Ryuzo died.

I sat on my knees in a pool of his blood, cradling his head in my arm, feeling the warmth soaking into my pants while the light left his eyes.

The nightmare sat me straight up in bed, mid-scream. Realizing I was in my apartment and no longer trapped in the memory, my scream turned into tears.

From her place next to me on my pillow, Jiji pawed my arm, as if to say, "You're okay."

I had the same dream at least once a week, trying to save him, failing, and woke up screaming the same way every time. She and Susu were used to it at this point. I laid down again, pulling her against my chest, petting her silky fur to ground myself in reality. Her purrs and a few deep breaths calmed my tears.

It had been almost six months since I had to leave Ryuzo, but it haunted me like it was yesterday. Months of being away from him had barely healed the wound. I didn't cry myself to sleep anymore — most nights, at least. But the nightmares . . . I feared I would have them forever.

In another new country with another new name, I couldn't talk about it with anyone but my handler and my government-assigned therapist. They had sent me to D.C., wanting to keep me stateside, but I barely made it to the hotel before having a breakdown that landed me in the hospital.

They learned that bringing me "home" wasn't a solution. I had no home. I was running in circles, chased by ghosts and regrets.

After a sign-off from my psychiatrist, they placed me with another medical staffing company with government ties. My first assignment was in Ireland, and it was a great reprieve. No language barriers, so much acceptance from the locals, and only a moderate cultural curve. But that didn't last long. I didn't want it to.

I was only in a place long enough to finish training work before I was off to a new location. After two months here, I knew I was nearing the end of my comfort window — the likely cause of my nightmare's return.

After a short stint in Manchester, I accepted a listing in Birmingham, secretly weaseling my way closer to London. Subconsciously, I thought it would bring me back to Ryuzo. Wherever they moved him, maybe he had a choice and picked a place where he had spent time with his mother, a place familiar to him that was full of positive memories. Wishful thinking.

I missed him. Painfully. But there was nothing I could do to change it. I either risked getting him killed for the chance to see him again, or I stayed away and kept him safe and free of the pain he had been in before. Truly loving him meant putting his happiness and safety above all else. That came at the cost of missing him. It wouldn't always feel that way.

I hoped.

Dr. Crawford leaned his elbows onto the desk, typing something on the station's tablet. The auburn-haired resident all the nurses hated. They thought he was a prick, but really, he was a recovering perfectionist whose version of communication was answering unasked questions to fill space.

Since Japan, I watched people closer than before, and trusted people even less. But I could never seem to stop caring.

"Need anything, Doctor?" I asked him.

He shook his head but said nothing. His wide eyes showed every emotion he tried to pin down. I could spot the need for a good cry from a mile away.

"Could you help me find something real quick?" I asked him, hoping the intent behind my eyes was enough for him to read.

I led him by the arm to the changing room, and the second we sat on the bench, he burst into tears. What did I say? A mile away.

Surgeons have a rough life. So much pressure to fix everything, meticulously, and flawlessly, all with death and malpractice lawsuits looming. Dr. Crawford was one of the best, but as a pediatric surgeon, his pressure was heavier than most.

"This is all my fault," he cried. I stroked my hand against his back, letting him talk. "I told her family the surgery was her best chance and now she's dead. A seven-year-old."

Heavy.

"You did everything you could."

He removed a tear with an angry swipe. "I shouldn't have done anything."

I let out a heavy sigh. "You can't focus on the outcomes and ignore your place in it all. If she hadn't come to you for treatment, her disease was guaranteed to kill her within the next few years. Years she would be too sick to enjoy."

His eyes squeezed tight, releasing another tear as he nodded. I leaned into his eyeline, making him look at me.

"She was going to die, but she came to you for a chance. That's what you gave her. You didn't kill her, the illness did. You did everything you could to give her more time."

He looked at me, letting my words settle. Then he leaned forward to kiss me.

I reared back. "Dr. Crawford . . ." That was the only scolding I needed to give him to bring him back into reality.

He leaned away. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking." He turned and went back to being contemplative.

Why did this keep happening to me?

Hospitals were full of pent-up workaholics who rarely went home, and I was an easy target. I listened, I was in people's lives just long enough to feel trustworthy but short enough to feel casual. I was likable, then I left.

As much as I wanted to move on and accept that Ryuzo was gone from my life, the idea of being with someone else felt like cheating. He told me to move on after he died, but he hadn't. I never got to ask him what he wanted if he lived. So, in my mind, I was still his.

"It's okay," I calmed the doctor.

"Thank you for listening and being supportive. Of everyone. Always." He squeezed my hand to add emphasis. "You're a really good person, Yasmina."

It took everything in me not to laugh.

I left him in the room to calm himself and dry his face. The end of my shift was nearing, but I planned to stay whatever extra time they offered. More hours at work meant fewer hours in my apartment, eating leftover Indian takeaway and talking to my ESL fur babies. The silence was still too loud.

The staffing coordinator came up the hall. I watched her, ready to accept whatever she asked.

"Mina," she sang. "Just the person I was looking for. Do you have a second?"

"Of course."

She pulled me aside, pinning her clipboard against her chest while she crossed her arms. "Administration contacted me this morning about you." She must have seen something on my face, because she quickly added, "All good things, of course! Don't worry! We wanted to see if you would consider letting us buy you out of your contract. Make you an official employee of the hospital."

Unexpected. "Oh. That's . . ."

"Consider it. You'll have to interview with the department heads before I can officially offer you the position, but if you're willing . . ."

My hesitation was for good reason. I had come so close to where I wanted to be, but in a way, the distance was safe.

"I'll think about it," I said.

. . .

That night, the rain tapped against my window, matching my sullen mood. I took my anti-anxiety medication, looking forward to the mild sedation they would give me before the call with my therapist. There was so much to talk about, but so little I wanted to say.

My new apartment was old but charming, with thin walls and along a busy street dotted with pubs and cafes. The noise was nice. Just like in surgery, being in a room of people, focused on helping someone in need, the noise quieted my thoughts and kept me grounded.

I joined the digital waiting room for the tele-appointment to start. Jiji stood on the windowsill, staring at the sidewalk below. The lack of autumn sun bothered her, I could tell, but she had become my protector. The mice stood no chance against her, but neither did the shady-looking mailman she made bleed. Nothing would touch me on her watch. I stroked her back in silent thanks, her green eyes never leaving the sidewalk.

Susu walked over to me on the tabletop and rubbed her head against my chin, jealous of Jiji or the laptop stealing my attention from her. My four-legged babies kept me more level than drugs and therapists combined.

His face appeared on my screen. The Virginia sunshine added a golden glow to his flawless brown skin. He was young, informal, yet professional, and had the sassy edge of someone raised by a southern woman. His accent and his demeanor reminded me of Vince. Anything more than that would likely trigger me, but I found it comforting to have something familiar while choosing to be a perpetual foreigner.

"Good morning, Doctor," I greeted him.

"Hello, Mina. How have you been this week?"

"You tell me."

His smile flashed in the flattering lighting. "Your numbers are pretty high this time. You're testing at moderate-severe again."

My GAD-7 was always snitching. "It's hard not to worry something bad will happen while working in a hospital."

"True, but I want to check in."

He went through his usual series of questions, asking about my paranoia and nightmares, and I gave my usual answer. It's getting better. That would be true one day.

"As long as you're focusing on self-care and the healthy coping methods we've discussed, you'll keep improving. You already have," he promised. "I can see you're using your fuzzy coping method right now."

I laughed. "Yeah."

"Do they ever bring back negative or untimely memories of him? Trigger any nightmares or anxiety?"

Swerve. "There is something I wanted to talk about this session."

"What's that?"

"Um . . . I was considering staying here for longer," I told him, stroking my hand over Susu's back instead of looking at the screen. "They offered to buy me out of my contract. I have to run it by the authorities, but . . . I told them I would consider it."

"Wow. Really?" I answered his question with a nod. "This is huge. You're letting yourself plant some roots, finally. Does it feel good?"

My only answer was a laugh.

He frowned. "Let's talk about why it doesn't."

I shrugged. "The usual. Trust issues. Fear of murder. British food."

"Do you worry someone is still looking for you?" he asked, avoiding my attempt at humor.

"Not really, no. I haven't had an issue for this long. It's more . . . the opposite."

"What do you mean by that?"

Needing extra comfort, I pulled Susu into my arms like a baby and curled my knees up against the table. Like a teddy bear, she accepted all of it, barely opening an eye as I squeezed her against my chest. "I guess part of me feels like I'm giving up my chance to see him again."

"You don't know where he is. That's the point," he reminded me. "How does that change if you stay?"

Sure, he was dead on paper, but whatever was left of his family wasn't, and the assassins weren't either. The chances that the masked family was looking for me outside of their territory were unlikely. That danger was for Ryuzo. The danger was risking his life to see him one more time. My desire to be with him again was the biggest threat.

"When am I going to stop missing him?" I asked.

He sighed, not in disappointment, but in acknowledgment. "Only you can know the answer to that."

My eyes watered. I distracted myself from them with the help of perfectly timed medication and looking at Susu's toe beans.

"Trust your gut, Mina. Don't let your anxious thoughts convince you not to. You know when you need to run, and from what you've told me, it doesn't sound like it's that time."

"Maybe."

"If it's right, you'll know."

. . .

After two days off, I worked up enough courage to talk to Dulce again. I didn't have to accept just because they offered. What was the worst that could happen if I met with the heads and listened to their pitch?

She caught me in the hall on my break. "Mina!"

The bright smile on her face was encouraging. "Hi. I've been thinking about your offer and I'm . . . interested." That sounded as confident as I felt, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Really? Oh, that's wonderful! And perfect timing. Our meeting is right now."

"Right now?"

"Yes! I was going to drag you with me even if you said no," she said with a cheery laugh. "Come on."

She led me to one of the conference rooms on the newly renovated third floor. It was a casual space with glass walls and comfortable office chairs. Three department admins sat chatting and laughing. All women, and all but one of color. It was refreshing. Something I had never seen stateside.

"This is the med-surg nurse I was telling you about. Yasmina Yama," Dulce introduced me.

I waved. "Nice to meet you all."

"I love your accent," one complimented me.

I laughed, even though I knew she was sincere. "Thank you. I love yours, too."

Staving off a wave of anxiety and negative thoughts, I sat and listened to the ease of the conversation, relaxing with the anticipation of good news.

Dulce turned to me. "We're just waiting on the chief resident, then we can get started. He's always a tad late."

"Ah, here he is."

The door swung open. The handsome man rushed in, yanking the scrub cap from his head, his hair falling in front of his light brown eyes and androgynous features. "Sorry I'm late, I had —" he stopped short when we made eye contact. And why wouldn't he?

This was the last place I expected to see Ori again. 

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A/N: Thank you for reading! Don't forget to add this story to your library and follow me for update alerts!