I wake up, and Phoebe isn't lying next to me. My arm moves to the side she was sleeping on, and it's still warm. I look around, and she isn't in the room. I sit up, and I listen. I hear her vomiting in the bathroom. I stand up quickly, heading to the bathroom.

"Phoebe." I knock on the door and she groans. "Phoebe. Are you okay?"

"I-" She vomits again. "Just, leave me alone!" She yells, gagging a bit. Seconds later, I hear the toilet flush. She is hungover, and she needs fluids and food in her system. I walk into the kitchen pantry, grabbing saltine crackers and a water bottle. I knock on the door again, hearing her gag.

"Phoebe. I'm opening the door." I open the door, seeing her leaning against the glass shower. I hand her the bottled water, and she drinks it all, giving me back the empty bottle. I hand her the crackers, and she shakes her head. "Phoebe, you need to eat something."

"Oh. Rack off!" She yells, her Australian accent getting thicker the more she gets angry. She shoos me away, making my eyebrows knit together in amusement. I have no idea what she just said, but I'm pretty sure she just told me to fuck off.

"Phoebe. Just eat a few crackers, please." I bend down to her level, handing her a cracker. She looks at me, then grabs the cracker. "Eat it slowly. I'm going to get you more water." I stand up, turning on the sink and filling up the water bottle. I look back down at her, and she looks unhealthy. I mean, she's beautiful as always. But right now, she has dark circles under her eyes, her hair is all messy, and she looks miserable. "Here Phoebe, take this." I hand her the water bottle, and she sips at it.

"Thank you." She leans her head back against the glass after finishing the cracker. "I feel like shit." She laughs suddenly. I help her to her feet as she grips her stomach. I stand there for a second to see if she will puke again, but she shakes her head, making me continue helping her into the living room.

I help her out of the bathroom and onto the couch. She sits down, gripping her stomach and covering her mouth. I rush to grab the trash can and bring it back to ger. Once it's in front of her face, she pukes again. I hold her hair back with my other hand, and she hugs the trash can. I rub her back with my other hand.

She groans, disgusted with her situation. Every time she pukes, she gets dehydrated even more. Her hungover will last over 24 hours if we don't get it under control now. I have a saline drip and anti-nausea medication. I should give her the anti-nausea medication first and see how she responds to it, but she will puke it up even before it starts to work.

I leave her alone for a few seconds, going into my closet and grabbing the saline bag. I bring out the metal pole and everything I need to connect to the bag. I hook it up to the pole, attaching the drip and the tub that will go into her arm. I grab a roll of tape and put on a pair of gloves. I find an elastic band and a 25 gauge needle. I could get in serious trouble for this...

"Phoebe. Give me your arm." She sits up away from the trash can looking at me, "I'm putting you on an IV. Don't say anything; it's already happening." I grab her arm, putting the elastic band above her elbow and cleaning the sight where I will stick the needle. I can barely see her vein, which shows how dehydrated she is. Once I see the vein, I stick the needle in and tape it down. I open up the IV drip and goosebumps flow up her arm.

"I want you to lay down and relax. I gave you some anti-nausea medication, so I need you to eat more crackers, okay?" I sit up, tossing my gloves into the trash. I empty it, not wanting her to be around this smell. I put in a new bag, placing it next to her. She lays down, cuddling up close to the pillow. I hand her the crackers and cover her up with a blanket.

I don't want to leave her alone, but then again, I can't just take off of work... Fuck it. I'm staying here with her. She is eating the crackers slowly, trying not to puke again. When she's finished with the saltines, she puts them next to her and closes her eyes. I take the saltines, putting them on the coffee table. I decide to keep the curtains closed and let her get some sleep.

I go into my room, calling my chief and telling them I will be on call today. I change my outfit into something warm. I need to go shopping, do laundry, and I need to keep an eye on Phoebe. I cook myself breakfast trying to be quiet. While I am eating, Phoebe's phone goes off. I peek at the screen and it's the police station. Did they catch that mother fucker? I want to pick up the phone, but by the time I made my decision, the call ends, and they leave a voicemail.

I hope they caught him — that worthless excuse for a human. I shake my head, trying not to get angry. I finish my breakfast cleaning the dishes and grab a pen and paper. I leave Phoebe a note on the coffee table that I went out shopping, and I will be back soon. I remind her not to take the IV out and to not get off the couch. I put on my coat and boots, grabbing my car keys and locking the door behind me. When I get to the floor level, I see it is snowing outside, and the roads are getting pretty bad. But I hurry to my truck getting inside and drive to the grocery store.

When I get there, I pick up everything we will need just in case we get snowed in — cases of water, fresh fruit, canned foods, loaves of bread, etc. Once I'm finished, the roads are worse, and I know I need to drive cautiously. While I am driving back, my phone starts to ring. My car is stopped at a stoplight, and it's work calling me. I answer the call, and it's my chief.

"McGuire. A huge pile-up happened near Time Square, and the spillover is currently being sent to Mount Sinai. We need you here. ASAP. It's all hands on deck!"

"It is going to be a while; I am on my way back home with groceries, and the roads by my place are getting worse by the second."

"Hurry up, McGuire." He hangs up, and I continue driving to the apartment. I make it back safely, and I grab as much groceries as I can in one trip and make it upstairs. I open the door and Phoebe is still asleep. I put the groceries on the kitchen counter and head back downstairs for the last load. Once all the groceries are upstairs, I quickly put everything away and leave Phoebe a new note.

'I got called in for an emergency at the hospital. I will be back as soon as I can. Keep the IV in your arm and only leave the couch if absolutely necessary. The crackers are on the coffee table, and you have three bottles of water as well. Be home soon. Noah.'

I change into my scrubs, grabbing my stethoscope, badge and coat. I go to Phoebe on the couch, sleeping peacefully and kiss her on the top of her head. I grab my keys and secure the door behind me. When I head downstairs I get another call, I answer it without reading the name thinking it's work.

"Chief, I will be there shortly."

"Well, hello to you too." My mom's voice stops me in my tracks, oh how I missed my mom's voice.

"Mom." I smile; it's clear in my voice how happy I am to hear her voice. "Why are you calling me this early. You should be at work." I look down at my watch.

"Early lunch and I miss my son. Also, a close friend of mine, Doreen, showed me something quite interesting this morning. Your face on the television. With a young woman, no doubt! Noah. Are you dating? I hear she is the daughter of some actress." She keeps going on with her questions, making my ears want to explode.

"Mother. She is- She is a close friend of mine." I didn't know what to say honestly- From last night, how she reacted when I turned her down- she feels something towards me. I think-

"Noah James. In the photos, I can see the way you were looking at her. She is beautiful, darling."

"Yes, she is." I smile, biting my bottom lip slightly to stop smiling like some idiot. "But I have to get to work. I will call you soon. Promise. Love you. Bye." I quickly say, hanging up and driving off to work. I don't give Phoebe "a look." What the heck does that even mean "a look." I shake my head, trying to forget what my mom said, but I quickly realise that this is gonna bug me until I figure out what "a look" even means.

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