What Tammy said made sense. It would explain the sudden shift in the residents between services, and why Pearce had been farmed out.

Ambrose Rifkin was priming Dzubrow for the chief resident's position, which would bolster his credentials at the NIH. She wondered if Pearce knew. Surely she must suspect, and although Wynter knew Pearce would never admit it, it must hurt. "God damn it."

She hadn't even realized she'd cursed aloud until Tammy laughed.

Wynter smiled wryly and said, "Nothing lasts forever--even pain."

"It just feels like it does," Tammy said with a sigh. "If you hear from her, tell her I...we miss her."

"Sure." Wynter wondered why Tammy thought she would be the one to hear, but she nodded. Tell her I miss her. She was too tired to be jealous. Almost too tired to miss Pearce. Almost.

By six o'clock in the morning she was functioning on autopilot.

She'd never gotten to bed, never closed her eyes again after the few minutes in the lounge with Tammy. It was just one of those nights where the emergency cases and traumas never stopped coming, and all she could do was forget that anything else in the world existed except the next crisis. The hospital was the universe, the operating room her only reality. When her beeper went off just as she reached the coffee in the cafeteria line, she contemplated tossing it into the trash. She glanced at the readout and saw that it was the page operator, which usually meant an outside call. Heart racing, thinking that Mina was calling about a problem with Ronnie, she left her tray on the track in front of the commercial coffee urns and hurried to the nearest phone.

"Dr. Thompson," she said briskly when the operator answered.

"I've got an outside call for you, Doctor. Hold please."

Wynter heard a series of clicks. Then her heart leapt again at the sound of the rich, slightly husky voice.

"Wynter?"

"Pearce?"

"I thought I'd try to catch you before the OR."

Wynter turned her back to the cafeteria and leaned against the wall, much more awake than she had been just a few minutes before.

"How are you doing?"

"Just finished the night from hell."

"You too? Was it a full moon?"

Pearce chuckled. "Must've been."

"How's it going out there?"

"Not bad. Standard community hospital stuff. Busy."

"That's good."

Silence stretched until Wynter feared the connection had been broken. "Pearce?"

"You're on call again Saturday, right?"

"Yes," Wynter replied, confused. "But I--"

"I want to see you. Friday night?"

Despite the tightening in her stomach and the rapid flurry in her chest, Wynter tried to be rational. "Aren't you on call Saturday too?"

"Not until eight o'clock in the morning."

"It's too far for you to drive back here after work Friday and then get back there in the morning." Wynter closed her eyes, remembering Pearce as she'd last seen her, dressed in black, her eyes even darker.

She'd wanted to kiss her but she hadn't. Hadn't wanted that final proof of their parting when Pearce said goodbye with the kiss still lingering on her lips. "I'm so glad you called."

"I miss you."

"Oh, I miss you too."

"So I'll see you Friday."

"Pearce," Wynter murmured. "I want to see you. I do. But I already told Mina and Ken I'd watch the kids--"

"I should be out of here by six, so I'll see you about eight. I'll help."

Wynter laughed, ridiculously happy. "Help what?"

"I don't know. Whatever it is you do with them. The kids."

"Janie's got a sleepover with her friends. The little ones will be in bed. Probably asleep."

Pearce's voice dropped even lower. "All the better. See you, Doc."

"See you," Wynter whispered. When she hung up, she wasn't tired any longer. She also realized that the dull ache she'd carried in the center of her chest for two days was gone.

v "Have a good time," Wynter said as she stood in the front foyer watching Ken and Mina bundle into their coats. Despite the fact that Mina was heavily pregnant, she was determined to attend her sister Chloe's tenth wedding anniversary party, arguing that she could just as easily sit on Chloe's couch as her own.

"I should be saying the same to you," Mina whispered as she passed. "If you don't want me waking you up in the morning, just leave a T-shirt hanging on your doorknob. In case you have overnight company."

Wynter blushed. "Don't be silly. I'm sure Pearce will be so tired by the time she gets here we'll fall asleep watching a movie. Just wake us up if you find us drooling somewhere."

"Uh-huh. We'll be quiet when we come in just the same." Mina glanced toward the street as a car pulled to the curb. "Looks like your date is here."

Ken glanced at Wynter, then craned his neck toward the street. He gave a small grunt of surprise when Pearce slid out from the driver's side. "I guess I missed something."

"That's because you're always a few weeks behind on the news."

Mina put her arm around his waist and steered him onto the porch and toward the stairs. "Never mind, handsome. Let's go to the party."

"Night, Wynter," Ken called over his shoulder as Mina tugged him along. He nodded to Pearce as she passed.

Wynter heard Pearce mutter hello as she took the stairs two at a time and crossed the porch with long strides. She was in jeans, her leather jacket, and a scrub shirt. Even in the dim porch light, Wynter could make out the smudges of fatigue beneath her eyes. When Pearce stopped just at the threshold, searching Wynter's face with a question in her eyes, Wynter wrapped both arms around Pearce's shoulders and pressed her mouth to Pearce's.

Pearce gave a shuddering groan and gathered her close.

The kiss echoed with longing as much as desire, and Wynter sensed sadness and uncertainty in the way Pearce's hands moved over her back. It was as if Pearce wasn't sure she was real.

"It's all right."

"Is it?" Pearce's voice was harsh, gritty with fatigue and confusion.

She rested her forehead against Wynter's and closed her eyes. "I don't know anymore."

"Then come inside and let's find out."

Wynter took Pearce's gloveless hand, finding it cold and stiff, and folded her warm fingers around it. "Have you eaten?"

"Breakfast."

"How does soup and a sandwich sound?"

"I'm not really hungry. Where are the kids?"

"They're already in bed. And you need to eat." Wynter closed the door behind them and then grasped the front of Pearce's jacket. She was concerned that Pearce seemed disoriented, and then she recognized what others often saw in her. Deadly fatigue. "Take this off."

Pearce shrugged out of the heavy leather and rolled her shoulders.

The house was warm, welcoming, and for the first time all week, the tension in her neck and back eased. She grasped Wynter's hand again, needing the contact, fearing that she might disappear between one breath and the next. The week had been endless. She still didn't understand how she had come to find herself in a strange town, in a strange hospital, surrounded by strangers. She hadn't been able to sleep in a strange bed.

She missed Wynter. Her only recourse had been to lose herself in the things that she knew best, and she'd prowled the emergency room until late into the night, every night, looking for something to occupy her mind and take away her loneliness.

"I'll only be a minute," Wynter said as she led Pearce to the sofa, watching her carefully. She looked so drawn, so defeated, that all Wynter wanted was to hold her. "Okay? I'll be right back."

"Okay. Sure." Pearce shook her head and smiled as she settled into the corner of the sofa. "You sure I can't help?"

Wynter laughed. "Not much skill required." She leaned down and kissed Pearce again. "God, it's good to see you."

Before Wynter could straighten, Pearce caught her around the waist and pulled her down into her lap. Wynter ended up with her legs pulled up onto the sofa and her arms around Pearce's neck. Pearce pressed her face into the curve of Wynter's shoulder, her mouth open and questing against Wynter's throat.

"Oh, baby, what?" Wynter whispered, stroking the back of Pearce's neck. She kissed her forehead. "What's wrong?"

"I don't think I can take it anymore." Pearce lifted her head, her eyes dark with misery. "I'm so fucked up. I don't want to go back."

Wynter caught her breath. She stroked Pearce's cheek. "You're tired. Did you sleep at all this week?"

"Some. A little. I don't know."

"Have you talked with your father?"

Pearce laughed, the bitter sound of hopelessness. "What can I say? That I can't take it? That I can't cut it?" She closed her eyes and rested her cheek against Wynter's shoulder. "You know what he always told me, since I was a kid?"

"What, baby?"

"God hates a coward."

Wynter was familiar with the phrase. It was another surgical mantra, another phrase designed to create confidence and conviction in the face of uncertainty. It worked for adults in the midst of a crisis, but for a child it would be an unbearable burden. "You are one of the bravest people I've ever known."

"No. That's what you are. You stood up to him."

"Pearce--"

"You did." Pearce tilted her head back and opened her eyes. She brushed her fingers over Wynter's mouth. "You know what I thought about all week?"

"What?" Wynter's voice was low and rough, the blood heavy in her veins as arousal coursed through her.