S7 EP1

2 MONTHS AFTER THE SHOOTING

NORAH WAS HUMMING TO a tune with her earphones in as she roamed down the hallway, greeting most of the staff along her way.

The hospital had changed, not visibly though, but it had changed, as well as everyone who worked there. The event had left a whole bunch of scars, some of which are not talked about, but the people were coping in their ways.

"Hey, good morning-what're we looking at today?" she queried as she threw her arms over Meredith and Cristina, the latter was flipping through some pictures with her head lowered.

"Dress colour," Cristina replied. She had been looking things up for her upcoming wedding since she had yet to be cleared for surgery. "Why are you smiling?" She lifted her head to the brunette who had a smirk growing by the second.

"No way," Meredith grumbled, "How did you get cleared for surgery?!" Norah merely winked at her and she gasped, "That's unfair!"

"You're just jealous, Mer."

"Where were you this morning? You were gone before I even woke up."

"Oh, I came in early," Norah replied.

"Your car is still at my house."

"I ran," she shrugged and the two other residents snapped their heads to her. "What? It's a healthy way to cope."

Meredith shook her head with a sigh. "At least you're not getting arrested," she shot a glare to her husband.

Derek raised a brow at them and smiled back guiltily. April had caught up to them holding the attending's white coat.

"Chief Shepherd, you're back!" she exclaimed and swapped the coat with his suit jacket, "I found a giant skull base chordoma. Biggest one I've ever seen."

Norah's head perked up from Cristina's stack of wedding dresses pictures to the scans that April had just pulled out. "He came into the ER With trouble breathing," April informed.

"You got cleared for surgery?" Meredith questioned.

"I did."

"Bitch."

Norah had pushed herself away from Cristina and Meredith and raced up to Derek, walking beside him while he held the scans at the lights above them.

"I know it looks inoperable. I mean, I would've said it was inoperable, but you're back and you're you," April blabbered on.

"Ooh, Derek, I want in!" Norah had the largest eyes staring at the attending while she walked backwards, pushing the doors behind her with her back. Derek returned her with the faintest nod with almost made her jump up in the air.

She bumped into someone and quickly turned around. "Sorry-oh, Mark, morning."

The plastic surgeon stared confusedly at her joyful self, but she had ducked and skipped away, heading into the crowd of hospital staff. He looked at Derek in hopes of an explanation, but the neurosurgeon was preoccupied with the scans.

Claps had erupted when Derek walked through the doors, and he was slightly caught off guard. "Hey, uh, yes, good morning. Thank you. Thank you very much," he spoke and made his way up a few steps of the stairs while the staff continued cheering on him. "Good. Thank you. Thank you very much... It's, uh, it's great to be back. First of all, I'd like to thank Dr Webber for stepping up in my absence. Thank you." The crowd erupted into another round of applause.

"Uh, I'm grateful for all of you, for all of your support during my recovery. Thank you. Uh, it's just, uh, so great to be back as chief. I'm grateful for the, uh..." Derek's eyes were fixed at the scans in his hands-the alluring, the greatness, the brain that was calling out his name...

He inhaled sharply and admitted, "I'm sorry-that's a lie. That's what people say, and, uh, the truth is... I hate being chief. I hate it."

"Ten bucks says he's gonna quit," Norah told the resident next to her.

The crowd were murmuring while they stared at Derek, baffled by his words, but Norah knew the smile on his face from all the rush of adrenaline, similar to the one she was having right now.

"Chief Webber... Chief Webber is our chief. Um... and I'm sorry, but this giant..." he gasped before lifting his head back to the crowd, "Sorry, I gotta go look at this chordoma. I, um, I'm sorry, but-I quit."

Everyone's eyes went wide at his words, including Meredith herself. Norah smirked to herself and collected the money from Jackson who was more impressed than surprised.

"Let's go, Kepner. Norah, come on," Derek called out.

Mark had his eyebrows knitted into one as Norah rushed up to Derek with the widest grin on her face. He then turned to Callie who was snorting at him.

"Is she on drugs?" he questioned solemnly but was only greeted with Arizona's chuckle at his confused face. "I don't like that she's... cheery," he admitted with a defeated sigh.

"You don't like that she's cheery without you," Callie corrected, "Mark, she told you to take the out, she told you to let her go, she told you that you deserve someone better."

It was true; her words still circled his mind to this day. Taking the out was probable, but letting her go was impossible-and there was no one else who was 'better'.

A part of him knew that there was no way she could be in this joyous mood after all that had happened, especially not when everyone was mourning and grieving, where cries and sobs were still passed along in the hospital.

But for the past month where she had slowly eased her way back to work in the hospital, he did take notice that she was, in fact, coping better than most. He also noticed the seldom slip of her expression where would zone out more than before; the look in her eyes was different.

He feared that it was like the surge; that it was a calm before the storm, before all hell breaks loose.

❦ ❦ ❦

6 WEEKS AGO

NORAH SNAPPED HER fingers in a rhythm as she shifted on her seat. The residents were seated quietly in a circle, everyone either fidgeting or zoning out. She was secretly jealous of Timothy for being able to skip this session thanks to bed rest. Dark, but still.

"Does, uh, anyone have anything to say?" their trauma counsellor, Andrew Perkins broke their silence. "I know that, uh, a lot of you are only here because this has been mandated." Yeah, damn right it is. "So, let's talk. Anything at all?"

There was a short silence before Cristina spoke up, "I ate a really good taco from one of those trucks by the side of the road." The residents lifted their heads curiously to her.

"When?" Meredith queried.

"Last night," Cristina replied, "You were asleep."

"Which truck?" Jackson asked this time, "The one on 7th?"

"Ooh, the one that actually has ingredients instead of slapping it with sauce?" Norah piped up, ignoring the lingering stare of Perkins who rounded on each of them.

"I want to go," Alex muttered, "I like tacos."

"Me, too," April nodded.

"I read a book... about the history of mass murders in the US," Lexie spoke up and everyone fell silent. Norah turned her head to the younger resident who was fidgeting uncomfortably on her seat.

"Yeah, that's... that's the actual name of what happened to us. It was a mass murder," Lexie resumed, "Y-You can't call it a terrorist attack, because the murders weren't political in nature. And we weren't the victims of a serial killer, because Mr Clark would've had to murder several people over a period longer than thirty days in order to qualify as a serial killer.

"W-We could call it a spree killing... which is defined as killings at two or more locations with no break or pause in between, because Mr Clark shot that guy in his car before he got here. But I-I'm not sure that counts as a true second location since it was so close to the hospital, which means that we were a mass murder, because it happened at one place, by one person, a-and-"

"-and more than four people were killed," Norah finished her rambling calmly. "Lexie."

The tension in the air was making everyone uneasy as they all remained silent upon the subject that was brought up. She learnt Psychology, which meant that she could somewhat study the facial expression of everyone sitting there.

Other than Perkins, everyone else was edgy; no surprise there.

"You know what? I'm craving tacos right now," Norah stood up from her chair, "Let's go. I'm buying."

❦ ❦ ❦

TIMOTHY WALKED UP TO Norah with a gloomy look on his face. He dropped down to the couch behind her with fumes coming out of his ears; she sighed heavily before turning to him.

"How the fuck did you get cleared for surgery?" he questioned, "You stood in front of the gunman-willingly."

"And possibly saved your dying arse," she added with a frown but he rolled his eyes. "At least thank me, you sod."

"For risking your life to save me?" he cocked a brow at her before grumbling in frustration, "Fine-thank you. But I need to cut people open soon enough."

"The counselling bloke doesn't trust you with a scalpel," she shrugged, "Go cut open some cadavers. I mean, what's the worst that could happen? You kill them?"

"You know what else died? Your humour," Timothy shot her an unamusing glare while she sipped on her coffee.

She snorted at him, "Or you can get Lexie to tell you about the surgery she's-"

"What?" he perked up immediately, staring at his sister wide-eyed, "That jerk-face cleared Lexie for surgery? After she went rogue and suggested to shoot a fucking patient?!"

Before she could say another word, he had got up to his feet and pushed out of the room; Norah leaned back against her chair with a sigh.

The shooting had changed everyone.

❦

"YOU CLEARED LEXIE GREY for surgery?" Timothy demanded, busting into the room where Perkins and Alex were currently in.

"Dr Lawrence, I'm in... I'm in session," Perkins pointed out the obvious, but the resident ignored his words.

"I had to fucking check her into Psych. Last week," Timothy bellowed, "You know, commit her against her fucking will? And now you just... You just cleared her for surgery? What the hell kind of a fucking quack are you?!"

He noticed Perkin's gaze that was looking behind him and he glanced over his shoulder, only to see Lexie standing by the doorframe. "It's okay. You can talk to him," she insisted.

"She got snowed," Perkins answered calmly, "Psych put her on heavy doses of antipsychotics and benzos. And then she slept for almost fifty hours straight-"

"Yeah, I know that," Timothy interrupted, "I was right next to her most of the time."

"When she woke up, she was no longer a risk to herself or others," Perkins resumed, "I mean, she has PTSD. Most of you do, especially you. Now, for her, it caused severe sleep deprivation and led to a breakdown. All she needed was sleep. So, protocol is that she goes back to work."

"See? I'm okay, really," Lexie muttered but Timothy was still in a conflict.

"Fuck the fucking protocols," he spat spitefully, part of it was because he had not been cleared for surgery.

❦ ❦ ❦

"I DIG WEDDINGS," JACKSON spoke up in the tunnel where the residents gathered for their lunch break. "I do a mean chicken dance."

"Oh, there will be no chicken dance," Cristina threw him a hard glare, "And if you start a conga line, I will get Norah here to physically throw you out."

The brunette in question gave her a thumbs-up before returning to her sandwich.

April walked up to them with her food in her hand, an unamused look painted across her face. "I just went to the cafeteria, and some nurse called me Reed and then said, 'I thought you died'."

"Yeah, you don't go to the cafeteria for lunch," Lexie grimaced, "They just point and stare."

"They stare because we should've died," Cristina added and they stared at her. She merely shrugged and returned to the magazine in her hand, flipping page after page.

"Pack a lunch. Keep it in your locker," Lexie advised April and the latter went to take the empty spot next to Jackson.

The group lifted their heads when they heard someone shuffling into the tunnels. Alex had a gloomy look on his face as he approached them, before beaming when he pulled a yellow clearance letter in front of him.

"You are kidding me," Meredith scoffed at the paper being waved in front of her, "You got cleared?"

Alex nodded smugly, "It's down to you and Yang."

"That is not funny."

"Well, Perkins is no dummy," Cristina spoke up, "He can see the crazy right under the Meredith Grey surface."

"Again, Cristina, it's not funny because you're not gonna get cleared either, and the two of us are gonna be serving slushies at the multiplex."

"I'd buy from you guys," Norah supported their idea with a firm nod.

"Thanks, sweetheart, but I'd choose dermatology over multiplex," Cristina stated.

Jackson shook his head and interjected, "I'd go gynecology over dermatology."

"Oh, of course, you would. Perv."

"I think I'd go with psych," Lexie spoke up and they turned their heads to her. She lifted her eyes from her food to the group of residents who had worried looks on their faces. "That was a joke."

Everyone let out a peal of forced laughter, the looks still not wiped off their faces. "I'd go with psych, too," Norah chimed in, "Because I actually have a Psych degree...?"

"Anyways, I don't know what Perkins's problem is with me," Meredith sighed.

"Maybe he saw your file."

"Maybe he knew your mother."

"Maybe he heard how you told the shooter to shoot you," Jackson pointed out the obvious.

"Well, Norah did that, too," Meredith defended herself but the brunette shook her head, gulping down her drink.

"No, no. I used myself as a shield from the gun, I did not ask him to shoot me," she corrected.

"Dude, you were taunting the asshole," Alex reminded and Norah caved, shrugging in response.

"Dr Bailey! Welcome back!"

Bailey stood wordlessly at her spot in front of the group of residents while they chewed and munched on their food. They stared back at her for a long moment; the residents growing confused as they looked at each other.

"I'm happy to see you all," she finally spoke and they shared a soft smile.

It did not take long before Bailey's voice went back into her usual alarming and serious tone. "Karev, there's a patient in 2304 that needs an endoscopy. Lawrence, Shepherd's patient needs prepping. Grey and Yang, surely your paycheck covers more than stuffing your face in the basement. Get to the clinic now."

Norah hopped off the gurney at the tunnel and retrieved the chart from Bailey. "I'm glad that you're back, Dr Bailey. We've missed you here," she quickly stole a hug and hurried off before the attending could scowl at her.

But Bailey had a relieved smile on her face.

❦ ❦ ❦

THE FIRST SURGERY AFTER two months was an immense amount of excitement.

Norah stood next to Derek, rocking back and forth on her feet while they waited for Mark to divide the patient's face in half. Derek narrowed his eyes at her curiously but she stared at him like he was the weird one among the two.

"I've never seen you this excited before," he voiced out.

"This is my first surgery after two months. It's an appropriate reaction," she deadpanned, "You're the one who's lacking excitement." She glanced up at the gallery where the seats were all filled with more residents than attendings.

It was a frenzy.

"Alright, let's bring that microscope in and get you started," Mark instructed and the nurses started moving the equipment. "Everybody's ready?"

"Let's do it," Derek nodded and headed over, followed by Norah who had just been gloved up. The grin under her mask was plastered and stuck, but it was not a bad thing, at all.

Mark watched as the attending and resident worked together in peace while her hands coordinated with Derek's faultlessly. The nurses in the OR as well as the surgeons in the gallery were glad the Neuro duo was finally back on a case after all that had happened.

Mark observed her; her calm figure and focused look, staring through the lens of the microscope. She did not have the slightest panic even when the heart monitor started beeping rapidly or when they accidentally hit a bleeder; she was more than composed.

Callie had to nudge him for him to snap his eyes away from his staring in the OR.

As when she cracked a joke to ease the tenseness in the OR, he realised that she was not a calm before the storm.

Her surgical skills were still precise, she was good, she was great, she was smiling-she was moving on.

But he was stuck, drowning in the words left in the hallway in Seattle Pres and yearning for the zero exchange of words through their phone calls.

❦ ❦ ❦

2 WEEKS AGO

"HAVE YOU ALWAYS DONE that?"

"What? Spinning?" Norah asked as she stopped from going rounds on the chair. She turned to look at Perkins at the other end of the table with her file in front of him, and a whole bunch of others next to him.

"No, the snapping."

The sound of her fingers snapping was cut off when he took notice of it. "Yeah, I've always done it, and I'm aware of it," she replied, "It's just something I do to calm myself. The rhythm, you know?" She leaned back against the chair and rested her hands on the armrest. "I know myself."

Perkins tapped his pen on her folder repeatedly before sitting up straight. "You had three panic attacks on that day... and you admitted that you've had a flashback episode on our last session," he reminded, "Does the snapping help with that?"

"No, because logically and literally, I can't snap with gloves that are covered with blood on my hand," she deadpanned and took a sip off her coffee. "It'll sound... gooey, and it'll feel gooey. And when I wipe the blood, it's like paint, smearing off... but gooey. And 'gooey' doesn't even sound like a word anymore..." she trailed off when the counsellor narrowed his eyes at her.

"My shrink gives me that same look. You're not that special, dude."

"You look fine," he pointed out.

"I am fine," she reassured, trying to get cleared for surgery then end their session as soon as possible.

"How do you look fine?"

"I don't know how to answer that," she claimed, crossing her arms over her chest. "But if you're asking how do I look hot, then I'm happy to give you some tips," she added casually.

"Let me rephrase it into something that you'd know how to answer-why do you look fine?"

That was, in fact, a question she knew the answer to. She looked fine-like she had not experienced trauma after trauma that caused breakdowns and mental drainage-because of one simple reason.

She had mastered the art of presenting herself as fine and collected, especially when the world was burning to flames around her. Or more specifically, her own head was setting itself on fire, convincing her that she was ignited by the flames of hell.

Well, guess what? She was convinced.

After a long pause, she shook her head, "I don't know how to answer that either."

It was visibly noticeable that Perkins caught her obvious lie, causing her to sink into her chair. "Look, I have control of my life," she claimed, scratching her nose, "Because if I didn't, I would be halfway down a building right now, in mid-air, mind you."

He raised a brow at her, "Not funny."

"Not joking," she shrugged, "I use dark humour to cope most of the time. It works for me, it had always worked, just like the finger-snapping and the ticking clocks and Mark's..."

Her words died off when she realised what she was about to say next, which did not slip away from the counsellor's notice. She exhaled heavily, "Look, I know myself, okay?"

"It sure sounds like you do," he closed the file and stood up from his seat, "I'll see you at our next appointment, Dr Lawrence. Maybe then, you can tell me the truth."

❦ ❦ ❦

MARK PINCHED THE BRIDGE of his nose as he leaned against the bar counter. His mind had been messing with him for a few days now, ever since his realisation in the OR.

"I'm jealous," he admitted and Callie sighed loudly next to him, "I think I'm jealous of Hunt and Yang."

She took another sip of wine that was being served in Cristina and Owen's wedding, which was held in Meredith's house. "You know Derek's gonna be the best man?" he queried, "We hardly even know the guy."

Callie had been ignoring his rambling as she continued drinking the wine in her hand, staring pointedly at Arizona who was approaching her. "I'm gonna do it," she spoke up.

Mark turned to her with a raised brow. "You're drunk."

"That's why I'm gonna do it."

He was relatively supportive when a drunk Callie asked Arizona to move in with her. But his whispers of words of encouragement slowly faded off when he saw the person walking down the stairs in a long brown dress.

The look on her face had gone unnoticed by the other guests, but not him. There was a slip of her expression, where her eyebrows knitted together and she clenched her jaw, her eyes looking strained-before a smile surfaced. But the look before was one he recognised whenever she was stressed or pissed off.

Or, in this case, drained.

When Callie and Arizona squealed next to him and leaned in to kiss each other, he made his exit. He grabbed two glasses of whisky and headed straight to the brunette across the room.

"Mark," he was stopped hastily when Meredith walked up to him urgently. "Can you be Owen's best man?"

"I... What?" he flickered his gaze to the woman in front of him momentarily, "Isn't Derek the best man?"

"See, I left him behind bars..." Meredith trailed off when she noticed his eyes shifting back and forth between her and the place behind her. She noticed the two glasses in his hand and glanced over her shoulder, following his stare. It was almost instantly that she pinpointed the person he was looking at. "Mark, I've never seen her smiling more than she had for the past month."

He watched Norah chatting up with Jackson and April with the corner of her lips tugging upwards. She was smiling, indeed, but nobody knew that behind the pair of hazel eyes was an emotionless soul-nobody except him.

"Has she talked to anyone about the shooting since that day?" he questioned, but from the pause of speech from Meredith, he already knew the answer.

"She pushes the people that she loves away because she's afraid of losing them. Her fear of abandonment trumps her will to let someone love her the way she deserves to be loved," he spoke, shaking his head, "But if she keeps... pushing me away, I... I fear that I will lose her for good."

Meredith raised a brow at him. "Isn't that more of a you-problem than a she-problem?"

"Maybe that's the thing... Maybe I need her more than she needs me," he confessed with a sigh. He watched her breaking off from the conversation-noticing the falter in her smile as she gulped down a whole glass of water-the way she zoned out briefly before snapping back into herself.

One thing he knew about her was that she was a walking human bomb, waiting for the fuse to be lit and she will explode. And when she does, there would not be fragments-it would be ashes. And ashes could not be put back together; it will be too late, then.

"She's not coping," he stated, his voice heavy, "She's numb and she's moving on."

"Alright, then... You should... talk to her," Meredith nodded worriedly, "I'll find whoever else who looks good in a suit-Timothy!"

When she hurried off carrying the box of wedding ring in her hand, Mark approached Norah who was hanging by the buffet. The brunette recognised the strong scent of his cologne almost at once and she turned around to him.

"Hey... Oh, thanks," she muttered when she was handed the glass of whisky.

He stood next to her, studying her demeanour and expression. "You know, if I were to be honest... I'm not a fan that you're happy," he admitted and she raised a brow at him while taking a sip off her drink. "I mean, good for you, of course... but I feel dead inside."

She studied his face, the crease on his forehead and the sorrow behind his bright blue eyes. For the first time since the shooting, she felt as though the wall behind her closed mind was brought down; she allowed her real feelings to be shown on her face.

Her cheeks that were sore from smiling were finally relaxed and she could feel her thoughts fogging in again. This had been the longest they had talked to each other since the exchange in the hallway-it was not as difficult as they thought it would be.

He was the someone she could talk to freely and she was the person he wanted to listen to.

"I'm not... happy, Mark, I feel strangled. It's like my head is under quicksand and I'm breathing through the tiny spaces between each particle," she shook her head lightly, downing the alcohol in her hand, "It's suffocating."

He knew how she was feeling. It was like you were crumbling from within, and no matter how hard you try, you could not glue yourself back into one. Except the worst part was that nobody tells you that the crumbs you broke into get eaten away.

"Everything that happened, every life lost that day, it's just... It's too much," she sighed, "There are days where I can't get myself out of bed, because I already know that there isn't a day to look forward to. I hate living like this."

He stepped closer to her and let her rest her head against his shoulder. "The idea of seeing you at the hospital is the only reason why I still drag myself out of bed every morning," he admitted and she lifted her head to him.

Regret was something that they saw in each other's eyes.

His eyes trailed down to her lips, the shade of colour that was so good on her; he did not care if she noticed. "Are you moving on?" he asked softly, watching her lips part.

The question that he begged an answer to for the past few days was finally presented to her.

❦

5 DAYS AGO

NORAH STORMED INTO THE conference room right after her shift had ended. The door that slammed open harshly caused Perkins and Teddy to startle and jump away from each other.

"My therapist looked like she wanted to kill me and I'm incredibly pissed off right now, so I really need to cut," Norah snapped at him, ignoring the fact that he-or they-were in the middle of something.

"I will um... yeah," Teddy spoke awkwardly and left the room, giving the resident a brief nod.

Perkins cleared his throat and sat on his usual seat, gesturing for Norah to take the one opposite him but she refused. "I hardly make any friends, because every time I do, there's this voice in my head that reminds me that the more people I know, the more people I end up losing."

"Is that why you pushed people away? Specifically, Dr Sloan?" he queried while picking out her file from the stack and opening it.

"For the last time, Perkins, I never asked for a relationship counsellor, nor is it mandatory," she fired back unamusingly.

Every time Mark was brought up in their sessions, it was a sting to her heart knowing that Perkins was, indeed, right-she was pushing Mark away because she was afraid to lose him, too.

Or to be more specific, she was afraid of the pain that she would suffer if anything were to happen to him. Hence, she opted to push him away, to cut loose their ties, in hopes that it would not hurt more than she could handle.

But she also knew that was a lie.

"Look, I'm not wrong, okay? See, Charles Percy died, Reed Adamson died, Nurse Vivian died, Jace..." she took a deep breath, "Jace Thompson died because I failed to save him, K-Kirian Rook was slowly in front of me, too, after he took the bullet for me. Tim-my brother nearly died as well, he almost had his entire blood volume replaced, for god's sake. A-And hell, Derek Shepherd was that asshole's target, I mean-who the fuck shoots up a hospital?!"

"You really do hate Mr Clark, don't you?" Perkins asked calmly with his hands clasped on the table.

Norah glared at him bewilderedly, the look on her face was as though she was prepared to chomp his head off. "Um-hello? He shot up this fucking hospital, remember? That's why you even got this specific job in the first place?!"

He nodded firmly. "You stood in front of the man with a gun," he recalled, "How 'bout be start from there?"

"I am not afraid to die," she spat, "You know why? Because everyone dies, you can't avoid it, it's not preventable!" She scoffed lightly, feeling the heat building up her veins.

"People die, people leave, and in the end..." she shook her head and took a deep breath, "You wanna know the truth, right? Everyone is alone in this world whether you like it or not. And the earlier you accept that, the better you'll live-that's my truth to your bloody question."

"Is that what you believe?"

"It's what I've accepted."

Perkins nodded satisfactorily and took out a pen from his pocket. "You're cleared for surgery, Dr Lawrence," he stated as he scribbled his signature onto the piece of yellow paper. Norah walked over and snatched the paper away from him, mumbling a hesitant 'thank you' while calming her nerves down.

"You should start trusting people," Perkins spoke up again before she left the room, "Trust that there are people in this world that will stay by your side... and open up to them."

She pondered on his words and he smiled at her. "It's healthy to move on, Dr Lawrence."

❦

"ARE YOU MOVING ON?" Mark's question echoed in her mind as he stared at her, waiting for her reply.

The fondness in his eyes, the genuineness of his electric gaze, the tenderness of his touch tracing along her skin-now only existed as a tingle on her neck, sending sparks that made her heart race.

"I can't move on," she answered truthfully, "Because... moving on means that I'm accepting the eleven lives lost that day. T-They didn't deserve to die, Mark, none of them did... I can't move on from something that shouldn't have happened."

Something that shouldn't have happened.

Their fight shouldn't have happened. Her shoving the 'out' to his face shouldn't have happened. Him staying up at night stressing about the possibility of losing her shouldn't have happened. Them living in separate lives yet not being able to let each other go shouldn't have happened.

The words left his mouth before he could even think, "Norah, I still love you."