A/N: I should have the next chapter ready to go shortly. Broken record, but feedback always cherished :).

Hello, Brooklyn.

They hadn't really even finished unpacking before residency orientation hit and work schedules began to add up. Maureen, still unsuccessfully auditioning, had expanded her baby-sitting services to include Tom, which thankfully meant no expensive daycare. Before Mark knew it Halloween was closing in and there was still a stack off unopened boxes in the spare bedroom.

"Do you even know what's in them?" Roger asked one day.

Mark shrugged. "I guess nothing important."

The boxes remained untouched and Maureen perched herself on one of them as Mark dug through his film supplies for his extra battery. He had a rare day off and he'd promised Roger he'd film his band at the club that night. Roger had realized that full out rock star might never be in his future, but with some footage, the band could certainly expand on its local fame. Local fame was what he needed to pay the bills.

Maureen was practically bouncing as she sat. "Don't tell Joanne yet, but I got a part-time job at the bakery in your neighborhood."

"A part-time...wow. I mean, that's awesome, Maureen. I, uh, didn't even know you were looking for a job."

"Well, my agent dropped me last month after my last audition kinda blew."

Her agent had dropped her? That most explained her over eagerness to baby-sit in the past few weeks. He didn't know what to say, so he just settled for a "I'm sorry."

Maureen waved a hand. "No big deal. Gotta be bigger and better things out there for Maureen Johnson, right?" He could tell she was obviously hurt by the experience, but she'd never show it. Maureen was bubbly and loud, with a small threshold for tact and she often hurt before she'd ever truly show reveal own hurt. "I brought them some of that cake I made for Mimi's birthday and they liked enough to give me a chance. Do you know they make wedding cakes there? Like some of those fancy ones you see in bridal magazines? Wouldn't it be cool to have a cake I made in one of those things?"

"I think you're getting a bit ahead of yourself."

Maureen shrugged. "Maybe. But it's nice to dream, right?"

"Right. Of course, Mo, you do know that they open at six o'clock a.m.," he pointed out.

Maureen made a face. "Of course I know. But Joanne gets up at like five, so she can push my ass out of bed. Well, once I tell her." She looked around. "Where's Tom? I can't baby-sit without a baby."

"He's sleeping. Finally." Much like he wished he could be doing, Mark thought as he let out a yawn. "Kara's stuck her with the afternoon into late night shift on her current rotation."

"Nights are better than the eight a.m."

"You'll have to like eight a.m. if you want to make cakes. I don't mind the morning." When he'd first moved to New York City, he'd found the early morning the perfect time to film. The tent city in the lot next to the loft was oddly still when the light of dawn let even the biggest troubles disappear for a few stolen minutes.

He also loved watching the sunrise from the roof of the loft.

He missed that.

"When do you start the new job?"

"Next week. It's just fifteen hours a week to start. I can still drop by after work and watch Tom, though it might be up at Mimi's since the Life wants her to increase her hours."

"Completely giving up on Hollywood then?" he asked.

Maureen pursed her lips. "Did you completely give up on film?"

At that moment, Mark found the battery he'd been looking for. "Touche."

"I'll find a new agent," Maureen continued. "Or a new way to Hollywood. As long as you always promise to be the one to take my picture."

Mark knew he'd never be able to say no to her. But unlike the past, where Collins would tell him it was because he still loved the woman, he knew it was purely friendship driven.

"Deal."

"So, Larry wants to hit that film festival this weekend. What sucks and what should I actually sit though?"

One of nurses, Jeanine, asked the question before Mark had a chance to even really check in. She shoved a chart in his hands as she spoke.

"Cut hand, stitches for sure. So I'm going to need a list."

"A list?" he asked. "You don't become a documentary buff overnight."

"True," she confirmed, "But you are and your first-year ER rotation won't last forever." She sighed. "Last year we saw crap and since you've actually had made a film-"

"Limited release," he put it, detouring towards his locker to shove his bag in. His camera popped out of it. If he were lucky, he'd be able to get a parent or two to consent to its use. He'd also found it was also still the best distraction for a kid he needed to jab. Even better than a lollipop as most kids loved the idea of hitting buttons being a "director."

"Limited release or not, I saw it," she continued. "How the hell I ended up meeting you here after that, I still ponder. But-"

"I haven't seen the list of what's showing this year," he admitted. "Tom was crying all night so I spent the entire evening pacing the kitchen."

Jeanine gave him a pat on the back. "I'm so sorry."

He held back a yawn. "Thanks. Kara had the evening shift as well, and I think all of our neighbors officially hate us."

"They'll get over it. Curtain three, by the way." She pointed to the chart in his hand. "I'll write you in on the board. I'm working a double today so I'll find a copy of the guide they printed in the Village Voice yesterday."

"Sounds good." Mark reached his destination and pushed the exam curtain aside, flipping open the patient chart as he did so. Without looking up, he started to say "Hi, I'm Dr-" when he was interrupted.

"Mark Cohen?"

He looked up and found himself staring at Alexi Darling, a woman he frankly never expected to see again. He'd quit Buzzline over five years in a very short and blunt phone call that didn't leave him with a good opportunity to ever ask for a reference.

"Alexi." Her manicured hand was on the shoulder of a young boy, aged seven if Mark went by the chart.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "This is the last place I'd expect to run into you. You told me you had to finish your own film."

"Which I did," he told her.

"I know." She gave him a tight smile. "I saw it. But apparently you also found time to go to medical school, unless we're on candid camera."

"No hidden cameras. Just this one." He held up his battered camera and immediately the boy's eyes perked up.

"Is that a movie camera?"

"Sure is," Mark confirmed. Better than a lollipop. "You can take a look if you let me look at your arm."

"Deal." Easy exchange.

"So your son-"

"My nephew," she corrected. "Peter. He's my brother's son. And after I return him wounded, I doubt I'll ever be keeping an eye on him again."

"Aunt Alexi and I rode the subway. There was a man wearing nothing on under his trench coat. I tripped on the stairs."

Mark pulled the bandage from Peter's arm. "I see that." The cut was pretty deep, fairly long, and was filled with dirt and gravel. It would need careful cleaning and probably a dozen stitches to close.

"Well, Peter," he started with a smile, "I hate to tell you that you're going to need a few stitches. But I'll give you something-"

"Stitches!" Peter interrupted. "Cool! Can you make sure there's more than ten? Chris fell off his bike last week and had to get ten stitches in his arm. I have to beat him."

Well, this was going to be easier than he'd thought. Not that he was complaining. He'd gotten better at soothing crying kids, but he still had a lot to learn. Nurses were a resource he treasured.

"How about twelve?"

"Twelve?" Peter repeated. "Will there be a scar?"

Mark held back a laugh as he turned around to find a suture kit. "Probably."

Peter looked overjoyed. Mark hoped he stayed that way when he saw the needle. He shouldn't have worried, as the seven-year-old could care less and was more interested in carrying a battle scar.

"You gave up film for medicine?" Alexi asked.

Mark's eyes didn't waver from Peter's arm. "No, not exactly. Long story." He didn't feel like he owed Alexi Darling of all people his life story and plan.

"I'm sure it's an interesting one. I don't hire freelancers without a fresh perspective and you have one that I rarely see."

"I'm sure you rarely see it on Buzzline is what you mean."

"No. I left Buzzline two years ago."

He raised an eyebrow. "You said it was a news show."

"It was," she insisted. "Well, mainly. But it was also a stepping stone." He heard her shift and before he knew it, she'd laid a business card in his eye line.

Mark didn't acknowledge it until Peter was stitched and bandaged, holding up his arm with pride. Mark picked up the card after handing Alexi a prescription for antibiotics.

"Producer," he read. "Landmark Productions. That's a local documentary production company." He'd tried unsuccessfully to get a meeting there when he'd first moved to New York City.

"Very up and coming," Alexi confirmed. "If you have anything new, call me to make a meeting." He must have given her an odd look, because she flashed a smile. "I'm serious."

Serious. Yeah, right. He shoved the card into his lab coat pocket, shook his head, and left to see his next patient.