I lie back and can feel the pressure of my pulsating circulation at the point where my head connects with the cold tile. The sound of rushing blood deafens me and the burning pool of tears clouds my sight.

Dead; the word reverberates around my mind as though the concept is utterly alien to me. I can’t conceive of a world without him; if I stand from this spot and face his mother, his brothers, I acknowledge that he’s gone. Expired.

I can vaguely see her sit beside me on the floor, legs crossed as though she were one of her own patients. I blink to clear the glaze across my vision and hot tears burn a path down my cheeks, pooling in the folds of my ears. She wipes one clear as it rolls onto my lobe and continues to stroke the soft skin; soothing sobs I hadn’t even realised were racking my chest.

“His Mom’s asking for you.” It was a simple and quiet statement that I’d been expecting; dreading.

“I don’t think I can do it, I don’t think I... Ari,” my eyes close in defeat as I exhale her name. “I used to be the girl who could do this; I used to have the strength. I don’t anymore.”

I hear her exhale and I turn my head in her direction before opening my eyes very slightly, searching for the blue that’s become my home. She tugs on my arm until I match her exertion and sit up.

“I’m here,” she tells me as I read concern in her eyes. “I’ll help you.”

I sigh deeply as her words permeate me and her hands grasp and soothe the skin of my arms. When she lets go and stands to help me up, I accept her extended hand unquestioningly. I do it because when I look at her, I know that she’s the only one who can help me do this; she’s the only one I could rely on to help me say goodbye to the one person in the world I’ve ever told that I love them. And when she guides me to the door but releases my fingers as she opens it because she knows now is not the time to explain this to George’s family, I know she’ll be next.

*********************

As the cushion depresses beside me I wake from my light slumber and instinctively know it’s her. I recall the nauseating events of the evening; but I mostly remember how she ensured I could see her through the corner of my eye at all times as I comforted the O’Malley’s.

“You’ve been here for three days, Callie.”

She’s right; I haven’t been able to leave since I discovered John Doe was George. I rub my heavy lids, which almost remain closed with fatigue, before resting a hand on her thigh and attempting a slight smile.

“The chief,” she continues, “he told me that he’s not here anymore. They’ve taken him, Cal. His family took him home.”

I want her to take me home; her home. I ask and she nods with a kind and concerned smile before beginning to gather my things. We leave the hospital burdened and heavy because I know that these events have taken their toll on her too. I know that the slant of her shoulders and intermittent glistening in her eyes means her brother’s memory is a little less submerged than usual.

In the car she starts the engine and slips on the glasses I’ve learnt she needs most when really exhausted. Yet she doesn’t forget me in her fatigue and leans over to kiss my cheek. I lean in to her lips and feel a layer of weight evaporate.

“Ready?” she asks before going anywhere.

I glimpse the hospital behind us in the wing mirror and nod, my bottom lip quivering.

******************************

“Do you feel better at all?” she asks me as I leave the shower room. She’s wearing her pj’s and sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for me. I feel better when I see her and tell her as much. She pats the floor at her feet with her sole, indicating that I should sit. I do so and feel her take my wet hair between the folds of a towel, patting it dry.

As she runs the comb through my locks and scrapes the teeth against my scalp, it’s so calming and cathartic that my head lolls on my neck. I hear a slight chuckle from her direction and she makes me stand to get into bed. There’s a towel already laid across my pillow to catch the rest of the moisture from my hair and as I lie down, she’s twisting my dark curls into a knot so that she can curl into my back and wrap her arms tightly around my torso all night.

“Ari,” I whisper as the weight of sleep crawls up each limb and settles across my chest. “I couldn’t have done this without you. Thank you.”

“You could,” she brushes her nose against my neck where the smallest wisps of hair are now dry. “You would have been great alone, Cal. But you don’t have to be now.”

My lips flicker and a shuddering breath relaxes my body into hers and towards sleep.