Chapter Text
1 - 《 ♡ I keep recalling things we never did ♡ 》
It wasn't until the sliding doors opened before her, welcoming her into the emergency department, that Samira Mohan felt like she could breathe again.
This was her place. She knew it now, she belonged here, in the relentless chaos of trauma, in the symphony of monitors, the smell of antiseptic and coffee, if that black liquid burning in the break room could even be called coffee. It all felt like a part of her, like an extension of herself. During the Fourth of July, Samira thought she'd lost it, that hum of excitement under her skin, that anticipation for the next case, that connection to medicine she'd felt the first time she walked through these same sliding doors as a med student. And after the unfortunate moment with Robby following a panic attack a few months back, she was more than ready to let it all go, to find a different path.
Samira had almost thrown away everything she'd worked for. She would have walked through those doors without looking back, never to return, if it hadn't been for him.
As if by fate, before Samira could take another step and settle into the ER, his voice reached her before she could pretend she hadn't heard it. Though the ED wasn't chaotic enough, which was strange, considering they hadn't hit their usual evening rhythm yet, Samira didn't have much to distract herself with. All she could do was watch him approach.
"Dr. Mohan," he greeted, his tone bright and surprised, accompanied by a polite smile as he closed the distance between them. "I don't want you to think I'm not happy to see you, but you clocked out a little over an hour ago. You should be home. What brings you back?"
"Dr. Abbot," she returned, trying to smile back without much success. "I... I was supposed to work a double today anyway, and I- I hate leaving things half-finished, that's not who I am."
Wasn't she? Samira thought. Wasn't she running away and hiding behind her job to avoid facing the mess she got herself into. Wasn't she here instead of dealing with what she found when she got home.
"You were supposed to, yeah," he acknowledged, his voice snapping her out of her head. "But it's also true that Baran told you this was your second double in less than four days, and he sent you home. So go on, Mohan. Enjoy your night."
She wanted to scream, to fall to her knees and beg him to let her stay. There's nothing for me to enjoy.
How could she tell him? She couldn't explain what had happened, she couldn't tell him, of all people, that yes, Baran Al-Hashimi had sent her home, that she'd taken her usual bus route, a forty-minute ride if it wasn't crowded, and that standing at the door to her apartment, just before she could step out of her shoes, she heard voices coming from the bedroom where she'd hoped to rest after a fifteen-hour shift.
The bedroom where her boyfriend, soon to be ex, was sleeping with someone else.
Samira knew Rian wasn't expecting her. She'd warned him she'd be working a double, that she wouldn't be home until morning. He had no idea she'd come back early. Hell, she hadn't even known herself. She'd resisted every time Robby or Al-Hashimi told her to go home, insisting she was fine, that she could keep going. They kept telling her to leave, to take a break. Even McKay, who caught her alone in the break room, told her the same thing she'd heard back on the 4th—it was okay if she decided to listen to them, that this job couldn't be her whole life.
Yeah, solid piece of advice, Samira thought. It was what got her into this much trouble in the first place.
Everything seemed to be pushing her toward home, so despite her resistance, she'd given in. Al-Hashimi promised to report her absence to Jack and manage her handoff to the rest of the night shift, and then Samira went home. Only to be greeted by her boyfriend's name coming from another woman's mouth.
Samira couldn't go home. She needed to be here, in the PTMC, in the emergency room. That's why, when she noticed Jack starting to walk away, she didn't even think about moving before her hands closed around his arm, anchoring him in front of her.
"Wait, Dr. Abbot..."
Jack went still under her touch; his eyes wandered from her face to her hands wrapped around him, one around his wrist, the other near his elbow. Something vibrated beneath Samira's skin, warming her with a feeling too dangerous for her to acknowledge, so she didn't. She shoved those thoughts out of her head and ripped her hands away, hiding them in the pockets of her jacket.
"I know what Dr. Al-Hashimi said," she said, seeing the intention to protest in Jack's expression, "but... I need to be here. I can't go home right now. I... I can't tell you why, but I can tell you I need to be here. There's nowhere else I can go, so please, don't kick me out. Please."
Jack didn't respond. Samira kept talking into his silence.
"I'll do light duty," she insisted. "I'll stay in triage, complete charts, help the nurses. I promise, I don't even need to officially clock in. I just... I need to stay."
The seconds before Jack answered felt like an eternity. His eyes traced every inch of her face. Samira could see the concern settling into the green of his eyes. It wasn't new—he always worried about her—but there was something different this time that she couldn't quite name. Whatever it was, Jack didn't push. He didn't ask questions. After a sigh that sounded like pure resignation, he simply nodded.
Samira almost gave in to an impulse of relief. She thought she could hug him right now. But she didn't move an inch.
"Alright. You can stay," he agreed, "But first I need to let Robby and Al-Hashimi know you're finishing your shift."
Samira nodded.
"Go freshen up, splash some water on your face, grab a coffee and eat something while I take care of that, and then you can come with me to do rounds. Does that work for you?"
"Yes, I... Thank you, Dr. Abbot."
"Whatever you need, Mohan. Just ask," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. "I mean it. Just ask."
As she started walking toward the locker room, Jack's voice stopped her.
"And Mohan..." Samira turned to look at him. "I don't know what happened, and you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, or if it makes you uncomfortable, but if you need to talk... I'm here. Or Ellis, or Shen, or whoever you feel comfortable with."
Samira could only manage a smile and a nod before she turned and rushed toward the lockers. Thankfully, she made it without running into anyone else, because she needed a moment to pull herself together. She didn't open her locker right away. First, she needed to control her breathing. She sank onto the bench in front of the row of lockers, hers just below in her line of sight. Her bag slid off her shoulder and landed beside her with a heavy thud. Her head fell into her hands as she focused on taking slow, controlled breaths. What was that grounding technique she learned after the 4th? She scrambled through her memory trying to find something to anchor herself with. She needed to keep her respirations steady and calm, in through her nose, out through her mouth. She kept searching for something, anything, something to help her focus on the work ahead.
A flash of salt and pepper curls appeared. Then that soft, raspy voice: "If you need to talk... I'm here." The same stupid, overwhelmingly hot tone he'd used weeks ago when he said he'd pay for Mr. Diaz's Uber after treatment, back when they were on Central 6 and she had patched him up.
The fact that that small moment filled her chest with such comfort, such reassurance, sending an impulse to go find him and tell him everything... it only made it worse.
Samira could make a list of everything wrong right now. At the top of that list was the fact that discovering her boyfriend was cheating, even though it made her feel humiliated in a way, was actually a relief. Of course she was upset. But not for the right reasons. She was upset because this had to happen after a long shift when all she wanted was a bath and a fucking bed, one that she unfortunately had to share. She'd learned with this relationship that she hated sharing a bed, but when you're an exhausted ER doctor, anything comfortable enough to lay down on comes in handy, so she stopped making a big deal out of it. But obviously, all this had to happen when she was living with him because her lease had expired and she couldn't renew it, and she hadn't found a new place yet, when she had nowhere else to go except work. That realization alone was depressing.
No woman likes the idea of being cheated on, of being betrayed like that. But Samira couldn't see herself facing Rian, couldn't see herself looking him in the eye and being angry, blaming him, when she'd been carrying her own secretly sinful guilt for weeks. Weeks of wondering how much longer she could do it, how much longer she could fall asleep beside him, knowing her mind was somewhere else.
And though it wasn't the way she'd expected it, the moment had come. She knew she wasn't supposed to feel relief, but she did. Because if this was the escape hatch opening for her, she'd walk through it without looking back.
The second thing on her list, which might be tied for first because it was just as bad, was that the only thing she could desperately think about was finding Dr. Jack Abbot, who probably had much bigger problems than her stupid failed relationship that she'd been trying to escape for weeks, and telling him exactly why she was back in the emergency room. She wanted to find him, tell him how she felt, and cry on his shoulder.
That muscular shoulder, covered in freckles, the one she knew was hidden under his uniform because she'd seen it. When the memory of Jack's bare chest flashed behind her eyelids, Samira found herself slamming both palms against the bench and pushing herself to her feet. She had to react physically to get rid of that thought. She couldn't let her mind go there. Not again.
With one last deep breath, Samira finally decided to lock all her thoughts away in her locker, along with her bag and jacket. She reached for her phone in her pants pocket to make sure it was there. Her body moved so fast she barely noticed the thought had formed before her fingertips hit the cold metal of the locker as she placed her phone inside. For a moment, she just stared at it.
She wasn't expecting a message or a call. From who? Amma, who was enjoying her cruise getaway with her new boyfriend? Or from Rian, who probably wasn't expecting her until 8 a.m., when they'd see each other as she was coming off a double and he was heading to work?
The thing was, Samira wasn't going back after her shift ended. She couldn't go back.
Once more, action won out over reason. Samira found her phone in her hands, typing desperately, her heart pounding so hard in her ears that she feared the whole PTMC could hear it. She hit send, threw the phone back in the locker, closed it, and turned on her heels to head into the emergency room.
For a long time, Samira had told herself she was a brave woman. That no matter how gray her day was, eventually the sun would come out, wrapping her up in a familiar warm and comforting feeling like the hugs her Appa used to give her when she was just a little girl, and everything would continue. That even if she doubted herself, her colleagues and now friends would always find the right moment to tell her what a good doctor she was. She reminded herself constantly that she was all those things, just so she could get through it all.
But for the first time, Samira Mohan didn't feel brave.
For the first time, Samira Mohan acted like a coward. Ending her relationship over a text message.