art of medicine.

golden retrievers. therapy dogs. was her stress that obvious? sucking in a deep breath. "thank you - i'm fit to work." is what she immediately blurts out. that was important for your boss to know. her head was just ... busy. stuck on the most private matter. her and alex's daughter. little luna and her progressive hearing loss. daycare had noticed first. and she hated that. her husband was head of peds and she was a freaking ob-gyn. they should've been the ones to know. tilting her head a bit.

"you're a great boss - the hospital is gonna thrive with dogs around. it'll be great for the kids," great, thoughts and head circulate right back to her kid in daycare. how she's doing? if she's scared? she didn't act different. she wasn't that old, maybe she never quite realized. "... the atrium you say?"

isobel didn’t blink at the blurting — just held the space with the same steady presence she brought into trauma bays  &  boardrooms alike.  she heard what was said  &  what wasn’t,  the quiet thrum behind the words.  fit to work wasn’t in question.  ❝i believe you, ❞ she said simply.  no challenge.  no pity.  her gaze remained level,  but not unkind.  measured in a way that gave jo the room to breathe,  or not.  ❝we all have our private weather,  wilson.  yours doesn’t make you less capable.  it makes you human. ❞

❝i’m fine, ❞ he croaks, displeased to discover that he seems to have indeed inhaled some of the plaster settling around them. ❝no, no— ❞ he clears his throat, ❝i’m probably gonna be hearing from my back in the morning, but i’m all right. i'm not hurt. ❞ he blinks once, twice, reorients himself so he can look her over. ❝how about you, are you all right? i kinda tossed you on the ground, there. ❞ without thinking, he gently takes her chin, guides her head this way and that to check for any cuts. a soft smile flickers over his lips when she grows stern— he knows it’s all love. 

isobel didn’t stop him when his fingers touched her chin — there was something in the way he did it,  familiar  &  careful,  that kept her still for a breath longer than she meant.  her eyes stayed on his,  steady,  even as he tilted her head this way  &  that like he didn’t already know every angle of her.  when he smiled,  that soft thing that always snuck under her guard,  she exhaled — not quite a laugh,  but something close to it. 

❝i’m fine, ❞ she said,  echoing him,  but quieter.  her hand rose to rest against his chest,  fingers sifting through dust,  checking his collarbone,  lingering like she wasn’t in a rush to pull away.  ❝but you’re not brushing this off,  michael.  you took the damn hit.  i felt it. ❞ her voice was calm,  but beneath it was that clipped tension she only let slip when it was him — when it mattered more than she wanted to admit. 

she was aware — acutely — that they had drawn attention.  half the department had paused,  watching the aftermath of the fall like it might turn into a teaching moment,  or a headline.  but isobel didn’t care.  she stood as he did,  not quite accepting his hand,  but brushing against him deliberately as she rose.  she reached out to flick a stubborn bit of plaster from his shoulder,  slow  &  deliberate,  not caring who saw.  ❝no,  it wouldn’t be the worst thing, ❞ she murmured,  just for him,  eyes scanning the slight tension in his stance.  ❝but if you’re going to throw yourself under falling ceilings for me,  the least you can do is let me make sure you didn’t crack something. ❞

chipped nail polish reflects sunlight, gleaming and glinting as she stares down a tiny smear of charcoal on her pinky. there is a serenity to the day despite all that goes on inside the building. she has no desire to shatter the stillness. so she has remained just outside, watching as ambulances arrive and disappear round the back. she is glad, however, for company. she senses the pair as they approach and her head lifts, something lighter entering her eyes.

a smile curls itself across freckled features as the dog demandingly noses into her palm. she obliges without hesitation. magnolia sits forward and begins to scratch at his ears, smoothing over the coat at the back of his neck with her other hand. talos remains laid out at her feet, barely doing more to acknowledge than other canine than simply quirk his ears. ever a diligent worker. she almost laughs at the contrast of the lazy great dane sun bathing and the eager golden retriever nuzzling into her hands.

isobel caught the movement of mags’s hands with practiced ease,  her eyes never needing a second pass to understand.  she smiled,  a quiet warmth spreading across her face,   &  glanced down at honey,  who was now completely melted into mags’s lap like she'd belonged there her whole life. 

❝you should’ve seen her when they opened the van door, ❞ isobel said,  tone light.  ❝straight down the hallway,  like she had a schedule to keep  &  no time for small talk.  but i think this was the appointment she was meant to make. ❞ she tilted her head slightly,  watching mags’s fingers stroke rhythmically through golden fur.  ❝figured you’d be out here.  i wanted to bring you something that doesn’t fill the air with noise.  just a little peace that walks on four legs. ❞

she felt it before she answered it — the way his words settled between them,  not like a promise but a truth he hadn’t realized he was carrying.  his voice was soft,  but not uncertain.  no posturing,  no bravado.  just robby,  stripped of everything but what was real.  she watched him through half-lidded eyes,  still drowsy with warmth  &  morning,  her body folded into the space between his arms like it had always known how to fit there.  the sunlight caught in his lashes,  his mouth still soft from the kiss.  god,  he always looked a little younger like this.  not foolish.  just …  open. 

❝you say that like you think i’ll ever stop moving, ❞ she said,  her voice low,  lips just brushing the curve of his cheek.  her hand slid up beneath his shirt,  not urgent,  just familiar — mapping the landscape of him with a kind of reverence.  ❝i won’t.  i never really have,  not even after ziva was born.  ❞ the words were honest,  but not sharp.  there was no defense in them.  just truth,  shared between the spaces where their breath mingled.  ❝but i’ve never had to look back to see if you were still there. ❞