Chapter Text
Terrible days happened in emergency rooms. That was part and parcel for the locale. Generally people going to the ER were having a bad time, if not, the people going to the ER were having the worst time of their lives.
Terrible days happened to Dr. Cassie McKay in the emergency room. She'd been assaulted, she'd lost successive patients, she'd miscalculated and made mistakes, she'd worked through a mass casualty event, she'd had a bag of vomit launched at her head (her son's favourite story to share about his mom's unruly patients) and she'd had essentially every bad experience that she could imagine.
But something about that particular day had Cassie McKay holding a bottle of gin in her hands.
Usually, her son kept her grounded when she was feeling intense cravings to break her sobriety. Unfortunately, Harrison was on a little vacation with his father. He was winter camping with minimal cellphone service service and when Cassie tried to hear his sweet voice talk about how awkwardly and unsuccessfully her ex-husband tried to start a fire, the call dropped.
When she was newer to sobriety, Cassie would have attended an AA or NA meeting if the cravings got bad. But she hadn't needed a meeting in so long that she wouldn't even know where to find one. The hospital probably had resources, but that wouldn't help as she held the bottle in her shaking hands.
And a meeting wouldn't feel the same as the gin would.
Drinking until she passed out would fix everything.
The jittering, the sweating, the rocking back and forth, the knot in her stomach, the spinning in her head, the way that she just wanted to fucking keel over and die… it could all go away so fast. Cassie could feel good. She hadn't felt good in so long.
She wanted to feel good.
Cassie fiddled with the top of the bottle, not opening it despite being triggered, feeling cravings, questioning everything about her abilities as a doctor and her desire to be alive. Despite it all, the top stayed on.
She stood against the kitchen counter, her hips pressed against the counter tight. Her eyes welled up with tears as the bottle nearly slipped out of her grip due to the sweat that covered her palms.
It would be so easy.
But it wouldn't be.
And she knew it.
Deciding to act on the part of her that remembered how hard it was to actually get sober, Cassie forcefully pushed the bottle down and rushed away from the kitchen. Her cellphone was sitting in the living room, already on Do Not Disturb in case the gin put her in a bad space. Quickly she put the phone back in action and looked for anyone who might be able to save her from herself - just for a little while at least.
Even though they were more colleagues than genuine friends, Dana Evans, her favourite charge nurse, felt like a light house that signaled land in her stormy sea of a day.
“McKay?” Dana answered sleepily after the first ring. Clearly she was surprised to hear from Cassie, but she had still answered very quickly. They didn't talk outside of work often.
“Dana,” Cassie whispered, her voice breaking immediately.
“Hon, what's going on? You okay?”
“Dana - it's late. It's so late. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
“Talk to me,” Dana sounded deadly serious. It was the same voice Cassie was familiar with in the ER on the most chaotic days.
“Dana, they all died. So many people died today,” Cassie said, her voice cracking further.
“It was a horrible day,” Dana agreed. “It wasn't your fault, hon. You got some horrible cases. You had people coming in circling the drain-”
“Everyone died.”
“I know,” Dana replied softly. “I know, Cassie.”
“I couldn't fix anyone,” Cassie sobbed. “Do you think someone better could have, Dana? Could someone else help them? I need you to tell me. Tell me if I killed them.”
“What? ‘Course you didn't kill them! You talk to a social worker before you left today?” Dana asked.
“If you need to hang up-”
“Don't fuck around McKay. You're bawling. I'm laying here alone, you and I both know that,” Dana said sternly but softly. Cassie had offered to talk to Dana about her divorce when she noticed that the nurse had stopped wearing her wedding ring, but Dana simply said the marriage was over long before the divorce had come about. Dana's grown daughters both had moved out years before. The girls checked in on their mom often and seemed to be at Dana's house a lot, but she was still home alone as often as Cassie was.
But still, as much as she wanted Dana to save her, she didn't want Dana to be burdened by her. The urge to break her sobriety was all consuming and so confusing. Cassie wanted Dana to hang up on her just as much as she wanted Dana to talk to her all night.
“I feel like I killed them,” Cassie whimpered quietly.
“It feels like that sometimes,” Dana agreed sadly.
“I just- I don't know.”
“What do you mean, kid?”
“I don't know what to do. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know!” Cassie repeated.
“Are you having an anxiety attack?”
“I don't know!”
“Cassie-”
“Do I care? Do I care Dana? Do I care anymore? I'm going to throw my life away. Everyone always said it. And they were right. They were always right. I'm a bad doctor. I'm a bad mom. I'm just a junkie. I'm an alcoholic junkie. That's all I'll always be. And I don't know if I give a shit. Dana, maybe I just want it all to stop!” She sounded scattered. She sounded so scattered that everything made sense to Dana in a way that made her stomach drop.
“Are you fucking high right now, Cassandra?”
“Dana-”
“Cassandra McKay are you using?”
“Dana. Wait. Please just-”
“Are you fucking-”
“I'm not high Dana! No! I just- fuck! I bought-”
“Where are you? What did you buy? Christ Cassie, you're really scaring me.”
“I'm at home,” Cassie said. In the background of the call, Cassie could hear movement. There was frantic motion, keys jingling, a zipper moving, and all kinds of inscrutable sound.
“I'm on my way. Do I need narcan? Same place as when I picked you up for the fundraising gala?” Dana asked, trying to sound all business but Cassie could hear the fear she was desperate to hide.
“No narcan. I promise,” Cassie said quickly. “Yes, same address. You don't have to-”
“Can it, Cassie. Leave your door unlocked.”
**
Judging by the speed at which Dana got to Cassie’s house, she must have been speeding. She hadn't been to Dana's house many times, but she knew it wasn't as close to her own apartment as it seemed based on Dana's driving that particular night. In an effort to continue her sobriety and not allow Dana to walk into the apartment and see a drunken mess, Cassie didn't leave her living room. Instead, she paced the floor, biting at the skin around her nails and tried to think about all of the things she loved about Harrison.
“Where is whatever you bought?” Dana said as a greeting when she entered Cassie’s apartment. The door slammed open, making Cassie jump.
“Kitchen,” Cassie said, pointing to the closed door with one hand while she continued to bite the skin around her nail on the other hand. Dana strided with purpose into the kitchen and let the door close loudly behind her.
“It's going down the sink,” Dana called.
“Yeah,” Cassie agreed, fighting her instincts to call Dana names and raise hands to her. It desperately needed to be done.
She needed to stay sober. She didn't want to be sober. She wanted to be drunk. She wanted to be high. She wanted to be fucked into oblivion. She didn't want to think. She wanted to get another year sober. She wanted her son to be proud. She wanted to never drink again. She wanted to help other people overcome their substance use disorder. She wanted to go on a bender. She wanted to die from an overdose. She wanted to never be in the same room as a substance again. She wanted…
“I was expecting drugs,” Dana said as left Cassie's kitchen and made her way into the living room.
“I looked for drugs,” Cassie admitted. She slumped down on the couch, exhausted from the event.
“Christ, Cassandra,” Dana exhaled. Despite the cozy apartment being somewhat unfamiliar to Dana, she helped herself to two glasses of water when she was dumping the giant bottle of gin down the sink. Gingerly, she placed the glasses on two coasters adorning the worn coffee table that was in front of the soft sofa. There was a plush plaid blanket folded on one of the arms that Dana also decided she had the right to take and drape on herself and Cassie as she sat beside the shaking woman that called her in a fit of panic.
“Stop with the Cassandra shit! I know! I know, Dana. It's bad. This is the worst it's been in years. It's bad! It's fucking bad,” Cassie choked out. Her eyes were full of tears but she tried desperately not to cry.
“I mean,” Dana said thoughtfully. “It's bad. But you should be proud, hon.”
“Are you fucking-”
“You're not high right now. You're not drunk right now,” Dana pointed out. “I'm not coming and peeling you off the floor of a trap house. You called me to dump out a bottle of gin for you. From where I'm sitting, that's something to be proud of. This would have been a relapse for most people.”
“I guess,” Cassie shrugged.
“You know the statistics, Dr. McKay,” Dana said with a small smile. “This is uncommon for someone who deals with substance abuse disorder.”
“I guess,” Cassie repeated.
“I'm just... Fuck. I'm glad you called me, even if I'm surprised you did,” Dana said softly, putting her head on Cassie's shoulder. Cassie's cheeks and chest flushed a deep red at Dana's sweet touch. She put her head on Dana's and returned the affection softly, feeling overwhelmed and vulnerable from the presence and love from Dana.
“Thank you for being here,” Cassie said quietly. “I don't have - Nobody else is- There isn't anyone-”
“Me too,” Dana admitted sadly.
The women sat in silence for a moment before Cassie turned and captured Dana's mouth on hers. The kiss was deep, passionate, raw, full of all of the “thank-you-for-saving-me’s” that Cassie wanted to verbalize. Finally, Cassie let some of the tears go that she had been holding onto since Dana arrived at her apartment. The kiss became sloppier, more desperate, and wet from hungry tongues and Cassie's tears. Dana moved her hands to either side of Cassie's face and she held her firmly for a moment - just a perfect moment - until Dana finally came to her senses and pulled away.
“Jesus, no. No. Not like this, McKay,” Dana shook her head and stood up.
“Dana, please?” Cassie croaked out a sob, trying to pull the woman back.
“I'm not going to replace that fucking bottle of gin,” Dana snapped, looking regretful the second she did it. “Cassie, please. Don't ask me for this tonight.”
“I need you.”
“And I'm here.”
“I want to feel good,” Cassie begged. “I want to feel-”
“You don't want to feel anything, Cassandra," Dana scoffed.
“I'm begging you. Please Dana? Make me feel good? I know you'll make me feel so good. I need this. Please? Touch me, Dana,” Cassie begged again. Dana sighed, holding her cross pendant necklace to try and centre herself.
There was no way Dana was going to admit it at that moment, but sex with Cassie was something Dana had thought about for a long time. Dr. Cassie McKay, begging to be touched by her was the kind of image that had made sex with Benji more bearable toward the end of the marriage. At first, that kind of fantasy made Dana feel guilty and off kilter, but eventually it became a delicious routine. They had been flirting for as long as Dana could remember, and the intensity had only grown since Dana's divorce. That exact situation had played out in Dana's head so many times… almost. Because in her fantasies, Cassie was not about to relapse and talking about her suicidal ideation. And Dana would never take advantage of anyone so vulnerable and in need of support.
“I... I can't tonight, Cassie. I wouldn't do that to you - to anyone. You don't want that. Not really. I'll stay here but we can't. I'm only staying over because I don't want you to be home alone. I brought an overnight bag. I'm going to sleep on your couch," Dana said cautiously, not able to look at Cassie. “I don't work tomorrow. Do you?”
“Dana-”
“Do you work tomorrow?”
“No,” Cassie said.
“Okay, so we can sit together. You can talk to me. I can tell you more about some of your patients and why you didn't kill them. You can tell me how that gin ended up in your house. You can tell me about your baby boy. I can tell you about my baby girls. But you need to keep your hands to yourself,” Dana said sternly, regaining her footing by setting boundaries.
“You kissed me back,” Cassie pointed out.
“You tried to get high,” Dana reminded her. “You called me to pour a bottle of gin down your sink.”
“I did,” Cassie sighed.
“This can't happen, Cassie. You know that. All of the things you are doing today... It's all just self destruction. And I'm not going to let you hurt yourself. You called me so I would stop you. I'm doing that.” Dana knew she was slamming a door shut that she certainly didn't want to, but Cassie was worth it. Her safety and health was worth it.
“I'm so sorry Dana. For all of this. I'm so embarrassed,” Cassie said as she started to cry.
“No, please don't be embarrassed,” Dana shook her head. “Today was a terrible day.”
“Today was a terrible day.”
“But at least you're going to end it sober.”