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Jewish holiday fics!

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Agent Green-- no, director Green, sits in his car. He doesn't know what to do.

That is, he knew what he's supposed to do, he's supposed to get out of his car and go into his office, maybe get a coffee on his way there, and just do his job. He just needs to get over himself and go.

But he doesn't get up.

He just holds the wheel, lost.

He's no director. He knows that. He fired a bunch of people and he knows he did right, he changed things and he's just now started, there's so much work to do, there's so much left to do, he needs the AM to be better, his patients need it to be better. They deserve it and he needs to do this for them.

But he's frozen in his car.

Director Wadsworth was right. He's not built for this. He doesn't know where to go now, he can feel himself slowly letting people do as they will, and he hates admiting it but it's his fault, because he's simply not a leader. He doesn't look like he knows where he's going, who will follow him?

Knock on the window--

"Hi, Mrs Barnes--"

"It's-- it's Sam, please."

"Right. Of course."

"Are you ok?"

"I'm… sorry?"

She softens, slightly. "You're in here for a while."

"Have you been looking?" He thinks his tone is humorous but he isn't sure that's what he meant. Of course, it's better than to sound accusatory, but he doesn't know where he's going. So much is new.

"No, I-- I was. Sitting out here, too. Going into the office, I guess, it's-- it's the first time I ever, you know, officially…" she trails off, nervousness growing.

"Yes…" he leans back, just for a second. "It makes it real."

"Exactly! It's. A lot. I guess."

"You can handle it."

Sam lets out an anxious laugh, looks around, and takes a step back. She folds her arms below her chest and suddenly seems so out of place in the grey parking lot.

Owen takes in a deep breath and decisively drags himself out of the car, somehow managing to look like it was a solid motion he didn't force himself to do. It was decisive. Quick. Smooth. He also ended up stepping in a puddle on his way out.

He looked down at it, the water quickly calming down again, and he found himself staring back at him. He can change things. Sam can do this. He can do this. Dr Bright is there, Sam is there, and he…

He will do his best.

"Those shoes don't seem waterproof," Sam squiks.

"There aren't, my sock is soaked."


He sighs and lets his poster down just a little, and fixes his bag. "We should go in."

"We should."

He puts a hand on her shoulder. "You really are going to be great, though. I'm sure of it."

"You're gonna be great too."

He smiles, and it feels a bit forced even though he knows she means it. He can't believe it for himself, even if she can.

He keeps it to himself.

"Thank you, Mrs B-- Sam."

She smiles warmly at him. "We should go."

"Yes. Yes. We should." He removes his hand, his motions now more messy and natural. He feels like himself, just for a moment, and they go in together, joking about finding a spare pair of socks for him, and his heart feels just a little lighter.

But everything is only starting now.