"Arrrgggghhhh!" Mike growled, frustrated as the sound of the alarm clock rippled through his skull, leaving him with a headache. His hands grappled frantically in the air, knocking the alarm clock off the lamp stand. He heard the clock crash to the floor, but it didn't stop ringing.

Throwing a pillow over his head in a failed attempt to muffle the sound of the clock, as well as ease the pain in his head, Mike finally forced his aching body to a sitting position, his eyelids giving way to the dingy apartment that smelled of vomit and alcohol.

His phone chirped in that moment. Groaning, he reached down to the floor, his fingers coming in contact with an empty bottle. He searched blindly among dirty dishes, dirty clothes, bottles, the alarm clock -All of which littered the floor-until his hand finally found his cell phone buried in the junk.

Moaning, he leaned back against the wall and pressed the green button.

"Huh?"

"Mr. Stacks?" A female voice called from the other end of the phone.

"Yeah?"

"Well I'm calling from Franklin and Peterson, your legal representative. Mr. Fritz wanted to make sure you do not violate the terms of your probation. You're required to resume community service at St. John's Children's Hospital today."

Mike swore under his breath, unconsciously banging his head against the wall. Hissing in frustration, he threw the phone to the floor and closed his eyes. He vaguely remembered being pulled over for drunk driving and failing the sobriety test. After being held for twenty four hours in jail, he had been taken to court and sentenced to three hundred hours of community service in a hospital, his license had been seized and he was advised to join a sobriety group.

For a few seconds he sat still on his bed, dreading the thought of rising up. Yet, the Judge had made it very clear that he needed to do the community service, or do the time in jail.

Knowing he didn't have a choice, he threw his legs down the side of the bed, and rose to his feet. After rummaging through a pile of dirt clothes on the floor, he pulled out his black pants, a shirt, and an old jacket, before making his way out of the apartment.

~*~

"So, when's the wedding?"

Eden paused in her attempt to give Frankie a shot, and lifted her eyes up.

"Oh, don't look so surprised, Eden, I told you I was psychic." The six year old beamed, displaying two missing front teeth.

Focusing her attention on carrying out her mission, she injected Frankie on the arm -evoking a soft sigh from her lips- and straightened.

"So?!" Frankie, now rubbing her arm, raised a brow.

"Christmas," Eden admitted, tiring of all the talk about a wedding. She was exhausted from having to plan it, as well as having her Fiancé be absent through it all. She understood that the elections were only a few months away, but she would have loved for him to dedicate a little more time to her right now.

"What's up with the frown?"

She turned back to Frankie who was now settling comfortably on the bed.

"Oh, nothing." She forced a smile to her lips and turned to leave the room. Pausing by the door, she turned to Frankie once more. "Hey, Frankie?"

"Yeah?" Her eyelids were pulling close on her brown eyes.

"I know you're not psychic, sweetie, you most likely overhead a conversation with Judie, or a nosey nurse, to even have a clue about the wedding."

"What? You are truly mistaken, doctor and frankly, I am offended." Frankie rose to a sitting position and folded her arms, forcing a smile to claim Eden’s face; Frankie looked adorable in her pink overall and beanie.

Insisting she didn't find the style of the clothing provided by the hospital for its patients, to be adequate, Frankie chose to wear her own clothes and adamantly refused to take her beanie off in order to --in her words-- keep the nurses from jumping out of their skins at the sight of a bald girl.

"I might die in the end," she said that evening, snapping her fingers, "but I'm going to look good doing it."

"Offended, and still not psychic." Her smile broadened as she turned around and made her way out of the room.

It was clear to her that she needed to stop getting attached to her patients, but it didn’t matter how hard she tried and for how long, she did get attached, forming a friendship with them that often times ended up being a disaster when she lost them. Still, she treasured every second spent with her patients, for each moment was etched in her heart, the memories unable to be wiped away even by death.

Making her way through the halls, she reached the cafeteria and found her favorite spot on the far end of the room. Settling on the table, she had barely pulled out her salad from her purse, when she caught sight of Judie making her way toward her.

"Hello, bride to be!" Judie winked, placing herself on the chair across from Eden’s.

"Hey." She took a forkful of her salad.

"Well, I know you're getting married in like twenty four days, and trust me, I'm happy for you and all,"

"U-huh." She chewed slowly, eyes fixed on Judie whose brown eyes gave away her intent for being here; to ask for a favor. Curious, she watched Judie.

"You know Henry and I have been dating for a while now." She glanced down and fiddled with her fingers.

"Of course. How is Henry by the way?"

"Still with the NYPD. Oh, he's so hot, especially when he's catching bad guys and all." Her gaze drifted back to Eden, her face lighting up with excitement.

"Of course," Eden nodded, before burying her fork into a strawberry and lifting it up to her mouth..

Placing her hands on the table, she leaned forward and inched closer. Taking her tone down several notches, she squealed, "well, the thing is, Eden, I think he's going to propose! All the signs are there; I found the card of a jeweler, he’s been really secretive lately…" Judie was saying, when a small commotion at the entryway momentarily drew Eden’s attention. It appeared to her that the janitor was having a hard time getting his cart in through the slightly narrow doors of the cafeteria. He had come in through the doors and was attempting to pull the cart in from the front. When that wasn’t working, he abandoned his initial attempt, and turned around, giving Eden the chance to catch a glimpse of his face; he seemed vaguely familiar...

Just as the thought drifted through her mind, he turned back around.

"I wanted to know if it was okay with you."

"Huh?" Her eyes remained trained on the janitor who was now taking the mop out of the cart.

"Okay to you know, get proposed to at this time of the year, seeing as this entire season is supposed to be about you and Philip getting married?"

"Oh, it's fine Judie, congratulations in advance." She squinted, staring at his back; why did he seem so familiar?

"Thanks Eden! Although, I was going to ask, would it be okay if he proposed at your wedding?"

The janitor turned around in that second, their eyes immediately locking.

A soft gasp drifted from Eden’s lips as she stared into Mike Stack’s hard eyes. He was a mess to behold, a shadow of the man he had been a year ago –thinner than he had been, the sacks underneath his haunted eyes a clear indication of several night’s deprivation of sleep. She immediately knew he had not gotten over the death of his daughter and the very idea of the grief he still bore after all those months, broke her heart.

His jaw hardened as recognition flashed through his eyes. Turning sharply around, he placed the mop back into the cart and began pushing it away.

He still blamed her.

She had seen it in his eyes as he realized who it was he had been staring at; anger and accusation.

"Eden!" Something grabbed her wrist, forcing her attention back to Judie. Judie quirked a brow in question.

"Sure, yes, it'll be great," she said. Rising to her feet hurriedly, she shoved the chair back, the overwhelming need to speak to Mike barely making it possible for her to remain seated.

"Where are you going? Are you okay?!"

She nodded to Judie’s question as she hurriedly began maneuvering through the room until she was in the hallway.

"Mr. Stacks?!" she called, seeing no sign of him in the busy hallway. She stood still for several seconds, her eyes scanning the halls until she was certain he wasn’t there. Releasing a soft sigh of resignation, she turned and stumbled back into the room, thoughts of Mike Stacks and his angry eyes haunting her all through the day.

But as the day progressed and she saw no other sign of him, she started believing she hadn't seen Mr. Stacks at all, and that he was simply a figment of her imagination. It was after all, the time of the year Maddie died, and she had, within the last few months, kept the roses he shoved into her arms -having replanted them in her garden- and the little box was still wrapped and in her closet. For the life of her, she couldn't bring herself to get rid of the box, or the roses, or the memory of that evening. The part of her that needed to get rid of the guilt that came with it was desperate to find Mr. Stacks and have a conversation with him. Maybe it was that part of her that was now causing her to hallucinate.

When her shift ended, she grabbed her purse and made her way to the parking lot. She was about to dig in her purse for her car keys when her eyes caught sight of Mr. Stacks getting into a taxi.

Opening her mouth to call out to him, she closed it once more as he disappeared into the taxi.

Without stopping to think for a second, she got into her car and followed the taxi. They drove for a few minutes, before the taxi pulled over and Mr. Stacks exited the car. Eden parked her car by the curb, and followed behind him.

Tightening her hold on her jacket, she was thankful for it, given the bone chilling cold. She tucked her hands in her pocket, the mittens doing nothing to keep them from trembling.

Mr. Stacks walked straight ahead, failing to even notice her presence. Eden was certain after a few minutes, that her decision to go after him to exonerate her conscience was stupid, and she needed to turn back. She was about to turn around, when he paused on the bridge, standing still for several seconds as the gentle evening breeze washed through his brown hair.

Momentarily confused, Eden watched him stand motionless on the bridge, his gaze fixed straight ahead where the body of water stretched nonstop. He seemed lost in his mind, she thought, noting the muscle that worked in his jaw. He seemed to be contemplating something, but what?

As if in answer to her question, he stepped forward, repeating the action several more times until he was standing before the railing, his fingers curling around it. Her eyelids widened in realization as he lifted a foot and placed it on the rail; he was going to jump.

“Mike!” she cried, her heart stopping.

That seemed to stop him. Pausing in his tracks, he neglected to acknowledge her.

"Mike, don’t do this! Get off of that bridge, right now!” Her lips trembled as the horror of what she was about to witness weakened her. When she saw that he made no attempt to climb down, she tried again, “what you are about to do is a crime and you could get arrested. As a matter of fact, I will call the cops if you do not get off of that bridge right now!” Instinctively, she reached for her purse and realized in that second that she had left it in the car; the very thought of her error brought tears to her eyes.

“Mike,” trembling, she turned her attention from her missing purse and back to him, “you don’t want to do this.”

His fingers tightened around the railings some more, rendering her speechless. Words seemed powerless against Mike’s grief and barely deniable desire to jump off of the bridge. Swallowing a sob, she glanced down. What would she say to a man devastated enough to want to take his own life? Could she promise it would get better? Could she turn back the hands of the clock and save his daughter from the tumor that had formed in her brain? Could she promise that one day, the pain would go away? She was as powerless against Mike’s planned suicide, as she was powerless against death when it came for her patients.

"You should know better than following a complete stranger,” he finally said.

Jerking her head upright in shock, she stared at him. He didn’t turn to her, his gaze intently fixed on the waters below. He had aged, she thought, noticing the wrinkles that filtered from the edges of his eyes and the sprinkling of gray in his brown hair.

"You should know better than trying to jump off of a bridge," she forced the words out of her mouth.

He turned so sharply to her, she gasped and jumped back.

"I am grown enough to do what I want." He frowned, anger flashing in his eyes.

“Not when you want is stupid and irresponsible and most likely a crime!” she blurted.

"And I'm a criminal."

"It is stupid to—"

"I have done things beyond stupid, doctor." He watched her. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, speechless. Tilting his head to the side, mockery flashed in his eyes. "Is that all you have? Is that how you plan on getting me off of this bridge in order to ease your conscience, to make you feel better about returning to the comfort of your fancy home and bed while a bunch of innocent kids die on your watch? Because I’m not stupid enough to think you’re here because you care, doctor. If you cared, you wouldn’t have let her die!" he spat.

“What?” she breathed, stunned.

“Do you wish to try again, doctor? Try to save my life by coming up with a shitty speech on why I shouldn’t end it right now? Go ahead, let’s hear it! Tell me what I have to live for.”

She stood still, unable to respond to his ruthless accusations, then, just as quickly, her shock was replaced with anger; an anger that left her trembling from head to toe. He had no right to blame her for the deaths of her patients; patients she lived day and night trying to save. He had no right to stand before her and blame her for trying to save his life, making mockery of her efforts. He was right, he was a grown man and she could not tell him what to do.

"You already know the difference, Mr. Stacks. You know what is right and what is wrong and it is up to you to choose."

"So, you're not going to try to stop me?"

She shook her head, exhausted. "It is up to you."

Loosening his hold on the railing, he nodded. "Glad you recognize that."

Eden swallowed and tried not to appear as distraught as she felt. Was the holiday season doomed to hold so little cheer for her?

"Could you not do it in public? It would ruin Christmas for the rest of us."

Turning around swiftly, she began making her way from the bridge, and the man she hoped was smart enough to do the right thing. She especially hoped she had done the right thing by choosing to walk away, and not call the police.