sundown | nathan; nurse 4 doctor

[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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