shepherded out into the waiting room.

Today, of course, was the day the hospital's PR team had been preparing them for for weeks now. Today, they officially opened their new Emergency Department.

She'd purposely stood herself at the far end of the group of staff surrounding Ms Goodwin, their hospital administrator, who was giving the obligatory PR-laden speech - this way, she was as far away from her gossiping colleagues as she could possibly get. She knew the ED staff considered themselves family, and that was great. But sometimes, they just needed to stop. And this was one of those times.

Particularly since, unbeknownst to the rest of the staff, today was the day she'd been dreading. Today, Connor was due to turn up for his first shift.

And he was already late. Not that she was counting, or anything.

She kept checking her watch discreetly throughout the speech, but only because she was starting to worry. Ten minutes turned into twenty, then thirty, and forty-five. Just as she started to panic, however, she had to turn that part of her brain off. Every pager in the room went off simultaneously. One by one, they each checked their tiny pager screens to find exactly the same message - MASS CAS. REPORT TO ED. The looks they found themselves giving each other said it all: This was big. And probably bad.

That was when Maggie appeared. "CFD plan two, mass cas. Multiple trauma patients minutes way. Let's go!"

That was all it took for the staff to jump into motion. Nurses ran back through the doors to setup treatment rooms, and doctors followed quickly behind them, each reaching for a pair of gloves as they passed the dispensaries on the walls. Unlike the other Trauma residents in her group, this was not the type of situation Sarah lived for. But it certainly got her blood pumping - and captured her attention.

She'd assisted in treating four patients by the time she finally took a minute to breathe. She grabbed a quick gulp of water from the bottle she'd stashed in the football earlier - a habit she'd picked up while she was here on her med school rotation.

She heard his voice before she ever saw him - and thanked her lucky stars she hadn't been pulled in for surgery on the patient with the amputated leg.

"Twenty-eight year old male, crush injuries, severed artery. Massive blood loss."

By the time they had turned the corner - and Maggie had directed them to a trauma bay - she had managed to regain the composure that appeared to have left her the moment his voice hit her ears.

"Got a tourniquet on his right leg. Tried to intubate but couldn't get his jaw open. He lost his pulse on the ride."

She walked alongside Will, who was barking orders at the nursing staff and clearly ready to take over the case. She, however, couldn't seem to take her eyes off Connor. He was kneeling on top of the gurney, covered in blood, and performing CPR on the poor man, who was also covered in blood. Whether the blood was Connor's, or the patient's, or another of the crash victims - well, right now, she didn't care. (Though, when the subject was argued about later, she would realise this was the moment she decided there was no way in hell the clothes he was wearing right now would be washed in her machine - their time was come. They would be thrown into the trash.)

He was alive. And, given his brief argument with Will, he was just fine. (This would also be the last time either of them would ever elect to take the train. Her dodgy little car was anything but doctor-like and fancy, but it would get them from point A to point B. From now until eternity - please God.)

"Let's get him in the bay," Will said to the ambos, who complied without argument. To Connor, he said, "I got it from here, man."

"Nope, he's mine."

And that had clearly pissed the red head off. "Okay, who the hell is this guy?"

"Says he's a doc," one of the ambos supplied helpfully.

"Okay, get off the gurney, doc," Will told Connor, who steadfastly ignored him. "I'm senior resident in this ER."

"Yeah?" Connor said sarcastically. "Well I'm your new Trauma fellow."

Will paused, then shot Sarah a look that clearly said, 'You have got to be kidding me' and 'I don't like him' all in one. She, however, just snapped on a fresh set of gloves.

Connor, who was still performing CPR whilst balancing on top of the gurney, said without looking up, "Sarah, you're with me."

The nurses briefly looked from one to the other, but nobody made any comment. That would come later.

"Got it," she said automatically, popping a set of protective glasses on. "What d'you need?"

"He's biting down, gonna need a trach tube. Pop a course in his groin - left femoral."

She'd stuck the vein first go - a far cry from her first attempt on a patient with Will barely twelve months ago. As soon as the tube was in, they were shocking his heart back into a normal rhythm, giving him blood, running tests and organising to send him to the team upstairs in the OR.

As soon as they could breathe, he'd tossed his gloves and pulled Sarah into a tight hug - right there, in front of everyone. Again, nobody asked any questions, but there would be time for that later. Of course, after the gentle kiss to the top of her head, there was really no need for questions. He might as well have sung and danced along to a love song, then dipped her backwards and kissed her under some freaking mistletoe. By the time this particular piece of news made its way around the hospital, she was sure the story would end up being something like that anyway.

She couldn't help but notice the long, deep breath he seemed to take as he released her. He clearly wanted to say something, but now was not the time and this was definitely not the place.

Instead, she found herself saying, "You need to clean up. Sink's this way."

Lucky for them, he appeared to be the last of the traumas rolling through those doors this morning.

No other words were said as they stood side by side, each taking the welcome opportunity to wash the residual blood (for her, at least) off their hands. He, on the other hand, was scrubbing his arms right up to the elbow. Finally, as he finished up washing and reached for the paper towel to dry his now dripping wet arms, he broke the silence:

"I suppose you're going to make me shower twice before I come to bed tonight."

Though it was an attempt at breaking the tension, it hadn't worked. Stonily, she said, "At least."

"And these clothes are going in the trash?"

That one seemed to be the one that worked. She let out a not-entirely humourless chuckle and answered, "Oh, not just that. They're going to be burned."

As they walked down the hallway, he continued along this strange line of humour, adding, "God forbid I ever screw up. You'll probably cut off my -"

"- Dr Rhodes," Ms Goodwin said, reaching out to shake his hand as they passed her in the hallway. "Oh, are you alright?"

That was when Sarah realised he had a deep gash in his other arm - the one she wasn't standing next to and couldn't see clearly. Typical. Why would the man say anything? It's not like he needed a doctor.

"Sharon Goodwin," Ms Goodwin continued with her introduction.

"Pleasure to meet you," Connor said politely. "Is everyday like this?"

"Some days we're busy," Ms Goodwin answered him. "I see you've already met one of our Trauma residents, Dr Reese."

"Ah, you could say that," Connor said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

The administrator, however, simply looked from one to the other with a knowing eye.

"This isn't going to be a problem, is it?"

It had surprised both of them to find that the question had come not from Connor, but Sarah. She herself didn't even realise she had spoken until both sets of eyes rested on her.

"No, Dr Reese," Ms Goodwin said with a small smile. "It's been made perfectly clear today that anything going on does not interfere with your ability to work together."

Sarah glanced apprehensively to Connor, whose face held a grin. She could practically hear his gloating voice inside her head - See? it said. It doesn't matter here. We're just two people. Perfectly normal, no questions.

The grimace she sent him the moment Ms Goodwin's back was turned either went unnoticed or was intentionally ignored. Either way, although he hadn't actually said any words, he knew he'd be paying for the unsaid sentiment later.

She'd been called away to assist on another trauma then, and he'd caught another patient.

It hours before they saw each other again. When she found him, however, she wasn't the least bit surprised at what she saw: He sat on the edge of the bed in the somewhat secluded treatment room, casually using only one hand to put stitches in his own arm. She had arrived not long after April, who'd brought him a set of scrubs. Instead of interrupting, she found herself leaning against the edge of the door.

When April mentioned she could find him a doctor, however, Sarah couldn't resist.

"I wouldn't bother," she said to the nurse, who jumped at the sound of her voice. "He's stubborn as a mule, this one. Thinks he can do it all himself. It's really sickening when you realise he usually can."

"Usually?" he questioned her in jest. "Oh, it's more than usually. You know it, I know it, dad -"

And that was when he cut himself off mid-sentence. April, however, didn't seem to notice. She was looking from one to the other as thought trying to work out what was going on. And then, the pieces fell into place.

"Wait a minute," she said. "He's - him?"

Sarah nodded ever so slightly. With a sigh, she said, "Yep."

To Connor this time, April said, "You're the boyfriend?"

"Uh-huh."

He didn't even look up from his stitches, but he knew Sarah had actually shuddered just a little at that word. He didn't need to look up. He knew her that well.

"In that case, I'll, uh, leave you to it."

April couldn't seem to get out of there fast enough. It did not escape their notice that she had pulled the curtain closed behind her. What they weren't entirely aware of, however, was that the curtain had not completely closed behind her. Regardless, this was the most privacy they would have all day, and they both knew it. Even so, there were no sudden declarations or lunges toward each other.

Connor calmly kept stitching his own arm as he said, "I know you hate that term."

"What word?" Her reply was instant. She knew what he was talking about, clearly she didn't want to have this conversation. But that had never stopped him before, and it wasn't about to stop him now.

"Boyfriend," he said simply.

This time, however, she didn't shudder. She barely even responded. It wasn't until he'd completed another two stitches that she spoke again.

"It's not the term itself," she said thoughtfully, stepping forward and gently helping him to hold the two edges of the wound together. "It's just weird when it's applied to you and me."

"Would you prefer the term 'partner'?" he asked, still steadfastly concentrating on stitching his own wound. "Or 'significant other'?"

"I can see what you're trying to do," she told him darkly, "and it's not going to work. We're together, that's great, but it gets weird when we try and label it. Can we please just not?"

The sheer emotion in her voice caused him to stop mid-stitch. He looked up and met her eyes. A moment of eye contact was enough for him to concede, "Okay. Not today."

"Or ever."

"Today," he repeated with a shadow of a smile on his lips. "But we do have to have this conversation eventually."

"But not today."

The smile was entirely pronounced when he said, "Exactly," and leaned up to give her a quick peck on the lips.

Though the curtain was drawn, it was not entirely so. That right there was all it took for the newest surgeon to break the collective women's hearts. Two hundred and eighty-three minutes - it was a new record.

Outside, an entirely different conversation was taking place. Maggie was going over a report of the trauma cases with Ms Goodwin, who received this same type of update after any mass casualty event. They were pulled off-topic, however, when the head of Psychiatry, Dr Daniel Charles, approached them with a pile of paperwork. As he passed by the somewhat secluded treatment room, he couldn't help but notice the shirtless man stitching a wound in his own arm.

To the two ladies, he said, "Who's young Rambo over there?"

Ms Goodwin looked up, noticing the two doctors in the treatment room for the first time. "Oh, that's Connor Rhodes, the new trauma fellow," she said nonchalantly.

"He's gonna light up some estrogen receptors around here," Dr Charles commented.

"I'll say," Maggie quipped in reply, "he lit mine."

"That's all I need," Ms Goodwin commented back in jest. She'd intentionally not said anything about what she knew, but it turned out she didn't need to.

Maggie had looked up, just in time to see Connor's quick peck on Sarah's lips.

"And apparently he's going to break some hearts," she said with raised eyebrows. "He better treat my girl right."

"Oh, something tells me you have nothing to worry about," Ms Goodwin told her with a knowing smile.

By the time they reached the end of their respective shifts, word of their relationship seemed to have spread to every facet of the damned hospital. Even the pathology team from the basement seemed to throw each of them a glance when they passed them in the halls.

When Sarah did finally clock off, she headed straight for the doctor's lounge to grab her jeans and a comfy t-shirt. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with a steaming mug of tea and ignore the entire world, but she couldn't. Today was Connor's first day in his new job; She'd promised to take him out for a greasy cheeseburger and the best sweet potato fries on the planet at their favourite diner, and she wasn't about to let him down.

When she saw the look on his face as he walked into the doctor's lounge, however, she knew their plans had changed.

"Bar?"

"God yes."

They said nothing else. Silently, they headed into the changing room at the back of the lounge and each changed out of their scrubs - she into the aforementioned jeans and shirt, and he into the jeans he had been wearing earlier. (She had examined them between patients earlier and deemed them suitable enough to be worn home. They would, however, be thrown down the trash chute the second he'd changed out of the damn things.)

They'd had some wins today - both personal and professional - but they'd had some pretty major losses, too.

Connor had lot a patient, but that patient's lungs had been direct donated to another young man and saved his life. Sarah had broken a little girl's ribs performing CPR, but she was alive and doing well up in the PICU.

So instead of the greasy burger he had been salivating over for days and the sweet potato fries she just couldn't resist, they found themselves picking at a plate of nachos in the very back corner of some random bar. What they hadn't realised, however, was that this place - Molly's - that had pretty good reviews online, appeared to be the very bar the emergency responders in this part of town hung out at. And were regularly joined by their friends who worked at the hospital.

Five minutes in, they'd given up all pretences and resigned themselves to the fact that they were going to be stared at all night. Connor had apparently decided to resolve this by buying them each another whiskey.

"We can't drink ourselves into a stupor," Sarah found herself saying. "We've both gotta be functional human beings in the morning."

"Hey," he quipped, "I can quite successfully doctor whilst hungover, thank you very much."

"Oh, my mistake. Not all of us spent our nights in medical school drinking tequila with the locals."

They shared a long look then, both keenly aware that this thinly-veiled argument had nothing to do with drinking, or alcohol, or even his habits in med school. (Though sometimes, their arguments did revolve around his lascivious tendencies back in his med school days - he did tend to play up to the 'exotic foreigner' stereotype, after all). But tonight had nothing to do with any of this.

He softened his tone and took hold of her hand, gently rubbing a thumb across the back of her hand. "Let's go home, hey? Back to where it's just you and me, and that's all that matters."

Her response was just as sweet: "I thought you'd never ask."

They lay together in bed now, limbs intertwined so closely it was hard to define where Connor finished and Sarah began. Her head was on his shoulder; His fingers were tracing lazy patterns down her side. His jeans had been ripped of him the moment he opened the apartment door; She had taken great delight in stuffing the damn things down the trash chute. And the activities that followed - yeah, that was great, too. They'd never had an issue there.

Right now, however, their conversation seemed to turn back to the same topic they always wound up on. It was absolutely the last thing either of them needed tonight, but that didn't stop the words from needing to be said.

In the darkness of the night, she found herself saying, "This is wrong, you know."

All movement stopped. His free hand was on her chin now, pulling her up to face him.

"No, it's not," he countered. "There is nothing wrong about us."

"And yet my brain keeps screaming there is something majorly wrong with this. With us."

He sighed, ran a hand tiredly across his face and said, "There is absolutely nothing wrong with us being an us. I have the genetic testing to prove it."

"No one is going to care about genetic testing," she said with a roll of her eyes. "All they're going to hear is -"

"- Why do we care what other people think? What has this got to do with anyone other than you or me?"

She didn't have an answer to that.

A/N: So here we go again. Another concept, another story - another way to stop myself from finally writing the last chapter of The Rheese of it All ...

So, full disclosure, this concept is not entirely mine. I was watching a new series a couple of weeks ago (well, it's not new, but it's been released on a streaming platform called Stan here in Australia recently, so I say it counts as new) called Billy & Billie, and the ideas just started racing around in my head. To me, the show had such an interesting premise. It's something I had never seen on TV or read about before. The concept of where is the line, that sort of thing - and let's face it, we have the perfect villain in Cornelius... So I couldn't resist.

Let me know what you think!