Shattered on the Ground

To be a good surgeon, you have to think like a surgeon. Emotions are messy. Tuck them neatly away and step into a clean, sterile room where the procedure is simple. Cut, suture and close

“Lucy, you got some 'splainin' to do!” Connor said in a sing-song voice as they entered the home the four friends shared together. Reese smiled weakly at him as she collapsed to the couch with Regan beside her.

“That was Chris, Kenneth, and the guitarist in their band.” Reese blurted

“You mean Chris Chris? And Kenneth Nixon?” Jessica questioned shocked. Reese nodded mutely in response.

“How did they find you?” Regan asked curiously.

“You remember, Hugo?” Reese questioned turning her gaze on Jessica, who only nodded silently in response. “He’s in one of the bands Framing Hanley is touring with. Not to mention that I was assigned to Kenneth back on ER duty.”

“That’s why you were freaking out before.” Regan remembered, connecting the dots.

“Yeah.” An uncomfortable silence fell amongst the friends as they contemplated this news.

“So…what do we do?” Connor questioned curiously.

“Nothing,” Reese shrugged tiredly. “There isn’t anything I can do.”

“Why are they here, Reese?” Michael questioned carefully. Reese’s eyes flittered to him. He had emerald green eyes and short blonde hair that fell flat against his head.

But sometimes, you're faced with a cut that won't heal.

In a split second thought Reese realized he was absolutely everything that Kenneth wasn’t. But was that what she really wanted? She forced the question from her mind as quickly as possible but it only brought forth memories.

Memories flashed forcefully through her mind and Reese couldn’t control them. Ashley’s laugh echoed in her mind, Nixon’s grin, Chris’ hugs. She could almost feel the warmth of Nixon’s arms around her, his head resting on her shoulder, his breath fanning her neck. She remembered when Chris threatened a boy who was harassing her. She remembered when Ashley chased her with a camera demanding a picture.

A shaky breath left Reese as she attempted to compose herself and lock away the memories—but it wasn’t working.

A cut that rips it's stitches wide open.

She could hear the haunting sound of the organ at Ashley’s funeral. She could remember feeling as though she was suffocating, the collar of her dress chocking her. She remembered rising from her seat despite her mother’s warning glare and she had ghosted to the back of the parlor and slipped out the exit door. She remembered smelling the aroma of Hazelnut coffee and instantly she relaxed almost as quickly as she relaxed into his arms.

He was sitting on the curb with his back to her as he clutched a cup of chamomile tea. Placed innocently beside him was a coffee cup with the sent of Hazelnut swirling up to tease Reese’s senses.

The soothing hot drink was hovering in his hands as he turned to stare at her with liquid brown orbs brimming with concern. It was then that Reese noticed the green pack of Newport Lights and the lighter at his feet. The thing about Nixon was, he didn’t smoke. He just had an odd tendency to carry a pack of her Newport Lights, a habit from when he and Reese dated. Of course the lighter that was never far from reach had more to do with Nixon’s pyro tendencies then Reese’s smoking habits.

“Reesie?”

Normally she would have bristled at the pet name but there was nothing normal about this situation. Reese would have been lying if she hadn’t been hoping to find him here. He never did handle these kinds of situations well, it was only one of the many things they had in common. But the Hazelnut coffee and cigarettes waiting for her made her thankful that Nixon knew her so well.

Nixon wordlessly handed her the coffee as a peace offering. He was studying her carefully, looking for signs of a breakdown, searching her eyes for words she couldn’t say.

Reese bit her lip before taking the final step to the curbs’ edge and taking the cup from him. She held it to her nose and breathed deep, just taking in the scent of the coffee. Reese’s eyes drifted to the thin object between Nixon’s index and middle finger. It would have surprised others more than it surprised Reese to see it there. But after recent events the curiosity in Reese was mildly peeked.

“Are you actually going to smoke that?” She nodded toward the cigarette. Nixon had always said that perhaps one day he would smoke one; he just never had the right incentive to do it. It wasn’t that Nixon was straight edge or anything, his liver would tell a different story, he just never really cared about cigarettes. But he had wondered if it would ever ease his nerves had the occasion come for one.

“It depends.” He shrugged.

“On what?”

“How this night ends.”

Wordlessly she plucked the cigarette from his fingers and snatched the lighter from between his feet. She held the small flame to the tip of the cancer stick then breathed deep, instantly calming and the familiar sensation of it. There was something about a Newport Light that calmed Reese’s nervous. It was the one type of cigarette smoke that she could stand for any length of time and it developed into something more.

Distantly Reese could hear someone sob and her breath hitched causing the burning smoke to make her cough. Coughing turned into crying and crying turned into sobbing. She tipped forward and he caught her in his arms.

“Shh Reese,” he rubbed her back soothingly. “Just breathe babe. Just breathe.” She clutched at the front of his shirt and soaked his black shirt until she had nothing left.

“I’m sorry Reese.” The statement and its words held more meaning then many would ever know. But Reese understood—the apology went so much farther than a condolence to Ashley’s death. It was regret for 365 days of unhappiness. It was reparation for 6 months of nasty exchange of words and a bad case of the silent treatment. It was atonement for a moment that went too far.

“It doesn’t matter,” She whispered and she almost regretted the words. His hand froze on her back and he pulled away minimally to stare at her questioningly. “I’m leaving, Kenny.” She admitted and instantly Reese saw his guard go up as he took a step back.

“Where will you go?”

“Maryland—My parents have a beach house there.”

Nixon glanced out at the solitary parking lot before he turned his back to her, his jaw taunt. It was silent for a moment as Nixon digested the meaning of her words. Reese was leaving and knowing her; she had no intensions to come back.

Kenneth turned back to Reese, his eyes as warm as chocolate spiced with plead. “You don’t have to leave.” He murmured quietly, his hand rose to her cheek to wipe away the moisture there. “You could stay here with us, you could stay with me.”

Reese smiled softly at him and nuzzled her cheek in his calloused palm. There was a time when Reese would have given anything to hear him say that but that time had come and gone.

“You know I can’t.”

“Can’t or wont?” He challenged.

She considered her response and shrugged. “Both.”

Nixon smiled softly, his thumb brushing over her pink lips. “One for the road?”

“How about just to what used to be.” Reese suggested before her lips collided with his as a single tear trickled down her cheek.

They say practice makes perfect. Theory is, the more you think like a surgeon, the more you become one

“Reese?” The girl had lost herself in memory and she hadn’t realized until she blinked and faced Regan that her eyes were glassy.

“Babe what’s wrong?” A comforting arm went around Reese’s midsection but she barely felt the contact. She felt the ghost of Kenneth’s lips on hers more than she felt Michael’s arm in that moment.

Reese shook her head slowly before she met Michael’s gaze and responded with something she had perfected. “Nothing,” She smiled softly. “I’m fine.”

The better you get at remaining neutral, clinical.

Regan gave a disapprovingly look. Regan knew better—did Reese really think she was the only one good at hiding how she felt?

“Stop it Reese,” Jessica chided. “You just saw your ex and old friends and you most definitely were not fine back there.”

Cut, suture, close.

“We just want to understand,” Connor added hesitantly. “You don’t talk about where you came from or the people that were in it.”

and the harder it becomes to turn it off; to stop thinking like a surgeon

Michael’s pager suddenly went off and he cursed, instantly silencing the device.

“Go,” She ordered softly and when he opened his mouth to protest she added exasperated, “I’m fine. I am fine. I, Reese Lynn Hanley, am fine.”

Michael pursed his lips and nodded reluctantly before pecking her on the lips. “We’ll talk later.” He promised and Reese sighed, it was his tenacity that she had once admired that she was now annoyed by.

She watched him grab his jacket and head for the front door, closing it quietly behind him. Reese let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“We’re still here,” Regan smirked knowing that Reese hoped they would drop the subject. Reese turned to them and bit her lip. She couldn’t help but think back to Nixon’s farewell kiss and think that Michael’s kiss had nothing on that steamy kiss. Nixon had conveyed all his feelings into that kiss; his love, his sorrow, his regret, his passion. She never felt any of that from Michael’s kiss.

And remember what it means to think like a human being.

“I think I still have feelings for Nixon.”