Chapter Text
Someone must have filled her backpack with bricks while she was working, Victoria thinks as she follows Mateo out of the Pitt, feet dragging. He holds the door open behind him, letting her pass. Exiting the hospital is a portal into a new world: the fresh air and the dying sunlight hit her like a dose of epi, a shock to her system.
Pittsburgh feels new, exciting, alive in a way it never has before. She feels new, changed even unto herself. If she wasn't so exhausted, she might go out and discover its secrets on her own.
Victoria blinks against the rush of adrenaline, unwilling to fall prey to it like Dr. Mohan, and she breathes deeply. She holds the air in her lungs, and lets go, feeling the grounding weight of her backpack again.
She knew she shouldn't have brought her textbooks with her. But her mother had insisted.
Around her remnants of the dayshift crew disperse out in all directions like minnows swimming with some unseen current to bus stops, the parking lot, or their homes. Their bodies move with a certainty and purpose that she envies.
Ahead of her, Mateo nods in the direction of the park, curls bouncing with the tilt of his head. Victoria could see Robby’s back in the distance - hunched much like her own under the weight of his bag and responsibility - loping towards a few other figures loitering around a few benches.
"Over there is where we meet after a tough shift. C'mon," he says with a tired smile, his cheek dimpling. "I'll show you."
He pulls ahead. Victoria moves to follow, trying to stand tall despite the weight on her back and the cloud of exhaustion in her mind.
She takes just a few steps when she feels a hand catch her elbow through the soft fabric of her hoodie.
Turning back, she feels her mouth pull into a smile when she sees who stops her.
"Javadi,” McKay says in a rush, pulling up beside her in an oversized canvas coat that covers her scrubs. It's army green, and threadbare at the hem and the elbows. Faded and soft like it's gone through the wash hundreds of times. The collar is flipped up on one side, brushing against McKay's jaw. On the breast pocket over McKay's heart, there is a perfectly rectangular outline of faded threads, implying the absence of something that used to always be there.
The coat is the kind of vintage piece Victoria coveted when she digs through racks and bins at the thrift stores in the city on her rare moments away from her studies. Finding well-made forgotten treasures is a singular joy. She loves the worn threads, the way the pieces are changed by time, fraying at the ends and molding to the wearer. She likes to imagine when she put them on that the clothes lend her the experience of the previous owner, giving her some secondhand knowledge without the need to learn it herself.
She tears her eyes from the coat and looks up to Mckay's. They are steady and kind and deep blue - just as they had been when they first met hers this morning.
“Dr. McKay,” Her voice cracks and she cringes, mouth twisting against the embarrassment.
"Sorry to interrupt you and Mateo." Her smile deepens, and with it the lines around her mouth and eyes. Those blue eyes flicks with purpose now between them both. Victoria’s stomach flips at the implication. It feels like McKay has caught her doing something she shouldn’t. The churning reminds her of the feeling from years ago of her mother finding out that she hadn’t attended a morning lecture during undergrad. "But I just wanted to make sure you got my number after today."
"Oh, um, okay," Victoria rushes out, surprised, pulling her phone out the pocket of her scrubs. The screen is slick from her own sweat and she fumbles to wipe it with the sleeve of her hoodie. As she moves, her backpack pulls at her shoulder, and she winces at the way it aggravates her neck.
Blue eyes rake her, turning Victoria over with observation alone, stirring up feelings she feels would be better buried. McKay watches her struggle against the weight of the bag, the weight of the day, the weight of her mother’s expectations and her father’s indifference.
McKay notices her discomfort - physical or otherwise.
(In that moment, Victoria feels like McKay might notice everything.)
With a shrug, McKay shifts her own backpack and reaches out, plucking the overstuffed bag from her shoulders and holding it effortlessly in her free hand. The pain subsides and is replaced with a buzzing in her mind. Victoria swallows down a hysterical laugh and passes the phone to her, eyes on McKay’s bloody shoes.
Their fingers brush on the transfer and Victoria blinks against sudden vertigo. Her knees tremble.
Bent as Mckay is over the dim glow of her phone, Victoria takes the chance to study her.
Even with her head tilted, she's still taller than Victoria by a few inches. The jacket pulls against her shoulders with the added weight of the bags, accentuating the cut of her trapezius and deltoids. Beneath the dull red glow of the emergency sign, McKay's hair looks beautiful despite being disheveled and damp with sweat; the auburn strands shine darker with the ambient neon and fluorescent lights of the hospital, like a dying ember smothered under the ashes of the day.
"You know you can use the lockers, right?" McKay gestures to the bag with a tilt of her head, thumbs tapping.
"Oh yeah, ha. Dana said she would get our locker codes for us today, but I think she forgot." Victoria bites her bottom lip, worrying at a piece of skin and craning her neck to see if she could see the charge nurse walking somewhere in the crowd of dayshift leaving. Her height works against her and she turns back to McKay when she can't find Dana amongst the moving bodies.
"I guess it got a little busy."
McKay's fingers briefly pause as she types, glancing up. Suddenly, McKay starts laughing shaking her head in disbelief, bangs falling in her eyes. The sound bursts out her; raw and husky and full of life. Victoria feels herself smiling with McKay, pleased to make her laugh even if it was by accident.
“Busy? Yeah, I’d say so.” Her laughing voice softens the dry humor.
Victoria can't remember when she herself had last laughed so hard.
Finally, McKay passes the phone back to Victoria. After she pockets it, she looks back to McKay who holds her bag aloft in two fingers with a raised brow and a smirk.
"Oh!" Victoria goes for it, hand outstretched, but McKay is faster. She grabs Javadi’s wrist and spins her around with the care she usually reserves for her patients, placing Victoria before her like a doll.
Victoria becomes aware of her body: of her heartbeat thrumming like a hummingbird's, the hot pulse of it burning a fire through her veins to the ends of her fingers and the tips of her toes. Her breath quickens, drying her lips and her mouth like she has been intubated, oxygen pouring in and taking her breath away at the same time. Her stomach drops low in her gut; the knot that cinched her scrub bottoms pressing insistently at her core.
Before she floats away, McKay's hand steadies her at the small of her back, firm and solid even through her hoodie and her scrubs.
A light grunt stirs the hair on her nape as McKay hefts the backpack. The backs of her hands glance against Victoria's body as she put her arms through and McKay secures the straps. With McKay so close at her back, Victoria can smell her body; the sterile tang of hand sanitizer, the musky sweat from her scrubs, and something else that she can't place, masculine and clean. It had lingered in the air as they moved from room to room, leaning over each other to tend to patients during the MCI.
Every sensation overwhelms her; in the highest part of her brain, she acknowledges that she is tachy and experiencing vertigo. She supposes it's possible her symptoms are exacerbated by her exhaustion. Fuck, she shouldn’t have locked her knees. Focused as she is on not fainting and maintaining a list of her symptoms, Victoria is surprised to hear McKay speaking again.
Brief and searing, McKay's palms rest like hot stones on Victoria’s shoulders when the deed is done, squeezing once then disappearing just as quickly.
The heat of her touch lingers as she turns back to McKay.
"Look,” McKay murmurs, stepping close so she can lower her voice.
Victoria has to tilt her head back to look up into McKay's blue eyes which hold hers like a magnet. The collar of her coat still brushes along the lower half of McKay's face; it looks frustrating, like it might tickle. Victoria is struck again by how well it suits her; how it contrasts her auburn hair, how it accentuates her shoulders, the way it matches her personality - a little bit grungy and world weary.
The thought makes something secret and unknown tremble inside of her.
McKay is within arms reach now having shuffled closer to speak and, without thinking too hard about it, Victoria reaches up to her face and flips the collar of her jacket down, pulse thrumming in her fingertips. The back of her thumb rubs along McKay's jaw as smooth canvas settles under the curl of her fingers. In an instant she feels McKay tense, jaw locking and pupils dilating as they flick to her hand.
"I'm so- I don't know why I -"
"Javadi, it's fine - "
With a tight smile, McKay grabs Victoria's hand from her collar, squeezing once before speaking again. The callouses that pad her fingers scrape softly along her skin, warm and solid.
"It's fine, kid. I think we're all exhausted. Not thinking straight," McKay grimaces and shakes her head, squeezing those blue eyes against the outside world. She looks tired then, like everything has caught up with her all at once.
With a rough sigh, she starts over. Victoria is relieved when her smile softens, relieved that McKay is still holding her hand; it feels grounding and necessary.
It feels like the only thing keeping her together.
"Javadi, today was out of the ordinary, and you did a great job. I want to make sure you're prepared. Tonight, when you're alone you might, well," she laughs to herself like there is some private joke between them, and squeezes Victoria's hand to soften the blow of her next words.
"You might crash," her eyes flit between hers at the word, "emotionally. I gave you my number in case you want to talk or if you need anything." Finally, her hand releases Victoria's, but the warmth remains, tingling along her fingertips.
"Have a good night, kiddo. Don't hesitate." McKay nods towards her phone, waving once to someone behind Victoria as she pulls away and starts towards the parking lot.
Victoria feels her distance immediately, sharply.
The press of Mckay's hands remains like a brand in her mind; she can't move on from the sensation. She sees Mateo out of the corner of her eye, and she realizes that she had briefly forgotten about him, that he had been the recipient of McKay's wave.
"Wait," Victoria calls, feeling hopeful as McKay turns back around to face her. Gripping her keys, McKay looks over her shoulder patiently; her face is open and soft against the harsh glow of the ED’s lights. Victoria brushes a loose hank of hair behind her ear, wet her lips to continue.
McKay's eyes flick down as she does, tracking the movement of her mouth.
"Don't you want to join the Pitt crew in the park? Mateo and I are headed there now." Her voice feels high even to her own ears as she says the words. Even though she had cleared her throat against the crack.
"No, Vadi, you go have fun with Mateo. The park isn't quite my speed anymore." McKay replies, backing towards the parking lot with a small wave of her phone for emphasis. "I'll see you tomorrow, but text me if you need anything at all."
McKay turns away from her with a crooked smile, and Victoria watches her disappear behind rows of cars. When she can no longer see McKay's red ponytail bobbing under the cold beams of the streetlights, she turns her back.
Turns her back to the Pitt, turns her back to the memory of lives in her hands, turns her back to whatever is calling within her and follows Mateo to the park.
As she walks she feels like she is striding against some other gravity pulling her in the opposite direction.