"Joder…" he muttered under his breath, a huff of a laugh caught somewhere in his chest. "Don’t say things like that when I can’t move properly. Cruelty in the workplace." But the look he gave her: soft around the edges, and a bit shy. It spoke more than the joke.

When she mentioned Félix, he couldn’t help but snort, even though it hurt. "If Félix’s AARP, then I’m getting wheeled in for bingo night," he rasped, shaking his head with exaggerated mock-horror. "Man’s got better sense than me, though, so maybe I should shut up."

The warmth of her hand on his shoulder kept him grounded when he tried to sit up again. He let her push gently, didn’t resist. Let himself be guided. He watched her face as she rubbed his wrist, thumb tracing lines like she was memorizing them. Then her hands shifted, settled over his forearm, and the contact made his pulse skip just once. He didn’t flinch. He leaned into it; subtly, but on purpose.

"Una batería de pruebas," he repeated softly, testing the phrase. "Sounds like you’re about to hook me up to jumper cables. You sure this isn’t some secret punishment for worrying you?"

The attempt at humor faded as he looked down at their hands. His thumb lifted again, this time tracing one of hers. Lingering.

Being able to make him still have humor despite his position in the A&E brought her an inner joy that she would not explain to a soul. His following joke about Félix got her to chuckle, "He is a good man, great even; however, I am practically his sister, so I have to keep him grounded."

Jessica had her eyes locked downward at their hands while he spoke of her tests being a 'punishment'. With her head still downcast, she flicked her eyes up to meet his through her lashes. "If I were going to punish you, I wouldn't keep it secret," Jessica spoke clearly, needing him to know she very much would 'punish him' for intentional behavior that would land him in the A&E.

His promise to stay put settled her medical mind. She opened her mouth to tell him about her rotations on the floor when he spoke about breathing easier. Her heart beat faster, and a flush came to her chest and neck. Closing her lips tight, she smiles at him, "I'll be here every minute I can," she assures him, giving his hand a small squeeze. His request for food earned him a shake of her head, "Maybe, give me a second, babé," the term slipped out before she could think too hard about it, and she tried to push forward to ignore the strange feeling of calling him such a term.

"Yeah," he muttered with a low wince, "Vinnie Vespucci. One and only." He didn’t say her name, but they both knew who had set the fight. Lara wasn’t one for apologies, and Óscar wasn’t one to ask for one. Especially since he still respected her much more than others. "We gave them a good show. Bailamos hasta que empezamos a sangrar."

Her hands moved quick and precise, even when she was flustered. That was something he always admired about her. Even now, when she looked like she wanted to shake him and wrap him in bubble wrap all at once. Then she touched his arm in return, and something in him settled; like instinct recognizing the rhythm of her pulse against his. "I’ll take the mad even if it means a little scolding. Still get to see you," he said, softer now. Honest. Maybe too honest. But the meds blurred the lines and dulled the usual edges he kept so sharp.

At the mention of Yvonne, his jaw clenched, and he exhaled slowly.

"Félix," he said after a moment, nodding faintly. "She’s with the rest of the detail and the staff are on high alert." He blinked, turning his hand palm-up to loosely catch hers as she rubbed along his wrist. "I wouldn’t leave her if I didn’t trust she’d be protected."

Wincing, he tried to sit up. Faltering only slightly. Looking up with a lopsided grin, teasing, "But thanks for saying it. About the job. About me being needed," he finished with a wink, then his lips twitched.

"You still gonna bring me the good Jell-O later, or did I lose my snack privileges?"

It was a line she often read in books on her Kindle. Jessica never thought she would see it happen until she watched Óscar do just that. Could she have such an effect on him? The idea makes her heart beat a little faster.

"I'd be far happier to see you outside of the A&E, you know," she says it without thinking, an easy, flirtatious line that they often shared, "My idea even had a much more comfortable bed option,"

Sitting on the edge of his bed, she lets their hands rest on the bedside between them. "Félix. Wonderful. Good to know my best friend is being guarded by AARP's member of the month," Jessica had to find ways of laughing in her times of fear- otherwise she may cry. She would be damned if she cried in front of Óscar.

His attempt to sit up made her chuckle, and she placed her free hand on his shoulder to steady him. "No thanks needed, just stay still, would you? You need a battery of tests before you get out of this bed- or eat for that matter," running her thumb along his inner wrist, she shakes her head, "If you clear your tests, I'll see what I can do for you, but I make no promises,"

Her head snapped up at the intrusion, eyes finding the source of the sound. She knew that face but only just. Johnathan's fiancé, wasn't she? Nevra couldn't remember the last time they'd crossed paths but knowing she was a Rutherford was enough to release the tension from her body.

It was only when Jessica was standing next to her, offering her hand in greeting, that Nevra remembered just how close she and Óscar were sitting. It wasn't a crime but somehow it felt...she wasn't quite sure. They'd been in their own bubble at Fight Club where Nevra could ignore everything else around her. Sitting under the harsh hospital lights, under another person's gaze, all but popped that bubble.

Where her voice had been even before, it now came out stilted.

"Right, it's been a few years but you look well. So does he, thanks to you and your team." Óscar was still worse for wear but it was true he looked better than the night before. "He's lucky you were on call. You'll be the one monitoring him, right?" Better her than someone who they didn't trust.

She'd shifted away from Óscar's bed slightly during the exchange and was able to take them both in now. Nevra took a moment to study Jessica's face first and then Óscar's. She'd only been there a few moments but it was clear the two knew each other.

"The morphine’s working," he muttered, voice scratchy but dry with some humor, the kind that came from pain, not performance. He didn’t try to sit up fully—merely turned his head enough to clock Jess by the doorway, her voice finally registering in full.

"Looks like I’m your problem two nights in a row," he said, a low rasp of appreciation in his tone more than apology. A breathless chuckle. His hand shifted slowly along the edge of the blanket until it found Nevra’s again—quietly, without looking down; his fingers brushing hers until they hooked. If she let him, he’d hold it.

"Jess," he added, brown eyes finding hers; almost like a puppy's from the morphine making his walls break down a bit more than normal. "You didn’t have to come all the way back up."

But he was glad she did. Even if he didn’t say it, it was there in the steadiness of his gaze. A smile flickering on his lips to her. He then took a breath through his nose, shallow but clean this time. Better than the night before. His thumb rubbed gently along Nevra’s hand.

And to Jess, a softer, worn edge to his voice now: "You two know each other?"

Simple. Direct. Trying to place the room right, as the fog started to lift from the pain.

Her smile was just as tight, but she couldn't manage anything more. "Just doing my job. He is just lucky he wasn't any worse than he was, otherwise they might have taken him to ICU," she admits, knowing well how much she argued with the team to keep him in the A&E bay so she could stay by his side.

His remark of being her 'problem' again got her attention and pulled her eyes to him. She opened her mouth to remark that he is the easiest 'problem' she has to deal with when she saw it. He searched for her hand. Jessica had teased him endlessly for months about 'finding a woman'. Seeing him actually do it was wholly unexpected.

"I-" She found herself stumbling over her words, "I was actually just getting off my shift," the explanation was weak, but not a lie, "I just wanted to come up and make sure you were stabilizing," Jessica steps back to stand at the foot of his bed.

Looking back at Nevra, she nods, "We've met a few times. It's been a while. I've patched up almost all of the Rutherford employees at one point or another," she tried teasing to ease her own tension. After all, if he was happy and Nevra was who made him happy, Jessica should be happy for him. So why did she feel like an uncomfortable third wheel that was interrupting an intimate moment?

"I promise I'm not going anywhere," she whispered as Óscar's eyes slid closed. His breathing evened out and the sounds on the machine held steady. He dearly needed some rest.

Nevra scooted her chair into a more comfortable position and let herself relax. A nurse came in over the next few hours but didn't make her leave, nor did she ask if she was family. Maybe he recognized her let it slide or maybe he knew that the man in the bed needed some company. Either way, she was grateful to him. The quiet gave her time to think, the rhythm of Óscar breathing grounding her.

Talking about her parents had been easy. They were never a sore spot in her life so it caused no pain to broach the subject. Her grandmother, as well, was a topic Nevra liked to recall fondly. The old woman had died when the assassin was in her early twenties and though she missed her, she was better off there than here. Haringey was too dangerous now and it was a small comfort that she didn't have to worry about the woman.

Óscar wanted to know more though. It was clear that he intended on sharing a lot more information with her and though Nevra wanted to respond in kind, where would she start? What could she talk about that wasn't tinged with sadness and guilt? She didn't want to bring that into his life.

Her employment and life with the Rutherfords seemed the safest choice for the moment. She'd tell him about Ayaz and Melissa; about Leyla and Adya. That thought led to Emine, which made her huff out a laugh. He might get a kick out of that whole situation. But that would lead to Kerem and then where?

To the person she wasn't ready to talk about.

Óscar's hand shifted in hers, pulling her eyes to his face and giving her a start when they met his open ones. "How was your nap?" She smiled and took his face in her hand, turning it left and right. "Looks like you've improved about three percent. Food will help with that I think." Nevra positioned the movable table with a tray of food in front of him, giving the food a wary look. "I wonder if it's better than what I can make." A joke since she absolutely could not cook, but he didn't know that.

Or rather, someone.

"…Three percent, huh?" His voice rasped, thick with sleep and the aftermath of pain. He let her turn his face this way and that without protest, eyes hooded, the corner of his mouth twitching up faintly. "Feels more like one and a half."

Then, softly, his hand squeezed hers.

"Pero si esto es lo que I wake up to, I might just fake being worse for a little while longer."

He watched her for a moment, brow drawn just slightly—not in confusion, but in wonder. The kind that came from seeing something unexpectedly beautiful up close. The harsh hospital lights did nothing to dull her. If anything, they cast a soft edge to her tired eyes and shadowed cheekbones. He could still see the memory of her smile tucked into the corners of her mouth.

"You looked good last night," he murmured, "No. Scratch that. Beautiful."

His eyes lingered on her for a second longer before shifting to the tray she’d wheeled in. He regarded the hospital food with a grimace that was all theatrical, mouth twisting as if the slop might bite first.

"Depends. Is what you make this bad on purpose, or is it natural talent?" he teased, tilting his head to look up at her again, brow quirked. "Porque if you’re worse than this, cariño, I fear for your kitchen appliances."

He didn’t let go of her hand. Wouldn’t. Not unless she made him.

"Thanks for staying," he said after a beat. And though he was still loopy—eyes slow to follow hers, body too heavy to shift—those words came clear. "I heard you, you know. Before. When I was out. Said you weren’t going anywhere."

A breath. His smile, small but real.

After the fellow RN gave her the highlights from his file, he added, "Make sure the woman in there knows visiting hours end at five this evening." This gave Jessica pause, with her eyebrows knit together. She did not even have to vocalize her confusion, the fellow RN just elaborated, "Your walking punching bag has had a friend with him since my shift started. I say 'friend' loosely because I don't hold my friends' hands while they sleep, but to each their own,"

Charlie turned away to continue his charting, leaving Jessica with a pit in her stomach. Who was here to see him? Why would they be holding his hand while he sleeps? Would Yvonne have come without Félix?

All those thoughts and more go through Jessica's head as she walks towards the door of his room. Pulling her hair out of her messy bun, she tosses her hair to release the tension. She needed some sort of tension release. Pushing the door of his room open, she is greeted by the sight of a woman at Óscar's bedside with their hands held together.

Nevra. She had crossed paths with her a few times when Jessica was still engaged to Johnathan, but never since. Were she and Óscar together? They certainly looked cozy enough. "Don't discount morphin. You are on a lot of it at the moment, and will be for another six hours at minimum," Jessica remarks, moving into the room, clutching her work tablet to her chest. "Feeling better than when you came in?" It was a simple question, one without any real personal touch. Almost as if she were just working with another patient. Because here... he was, wasn't he?

Looking up to Nevra, Jessica extends her hand to her, "I'm Jessica, I think we have met before. Nevra, right? I was the RN in the A&E when he came in. Took a while to get him stable, but the team managed."

He cracked one eye open anyway. Sure enough. There she was. Moving around his bed like a damn hurricane in scrubs, cursing him out in two languages without even raising her voice. Classic Jessica.

"…Hola to you too, nurse hermosa," he rasped, the corners of his split lip twitching with a smirk. "Miss me?"

She told him not to talk, but that never really worked on him before.

Óscar let out a breath—somewhere between a sigh and a laugh—and winced as the pressure caught up to his ribs. He shifted slightly, watching her fuss with the machines like she wasn’t mad, just terrified. And that made it worse. Because she was one of the few who knew better.

"I was thinking," he said slowly, "that Vinnie fights dirty after a good, long fight. And I didn’t want him doing to someone else what he did to me."

He paused.

"...Wasn’t planning on the knockout, though. That part surprised both of us."

His hand reached out, just enough to catch her wrist as she moved past him.

"Hey," he said, a little softer, voice rough but steadier now. "I’m still here. Still talking. Don’t be mad that I made it back in one piece. Be mad when I do it again." That faint grin again, half-apology, half-promise.

Looking down at his hand holding her, she lets out a sigh before looking at his beaten face. "Still here, sure, but here as a patient in the A&E is a shit place to be," she points out before moving to the side of his bed. Gently, she twists her hand to grip his forearm in return. His pulse was steady under her fingers. "I will be mad each and every time," she says, looking into his eyes, "You have an important job- with you out of commission, Yvonne will be vulnerable." It was far easier to focus her worries on his position with the Rutherfords than on his position in her life. At least with the Rutherfords, his relation and status had a title. Nevertheless, she subconsciously rubbed her thumb along his inner wrist. "Who is with Yvonne now, do you know?"

Viktoriya pulled both girls into a vacant booth when the song died down and hailed a waitress over, securing even more alcohol for them. Her eyes trained on the brunette between her and Sonia, well aware how tight the seating was.

"What do you think Sonia? Does she pass?" The other blonde was already finishing off her drink, eyes dancing with trouble.

"I think you know that answer to that already." She laid a hand on their companion's thigh. Vika was still looking at the dark haired beauty. "I think she likes you. She doesn't often approve so easily. Neither do I."

"Sonia," Jessica repeated, looking at the other woman. Jessica smiled at her but said nothing else—names often muddled waters, and she was just intoxicated enough that she thought it better not to bring attention to her name. Even with her eyes on the shorter woman, Jessica moved her hand to sit comfortably on the taller blonde's thigh.

Feeling the blonde match her, Jessica turned back to her and felt emboldened. Jessica ran her hand up her companion's arm from its place on her thigh to the joint of her shoulder. Placing her grip on it, Jessica leaned her face closer and rested her chin on the back of her hand to whisper in her ear, "I don't typically like blondes, and I rarely find strangers in bars that I want to get to know privately," Pulling back some, Jessica keeps her face just inches away, "You seem to be the exception,"

Date: December 27th

@jessi-reyes

"A dive bar?" Her eyes swung toward her friend before rolling around once. "I don't do dive bars." Sonia knew this perfectly well and the shit eating grin on her face confirmed it.

"It's one bar and you're already half in the bag. Get your ass inside."

Few people could have said those words to Viktoriya and come away with their tongue. Sonia was one of them and her own shit eating grin confirmed it. The pair used each other to stabilize themselves and found a very loud, very dirty, yet very boozy atmosphere inside. It would do.

The blondes were three more shots gone by the time they made it to the dance floor and Viktoriya was doing just about everything she could to stay straight. Being in such a way was dumb considering they weren't technically in Russian territory but fuck it, it was Christmas.

Something bumped into her from behind and she almost uttered the same sentiment at the woman she now faced. Minus the Christmas part. Instead, Vika looped her arm around the brunette's waist, pulling her into their duo.

"You'll have to dance better than that or Sonia won't let you stay." Said blonde nodded her agreement and spun around. Viktoriya actually laughed. She also got a better look at the women in their circle. Good choice.

With the music moving her around the dance floor, Jessica hardly noticed the new arm around her wasn't her friend's. Looking up to see the blondes, Jessica chuckled and wrapped her arm around her neck, "Tequila makes me good at many things, but balance isn't one of them," she said rolling her hips to the beat. Looking over her new partner's face, the alcohol diminished her filter as her thoughts came out without warning, "Damn, you are pretty," she said with a wide smile to match.

@yvonne-rutherford

@mobscene-starters

Even England winning the Euros (which it was still bullshit that England made it to the finals and France didn't) could do nothing to diminish Jean's mood as he took in the festivities. The English could have their little victory, the French had culture and would be making it all of London's problem for the day.

He'd long since lost track of how many drinks he'd had, or even who he was dancing with at this point. Paris was a shithole, but there was no stopping a French man from enjoying his national pride. Unless his drink ran out. Jean frowned at his empty cup and pushed his way through the crowd to the nearest bar for a refill. What was the point if he could still remember this day tomorrow?

Once the bartender set to work pouring another drink, Jean leaned back against the bar and turned his head to look at the person beside him. "Vive le France and fuck the English."

Did she have any interest in the French culture? Also no.

Did she love food? Yes, and she would throw down money for good food.

She waited at the bar for her drink all the while enjoying her 'fancy ham and cheese'. Originally, Jessica had come out with a few other nurses from work. Still, having been separated from them, Jessica wasn't too worried as she had her belongings and food readily available. The man's call out from beside her pulled her attention as she swallowed her bite of food and shrugged, "Where I am from, we say something similar to that every year on the 4th of July," she replied with a smirk.

It might've been her only day off that week, but still, like a victim of Stockholm Syndrome, or a patient who needed to be in an entirely different kind of hospital, Nora Berkeley had somehow found her way back to St. Catherine's.

Though she had no explanation as to why, even those around her had started to take note of her inability to switch off from work. Outwardly question the fact she could find any little excuse to show up, even when she didn't have to. This time, she'd been looking for Gideon, but when another familiar face wandered into her line of sight, without hesitation, the blonde flagged her down.

"Jessica Reyes. Chart says overworked and undercaffeinated. Suggested treatment is taking her lunch break so her friend can fix both of those problems."

Jessica feels the hand on her arm before seeing the blond attached. "A hot blond asking me to lunch, and paying for it? Well, you are my knight in shining armor," she says scanning her ID before linking her arm with Nora, "I thought you were off today, Berkeley? Did a baby text you to complain about another nurse's bedside manner?"