Short little fic from Megan's POV. Check at the end if you need a spoiler warning... potentially disturbing subject, not graphic.

Thanks, Lyn, for the quick beta!

Afternoon

By Demeter

EMAIL: Demeter

I let the door close behind me and lean against it for a moment. It's busy in here as usual; no one has noticed my arrival yet, and I take this time for me. Breathe. Yes, here is where I belong.

Soon, somebody will greet me, start the usual banter, just let me know I'm one of them, and that's how it's supposed to be. Across the room, I see Sandy talking to Jim, gesturing with both hands to make his point. I have to smile. They are a sight to behold; Jim's wearing this indulgent smile that always fails to hide his fondness. They truly love each other.

I'm so fortunate they let me in on their secret; let me become their friend, I think, my throat suddenly tight.

Henri has seen me; he waves and grins. "Hey, Connor. I hope you're not planning on talking to Simon now. He's not in a good mood since he met the mayor for lunch."

I wince. "Thank for the warning, H. I guess I'll just sit quietly at my desk and try not to draw his attention."

He laughs.

I walk to my desk, saying 'Hi' to Jim and Sandy on the way, nodding to Rafe who's busily typing.

Booting up the computer, taking a look at the work I did yesterday, I'm drawing comfort from the familiarity, and I know it was a good idea to come here. My thoughts were going around in circles at home; at least here, I can make myself useful. I can be who I am. I'm supposed to take it easy, but I'm itching for a field call, some action.

I've made my decision, and I stand by it.

When somebody says my name, I jump. "Hell, do you have to sneak up on me like that?" I'm not yelling, just showing my annoyance, right.

It's Sandy, placing a mug with steaming coffee in it in front of me. With lots of cream, the way I like it. "I thought you might like one, too," he says apologetically.

"It's great, thanks. Sorry for snapping at you."

"It's all right, Megan."

Despite the smile, I can see the concern in his gaze. "Don't look at me like that. I'm fine." I'm proud that my hands don't shake when I pick up the mug. "Thanks for the coffee."

I wonder if Jim is listening in to our exchange, wondering about the rise of my heart rate. Would they still be concerned if they knew?

I can only guess, because this is going to be *my* secret. I've had a choice. I chose to be here, to keep on doing my job. I've always believed that you should do something in life that you're good at. I take another sip of the coffee and then take a deep breath.

Nothing else makes sense.

Spoiler warning:

The prompt from The Writer's Block (Jason Rekulak) was: 'Write from the point of view of a woman who had an abortion today. Do not mention the abortion.'

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