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Jules fires up the electric kettle as soon as she was awake. Still tired, still cranky from being tired, and she bangs her head on the unfortunately short roof of the van, but she makes sure the kettle is going before trying to juice the last few precious minutes of sleep from this frosty morning. It would only stay chilly for another hour or so, which meant being cozy under the blankets would morph into uncomfortable sweaty hell in about 20 minutes.
Mika comes to rescue her from sweaty hell before that. A soft invocation of her name. Grumbling response from Jules. The kettle starts to squeal and Jules buries her head further into the blankets.
“Baby,” Mika says it around a laugh. She quickly turns off the kettle, opens the van door, and a wave of cool air wafts in, immediately replaced by the warming rays of the sun. Jules knows she has to get up. In fact, she’s used to getting up even earlier. 4th year surgical resident. She frequently volunteers her free times for night shifts. She’s a workaholic, and desperate to prove herself, and relentless, and disciplined, and right now, she’s whining for her girlfriend to please shut the door and let her sleep in for five more minutes.
“I’m sorry, Baby.” Baby. The word swirls around in Jules’s head as her brain treads the line between sleep and wakefulness. Baby…
This thing between them is new, but also not very new. Though it is the first time using Mika’s van for it’s intended purpose. After Jules managed to convince her it needed some thorough repairs. Mika held her hand tightly after Leona got the prognosis. And she cried when Jules herself rolled underneath her, and started removing parts. Turns out surgeons only like seeing people be taken apart, not cars. Thankfully, Jules was able to put her together as just as good as she can with people (at least, she likes to think she does).
With a brand new engine, new coil, replaced hub-cap, oil on the door hinges, and a fresh coat of paint, Leona fared brilliantly against a long drive to Yellowstone. Now Jules has to answer for it, by waking up at 5am on one of her very rare days off.
“Okay now you’re making me feel bad. You said you wanted to come!”
Jules groans because it’s the only sound she can make. Sits up in a very half-hearted attempt to be present.
Mika grabs her arm and pulls her up the rest of the way, with some shuffling, rearranges them so they’re both leaning against the side of the van, guiding Jules’s head to her shoulder.
She clears her throat, but keeps her eyes closed, nestling into the warmth of Mika’s neck. “I’m awake.” She yawns. “I promise.”
Mika curls a hand around her jaw, and turns her just enough to kiss her. A light tingling starts at the base of Jules’s skull. She kisses her firmer, urging Jules’s mouth open and she gasps into their third kiss, wet, and sloppy, and alighting every nerve ending in her body. When they part Jules can’t help the way she leans forward, off-balance. She blinks her eyes open dizzily. Stares up at Mika’s smug expression.
“Is that enough or do you need some more convincing?”
“I need more.” She really sells this by the croak in her morning voice; like a dying man desperate for a sip of water.
Mika leans again, and Jules fists her hands into Mika’s shirt, and they kiss until the warmth under skin turns hot, and she’s suddenly itching to get out from under the blanket. She lifts up her shirt and Mika’s hands help push it the rest of the way off. But just as she reaches for Mika’s shirt as well she feels something being shoved towards her. Looking down she can see the straps of her bra dangling from her elbows.
“Get dressed quickly so we can go.” A kiss. “And brush your teeth too, please, if you want any more of this.” Another kiss, and Mika is gone.
Sourness returned, Jules mumbles angrily to herself as she gets dressed. As she brushes her teeth and spits into the dirt. She opens a lukewarm water bottle and splashes her face with some of it, chugs the rest. Then she remembers the kettle. A sort of hopeful resignation settles into her. She always makes Mika’s coffee in the morning. It’s their thing. It’s the thing she promised herself she’d do, even on this trip she was fundamentally opposed to, but agreed to go on anyway because it was important to Mika.
Her heart starts to beat quicker, as she spoons ground coffee mix into the water. She swirls it around, and digs into the cooler for the tiny coffeemate pods they stole from the hospital breakroom. She hopes Mika doesn’t think she forgot. Even though Jules has only technically been making her coffee for two months now. But Jules doesn’t want to be only as good as any two-month girlfriend. She wants to feel like Mika’s home. Like the person she relaxes around when she walks into a room. The person she wants to share all her news with, good or bad, big or insignificant. Desperate to prove herself.
She takes the cardboard cup out with her and every insecurity melts away at the sight of Mika’s smile. It feels even better knowing that its hard-earned. Not because Jules had to do too much to win Mika over. But because Mika has been through hell and back, several times, in the past few years, and Jules had agonized over the thought that she might never see this smile again.
Mika accepts her coffee with smile, dipped in honey. Turns her head away in an uncharacteristic display of shyness. “Thank you,” she says to the sunrise over the trees. Jules touches her hand to the small of Mika’s back. You’re welcome -you’re always welcome- goes without saying.
Today they’ll hike down to the river. They camped away from it for privacy, and because Mika has always preferred heights to see things from up high. But Chloe loved the sea. Lakes. Rivers. Any body of water -really. After her cancer returned, and Webber told her she would need to consider surgery, and prepare for a longer hospital stay, she begged Mika to take her on a ferry boat. She’d been on a paddleboat, a canoe, and even a cruise ship – courtesy of a very wealthy friend from college- but never a ferry boat. All the residents pitched in to buy them tickets. A dinner cruise. Random aquatic-themed paraphernalia to decorate her room – remind her that the sea was never too far from her. The outside world never too out of reach.
It wasn’t enough to save her from cancer. And it wasn’t enough to spare her sister the heartbreak of watching her die to cancer, but it was enough to keep a single candle of joy lit throughout the entire process. Right until the end.
And Jules had watched Mika tear up her dolphin-patterned blanket and smash the space-needle snow globe into pieces. Watched her shove away the cleaning staff and hospital security as she bent down to clean it up herself. Watched her walk out the double sliding doors in the front of the hospital and disappear into the fray.
She didn’t think anything would matter anymore; not the jokes, or the hugs, or the late nights discussing cases, or the mornings sneaking Chloe an extra chocolate pudding. It didn’t matter all the months they spent commiserating over their intern year, or the short few weeks they spent kissing in between shifts. All of it had been overshadowed by this one, infinitely terrible thing.
However, as RV’s and campsites start pulling into view, Jules realizes, it did mean something. That shadows can only exist when there is light, and that it was only a matter of time before Mika came into the light again. She can see it now, in her eyes, as she hears the rushing of the river. Her grip on Jules’s hand tightens, and they take off in a run towards the riverbank.
All isn’t well because they’ve made it to Chloe’s favorite place. All isn’t well because they kissed for the first time -again- two months ago, after Jules told her she nominated her for senior resident -to Chief Altman.
But things are okay because when Mika’s sad she looks for Jules, and lets her hang around when she ugly cries. They’re okay because Mika told her she wants to apply to fellowships in all the same hospitals as Jules; just because.
And they’re okay because the sun is shining on this perfect morning, clear skies, just like the day Chloe died, and love exists in many forms, and they can both feel it here. Not the end of love; but a new beginning.