"I dunno, Jo, I just — I just think we fit," Amelia was half-rambling in the board room, perched upon the long, white table, with her colleague and good friend, Jo Wilson, standing before her; a sympathetic expression took place upon the blonde's face. Amelia had needed to vent — vent about the neurosurgeon from the University of Washington Medical Center, who had transferred to the Grey-Sloan a couple of months ago. You.

Those couple of months were filled with long procedures, late nights, coffee trips, and early morning reading. When Amelia wasn't raising Scout, she was on-call, doing her rounds, brilliantly performing surgeries, or bantering with you. You were always around, anyway — she was Head of Neurosurgery, you were an attending. It was a matter of social circles that hindered her from seeing you off duty. You were a massive introvert. She was not.

Call a spade, a spade. You two were polar opposites. But you showed her colors she couldn't see with anyone else. Not with Ryan, not with James, not with Owen. Not even Link. He was recent, with his second failed marriage proposal, not that you knew that. You weren't very eager to pry into things Amelia didn't want to talk about.

You did, however, change the trajectory of her messy life. You didn't know that.

Until now.

You were lingering by the opened door of the boardroom. Jo and Amelia hadn't noticed you yet, nor heard you approach the room. You were quiet like that. Stealthy, even. Like a cat.

"I don't even know what to do. It's so hard to get it all out. Like, is it worth it? There's this — this tangible thread that I can't make sense..." Amelia continued, before her voice tapered off. Three sharp raps of your knuckles against the door frame startled the two women. Amelia's cheeks turned a bright red, all of a sudden. Jo looked supremely sheepish.

"Oh, look, my pager is going off..." Jo drawled. "Beep... Beep... Beep... Yep." She looked between you and Amelia, before fleeing out of the boardroom in a dash.