Angela ignored Steve's maniac driving and concentrated on her samples. She had to talk with Charlie about setting up a proper lab at the Hospital. Sure, they could do simple blood counts, and the new machine spat out every conventional figure you could want from a single sample. On the other hand...

She stared at the sample rack in her lap. Despite Steve's insistence on this outing, she'd brought them along. She couldn't examine them while treating patients, and she didn't have time to waste.

"Yeah, if you don't stop playing with those, you're gonna spill 'em."

"Just drive, Steve. We had this argument already."

"No. You had this argument. I let you bring the rack to get you out of the hospital. Now put it back in the cooler before you spill it all over my upholstery." He lifted his hand from the shifter, reaching toward her samples.

"Touch my rack and you'll be growing your fingers back."

"Yeah, like I haven't heard that before. Two hours later and it's all 'Oh, Steve, squeeze them, pinch them, slap them!', and then the bitching and asking for a towel starts. You still on that stupid diet?"

Angela didn't have time to spare for a reply. She'd noticed something curious, and she didn't have time to banter with Steve. She set her mouth on automatic and peered at the tubes.

"Yeah. Try that with me and I'll wish for pruning shears."

Steve downshifted and rounded a corner. She slipped the rack back into the cooler, keeping two of the samples out. She carefully avoided looking at the names, focusing instead on the samples themselves.

"Why pruning shears?"

"I've seen it. A goat emasculator isn't big enough."

She held the two samples next to each other. The one on the left looked different somehow. She stared for a few seconds, then thrust them in front of Steve.

"Do you see any difference between the two of these?"

"Are you trying to kill us?" Despite his complaint, Steve wove expertly through traffic, turning into the drive through of a fast-food joint. She pulled the pair of samples out of his face and stared at them again. "Seriously, Steve. I think the luminescence is different, but I can't tell."

"Yeah, yeah. Chicken, beef, or fish?"

"I don't..." she petered off, staring at the board, as inspiration struck. "Two of those kid’s meals."

"Aren't you a little old for cheap plastic toys?"

Angela smirked at him, "you're one to talk."

"Hey!" He shot her an irate look before turning back to creep up after the car ahead of them in line. "My toys are expensive, and hardly ever made of plastic."

"I dunno, Debbie..."

"That's silicone, not plastic. Different stuff entirely. Burns nastier, for one, but it's harder to get started. You're getting chicken nuggets. I don't trust you not to dump half your burger all over my car. Besides, too much beef makes you fat." Before she could reply, he leaned out the window and started hollering at the drive through speaker.

She shrugged and went back to her examination of the two tubes. One looked brighter than the other, but neither showed very well in the sunlight. Shaking each of them slightly produced twinkles, but nothing more dramatic. If only she had a microscope...

Steve set a pair of colorful plastic boxes in her lap. "There you go. Two small chicken nuggets, two small fries, two small milks. Don't complain, you need the protein more than the sugar from the apple juice." He set his own bag carefully in the passenger side foot well of the back seat, then pulled back out into traffic.

Angela twisted around, snagged his bag, and pulled it up onto her lap.

"Angie?"

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She pulled his sandwiches out of the bag, dropping them onto the back seat, and dumped her boxes into the bag.

"Angie, what are you doing?"

She snagged the toys; a cheap plastic magnifying glass and a cheaper plastic multi-tool, and then tossed the bag into the back seat.

"Angie, stop!"

She used the tweezer on the multi tool to punch a hole in each box, shoved one sample into each one, closed the lids, and turned to Steve.

"I don't care what you say, I'm not opening the box."

"What the hell are you talking about? I need you to look into each box and tell me which is brighter."

"Yeah. That's what they all..."

"Hey, we're not headed back to the hospital."

Steve downshifted, pulling into the passing lane. "Can't fool you."

"Steve, I need to get back to the hospital!"

"No, you need a shower. You stink."

Angela knew she couldn't smell her own body odor, but she took a sniff anyhow. Her hunger, whetted by the scent of the fast food, died instantly. She reeked.

"Oh, god. Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Because you've been the only doctor on staff since you put Wilson in ICU."

"I... I did what?"

Steve shook his head and snorted with laughter. When he could control his voice, he explained. "No, Mega-Moppet wasn't involved. He collapsed, you had the nursing staff put him in the ICU and run some tests. While you were busy Mercy told me; he came within a few hours of having a heart attack. They've got him on blood thinners until they can get a cardiac specialist in."

"I wish you'd stop calling me that."

"Why? She's not really you. She's a five-year-old with twenty-five-year-old boobs and a twenty-five-ton grip." Steve raced around a curve, and she pulled the boxes back into her lap. She'd get him to check them out later. She took a deep breath, set the boxes on the floor next to the cooler, and turned to face Steve.

"That's just it, Steve. I've been thinking about what you said. About me being... headstrong when I was younger."

"I didn't say you were headstrong."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I said you were a stubborn bitch. Headstrong makes you sound too classy."

"Okay. Fine. I was stubborn..."

"And a bitch." If he didn't shut up, she swore she'd smack the smirk off his face, Hippocratic Oath or no.

"Steve!"

"Fine, fine, misquote me."

"I'm trying to open up to you, asshole!"

He glanced her way, one eye wide, the other squinted. He never could do the eyebrow thing right. "You're getting all touchy feely warm and fuzzy with the guy you called an asshat for saving your life."

She shook her head. "Yeah. What was I thinking."

"That you're trapped in your own body with your pre-superego self."

She counted to ten, then turned slowly back toward him. He reached up, adjusted the mirror, fixed his hair, and slid around a corner.

"Slow down!"

"Nah. If I do, and you get the idea I'm taking you on a romantic picnic, you'll jump out the door."

"Steve, if I give you my word I won't jump out of the car, will you stop driving like a..." she shrieked as the car became briefly airborne. "...goddamned lunatic!"

"Promise?"

"I promise!"

He braked, sliding smoothly to a stop on the side of the road. Before the dust cleared, he flipped a switch on the dash and the sunlight streaming into the car dimmed. "Okay, hand me your boxes."

"What did you just do?"

"Smart glass. Charlie hooked me up last year." He leaned across the seat and grabbed the kid's meal boxes. After looking into each one for a few seconds, he handed them back to her and flipped the switch to clear the windows again. “Drew’s is about twice as bright as yours."

She looked through the holes herself. One did look brighter, but not bright enough to read the handwritten label. "How did you do that?"

"Hers smells like her. Yours smells like you."

"You... you can smell which blood sample is which?"

"The names are written on the sides, too."

"Something's happening to us." She pulled the samples out of the kid's meal boxes and slid them back into the rack in the cooler.

"No, really?"

"This is important, Steve! If we don't know what it is, it might be dangerous!"

"Yeah, well. If you burst into flame, let me know. Otherwise, maybe you should ask Charlie about it. He's been looking into it."

She tried to remember the last time she'd seen Charlie. Other than a vague memory of a shapeless figure in the break room, she couldn't recall seeing him since the Rain. "Yeah, well. If you see him, let him know I need to talk to him."

"Let him know yourself. We're here."

Angela looked out the window in time to see the back gates of Charlie's junkyard slide open. Steve pulled his Viper in between Drew's beat up old sedan and a government issue Crown Victoria. The moment they stopped, Steve scrambled to gather up their food, wiping down the seats with wet wipes he pulled from the glove compartment.

"I didn't know how fastidious you were, Steve."

"Yeah, chicks dig the smell of leather. Grease? Not so much."

She just sighed, picked up her sample cooler, and climbed out of the car. Steve followed with the bag of fast food tucked into one arm, a drink carrier in his other hand.

"Speaking of smells, you still need a shower. You're ripe."

"Thanks. Have any of your girlfriends ever told you you've got a way with words?"

Steve just stared at her as they walked into the junkyard. He handed her a milk and a box of nuggets, juggled the bag, carrier, and contents until he had one of his burgers open, and started eating, still silent and staring. When she heard Drew and Charlie in the distance, she couldn't take it any longer.

"What did I say?"

Steve swallowed before he spoke, staring at her all the while. "You think I talk to them?"

"God, Steve, you are such a misogynist."

He grinned at her through a mouthful of burger. "Nah, I'm just a dick and love messing with you."

"So, what's Charlie want to show... us..."

They rounded the last corner, and Angela dropped her box of nuggets, staring entranced at the new addition to Charlie's junkyard.

"Well, there's something you don't see every day."