sundown | nathan; nurse 4 doctor

[ The first time she meets Nathan Summers, it's in a ward she doesn't usually circulate.

She's running, adrenaline soaring, when her body collides into another. A hand reaches down to steady her, gripping her elbow. The person it's attached to —

He glares down at her. The corner of his mouth folded, forehead lined, but they kneel together on the floor. Everyone crowded takes turns trying to resuscitate.

The child makes it, but the doctor still turns and barks at her, voice pitched high, furious. Something about a delayed administered medication. She's not even the patient's nurse — but she doesn't get a word edge in.

When she asks the nurse in command who he is, after wiping the tears off her face in the bathroom mirror, somebody warns her to stay out of his way. She files the information away, in case it's of any importance later, though chances are low they'll interact too often. She's a NICU nurse.

Dr Summers. Surgeon. Short fuse. Doesn't fraternize, and apparently, does not play well with others.

Absently, she spots the same physician in the cafeteria that day. They pass by each other in hallways. One late shift, she finds him frowning at his reflection in a snack machine. A private smile ghosts her lips.

The chip bag is stuck.

She keeps her head down as she moves. She assumes he doesn't notice.

***

The first time they actually speak, it's been well over a year after the fact.

Not by chance. This meeting is intentional, scheduled neatly into her calendar and circled in red marker. Her rabbit heart is pacing, her stomach is sick.

She's going to have a baby. Well, that's the idea of it. The plan.

Fran doesn't tell anyone in her family about this — because she doesn't think they'll approve. She knows they won't. Her mother would just about have a heart attack if she knew she was going to have a child before she'd even gotten married. Alone.

Not alone. That's the point. She doesn't want to deprive any prospective children of a father figure. She herself had grown up fatherless, with an eldest brother attempting to fill the role. She knows it was burdensome on Anthony; he could never properly fill the void their father left. He choked on the responsibility.

She's not careless about it. Anything but. The agency she chose carefully vets all of its clients. It pays off. There's a highly qualified match, all criteria checked off. Very healthy; very fertile; middle age; financially stable; works in medicine; single; eager to start a family.

(She doesn't have time for another failed attempt at a relationship. She doesn't have the patience.)

The agents help arrange the meet up, their schedule aligning. A perfect place for an introduction, if ever there was one. She stirs her coffee, decaf, already preparing for the sacrifice when it comes.

A shadow comes over the table, set for two. Francesca lifts her chin. She doesn't recognize him at first, outside of scrubs and bright lights. The recognition is delayed.

Instead, she rises to stand, brightly, ignoring the pinch in her belly. ]

You must be Nathan ... ?

[They meet on a bad day for Nathan. And his good days aren't much different, but he's not prone to raising his voice at his colleagues. A firm dressing down isn't unusual, not yelling.

If he felt that way in the moment, he doesn't show it. He all but explodes into the room that was mayhem before he arrived.

He has an extremely narrow window of time to perform a life saving trauma surgery. At times like this, it feels like everyone else is moving in slow motion. It's not good enough.

It's one of the few situations where being wedged against a beautiful girl isn't a pleasure. She's a nuisance in the moment, in the wrong place at the wrong time. He makes his incisions and cuts with precision and a tight frown on his face.

The next part happens fast. He digs into her, asking her questions rapidly and dismissing every answer. Then he's gone. And if it weren't for the all the alarms and whistles, it would be silent.

***

He does see her, in the reflection of the vending machine. He watches her walk away, noting the unit she's headed to.

He still has no idea what her name is, but he instructs the gift shop girl to deliver some flowers. Maybe that will get that lousy shift out of his mind.

After a further streak of bad days, he starts to wonder if he jinxed himself somehow.

***

It's a wonder he makes it to this meet-up at all. He's always working. If he's not working, he's eating. Or punishing himself with a workout. Or squeezing in research, meticulous record-keeping and bettering himself. It's also a wonder he has time to think there's something missing in his life.

He's had the ache for a while now, but he never managed to line up the right girl and the right time. Now he's here, because he's running out of good time. His sperm quality will reduce significantly soon, it's time to prioritise it. He wants a kid.

The girl he's talking to seems suitable. A lot younger than him, but that works in her favour. They want the same things, and she seems sensible. He's pleased that she chooses to meet with him, though he doubts anyone meets the criteria as well as him.

He had imagined some risk in meeting a medical professional. He's worked in the field a long time, he's worked locally for a long time. He could very well know the woman he's meeting.. but this feels like another karmic event.

He doesn't allow himself to hesitate, he walks right up to the table and waits for her to have a moment of recognition. ]

Francesca. [Curtly. He holds out a hand for her to shake.]

You work at Hampton Court Hospital too.

[ The recognition slices through her. Between rising from her feet, to the hand that's outstretched to hers, and the comment. He knows her.

And she knows him.

Summers. Nathan Summers. It hadn't rung any bells — because who would have thought? He only crossed her thoughts when he crossed her path.

His hand is still out. Francesca hesitates, long enough for it to be noticeable, too long for it not to be plain that she just realized who she was facing, before her manners kick in. She shakes the hand presented to her. Forcing a smile, albeit not quite able to mask her discomfort.

Crap. ]

I do, yes. [ She swallows, mouth weirdly cottony. ] It's ... it's nice to meet you outside of text, and work.

[ Without him yelling at her.

Her eyes drop to the table, and then flicker up to him, before she sits as he does. At that precise moment, their waiter comes, eager to see to the new arrival. Francesca had been early, you see. By a half of an hour.

She stares down at her placemat. This isn't official. Nothing is decided. She comforts herself with that thought, though almost immediately she decides this will not work. This fruit is rotten before it could be plucked. ]

[It is decidedly not a deal breaker for Nathan, who did not get yelled at. He shakes her hand firmly and sits across from her.

He gives her an appraising look, noting the discomfort in her body language. He's used to it, it's normally how people react to him.]

I don't think you mean that. [He says plainly, without a mean edge.

Before he can elaborate, the waiter starts hovering and he orders a coffee with the express purpose of getting them to go away again.]

I've got qualities other than my personality that I'd like the opportunity to discuss.

[ She was being polite. She doesn't say as much. They have company, and well. She doesn't really feel like it.

And she doesn't owe him anything.

Francesca, ever one to dislike direct eye contact and even more-so during confrontation, shifts uneasily in her seat. It's plain she doesn't wish to be here, but for all she may not owe him, she remains seated.

His announcement manages to catch her interest. She meets his eyes, her own reflecting more than a hint of doubt.

This is a business meeting. Might as well let him speak. ]

Proceed.

I meet all of your criteria. I'm exceptionally healthy and physically fit. I don't have any hereditary medical concerns. I can provide you with comprehensive genetic screening results. I'm well-established in my career and I can comfortably put a child or two through college. I speak three languages, my education is extensive and I'm virile.

[Delivered with a completely straight face, even when the waiter returns to meekly set a coffee in front of him.]

And, crucially, I'd like a child. I'm sure our reasons for choosing this method are similar, but your expression of interest intrigued me.

[He picks his coffee cup up, pausing.]

Is there anything you'd like to ask?

[ Below the table, her fingers clasp each other and clench. Francesca attempts a stony face of neutrality as he speaks. She doesn't manage it very well; her face is historically an open book, unfortunately.

He's right; this is all the criteria she had been seeking in a reproductive match. She was very specific about what she desired in a partner to raise a child. Children, even. As he said. Falling in love with someone was not a choice, but she had thought through carefully what she wanted from the father of her child. She was allowed to be picky here.

When he finishes, there's a frown on her face, lips compressed into an unhappy line. ]

No. I think you covered everything sufficiently.

[ There's edge in her voice, though — a rising sense of indignation. Irritated that he met all of those standards, if not leapt over them. It's vexing.

Then, unable to stop herself: ]

Did you know it was me?

[Nathan quietly ascertains that she may not be as willing to move past their encounter as he'd hoped, which he supposes he can't blame her for. It's a vulnerable situation to engage with him in.

Despite that, he doesn't allow himself to look uncomfortable when she asks him that. Knowing the implication is that "me" refers to her being the one he unloaded on.]

I had prepared myself for the possibility. [His shoulders shrug, just a little.]

I don't know of many Francesca's generally.

[ She can't help it. She huffs, settling back on her chair, lips remaining pursed. The look she delivers him is displeased at best, appraising at worst.

If he is being plain, then she will be in kind. ]

If I am to be honest, Dr Summers. I do not believe this will be a fortuitous meeting. If I had known --

[ She pauses. ]

Well. I am not sure I would have come. Regardless of the ... [ her eyes skitter away, recalling the virility comment, ] criteria being met. Or the interests we share, or the similar belief systems we agree on as prospective parents, and ... what have you. Anyways, I don't want to waste your time.

That's understandable.

[His tone isn't gentle, but the intention is. He's not going to strong arm her into this agreement.

His mouth contorts as he thinks deeper on it. He ought to call it a day, pay for their coffee and leave. He lingers for a moment, insatiable curiousity unable to leave a stone unturned.]

I should have apologised to your face instead of sending the flowers. [He admits, trying to hold her gaze while she tries to escape his.]

I wasn't convinced that approaching you on shift was very reasonable. I didn't want to put you on the spot then, but we're here now so, I'm sorry.

[His tone softens, now holding her gaze is hard for him, too.]

I was very rude to you.

[ She's determined to hold firm, but when he mentions flowers, her conviction shifts to confusion and then to unease. To settle, finally, on some annoyance because he looks genuinely contrite and it stirs sympathy in her. Sympathy she's not sure he deserves. ]

You humiliated me.

[ She points out, bluntly, the old hurt welling back up. You made me cry, she thinks. Doesn't confide. Her pride was wounded enough. It's not his business, and she doesn't want him to think her too soft.

She looks down at the table, turmoil sitting in her bosom. Wrestling with the apology he just offered. Finally, she continues, and the affront has tapered out of her voice. ]

I was only there because they were short-staffed that evening, you know. You mixed me up with someone else.

[ She trails off, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. ]

But, I am glad you were. There. For the child.

[Nathan nods wordlessly, though he's clearly still contrite. Perhaps if it had been anyone else, he wouldn't feel half as guilty. Unfortunately upon asking around about her, the information he gathered quickly made him realise he'd made a bad call.]

I know. [He says, voice a little hoarse.]

I asked around about you.

[Because she hadn't left his mind since then or their other wordless exchange. Truth be told, he'd quickly realised he felt attracted to her. By the third time he caught a glimpse of her, he was fantasising about apologising through other means. With his mouth, between her legs. Vivid fantasies of pulling her panties aside and tasting her twelve hour shift on his tongue drove him to private relief sessions before surgery.

But it's dangerous territory. And he already decided upon responding to this advertisement that this should be a hands-off arrangement. They're not looking for a relationship, sex would complicate what could be a simple process.

He finishes his coffee, setting the cup down gently. He sets down enough cash to pay for both of their drinks.]

Don't decide now, but think about it.

[ She does think about it. She thinks, and she decides it won't work — and then, by chance, or by fate, the following day she's charting when she notices him. Standing in front of the baby ward, watching the tiny newborns.

They meet eyes. The eye contact lasts too long. He breaks it first.

It stays with her. Much as he saved that boy, almost a year ago now. She sits in bed, eating Chinese, alone, and turns him over and over in her head.

He asked around about her. The reminder swirls around in her stomach.

In the morning, she reaches out.

It's not a date, exactly. But it feels a little like a date, because she meets him outside the spot they're meeting, he arrived before she did, and he opens the door for her. Same restaurant as last time. She chooses a table on the balcony, overlooking the water. ]

I want a baby. [ She blurts it out, but once it's there, she looks up, an odd combination of conviction and hope writ across her face. ]

I think -- maybe -- we can get to know each other. See if this will work.

nathan; nurse 4 doctor

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