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Even knowing she was probably going to get her head bitten off — again — Claire went in search of Morgan when she realised no-one had seen her in the hours since Deena's life support had been switched off.
Every hiding place at the hospital was known to those who had trained there; where else could you go to scream, swear, cry and pull yourself together in the middle of a shift?
Morgan had never seemed like the sort to need a hiding place, but Claire knew some of that was bravado. Morgan hid vulnerability behind snark and spite, and lashed out to keep anyone from stepping too close.
But she had let that guard down before with Claire, in fleeting moments where the armor wasn’t quite as thick and the poison-laced words weren’t wielded viciously. Moments where she had comforted Claire for her losses, and others where she accepted Claire's compassion for Morgan having to give up her dream. Maybe this could be one of those times again.
It was the older stairwell that Claire eventually found Morgan in, far down on the steps that few used. Morgan only glanced over her shoulder for a second, but it was long enough for Claire to see the red around her eyes.
“I knew it'd be you,” Morgan said after a beat. For a moment it looked as though she was toying with one of her usual insults for Claire, but eventually she shook her head and sighed. “What do you want?”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Claire had taken a guess, given the things she had overheard from some of the nurses, as to where Morgan’s need for isolation had sprung from. The way Morgan went stiff as a rod and clenched her jaw told Claire she had guessed right.
“Right. Thanks for telling me something I already know.” Morgan did a terrible job of hiding the strangled edge to her voice.
Claire sat on the step beside her. “Do you, really?”
“Been listening to the gossip at the nurse’s station, I see.” Morgan looked down at her hands — Claire wondered what she felt, what she thought when she did — then sighed. “I missed the symptoms.”
“You didn’t know all the symptoms,” Claire said firmly, thinking of Shaun’s regular bursts of agitation over how, months on, they still couldn’t get a firm list of unchanging symptoms.
“I should have—“
“Performed miracles that doctors with ten times your experience couldn’t? Are you that special?” Claire demanded.
Her challenge sent Morgan’s eyebrows shooting up towards her hairline for a moment, before a small smile pulled at her lips. “That’s one of my strategies you’re using.”
“Did it work?” Claire asked.
“Like I’d tell you.” Morgan looked back around at the wall ahead of them with a frown, but Claire knew it had. A little.
Claire braced herself to stand up, but Morgan clasped her hand, cleared her throat and asked, “Could you stay?”
With a silent nod, Claire let Morgan hold on. Just for now.