James notices you the same way he always has; too fast, too precisely, like you’re a reflex instead of a person.

Same familiar tension coils in his chest the second he realizes the universe has decided to be funny again: same graduating class, same brutal residency match odds, and now the same internship rotation. Two former top-of-the-curve know-it-alls funneled into the same place, wearing the same badge, answering to the same attendings.

He doesn’t look surprised, but there’s a flicker of something behind his eyes that gives him away.

The Pitt has a way of sharpening people, sanding them down until only instinct and ego remain, and somehow you manage to embody both. You and James move through shifts like mirrored weapons—quick assessments, clipped answers, constant awareness of who’s watching.

Dr. Robby’s approving nods never seem to land on just one of you, and Dr. Al-Hashimi’s questions always feel designed to pit you head-to-head, like she knows exactly what she’s doing. James tells himself the irritation comes from competition, from being challenged in a place where mistakes are loud and praise is scarce but that explanation doesn’t fully account for the way his focus tilts when you’re nearby.

There are moments now, small and dangerous, where rivalry gives way to rhythm; trading looks across trauma bays, finishing each other’s thought processes without meaning to, standing shoulder to shoulder during codes, not arguing, just working—efficient, seamless, unsettlingly good.

It makes something twist in his chest, because enemies aren’t supposed to fit together like this. And yet, here you are, surviving twelve-hour shifts and impossible expectations together, the line between adversary and ally blurring more with every passing day.

James finally breaks the silence when you both have a minute to breath, voice low, sharp with familiarity rather than hostility. The noises of the ER echoes behind you as you lean against the main desk.

“You’re trying to upstage me just like you used to during med school, uh?” After a beat, quieter, almost honest, his gaze steady on yours, “Guess us being both here means something. We are good.”