He hasn't spoken to her since he yelled at her in front of everyone, and it's not in his nature to apologize for anything anyway, so he just avoids her for the past few days.

Now, however, the need to lay eyes on her had become so strong that he would be fine if he used an even more lame excuse than Carlos's injury to meet and talk to her.


Entering the room, he saw that she had just come in from the back room, holding some blood samples.

She just looked at him for a moment, then turned to face the counter, put down her things, and wrote down notes.

He cleared his throat a few times, but she didn't acknowledge him so in the end, Michel had no choice but to start talking.


"So how's Carlos?" He finally said, burying his hands in his pockets as he shifted back and forth on his feet, trying to appear normal.

When Fanny didn't answer, he became impatient.


"I ask you a question."

But she remained silent, only the sound of pencils and the ticking of the wall clock could be heard in the room.

"Answer me." He shouted at her but only received a blank face glance in his direction.

Michel looked at her with wide eyes and gaped at how unaffected she was by looking at him.

As if nothing had happened, she just went to the hang of her coat and hung up her gown, preparing to leave the infirmary.

"I'm talking to you." He yelled at her again as he followed her out of the room and out into the hallway.

The more she doesn't respond and he continues to yell at her, the angrier he gets.

How dare she ignore him? Doesn't she know who he is?

They ended up in her room, Michel forced himself to go in as she continued to act like he wasn't there, just turning on the stereo and choosing a classical music radio station.

"I swear to God, Fanny."

"What? What now, Michel." She finally turns around to show emotion, which is glare.

"Who do you think you are? I could shoot you dead right now."

But he only heard a whistling sound as she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

"You all say the same thing, but there's no movement."

With eyes as big as plates, Michel couldn't believe her words.

So, stepping closer to her, he grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him, forcing her to look him in the face.

"Are you sure?" He hissed at her.

But instead of achieving his goal, which is to scare her into submission, he only sees her raise her chin to speak back.

"Yes, Michel. I'm sure of you." She confidently said.

"What?" He frowned at her, still holding onto her arm but his grip loosened slightly.

She sighed as if she had given up acting tough and locked her eyes with his when she said her next words.

"I trust you. That's why I don't think you'll hurt me."

Heart pounding, breathing ragged, Michel didn't know if he was feeling lightheaded from frustration or if it was a completely different feeling.

But out of habit, he chooses to react angrily.

"That obviously doesn't make you the smartest."

Instead of looking hurt, Fanny just stepped closer, her tiny hand suddenly touching the inside of his jacket.

Michel was too shocked and frozen to notice what was happening and before he knew it, Fanny had pulled the gun out of its holster and placed it in his hand.

Closing his hand, she then grabbed his arm and lifted the gun to his chest, keeping it exactly in the space between her breasts.

"You want to shoot me? Keep going. Prove it."

Michel's throat was completely dry, simply because of how close the gun was to her, fear manifesting deep in his gut.

"I don't have to prove this shit to you." He screamed as he tried to pull his hand away from the gun, but she continued to hold him in place.

He could have easily been harsher, but he was too cautious to have anything happen to her if he accidentally pulled the trigger.

"Shoot me, Michel."

"Are you crazy?"

"I'm tired of your empty threats."

But Michel couldn't do this anymore.

With one swift movement, he dislodged the hand holding the gun and threw it across the room, immediately reaching out to wrap her in his arms.

He held her cheek and kissed her as she ran her hand through his hair.

She groaned as he pushed her onto the bed behind her and leaned over her with his hands on either side of the bed.

He pulled her out of her mouth and took a deep breath then nudged her head to the side and kissed her neck.

"Michel..." She whispered as he kissed her collarbone.

"Make love to me."

Strong emotions swirled through him - shock and elation, but mostly fear - as his eyes met hers.

He wants, he really wants.

But there is no turning back from there.

"Fanny..."

"It feels right..." she said.

"Can't you feel it?"

He did.

At that moment, it was just him and her, no one and nothing else.

They were all that mattered - two people, desperately wanting each other.

There is no division. No, he's second in command and she's just a nurse, no dangerous and inconvenient business problems.

They never really felt that way, but it was hard to ignore.

There are reminders all over the place of the people they were supposed to be, the people they didn't want to be, but it's different here.

Here, they stay away from everything that threatens to tear them apart.

Here, there are no complications, no need to hide or pretend.

But Michel didn't answer. No words are needed.

That damned voice in his head, suspicious and nagging, finally fell silent.

He stared at her, before leaning down and gently cupping her lips.

He kissed her tenderly as he placed his hand on her knee, slowly running it up her inner thigh. She squirmed under his touch, a sob escaping her throat as she slid her hand under his shirt, tingling past him as she stroked his bare skin.