The Hypothesis

They sat like that for twenty minutes. The rapid analyzer on the wall was processing the swab Eamon had taken from his wound before the shower.

Red light meant infection. Green light meant clear.

Eamon leaned his head back against the metal doorframe. The adrenaline was crashing, leaving him exhausted.

"Eamon?" Lucy’s voice was small.

"I'm here."

"Why did you do it?" she asked. "You didn't even hesitate. You grabbed it."

Eamon looked at his hand. It was wrapped in sterile gauze now.

"Protocol dictates—"

"Screw protocol," Lucy snapped, though her voice was devoid of heat. She pressed her hand against the glass, right where his shoulder was. "Tell me the truth. Why did you save me?"

Eamon looked at her hand. It was small, trembling.

He realized he might die. Even if the rapid test was green, there could be latent infection. He might never leave this room.

He had spent two years hiding behind charts and microscopes, convinced that a woman as bright and chaotic as Lucy Chen would never want a man who color-coded his socks. He thought he was protecting himself.

But looking at her now, with mascara running down her face, he realized he had just been wasting time.

"It wasn't protocol," Eamon said quietly.

He turned his body so he was facing her through the glass. He placed his bandaged hand against the glass, mirroring hers.

"I calculated the risk," Eamon said. "Of the virus. Of the fall. Of the exposure."

"And?"

"And the risk of me getting sick was acceptable," Eamon said. He took a deep breath. "Because the alternative was you getting hurt. And the probability of me surviving in a world without you, Lucy... is zero."

Lucy’s eyes went wide. Her breath hitched. "Zero?"

"Statistically impossible," Eamon confirmed. "You are... the constant variable in my day. I wait for you to come down here. I fix your charts because I want you to succeed. I drink the terrible coffee from the breakroom just because you poured it."

"Eamon," Lucy whispered, tears spilling over again.

"I didn't save you because you're an intern," Eamon said, his voice cracking. "I saved you because I love you. And I was too scared to tell you until I locked myself in a box."

Lucy let out a sob, leaning her forehead against the glass. "You idiot. You absolute genius idiot."

"I know," Eamon smiled weakly. "I'm not very good with people."

"I came down here tonight because I wanted to ask you out," Lucy confessed, her voice muffled against the pane. "The cupcake was a bribe. I wanted to see if you’d look at me away from the microscopes."

Eamon’s heart hammered against his ribs. "You did?"

"Yes. And now you’re locked in there and you might have a flesh-eating virus and you finally tell me you love me?"

"Timing was never my strong suit," Eamon admitted.

*PING.*

The sound was deafening in the quiet lab.

They both froze. They turned to look at the monitor on the wall.

The screen flickered.

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