April 2017
Joelle finalizes a few emails to various branches of Doctors Without Borders that are similar to her own at Massachusetts General Hospital as Cindy, her boss, darts in and out of their shared office. There's an emergency in Nepal. Two devastating earthquakes have shaken the nation in a matter of days, and they're in need of all the help they can get. Supplies, beds, and medical equipment had to be organized, shipped, and unloaded in each various hot spot. Doctors needed to be contacted, travel plans needed to be arranged, and aid stations needed to be organized. Cindy, the brains of this operation, prioritized their responsibilities, listed the people to contact, and brainstormed the best solutions, while Joelle was the body. She wrote the emails, made the phone calls, and ordered all the necessary supplies.
Joelle was up to her eyeballs in work, but she was thriving. She loved being busy, and days like this made her feel like her job wasespecially important. She could keep up with Cindy; it just meant that she would spend the remainder of the afternoon burned out and ready for bed. She didn't have much to do. Her only assignment that needed attention soon was for a gen ed course that she could push off for another day or two.
She was in the middle of filling an order for extra sets of Personal Protective Equipment when her phone buzzed on the desk. It was face down so she couldn't read who was calling, and furiously typing on her computer, she let it go to voicemail.
The incessant buzzing stopped for a few moments, effectively reminding Joelle to get focused again. She was in the middle of typing the last line of the shipping information when the vibrations began again.
Cindy huffs from her place behind her desk, kneeling with one leg on her chair, too antsy to sit down. "Go ahead and answer it," she tells Joelle. "It does no good as a distraction. You'll get more done after that conversation than you will listening to it go off again and again."
Joelle flips the phone over and sees Mara's name on her screen. She tucks it between her cheek and shoulder as she continues to type on her computer.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Jo," Mara says, and something about her tone is worrisome. She sounds almost worn out and weary. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm doing okay," she says. She's too distracted to think much about Mara's question, other than a brief acknowledgment that it was a bit odd. "How are you?"
"Don't worry about me!" she cries. "You must be stressing so much."
Joelle glances at her long "to-do list" stuck to the bottom of her monitor. She definitely is stressing, but she has no idea how Mara would know that. Joelle hasn't even spoken to her in a few days. She figures Mara must have seen the news about Nepal and put two and two together.
"I'm a little bit stressed, but I think I'm holding up pretty well." She clicks the complete order button and sends a copy of the confirmation page to the printer to be filed.
"I'm glad to hear it," she says. "I know you guys aren't together or anything, and I haven't really seen either of you make a move in about a month, but I know that you're still close. And it's obvious that you care about each other."
Joelle's rhythmic typing grows slower and more erratic. Now she's confused... weren't they just talking about earthquakes in Nepal?
"So, how is he doing?" Mara continues. "Have they reset the joint yet?"
"I'm sorry?" Joelle asks.
"Harry," Mara clarifies. "Liam called about an hour ago and said that they were just taken into a private room."
"Wait, what?" Joelle takes the phone away from it's spot in the crook of her shoulder, gripping it firmly in her hand as she sits up straight in her chair, her focus no longer on her computer screen.
"Do you not know?" she replies.
"Mara," Joelle says, a bit fiercely. "Is something wrong with Harry?"
"Uh, yes? He took a crazy risk again and ended up falling through the upstairs' floor to the main level." Joelle tries to process this information quickly, her mind still focused on sterile fields and bandages that need to be ordered for medical centers. "He has a small fracture in his left arm from landing on it. They say it's a miracle that that's the extent of his injuries." Mara pauses, and Joelle can tell that, much like herself, she's confused. "He should heal pretty quickly."
"He broke his arm?" Joelle responds, still processing.
"Jo, seriously?" she asks, puzzled. "He was taken to Mass Gen. He's literally in the same building as you." When Joelle doesn't respond, Mara's tone is much gentler. "You really didn't get a call? Liam said he was going to talk to Harry and offer to get ahold of you.... Niall's already there."
Joelle doesn't know how to react. Her emotions are blurring together into some sort of menagerie. Some of her emotions seem valid to her: worry, frustration, betrayal. There's one emotion that surprises her, however: embarrassment. No one is watching her (other than Cindy, who's shooting a burning glare to the back of her head, but she's easy enough to brush off). If she had to justify her embarrassment, she'd use the argument that Harry would be one of the first people she would call in an emergency. Not just because of his job and the fact that he's trained to respond to emergencies, but because she would want him to know and give him the chance to be there for her. She's embarrassed because she's stuck caring too much for a man that can't extend her the same courtesy.
"I didn't get a call," Joelle finally replies, settling with being frustrated for the time being. It's the easiest emotion for her to handle right now. "Is he okay?"
"He's definitely been through much worse," Mara reassures, but it doesn't make Joelle feel any better. "It should only take a couple weeks tops before he's in tip-top shape again!"
"Well, if he doesn't want me there, I'm not going to drop everything and rush over," Joelle huffs. "I have a lot of work to be doing anyway."
"I'm sure that's not it, Jo," she reassures. "Harry gets weird about this sort of thing."
Glancing at the clock on her monitor, Joelle decides, "I'll stop by and see him later. I'm done in about an hour or so. He'll probably still be there because the ER is a bit slow for non-life-threatening cases."
"Okay, Jo. I'm heading over now." Mara sounds a bit worried but, at this point, Joelle is just eager to get off the phone. "I'll be there in about twenty minutes or so. I guess I'll see you in a bit. When you're done with work."
"Bye, Mara," she says. And when she begins to feel guilty for her aloofness, she adds, "Thanks for calling me."
Joelle hangs up her phone and places it back on her desk, face down once again. She places her head in her hands.
"Joelle," Cindy says from somewhere behind her. She quickly raises her head in attention. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes," she says, moving her mouse to get her computer back to life after the screen went black from lack of use. "Everything is fine."
"Good," she says, tone clipped, any traces or worry or sympathy all but vaporized. "Then let's get back to it. We have a lot of work to do."
xxx
Joelle's heels click loudly against the linoleum tiles as she marches her way to the emergency wing. She dodges nurses running through the hallways, doctors and surgeons reading charts without looking up, and abandoned gurneys lining the sides of the halls.
She goes to a desk and gives the nurse there Harry's name. He seems hesitant to tell her where to go.
"He's already got a lot of visitors in there right now, miss," he tries to reason with her. "Although his injury is relatively minor, we have rules regarding–"
He stops talking when Joelle flashes her hospital I.D. badge, the words Full Access written in bold beneath her name.
"Okay," he concedes. "Mr. Styles is in room 209."
She thanks him before following the signs to Harry's room. The embarrassment she's suppressed is back with a vengeance when she sees that Harry's room, like the nurse said, is packed. Liam, Niall, Mara and a few more faces that she doesn't recognize fill the room. All these people knew about Harry's injury while she was kept in the dark.
Niall is the first to spot her, wearing his uniform of dark grey scrubs and his black stethoscope. He waves as she gets closer.
"Jo!" he says. "I was wondering when you'd get here!" It doesn't escape her notice that both Mara and Niall expected her to be here. Maybe she and Harry weren't as sneaky as they'd originally thought.
"Well, here I am," she says and looks to Harry out of the corner of her eye. He's slumped, sitting on the side of the bed with his feet resting on the floor. His left arm is in a sling, and he's not looking at her. He stares intently at his shoes, then he's fixated on the wall, and next he's looking at Liam who's talking to someone unfamiliar to Joelle but wears the same day time uniform as Liam and Harry. He'll look anywhere in the room but at her.
"Were you working? I'm surprised Cindy didn't let you blow off work as soon as Harry called you." Niall looks puzzled, and Joelle knows that he means well but she really wishes he would stop talking. "I know she's a bit of a hard ass but she's usually pretty understanding about stuff like that."
"Harry didn't call me," is all she replies, still glaring at Harry.
Mara looks between the pair, and Joelle can tell that she can sense the tension. She cuts off Liam while he's in the middle of talking in an attempt to usher everyone out of the room.
"I think Harry's had enough visitors for the day," Mara says. "Let's let him have a moment with Jo and we can wait for him in the waiting room until he's discharged."
Joelle moves out of the doorway and to the side when everyone starts filtering out of the room. Mara is the last to leave, and she squeezes Joelle's hand as she passes, a show of encouragement and support.
Joelle stands in her spot, across the room from Harry for a few silent moments. She's the only other person in the room, and hestill can't bring himself to look at her. She walks closer, her heels on the floor alerting him of her movement, but the only visible sign that he's aware of her is the slight tension he gets in his shoulders as she approaches.
She stops in front of him, her arms crossed. Her nude heels must be much more fascinating than anything else in the room.
"What happened?" she finally asks. She's proud of herself for how neutral she keeps her tone. She doesn't want to get upset with him, not before she gives him a chance to explain himself.
"I was at a call in Back Bay. I was walking and the upstairs floor collapsed." He pauses, raising an eyebrow bitterly. "My arm broke my fall."
She studies him. He's still in his uniform–not the one he wears to go into an actual fire, but the one that he wears around the station. A navy blue button down tucked into navy blue dress pants. A crest on his chest that says Boston Fire Department and another on his upper arm that says his station number. His hair is matted-looking, like he was sweating, and could use a good wash. He has dark soot smeared above his eyebrow. Joelle anticipates that if she got close enough to him, she'd be able to smell smoke on his skin.
"Is that your only injury? Your arm?"
Finally, he looks at her. His green eyes scan her face but he doesn't break his stone-cold expression. "Yeah, that's the extent of it. Just a hairline fracture."
"Mara said something about you taking a risk? And I've heard from Liam before that you tend to take risks and he hates it." He doesn't say anything in reply, just twists his lips, daring her to continue.
"Oh? Is that what they said?" His tone is bitter and sardonic.
Joelle takes a step away from him. She doesn't know whathappened in that fire, but it did something to Harry and now he's taking it out on her.
"Why are you being so cold?" She tightens her arms that are already folded across her chest, like if she holds tightly enough to herself, whatever he says next won't break her in two.
"What are you doing here, Joelle?" he asks instead of answering her question, standing up from his place on the hospital bed. She wants to continue backing away, but she pictures in her mind that her shoes are soaked in concrete and she has to stand her ground.
"Why didn't you call me?" she asks, playing him at his own game and answering his question with a different one.
"I didn't want to bother you," he shrugs, walking to the cart beside the bed and pouring himself a glass of water from the pitcher with his good hand.
"Didn't want to bother me? Harry, I want to know if something happens to you." She hates how blasé he's being, as if there's no seriousness to this situation and he can just brush it off and move on. "Like I said, Liam's mentioned before that sometimes you take uncalculated risks in dangerous situations, and I'm just worried because–"
He turns around abruptly, and, finally, he's showing a bit of emotion. Joelle doesn't know what exactly she wants from him, but when she sees the anger in his eyes, she knows it isn't this.
"I don't need you to worry about me," he seethes. "I didn't ask you to come here, Joelle. I don't know who called you, but it sure as hell wasn't me." She forgets about her cement boots, and takes a step back. Harry's words cut deep. "And I definitely don't need you talking to me about what risks I take in a fire. I've already gotten an earful today from the chief, I don't need you to come back for a second round."
"I don't know what's gotten into you," she tells him, and she knows that every emotion she's feeling is written on her face. "But I didnothing to you. I don't know what the chief may have said, but that wasn't me." She huffs, any hurt feelings she had after hearing Harry's words transformed and turned into frustration. "I'm allowed to feel upset when you're hurt and feel like you can't come to me."
Just when she thinks that he might soften, his exterior becomes even more steely. "You need to take a step back, Jo."
"A step back?" she asks, looking at the distance between them. She's nowhere near him anymore. "I'm already–"
"You're worrying too much about me."
"Harry," she pleads. "I just want to make sure–"
"I think you should go."
Despite his fierce tone, Joelle refuses to let him write her off.
"I'm not going anywhere," she insists.
"You don't need to be here!" he bellows. "I've already got half of fucking Boston waiting outside the door, probably eavesdropping on our entire conversation!"
"You don't have to be like this," she tells him, wringing her hands together in front of her.
"That's where you're wrong," he argues. "I think we see things differently."
Joelle has a feeling that whatever's coming next will make her feel even worse than she already does. She steels herself in a desperate attempt to become impenetrable to his harsh words and biting tone, forcing her arms to remain by her sides and her hands to be clenched in tight fists. She doesn't prompt him to continue; she just waits in uncomfortable silence. She almost wants to walk out the door this second before he gets the chance to continue on his rampage.
"You're getting too close, Joelle." The use of her full name puts extra weight on the statement. He's only ever used it with her in a show of seriousness; to put an emphasis on what he's saying. She has a feeling she knows what he means when he says she'sgetting too close, but she really hopes that she's wrong.
"You're making this into more than it is," he continues, his voice low and full of malice.
"This?" Joelle asks hesitantly.
"This," he confirms. "You and me. I think you're making this out to be more than it is."
"You don't mean that," she denies.
"I do." He's never spoken to her like this. His voice is harsh and his tone mean. "We've just been having some fun, Jo. This is too serious for us. You don't need to get yourself involved in this."
"Harry, think about what you're saying," she pleads. She cautiously takes a step closer to him. A gentle hand settles on his arm. "I want to be here. You don't have to shut down and keep everyone out." He softens slightly, and she gains the courage to continue. "You don't have to feel alone in this."
He blinks. Joelle thinks that she's making progress and chipping through the ice surrounding him piece by frozen piece. His posture becomes less stiff for about half a second before he inhales quickly, sits up straight and rips his arm out of Joelle's grasp.
"You don't fucking get it," he spits. "I don't want you here."
She takes a step back, away from him and away from his cruel words. Her hands are tied. She's done all that she can, and she won't beg him to let her stay. With one last long look, she turns on her heel and speeds out of the room, the door closing with a resounding slam behind her.