Functional Dysfunction

Chicken Noodle

Sarah was so thankful that she had a day off. She didn't think that she could handle an interrogation. Not from Maggie or Natalie individually, much less so together. Her abortion was scheduled to take place in three days, she'd arranged to have that day off too, but for now, all Sarah wanted was to keep her mind off of everything, so she tied her curly hair into a bun, started blasting ABBA and cleaning her apartment. She'd gotten into the zone and hadn't comprehended the time until she'd hit her shin on her coffee table for the umpteenth time while dancing around using her duster both as a cleaning tool and a mic. She plopped down onto her couch and looked at her work. She wasn't a neat freak, but her place was usually pretty clean. Yes she'll leave far too many books out on the coffee table, she doesn't vacuum every week, and she refuses to buy dishes that can't go in the dishwasher, but there's no mold or layers of dust or strange smells, and she can always find what she needs when she needs it. But now, everything was put away, there wasn't a stray coffee mug or spoon out on the counter, her apartment smelled like lemon Mr. Clean, and she was starving.

She untied her hair as she made her way down the street, letting the wind blow through it, cooling her from head to toe. She cut through the park, just enjoying the fall colours and not being drowned in stress for once. She let her mind wander, from a new Harry Potter fan theory she'd read on Tumblr to what she was going to get when she got to the Mills family diner. Her musing was cut short when she smacked right into someone. Her flustered apology was halted in her throat when the person gently held her arms to stabilize her. They were familiar, she'd felt them yesterday when she stood up too fast. She looked up as he released her. "Dr. Rhodes, sorry about that. I was a little lost in my head."

"No worries, truthfully, I was spaced out too. And seriously, you can call me Connor, at least outside of work." And for the first time, ever probably, Sarah took a good look at him.

Though he smiled, it didn't reach his eyes. They were a piercing blue, but they looked so... Tired. There was a discernible aching sorrow vividly holding his soul hostage. His hair was mussed and it looked like he'd been trying to yank parts of it from his scalp. His shoulders, while strong and broad, were incredibly tense. Sarah actually started to feel pain in hers just looking at him. His skin clung closer to his body than it probably should have, and his pallor making her uneasy. He moved his hands back to his sides, and in all honesty that was probably the most concerning part of him. People often made the mistake of thinking surgeons had soft hands, but that wasn't true. They didn't get callouses from their jobs, but their hands were by no means soft. They had to thoroughly wash their hands, forearms, and elbows, before and after every surgery or medical procedure they performed. Plus they had to use hand sanitizer before and after they worked on or even met with a patient. It took a toll on their skin, and you could often tell how much a surgeon had been working based on the condition of their skin. And Rh-Connor's... It was dark pink, going into his sleeves so she couldn't see how far up the problem extended to, the skin was cracking, and it felt like scales as opposed to skin.

"Alright, Connor, what are you up to?"

"I'm just walking, I guess."

"It's a nice day for it. How's Robin doing? I haven't seen her in a while." A dark look crossed his face and Sarah immediately kicked herself, this was obviously a very stressful, very private, matter that she had just callously asked about. Yes, she had a lot going on, but she should have realized that there was a reason. A secret. "I'm so sorry I didn't-"

"Robin's been admitted to psych." Connor hadn't told anyone, and had gone to great lengths to keep it as much of a secret as possible. She worked there, her father worked there, he worked there, none of them needed Robin's situation to be broadcast all over the hospital. But honestly, it felt great to tell someone, to tell Sarah, someone who wasn't directly involved. Dealing with Dr. Charles throughout, the man who'd forcibly admitted his daughter to psych in the first place, and Ms. Goodwin who supported Dr. Charles, as well as all the staff treating Robin, was exhausting.