Hotel Room Drabbles

Journal

She kept the bedside lamp on for a soft glow of light, just enough to see what she was doing, but not enough to disrupt her bedfellow. The room was silent aside from the mini fridge whirring and the faint sound of cars passing by outside the building.

Meredith chewed on the end of her pen as she relaxed against the chunky, white pillows of the bed. Her knees were curled up to her chest, giving her small, black journal a resting spot. So much had been going on lately. Everything was taking over her emotions and causing unneeded stress. She had to get it out somewhere, so she turned to her journals. At times it was difficult for her to put thoughts to paper, but right now the words easily drifted from her hands.

It wasn't glamorous, but she wrote about the liver resection she did that day on a 12 year old boy. It was one of the few surgeries she'd been able to even do lately. Putting words on paper explaining the feeling of being in the OR helped her to remember why she does the work she was trained to do. It felt so natural to be in the OR, giving a young boy the chance at the full life he deserved.

She smirked as she dotted her letters and circled the words she wanted to bring focus to. The surgery had also given her three hours to spend face-to-face with the man she couldn't seem to spend enough time with. She scribbled a few words down on the next page, biting her lip as she dotted the "C.H." on the faint line of the paper.

Her eyes drifted down to the body next to her, bringing a sense of peace over her as she took in the feeling of being friends– she sighed, or whatever they were, with someone so mature and caring. He was sleeping after a long day of two grueling surgeries, one of which was spent with her.

She continued to write, refocusing on her page as the end of the pen returned to her lips, allowing her to nibble at it. Writing about the day and catching up on the week helped her to log this experience, something she wanted to be able to share with her kids one day. She carefully wrote her words to not completely disgust Zola or Ellis as young women, knowing Bailey would never dare take a look. Hell, she thought, she may be reading them one day to remember who she was when Alzheimer's would surely turn her mind into scrap. The thought made her question if she was being detailed enough. She smiled as she continued to scribble her writing along the lines.

"What are you saying in that novel you're working on?"

She sighed after the initial shock of his voice breaking the silence, smirking as she traced her thumb over the words. She glanced over to see Cormac rolled over beside her, facing her. She looked down at him, shrugging. "It's a secret," she said quietly.

Hayes chuckled, propping himself up on his elbow, "Sure it is." He smiled as they looked at one another, reminding him of all of those stolen glances across the operating table. "Read me a line," he said bluntly.

She narrowed her eyes at him, seeing a sparkle in his eyes against the darkness of the room. The lamp provided only enough light to see the pages and to see his smile glowing at her. She giggled, nodding, "You win." Her fingertips dragged along the page, flipping the thin paper back once. "No laughing," she said with a smirk.

He watched her intently, nodding and pulling the covers up closer as he rested on his side. He smiled as he watched her scan the pages with her eyes. Would she really be willing to read this out loud to him? His heart fluttered at the thought of how vulnerable they were able to be with one another.

She looked at the page, marking the line with her thumb. Was she really going to share this with him? She began reading quietly from her journal, "Standing across from him in the OR just feels right." She wasn't able to look him in the eye, even though she could feel his eyes focusing on her. "I've only felt this connection with one other man in my life. Looking down into an abdominal cavity with C.H. takes me back to the same feeling I had injecting a virus into a brain tumor or peering over a microscope as an intern. Except now, I look across the table or right by my side and I see and feel my equal. I feel his respect and encouragement as we work in sync. His competence and confidence remind me of two of the very most important people in my life. He fits the puzzle. He was the missing piece."

She glanced over as she read the final line, "But no way in hell would I ever let him know that."

Cormac gave a closed smile, his eyes doing all of the talking as he reached over her and closed the journal, placing it down beside her. He slid one hand over her abdomen and pulled himself closer to her. He slid a hand up her cheek, grazing his thumb over her delicate skin. "You're it for me," he said softly, "and you were my missing piece."

"Thank God," she said with a giggle, "because that could have been an embarrassing read."

He chuckled and pulled her in close and kissed her on the temple, smiling as he looked into her eyes in the faint light. His arms wrapped around her as she curled into him, embracing his arm with her fingertips. Their bodies fit together in the same way their minds and hearts did– like a perfect puzzle, locking together as if they were one another's missing piece.