Blood On My Hands

Sirius is staring at his little brother, who is sitting on his couch while the two of them eat takeout dinner from plastic containers. 

“How are you, Regulus?” He asks, “We haven’t talked much since. . .” 

“Since James basically dumped me?” He finishes his sentence, “You can say it, you know.” 

Sirius feels the need to protect James all of the time, that doesn’t disappear just because it’s Regulus who is talking about him. “You know, Reggie, he was really, really hurt.” 

“So am I.” 

“I mean, I’ve never seen James like that before. He was crushed. It was worse than his divorce,” Sirius says, quietly, like it’s not his thing to share. “He loves you so much, I just don’t understand what the problem is? I mean, what’s going on with you?” 

Regulus laughs.

“What?” 

“Just. . . what’s going on with me? Me? I don’t know, Sirius, I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me. Let me think. My brother left me in an abusive household in the worst years of my life. My mother is a controlling head-case who is currently trying to do anything in her power to get me to move across the country, just so she can keep her eyes on me. My father, whose rights have been signed over to me, has an incurable disease, that’s genetic, by the way. And oh,” his voice treads, “my boyfriend thinks I’m so bad at relationships that he needed a break from me because I cannot force three stupid-fucking words out of my mouth!” He yells, a little drunk. They had wine with their dinner. “So, that’s what’s going on with me, Sirius.” 

Sirius, as usual, only focuses on the part he’s involved in, “You could’ve ran away too.” 

“No,” Regulus shakes his head, “I couldn’t.” 

“You could.” He repeats. “Don’t blame me because I was brave enough to change my own story. That’s not fair. You could’ve done the same.” 

“I took tenfold of what you endured after you left, Sirius.” Regulus tells him, finishing his glass. “Don’t sit there and act like you know everything when you don’t. How could you?”

Sirius stares at the television so Regulus doesn’t have to look him in the eyes and see the tears that fill, “I tried my best, Regulus.” 

Their mother used to have a saying, your best is not good enough. 

Regulus doesn’t say it, but he wonders if Sirius is thinking about it right now, just as he is. 

There’s a knock on the door, breaking the silence they've been feeling. Sirius stands up to get it. Regulus tipping his head back over the couch to try and see who it is. 

James Potter. 

Like always. 

He steps inside, speaking indistinctly to his best friend when he lays eyes on Regulus, who stands up and pushes past them. 

Won’t let anyone get a word in edgewise. 

James doesn’t try to stop him anymore. Sirius just can’t. 

When it’s just the two of them in the house, James asks, “Is he alright?” 

Sirius mutes the television, “I don’t think so.” 

“Is it. . . my fault?” He adjusts his glasses, hands falling back into position on his lap momentarily after. 

Sirius shakes his head, “He’s Regulus. He’s so smart and I don’t know why he won’t just allow himself to be happy.”

James is biting the inside of his cheek, hard, “Do you think I made a mistake? In taking a break with him. I mean, did I just lose him forever? Should I have just sucked it up until he was ready?

"Absolutely not. I hate it went down the way it did, but seriously, James, I'm really proud of you for putting yourself first. I know that couldn't have been easy." Sirius, as long as he's known James, would describe him as absolutely selfless. He holds umbrellas, rather than standing under them. He would let you take the last piece of any food, even if it were his favorite and he had an empty stomach. James would do anything for anyone. So for taking a step back for himself, even though it would hurt the one person that he wants to take care of more than anything, it's impressive. Very much so. Sirius adds, “Regulus is smarter than that. I think he knows he loves you and just doesn’t know how to say it. You grew up and said it seven times a day, I don’t think I ever said it. At all. Not growing up at least, not really.” He takes a breath.

Sirius has a photographic memory. But for some reason, that didn’t kick in until the last month he spent in the house with his parents. Everything leading up to then is so hazy, he can barely tell what is true and what is not. 

He doesn't recall anyone feeling any sort of love in that house. Not at all. 

After he left?

He can’t forget a single thing. 

〚*〛

Regulus gets up the next morning, finally back in a routine. 

They’re all about to start rounds when they see Barty’s long-hair, shaved in a buzzcut.

“What happened to Barty’s hair?” Evan asks Regulus, eyeing him from the lockers, “Is he having a nervous breakdown?” 

“He’s fine.” Regulus mumbles, “We’re fine.” 

Mary Macdonald is carrying baby Tuck in her arms, her first day back at work. They walk to their first patient room of the day, Tuck fussing already. 

Evan briefs everyone during rounds, “Deni Duquette, having difficulty breathing and chest pains.” 

“Breath sounds?” Mckinnon wonders. 

“Junky.” Evan answers, “She has a buildup of fluid in her system.” 

Deni laughs, coughing, “Did he just call me a junkie? That’s not very nice.” 

Mckinnon doesn’t seem to appreciate the joke, “Deni, your congestive heart failure is getting worse, despite the meds.” 

Her exterior deflates, staring at them, “So, how do we proceed?” 

Mckinnon looks to her group of interns, “Doctors, how do we proceed?” 

Dorcas is about to speak when Evan cuts her off. Like he said before, he is not getting moved from this case. Not now. “Titrate up his nitrate drip and continue with diuretics. Ace inhibitors, beta blockers, and start Dobutamine.” 

Mckinnon seems impressed, “I also want her ins and outs recorded, and one of you monitoring her at all times.” 

“I’ll stay,” Evan jumps at the chance. 

Dorcas rolls her eyes. 

〚*〛

Lily Evans struts in the room, introducing herself, “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Gibson, I’m Dr. Evans and I will be covering for Dr. Pollock.” 

Without missing a beat, Regulus starts filling her in. He doesn’t have a bit of interest in prenatal or OB/GYN but he was put on her rotation today, and despite the lack of interest he has in her field, she is the best of the best. “Mrs. Gibson had a preterm, premature rupture of her membranes at twenty-eight weeks. She’s been confined to supervised bed rest for seven weeks and has a low-grade fever.” 

Mrs. Gibson is exhausted, “Can you not just schedule the C-section? Believe me,” she assures them, “I am ready to have this baby.” 

“You and me both.” The husband snorts, earning a pissed look from his wife. 

Dr. Evans concurs, “I want to get your blood work back before we make any further decisions.” 

Barty and Regulus file out of the room, following Dr. Evans and Dr. Macdonald. Mary’s paged, looking at Evans, “They need a consult in the pit.” 

“Go ahead and take that.” She motions the two of them. 

“What about Mrs. Gibson?” Regulus says, unsure. Is he supposed to be handling both the consult and the pregnant lady? 

Dr. Evans gestures to them to leave, “I’ll take care of her.” 

It’s only Mary and Lily, standing in the hall while Tuck refuses to stop crying. She tries to get him to calm down. 

Lily looks at the baby, “Want me to drop him off at the nursery?” 

“It’s full.” She huffs, cradling Tuck. “And Tucker’s out of town for work until tomorrow.” 

Of course, now is the time that Albus Dumbledore walks up to the women, his eyes narrowing on the child in front of him, “You brought your baby to work?” 

“Yes.” She says, obvious. 

“Are you going to take him into surgery too?” A half-joke and half-sarcastic comment. 

Mary purses her lips, hands on hips while Lily takes the baby, holding him and smiling. “I don’t have anything scheduled for today.” 

“Yet.” Albus warns her. 

“Okay,” she swallows, “I can’t solve a problem unless there is a problem to solve. Are you saying there is a problem?” 

Dorcas pops behind them, waiting for the conversation to be over so she can get her assignment for the day. Evan’s been hogging cardio all week, gushing about Deni Duqeuette, which has left Dorcas to find another rotation which she finds inherently less cool than cardio. 

Lily picks up on Albus’ ongoing question, staring at him, “Is there a problem, Albus?” 

He unfolds his arms, “No.”

〚*〛

Regulus gets to the pit first, opting to take the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator like Barty. They’re fine. Awkward, but fine. 

“I got a page,” he tells the nurse, who leads him to a curtain, pulling it back. A middle-aged couple is quite comfortable with one another, backing away once they realize Regulus is standing before them. 

The man has an ice-pack pressed against his privates, the woman biting her lip to try and stop the blush of embarrassment that spreads across her face. And when she turns her head, there is a fork shoved in her neck. 

He asks what happened, pulling the curtain closed again, hoping Barty won’t try to steal the patient from him. 

It's the man who speaks first, “We were at a hotel, having some mimosas when-” 

“Can we skip that part?” The wife asks, Regulus calling to page neuro. He is hoping James is in surgery and one of his counterparts will show. “I mean, can we just pull this out and go. I’m fine, really.” 

“Sylvia was giving me some special attention,” the man smirks, “under the table.” 

James pulls the curtain back, eyes wide. 

“What happened here?” He asks, stealing a glance at Regulus. 

They restart the story so Dr. Potter and Dr. Crouch, who just showed up, can be completely filled in. 

“Well,” Sylvia looks at her lap, continuing, “while I was down there, something happened. It was like a shock went through my body.” 

“And she. . . clenched.” 

“Clenched?” James whispers, lost. 

“My jaw.” Sylvia explains, pointing to her neck, “I shut my jaw.” 

Barty makes a face, “Ouch.” 

“I panicked, and I grabbed the fork off the table. It was just instinctual.” He clearly feels bad. “I never would’ve-” 

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” Sylvia reminds them, “we just didn’t want to pull it out because it’s in there pretty well.” 

Regulus fills out the chart, “Good you didn’t. Pulling it out could cause more damage.”

James steps from behind them, where he was inspecting the fork, “I want to do an X-ray. Make sure that there are no nerve or major blood vessels being compromised.” He looks from Mrs. Booker to Mr. Booker, “Now, did you get your injury. . . checked?” 

“Dr. Black said I’m fine, just some bruising.” 

James side-eyes Regulus for a half-second, “Good.” Then he turns back to the patient, “Now, do you have a history of seizures, I want to find out what is causing the clenching.” 

Mrs. Booker is quiet for a moment, “No. Nothing like that.” 

“It may. . .” Mr. Booker clears his throat, “it may have something to do with her brain aneurysm.” 

“Kyle.” Mrs. Booker sighs, upset the information was shared without warning. 

“What?” He picks up a hand. 

Regulus and James look at one another, Barty feeling oddly left out. 

“Look,” Sylvia rolls her eyes, “can we just take this fork out and go?” 

Both Regulus and James say, “No.” 

Kyle spews more, “She was diagnosed about six weeks ago.” 

“And your doctor didn’t recommend surgery?” Potter asks, surprised. 

“All the surgeons said it was inoperable.” Mrs. Booker sits up straight, “That’s why Kyle and I are here in Seattle. The space needle, I’ve always wanted to see it.” 

Kyle looks sad, “We wanted to see it together.” 

James looks at Regulus, ignoring how the couple is having a moment with one another, “Do an M.R.I..” 

As he walks out, Sirius pops his head in, looking at the interns. “One of you go to the bay, they’ve got an incoming.” 

Barty volunteers, stepping away as quickly as he can. Mary’s down there too, while they unload the patient, he asks, “Where’s Tucker?” 

“Dorcas has him.”

Barty imagines Dorcas with the baby, smiling to himself. 

〚*〛

Sylvia looks at Regulus as she lays on the bed, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? I mean, have you ever done this before?” 

Regulus deadpans, “Have I ever pulled a fork out of somebody's neck? No.” 

Sylvia relents, looking to her husband and asking him to talk so she gets distracted and doesn’t have to think about the fact Regulus is, in fact, taking the fork out of her neck. 

Kyle speaks about their upcoming trip to Paris. He's distracting her while Dr. Black works on the wound, treating it. Kyle gushes about the food and wine they’ll have. The sights they will see. The adventures they’ll go on. 

Regulus takes it out. 

“That’s it.” He says. 

Sylvia turns her head, “That’s it?” 

“Yep.” 

“I didn’t even feel anything!” She gasps, “You’re amazing.” 

Regulus has her sit up carefully, Kyle looking at him to question, “How much do you know about Dr. Potter?” 

Sylvia's happiness seems to melt away, instantly, “Kyle, no.” 

“I made a few calls,” Kyle confesses, “he has an incredible reputation.” 

“Please, Kyle.” Sylvia begs, “I want to go to Paris.” 

Regulus speaks up, “Dr. Potter is an extraordinary surgeon. If he thinks he can help, a second opinion couldn’t hurt.” 

“It wouldn’t be a second opinion.” Sylvia corrects him, “It would be a fourth opinion. And when Dr. Potter says there is nothing more he can do, we’ll be devastated all over again. I just want to spend whatever time we have left in Paris.” 

“So do I!” Kyle tells her, “But I don’t want to go to Paris and wonder if we should’ve listened to this young intern who pulled the fork out of your neck.” It comes out comically but everyone in the room knows that Kyle isn't joking. Not at all. 

〚*〛

Dorcas is changing a diaper for the first time in her life. She’s a surgeon. A good one, going to be a great one. It should not be this difficult. 

Or gross, for that matter. 

She’s doing it in the gallery of Macdonald’s O.R., singing the A,B,Cs to Tucker. 

Albus Dumbledore steps in, “Dr. Meadowes?”

“Chief,” she nods, continuing to work. 

“It smells horrendous up here.” He notes, “Are you having trouble with that diaper?” 

“No,” she shakes her head, certain, “I’ve got an M.D. from Stanford and a Ph.D. from Berkeley, I can handle this diaper.” She assures him, “Unless you want to.” 

Dumbeldore pushes the glasses higher up on his nose, “Carry on.” 

〚*〛

Regulus is wheeling Sylvia down the hall when she asks for him to stop for a second. He does, willingly. 

She opts to walk. Regulus notices how tall of a woman she is, inches taller than him, at least. 

He looks up, “You seem incredibly okay with your prognosis.” 

“I’m more than okay,” she nods, “it woke me up, it woke my marriage up. I’ve been sleepwalking for fifteen years and I am finally wide awake. I’m only having this M.R.I. for Kyle, he’s not ready to let go. But me and my aneurysm? We’re okay.” 

〚*〛

James is staring at the scan when Remus walks in, using his cane today. Sometimes he goes without it, usually trying not to. It makes patient’s weary about him operating. 

Judgmental people. 

“Look at the size of this aneurysm.” James points. 

Remus’ eyes go wide, plopping down on an office chair, “You going to operate?” 

“I want to.” James nods, “How’s your day?” 

Anytime he talks to someone, if the conversation is about himself, he always makes sure to flip it around so he doesn’t seem selfish. 

“Can you write me a prescription for some pain meds? The nurses are sticklers about this thing and my hip is bad. Usually Sirius would do it but he’s in surgery and this is an emergency.” Remus gushes. 

James grabs a pen, “Course,” he says, “you and Sirius are pretty close, huh?” 

“We’re friends.” Remus shrugs, “I guess. I mean, we work together. Occasionally hang out.” 

James tears the paper, handing it to Remus, “Here. I hope your day gets better, Lupin.” 

“Have fun with your aneurysm, James.” He waves, not turning around. 

〚*〛

Evan is playing scrabble with Deni, the two of them got bored just sitting around all day. 

Deni flirts, “I’m not just a pretty face, I’ve got it going on up here as well.” She points to her forehead. 

“So you keep saying. But I’m also a doctor, I know lots of words too.” 

“I know hundreds of words.” Deni counters. 

“Really, hundreds?” Evan mocks, looking at the letters he has, “You’re a real brainiac. It’s too bad I’m highly competitive.” 

He plays the word screw; s c r e w. 

“Twenty-five points for me, Duquette.” He says, her turn now. 

She licks her lips, “I didn’t know this was naughty scrabble, Rosier.” 

“We aren’t playing naughty word scrabble, you just have a dirty mind.” He points out. 

She shrugs, “Maybe so. You’re the one who put down the word screw.” 

Evan holds his hands up, “I was referring to hardware, not sex.” 

“Oh,” Deni pulls her hair back into a ponytail, “I guess it’s hard to tell where you’re coming from sometimes.” 

He tilts his head, “What do you mean?” 

She shakes her head, “Nothing. Forget it.” 

The silence is deafening until it’s not. Because Deni gasps, barely being able to breathe. 

“Deni, what is it?” Evan shoves the scrabble back, “Don’t panic. Just try to breathe.” He stands up, hand on her shoulder, “Someone page Dr. Mckinnon!” Evan shouts. 

Deni coughs, trying to breathe through the oxygen mask that Evan holds to her face. 

It takes a long time for her to relax, Evan looking at Mckinnon. “She had flash pulmonary edema. I switched her to Nesiritide, started Milrinone, and put her on BiPap.” 

Mckinnon agrees, “Good call, Rosier.” 

Deni’s voice is raspy as she moves the mask away, hand clutching it while she speaks, “Bad news, right?” 

“It’s not good,” Mckinnon is blunt, “Deni, you need a new heart, and you are running out of time.” 

“And so what do we do?” 

Mckinnon steps forwards, “I would like to install a left ventricular assisting device. It’s a battery-operated machine that will help your heart pump.” 

“Battery-operated?” She blinks, “Are you people trying to turn me into a robot?” 

The doctors laugh, mostly out of pity. Except Evan. He genuinely thinks she’s funny. 

“It is a bridge to transplant.” Mckinnon says. “It’s going to keep you alive while we wait for your new heart.” 

“That's easy, huh?” Deni wonders, “What is the catch?” 

Mckinnon lists them out, “Risks include an increased damage to your platelets, increased bleeding, and if you do choose the assisted device, you may not leave the hospital until you get a new heart.” 

Deni seems unsure, “Any other options?” 

Nobody speaks. 

Deni understands pretty easily, “I’ll need some time to think, if that’s alright.” 

“Of course,” Mckinnon steps out of the room. “Don’t take too long, Deni.” 

〚*〛

At lunch, Dorcas holds baby Tuck, sitting there while Barty and Regulus pick at their food. 

“Your baby smells like shit,” Barty tells her, “it’s ruining lunch.” 

Dorcas is losing her mind, “She’s only going to be in surgery for another half-hour. An hour tops. Just take him, Barty.” 

“You’re a liar, and you smell like vomit.” Barty looks her up and down. 

Regulus covers his nose, “Honestly, I think it’s just shit.” 

Mulciber drops his tray on the table, making Tuck begin crying again. 

Dorcas stands up, “You’re great. Really, really great.” 

She heads back to the gallery, pressing the intercom with her elbow as she holds Tucker, “Macdonald?” 

“What is it, Meadowes?” She says, never taking her eyes off the patient. 

“He’s crying.” 

“Okay?” Mary huffs, “What do you want me to do about that? Feed him, Meadowes, I’m in surgery.” 

Dorcas huffs, stepping away from the intercom. Mumbling on her way out about how much she hates kids. 

〚*〛

“A double-barrel brain bypass.” Regulus says, trying to stay calm and not show how excited he is for this procedure. 

James looks at the patient, “I’m going to use two scalp arteries to redirect the blood flow in your brain around the aneurysm.” 

Kyle Booker folds his hands together, “How come this has never been mentioned before?”

Dr. Potter sits across from the couple, “The procedure has only been performed less than a dozen times. I have performed one successfully and I’ve watched one. However, I don’t want to understate the risks."

“Which are?” 

“The aneurysm could rupture on the table.” He puts it clearly. 

“But you think it could work?” Kyle asks. 

There’s a gleam of hope in his eyes. 

Well, before his wife speaks and crushes it, “No.” 

James leans back, eyebrows raised while he waits for her to explain. 

“Hell no. I’m leaving. We are going to Europe. We’re going. End of discussion.” 

Dr. Potter nods, stepping out of the room, while Regulus goes to begin discharging Sylvia, Kyle asks for a moment with Potter. 

“I’m sorry if my wife offended you,” he apologizes. 

“No offense at all.” James assures him. 

“I didn’t notice her.” He mentions, talking about their past. “Since she’s been sick, that’s all I see. I hate that it took her being sick for me to feel like that again. But I love her, and I don’t want her to. . .” he trails off, “I don’t want my wife to die.” 

“I understand that.” 

“Please talk to her, Dr. Potter. Please try to convince her to get this surgery.” 

〚*〛

Dorcas doesn’t understand why Tucker, who is crying because he is hungry, won’t take the bottle right in front of him. 

“Please just eat.” She begs him. 

Marlene smiles, stepping up to the pair, “Look at you.” 

Dorcas rolls her eyes, “You find this amusing?” 

“And you don’t?” Marlene takes a picture.

Dorcas starts flipping out on the baby, “I can’t help you. I can’t help you. If you don’t want to eat, and you just want to keep on crying.” 

Marlene takes the baby from her, “Let me.” 

It stops crying automatically. 

Dorcas scoffs, "Alright, that's just unfair. What?" 

Marlene ogles at the baby, her eyes practically hearts, "Babies just like me." 

"Maybe because you're one of them." Dorcas mutters. 

〚*〛

Dr. Potter finds her just before she leaves, “Mrs. Booker?” 

She gives him a half-glance, “I’m waiting for my husband. He’s bringing the car around.” 

“Mrs. Booker. . . I know you’re worried about the surgery.” 

“No, I’m not.” She shakes her head. “I’m not worried because I’m not having surgery.” 

James stuffs his hands inside his pockets, “You’re not having it because of the medical risks-”

“I’m not having it because for the first time in years I have a great marriage, I have a life, and I want to live it.” She corrects him, "I don't care about the risks." 

James levels with her, “You have weeks. If this surgery is successful, you’re looking at decades.” 

“I don’t want to go back to my old life. And that is what will happen if you fix me.” She says, rushed. 

“I understand you don’t want to settle,” they step into the sun, cool air brisk outside, “you want to fight. You can. Fight for your life. Fight for your marriage. Let me operate. Make a decision right now that you will never settle again.” 

James has always been inspirational to people. He's a good talker. 

He's very convincing.

〚*〛

Evan is sitting by Deni’s bedside, watching her pull the mask down to speak. He beats her to it, “The LVAD will inhibit organ deterioration. It’ll allow you to get off most of the meds you’re on. It’ll give your heart a much needed rest.” 

“Evan. . .” She sighs, “I’m so. . . I’m just so tired.” 

“I appreciate that,” he recognizes it, “but the LVAD also has increased survival rates over conventional therapies and I think that you need to-” 

“Hey.” Deni interrupts, “Having this surgery, it means I don’t get to leave here. And you know how much I hate hospitals.” 

Deni talks about it everyday. And everyday, Evan points out that he’s here. Deni will reply and say that he’s the only part of the hospital that she doesn’t hate. 

“I do know,” Evan nods. “But as your doctor I can’t support you making any other decision. The surgery will allow you more time, and we need more time.” 

Deni blinks, looking up at him, “We?” 

“We,” he realizes he just said that out loud, “we, your doctors, need more time.” He feels like he is going to cry, “We need more time, Deni.” 

Deni lets a tear fall from her face, “You’re going to be here?” 

“Every day.” Evan promises. 

“Okay.” Her lip shakes, watching him.

"Okay?" He asks.

"Okay." She nods.

The relief on his face is more than he could put into words. He tilts his head down, thanking God. He doesn't pray very much, not since he moved away. But he began again. He prayed for her.

Evan moves his hand to put her oxygen mask back on. 

〚*〛

“You’re quitting your job and we are going to sell the house.” Sylvia says, holding Kyle’s hand as Regulus and a nurse roll the bed down the hallway. “We’re moving to Paris, and we are spending our money to do it.” 

“Of course,” Kyle promises her. 

“And if I die,” she takes a breath, “promise me you’ll do it anyways.” 

He does. 

They get to the red line, Regulus explains that this is as far as Kyle can go, the couple splitting up.

〚*〛

In an on-call room, Mary wakes up Dorcas, who fell asleep while trying to get Tuck to fall asleep, which he did, for instance. 

Dorcas sits up, rubbing her eyes, “Macdonald?” 

“Get some sleep, Dorcas.” 

She shakes her head, “I know you are the boss of me and you could destroy my career and make my life a living hell and torture and pain and all of that,” Dorcas yawns, “but just, in the future, I don’t want to baby-sit.” 

Macdonald nods, “Alright.” 

That was surprisingly easy, all things considered. 

〚*〛

Evan is standing on his tip-toes, watching Mckinnon work from behind her, “I read that a patient’s heart can sometimes remodel itself and they can be weaned off the LVAD.” He mentions. 

Mckinnon replies, “Although that’s true, it’s very unlikely in Deni’s case. Her heart is too weak.” 

“Oh.” Evan stands down. 

〚*〛

Regulus is in surgery with James, asking, “Is there any evidence of vasospasm or bleeding?” 

“No,” he says, “it looks good.” 

In the gallery, James sees Remus and Sirius, talking to one another while they watch. He focuses back down on Sylvia. 

〚*〛

Regulus is scrubbing out, “That was amazing.” 

“It was,” he takes a towel, “wasn’t it?” 

“Regulus,” James says, his voice no longer professional, all heart, “you can talk to me, you know. I want to talk this out,” he throws the paper in the trash can. “I want to be okay, okay for both of us. Not just me okay, or you okay. Both of us.” 

Regulus stares at the window of the O.R., wondering if this is a good idea or catastrophic one. But it is James. One of the best people in the world. He will forgive him, right? James had told him there would be nothing Regulus did that could scare him away. 

So, he relents. 

“Just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll tell you how to fix it.” James smiles. 

He, of course, thinks they are talking about their relationship while Regulus thinks he wants to know about the very horrible, terrible thing he did. 

“I slept with Barty and accidentally called him your name.” Regulus confesses, eyes unblinking, wanting to catch James’ expression. 

His face falls, eyes no longer bright.

“It was a horrible mistake and everything has changed,” Regulus sighs, “I don’t know what to do. But we were on a break and. . . say something.” 

James doesn’t speak. 

He turns on his heel and pushes out of the room, hand over his mouth.