In and out.

In and out.

Breathe.

Meredith stood on the sidewalk across from a rather large brick building, attempting to quiet the staccato thumping of her heart. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, and while most people would have a thrill of excitement in response, the excess chemical caused heightened anxiety in her. The unknown had always been a harsh trigger for her, and she pointedly avoided new experiences at all cost.

Meredith's agenda was extremely regimented; she only shopped at familiar places, rode the same trains, took the same routes to her routine destinations. Standing outside of a club full of men was out of the question. Immediately upon arrival she'd phoned Janet and begged for reassignment, the reply to which was a threat to resume a strict medication schedule. Meredith hadn't good reactions to the types of pills they'd been able to prescribe her, and the side effects were atrocious.

Thus, she stood on the stoop of a very intimidating building, eyeing the door distrustfully. She had no idea what to expect when she walked in, and she was trying very hard to calm her nerves. The familiar mantra played over and over.

In and out.

In and out.

Breathe.

"You going in, or are you going to stand there all night?" A jovial voice issued from her left. She jumped out of her skin, which had immediately begun crawling. The strange man's face was uncomfortably close to hers, and her breathing stopped altogether as he leaned in front of her to knock on the door. Her body froze as his torso crossed inches from her, straight blond hair flopping in his eyes.

"Mph." She gurgled, suddenly drowning in her own saliva, too stiff to swallow. Air squeezed painfully into her lungs with every struggling breath she took.

The stranger pulled back; a cursory glance cast over her form as he observed her with bright green eyes. "Janet told me you were coming." He supplied, waiting for the mahogany door to open.

"What?" Meredith choked as he continued inspecting her. She felt scrutinized under his gaze.

"You're Meredith, right?" He swallowed and extended his hand in greeting. "I'm Corrigan. Corrigan O'Malley."

Meredith was too immobilized from shock to return the gesture; however, Corrigan lowered his arm indifferently and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"You can call me Cory." He offered. Meredith now noticed the slight Irish lilt that edged his smooth voice.

Meredith's tongue unglued itself from the roof of her mouth long enough to utter "You can call me Meredith."

The man, Cory, was significantly taller than she, with a lean athletic form and tight, muscled arms and shoulders. He carried himself easily, though his posture was straight and formal. He caught Meredith observing him and chuckled, eyeing her loose slacks and baggy button up top. Her shoes were nondescript black loafers, the kind great grannies plodded around in while they walked arthritis ridden poodles.

Meredith tugged on her ear nervously as he scrutinized her attire. She flushed and untucked her blouse hastily, tying it in a messy knot over her stomach in attempt to appear more fashion forward and hide the wrinkles that had set in. Briefly she contemplated letting her hair out of the tight bun she'd formed but declined. No need to draw attention to her messy, tangled bushman hair.

Meredith cast her eyes downward, wracking her brain for something to say. The pressure of needing to say something so as not to appear rude weighed heavily. She struggled to control her shaking hands, rubbing her arms nervously. Her mouth opened, gaped embarrassingly without making a sound, and closed again. "How do you know Janet?" She finally managed. Had they been playing a game of charades, she'd surely have made a great codfish impersonation.

"People need therapists for all sorts of reasons." He replied vaguely as the door finally opened, scratching his head awkwardly. "I know why you're here. I will not judge you. After you." He gestured with his arm, inviting her inside.

Meredith didn't have time to register her fear. Her senses were suddenly overwhelmed with visual stimulus in every direction. The club was dim, but she could still see the details in the decor well. There were grey hardwood floors accented with white walls and painted black wood trim. Metal accented art pieces graced the simple walls, filigree touches giving the look a modern twist. Plush black couches with simple cream throw pillows were arranged around sleek, circular steel tables. On some were stacks of cards, others were prepped for chess or dominoes. Several games were in progress, brows furrowed in concentration as opponents faced off.

There were black and grey curtains pulled back from the windows, allowing the fading light to cast over the steel bar in the back. Metal stools lined up smartly along the counter. Every sort of liquor imaginable was housed on display shelves along the wall behind the bar. Two bartenders dressed in all black deftly concocted drinks with professional precision, the men at the bar sipping their beverages languidly.

She got so caught up in admiration of the tasteful decor: the interior designer had perfectly contrasted the light and dark; that she'd completely forgotten to enter the building. She'd been standing in the entry gawking.

Meredith suddenly took notice of the men. Gentlemen, as they were, participating in their refined games while they enjoyed aged spirits and talked politics.

Many still donned their office attire, suit jackets hung neatly over their chair backs, ties loosened, and shirttails freed from the waist band of their tailored pants. Meredith's heart picked up its pace, blood rushing in her ears. Suddenly she was teleported back in her memories of high school. She couldn't even think about speaking to guys back then, and if any had the gumption to talk to her the results were usually disastrous.

Now, her skin itched wildly, and her vision blurred as she gazed upon a room full of the most attractive men she'd ever seen. Some had dark hair, some blonde, some very angular in bone structure and others softer. Almost all of them appeared to be physically fit. For some reason, Jet's face flit across her mind briefly and she flushed hotter.

"Do I need to give you a push?" A silky voice tickled her ear and she jumped again, having forgotten that Corrigan was still beside her.

Meredith cringed, a crawling feeling inching along her earlobe in response to her heightened senses. "I-I'm going." She stuttered, attempting to front a bravado that she clearly didn't feel. Corrigan seemed nice, and she didn't want him to think her mental, even if she was. To prove her point, she stepped closer to the threshold. Corrigan grinned and brushed past her, going unnoticed by the patrons milling about. Meredith breathed deeply and gazed at her feet, willing them to follow him. He held out his hand to escort her into the room.

Meredith took a deep breath and stepped through the doorway clumsily. The toe of her shoe caught on the stoop and she tumbled forward in a disheveled heap, limbs splayed awkwardly as she face planted on the wood floor.

"Mmfp." Meredith groaned, nose on fire. Tears welled in her eyes from the pain, and she brought a shaking hand up to her face, gingerly feeling her nose. When she brought her fingers away, they were covered in blood. After a moment she recovered from the shock and realized she was still sprawled unceremoniously in front of a room full of people. Gathering her strength, she heaved herself off the cold floor, keeping her eyes diverted from everyone else. She could feel their intense gazes on her, though, now that she had their attention.

She struggled to right herself, stumbling awkwardly on ungainly limbs that felt like rubber. Naturally, as it would happen in a club packed with gentlemen, many came rushing to aid her, which only compounded the niggling anxiety that threatened to engulf her.

Meredith had never been so embarrassed in her life; her symptoms were hitting hard, vision blurred and heart racing. Shuddering breaths wracked her lungs, and her chest was burning from the stress. Her panic induced claustrophobia was debilitating.

Indistinct faces peered at her in shock, and through the thick fog of chaos that clouded her brain she could hear them discussing her.

"Ow, that looked painful."

"She's bleeding all over the place. Somebody go grab a cloth."

"What an epic wipe out. Should've been filming that, eh?"

"Who is this woman? What is she doing here?"

Several bodies were suddenly under her arms, lifting her up on wobbly feet. Meredith's armpits suddenly felt like a swamp had sprung up there, and she worried that she hadn't applied deodorant that morning, a thought that exacerbated the situational discomfort. Her arms stiffened, causing her weight to totter, cumbersome on her saviors' arms. Whoever they were grunted and dragged her to a nearby bar stool. Meredith couldn't see anybody's visage as she settled her bum on the hard chair, but she could smell all sorts of colognes that mingled in her nose. It was overwhelming.

Tears still streamed steadily down her face; from her broken nose, or from the embarrassment she felt, she wasn't sure. A large hand grasped hers and she flinched; everyone drawing so close was quickly causing her systems to shut down. Black spots dotted her already failing consciousness.

"Hold still, lass." An accented voice commanded gently: Corrigan. "This will probably hurt." Pain erupted in her face as he dabbed at her nose, and she drew in a hissing breath. "Sorry. I'm almost done." Corrigan promised soothingly, wiping the blood away with a tender touch. Meredith's blue eyes met his green ones and her breathing eased, coming along more easily.

"Done." She could faintly see him grin crookedly, crouched down in front of her stool.

Now that her vision had cleared, Meredith received a shocking view of a large group of men queuing around her.

"Meredith?" A shocked, deep voice spoke incredulously, and when she chanced a glance to her right, she was startled to see a familiar, concerned gaze staring back.

Her scratchy, unused throat managed to croak "All these damn fluffy couches and you stuck me on this cold ass stool?"

Jet's face was the last thing she remembered as her vision went completely black.

** Hello readers! Another friendly reminder to vote-sigh grumble grumble- I know, I know. But if I read yours and like it I vote!

Also, what do you guys think of Meredith and Jet's relationship? What are your thoughts on Corrigan? 🤔 Leave your comments and feedback in the comment section!!***