The fluorescent lights at Westside Medical hummed faintly above the nurses' station, where Ellie Bartowski leaned over a chart with furrowed brows. She barely noticed Devon approach until he draped an arm around her shoulders.
"Babe," he said warmly, "you've been staring at that thing for ten minutes. Trust your instincts. You're awesome."
Ellie laughed softly, shaking her head. "Easy for you to say. Not all of us are perfect at this."
A familiar voice chimed in from behind them. "Don't let him fool you. You're every bit as good as he is, Ellie. Maybe better."
They turned to see Dr. Stephanie Barnett walking up, tablet under one arm, white coat flowing as she moved.
"Hey, Steph," Ellie greeted with a smile. "How's the rotation treating you?"
"Like a marathon that never ends," Stephanie said with a soft laugh. "But I'd be lying if I said I didn't love it."
Devon gave her a fist bump. "That's what makes you awesome. Keep killing it, Dr. Barnett." With that, he hurried down the hall, answering a page.
Ellie turned back to Stephanie, her expression bright. "You look… lighter lately. Happier. What's your secret?"
Stephanie hesitated, then smiled. "Maybe. I've been… seeing someone."
Ellie's eyes widened. "Really? Steph, that's great! Who is he?"
Stephanie waved her hand, trying to keep it casual. "It's early. Just a couple of dates. But he's different. Smart, funny. Not like the guys I usually meet."
Ellie leaned in, eyes shining. "And?"
Stephanie's smile softened. "He makes me feel like I can breathe. Like after a long shift, I don't have to be 'Dr. Barnett,' I can just be… me."
Ellie sighed happily. "That's exactly what you need. I can't wait to meet him."
For just a second, Stephanie's smile faltered. Not yet, she thought. Not until I know where this is going.
"Maybe soon," she said, deflecting gently. "But for now, let's just keep this between us."
Ellie grinned conspiratorially. "Deal. But whoever he is, he'd better be good enough for you."
Stephanie laughed, though her thoughts were already drifting ahead—to tonight, and the man waiting for her.
Later That Night
The café was quiet compared to the daytime rush, warm light spilling out onto the Burbank sidewalk. I spotted Stephanie as she walked up—no lab coat tonight, just a simple dress under a jacket, her hair tied back casually.
"You look…" I hesitated, smiling. "Really, really good."
She smirked. "Better than scrubs, huh?"
We grabbed coffee and found a corner table, settling into easy conversation. It felt natural, almost too natural, like we'd known each other longer than we had.
"So," she said, stirring her drink idly, "I've been meaning to ask… what's it like, running a think tank?"
I leaned back, choosing my words carefully. "Honestly? It's a lot of juggling. We take on projects from all kinds of places—government, private sector, local contracts. My job's basically keeping a dozen geniuses pointed in the same direction without them blowing up the building."
She laughed. "Sounds like herding cats."
"Exactly. Everyone's brilliant in their own way, but they've all got egos. You've got to keep morale up, hit deadlines, and make it look effortless to the outside world."
"And when it's not effortless?" she pressed.
I gave a wry smile. "Smile, improvise, and hope no one notices. Management 101."
Her eyes lingered on me, thoughtful. "You make it sound heavier than you let on."
I shrugged lightly. "Sometimes it is. But I like it. Keeps me on my toes."
Stephanie nodded, then leaned forward, her expression shifting. "Well, my world isn't glamorous either. Just… bloody."
"You're literally saving lives," I said, grinning.
"Or ruining dinner plans," she countered, laughing. "Depends on the night." She grew more serious. "Being a surgeon is intense. Every decision matters. One slip can change everything. There's no room for hesitation. But when it works? When the patient wakes up, when their family hugs them and thanks you… it's worth everything."
I watched her, struck by the passion in her voice. It wasn't about prestige. It wasn't about being right. It was about people. Saving them.
"You're incredible," I said quietly, before I could stop myself.
Her lips curved into a soft smile. "You're not so bad yourself, Chuck Bartowski."
For the rest of the night, we talked — about our jobs, our families, the small things that made life easier on long days. And with Stephanie, for once, I didn't feel like I had to choose between Chuck and Carmichael. I could just be me.
When the date ended, she kissed me lightly on the cheek before heading for her car, her smile lingering.
And for the first time in a long time, I walked home feeling normal.