Author's Note: This is what I got up to over the weekend after a day of cleaning. The goal was to write something short, but I don't think I'm capable of that, LOL. Each chapter is its own scene, and they'll be out of order as I fiddle with each draft. I'll post as I edit and as long as the ideas keep coming

Chapter One: A Bar

After Neil makes himself comfortable in the seat next to Claire, he orders another beer, a little sheepishly given how abruptly he'd left five minutes before. The bartender wisely holds his tongue about it, though he does nothing to hide a smirk as he delivers the full glass.

Claire mulls over the menu, commenting on this option or that: the mussels might be nice but maybe a little messy; a salad easily dismissed as not satisfying enough. Or you couldn't go wrong with pasta, she decided. In the end, she opts for the gnocchi while he orders the pork loin.

'This is not you, and it's not right.'

With the distraction of their dinner choices resolved, Neil wonders if he should say something about his decision to return to the restaurant. It does worry him, Lim's admonition and Park's furtive, annoyed glances over the past couple of weeks at his support for Claire. And Claire had a point. He'd overcompensated today, and they were all worse off for it. If he allows himself to speculate about who'd made the favoritism complaint, Park is a likely source, though it doesn't seem his style.

'You're trying to play it safe, and it's hurting things.'

He doesn't think he favors Claire, he just knows her really well, even better since they started running together. Each of his residents has their own quirks and rhythms and he responds to them in different ways. With Murphy, patience is a virtue and a reward for his brilliance. Positive reinforcement helps tone down some of Morgan's more competitive tendencies. Park liked a straight-forward approach and hard facts over intuition. And Claire? Well, he trusts her to do what's right and to push him to innovate and empathize in equal measures. He isn't arrogant enough to think himself above bias. And unfortunately, he knows well and good that the rumors he and Claire are dealing with aren't about intention but appearances. In hindsight, he could have conducted himself less casually and more carefully when it came to Claire, not been so quick to back her up in front of Park the way he's been doing.

Maybe he needs to make more of an effort with the others. Or maybe … he doesn't know the answer. The whole situation has become too weird, and he doesn't want to deal with any of it.

And, of course, there remains the sting of his failed relationship with Audrey as proof that work relationships complicated things, especially one with your boss. He knows more than anyone the cost of those boundaries blurring. And Claire had gotten caught in a true shitstorm with an attending who'd tried taking advantage of her – and he doesn't want anyone putting him in the same category as Coyle. The rules are there for a reason, Neil knows that.

'It's not who you are. Or at least it's not who I thought you were.'

The friendship he shares with Claire is something he's proud of, that he knows is a good thing. When he'd taken her on that first run, he'd chosen to cross a line into the personal, to be there for someone who needed help out of a dark place. It wasn't that long ago when he'd told Glassman that personal ties like the ones he's embracing with Claire was a sure way of screwing things up. And the old man had once again been right about how the personal ties make it matter. Or at least that's what it feels like whenever he spends time with her. But their careers? Their reputations? Everything they've worked hard to achieve is now subject to speculation and rumor. Is it worth it?

Why did he come back into the restaurant when he could have driven off like any other sane person would have given all the red flags?

'We can be friends and have it not be weird.'

He'd made his choice. The least he could do now is enjoy it.

Turning toward Claire as she sips her fancy cocktail, he teases her about the fussiness of her drink. It earns him a good dose of the mock indignation and humor he's hoping for. Her smile automatically triggers one of his own, and he can sense her gratitude for making an effort to ease the awkwardness between them. Shaking her head, she asks him about his favorite cocktail, which leads to a discussion of the best cocktail bars in the city. Eventually, they fall into their usual easy conversation, part friendly banter, part unveiling of more small details into their lives.

Their food arrives in the middle of a debate about different surgical techniques in other countries. By the time they've gotten their check – split between them, of course – it's as if the last 24 hours hasn't happened. They part ways at her car, she jokes about his stubbornness, and congratulates him on a successful evening as her mentor and friend. And she thanks him for taking the chance on her, an almost shy admission before she steps into her car and drives off.

He's wondered all night what made him return to her side. Why share an evening alone with his resident despite his reservations and the potential dangers to their relationships on the job – the dangers to their relationship with each other if he's being honest with himself.

Yet, this time when he climbs back into his own car, his answer comes to him so clearly.

'You don't have to run away just because I'm here.'

Remembering the last expression on her face of warmth and friendship and gratitude directed at him, he knows. To be that to her. That's why he came back. And he'll do it again and again.