Chapter Text
The automatic doors slid open with a soft hiss.
Staff moved with practiced urgency in every direction, weaving effortlessly around one another as though choreographed. A porter rushed past pushing an empty wheelchair, its loose footrest rattling loudly against the frame. Nurses balanced medication trays and stacks of notes while calling updates across the department. Somewhere further inside, a monitor erupted into a rapid series of alarms before falling silent again beneath the steady murmur of conversations, ringing
Your ears struggled to separate one sound from the next. Voices layered over one another until they became impossible to follow, punctuated by the rhythmic beeping of cardiac monitors, the hiss of oxygen, printers spitting out labels and the occasional sharp crackle of an overhead pager announcing something you couldn't quite make out. Someone laughed nearby. A patient cried out in pain from somewhere deeper in the department. A doctor was already halfway through giving instructions before the person beside them had even finished speaking.
Disinfectant lingered heavily in the air, sharp enough to sting the back of your throat, but beneath it were dozens of smaller scents competing for space. Fresh coffee. Sweat. The faint smell of latex. Plastic warmed beneath bright lights. Hospital food drifting from somewhere down the corridor.
Your eyes drifted upwards.
Rows of harsh fluorescent lights stretched endlessly across the ceiling, washing every corridor in an almost clinical white that seemed to erase shadows completely. Every room, every trolley and every cupboard had a purpose, and everyone around you seemed to know exactly what that purpose was.
Your gaze refused to settle. Every time you tried to focus on one thing, something else demanded your attention. A paramedic wheeled in an elderly man still strapped to a stretcher. A nurse wrapped a pressure dressing around someone's hand without even looking up from the conversation she was having. A toddler sat quietly on their father's lap clutching a dinosaur while, only a few bays away, a trauma team surrounded a patient hidden almost entirely behind blue curtains. Computer screens glowed with names you couldn't read before another movement pulled your attention elsewhere.
Somewhere beyond the organised chaos was one familiar face.
You couldn't see him yet...
But you knew he was here.
Dr. Michael Robinavitch. Well, Robby as you knew him.
Twenty four years ago, after finishing a gruelling shift, he'd spotted your mother's broken down car abandoned on a quiet county road. With no ambulance able to reach her in time, he delivered you himself in the back seat beneath the glow of the car's hazard lights. What had started as a chance encounter became something much more. Knowing your mother had nobody else, he remained a constant in both of your lives, and on your first birthday, she asked him to become your godfather.
He'd never really left after that.
He was there for birthdays, graduations, scraped knees, heartbreaks and every milestone in between. If anyone had inspired your love of medicine, it was him.
Today, though, he wasn't your godfather.
He was Dr. Robinavitch, Your attending.
And before your first day, the two of you had made one thing very clear.
At the Pitt, you were colleagues.
Nothing more.
You swallowed, adjusted your bag higher onto your shoulder and looked further into the department just as a whistle cut cleanly through the noise of the department.
You blinked, the sound pulling you abruptly from the haze you'd fallen into. You hadn't even realised your hand had drifted back to your forearm until your fingers stopped scratching. You quickly lowered it to your side, drew in a quiet breath and looked towards the nurses' station.
A woman with striking platinum-grey hair was watching you from behind the desk, giving you a small wave.
Your stomach fluttered as you instinctively smiled and started walking towards her, weaving carefully through the organised chaos. You'd barely made it halfway when a gurney suddenly burst across your path.
"Watch it!"
The sharp warning came from somewhere behind the bed.
You jumped backwards just as the wheels skimmed past your knees, the stretcher disappearing through a set of double doors with four nurses and a doctor hurrying after it.
"Trauma three!" someone shouted as several nurses ran after them.
"...Right," you muttered under your breath before continuing the last few steps towards the desk.
The woman smiled as you approached.
"You must be our new addition, right? I'm Dana, Charge nurse of the day shift " she asked, glancing briefly down at a sheet of paper before looking back up.
"Well It's nice to meet you, Dana." You flashed her a polite smile as she stepped around the desk and rested her hands lightly on your shoulders.
"Right," she said with an encouraging smile. "Let's get you set up."
She led the way through the department, and you hurried after her while trying not to get in anyone's way. Just before turning into a quieter corridor, Dana glanced back over her shoulder towards the nurses' station.
"Princess!" she called. "Hold the fort, I'm stepping out."
A voice answered from somewhere amongst the bustle. "Got it!"
At the end of the corridor stood a plain grey door with a Staff Only sign fixed to the front. Dana pulled her ID badge from her pocket and pressed it against the scanner.
A quiet beep sounded before the lock clicked.
As the door swung shut behind you, the department immediately became more distant. The conversations, monitor alarms and ringing phones still seeped through the walls, but everything was softened now, reduced to a constant muffled hum.
"This is us," Dana said.
Lockers covered the wall to your left, each marked with a faded name label. Straight ahead, an open doorway revealed a small kitchen with mismatched mugs lined beneath the cupboards. Beyond that sat an old sofa, a table littered with paperwork and several cupboards labelled with strips of masking tape covered in handwritten names.
Dana turned back to you.
"Mind if I borrow your entrance letter? Should have your locker number and pin on it."
"Yes! I've got it right he-"
You began rummaging through your tote bag, your words trailing off as you searched. Pens, highlighters, a folded colouring sheet, a packet of raisins, a small notebook...
"Where did I..."
Finally, you pulled free an extremely crumpled piece of paper.
"Oh..."
It was covered in colourful scribbles, the corner stained with what looked suspiciously like coffee. As you unfolded it, a shower of glitter fluttered gently onto the floor between you.
Both of you watched it fall.
You let out an embarrassed laugh.
"You got kids?" Dana asks with an acknowledging smirk.
"I do! Just the one," you answered immediately, unable to hide your smile. "Vincent, Almost 5."
Dana took the letter from you, scanning along the row of lockers before pointing towards the very bottom one tucked away in the corner.
"Ouch," she said with a slight chuckle. "Sorry, honey. Hopefully your back's in better shape than mine."
You laughed. "I'll survive."
"I'll hold you to that." Dana gave your shoulder a gentle pat. "Get yourself settled and meet me back out there when you're ready. Morning introductions are in 5"
"Will do, Thank you Dana."
With that, Dana disappeared back through the staff door, leaving you standing alone in the quiet corridor.
You let out a slow breath as your shoulders drop for the first time since walking through the front doors.
The silence wasn't complete. Through the walls you could still hear the emergency department carrying on without pause, a constant backdrop of muffled voices and distant monitor beeps.
You crouched in front of your locker and keyed in the code.
224455.
A smile tugged at your lips
Easy enough to remember, the one you had back in medical school was impossible to remember.
Six one eight... three... nine... one?
You frowned.
No...
Six one eight nine one…three?
You couldn't remember. Not that you needed to anymore, but you knew it would quietly bug you all day until it came back to you.
The locker door clicked open and you found a fresh set of scrubs inside along with your new pin badge resting on top of them.
You slipped your bag inside before reaching into one of the side pockets and took out your ID badge, clipping it to your chest pocket.
The staff room door suddenly opened, the burst of noise made you jump.
"O-oh!"
Another woman froze in the doorway, looking just as startled, clearly expecting the hallway to be empty.
She looked around your age. Her ash blonde hair was pulled back into a neat French braid, a pair of black-framed glasses perched on her nose. One hand hovered awkwardly near the zip of her black jacket as she stared back at you, clearly just as surprised to find someone standing there.
For several seconds, neither of you spoke.
"Hello, I'm-"
You both started speaking at exactly the same time.
Both of you stopped.
"You go," you said together once again.
Another beat of silence followed.
You couldn't help yourself.
A laugh escaped as you stood up and walked over to her.
"I'm Dr. Y/n," you said warmly as you offered an apologetic smile, still feeling a little guilty for startling her.
The other woman smiled, her eyes only briefly meeting yours before darting away again.
"I'm Dr. Melissa King," she replied, absently fiddling with the zip of her jacket. "But everyone just calls me Mel."
"It's lovely to meet you, Mel."
"Mhm! Well I'll...uh, see you out there?" she asked with a small smile.
"Yup, I'll See you out there."
Mel gave a quick nod before pushing open the door back into the Pitt.
Without another word, Mel disappeared into the organised chaos, swallowed instantly by the chaos of the Pitt.
As the door closed behind Mel, you took a few steadying breaths before shutting your locker. Squaring your shoulders, you followed her back through the staff room door and into the Pitt.
The noise returned instantly.
Monitors chirped. Telephones rang. Conversations overlapped until they blurred together into one constant hum. It was overwhelming for a split second before your eyes caught a small group gathered around the front desk.
Some looked only a few years older than you. Others carried themselves with the quiet confidence that came with experience. Mel slipped into the group without hesitation, so you quickened your pace and joined them.
Standing at the centre was the face you were looking for. A broad shouldered man with dark hair peppered with grey. His navy attending's jacket looked as though it had been lived in, sleeves pushed up to his forearms, stethoscope hanging loosely around his neck. Despite the organised chaos unfolding around him, he stood with an effortless calm that somehow commanded everyone's attention.
Beside him stood Dana, who caught your eye and offered you a small smile.
"Good morning, everyone," the man began, clapping his hands together once. "You might've noticed a few new faces around here today, well christmas came early! We've got ourselves some new residents." He smiled around the group. "For those of you who haven't met me yet, I'm Dr. Robby Robinavitch, lead attending on the day shift."
He gestured towards the person to his right.
"Right, Starting with second year resident Dr. Melissa King. Fresh from the VA."
Mel smiled sheepishly.
"Everyone just calls me Mel," she said. "I'm really happy to be here." She tried to sound composed, but the excitement in her voice betrayed her.
Another voice spoke up. "Trinity Santos. Intern."
Your attention shifted to the woman beside Mel. She had dark, almost black hair pulled neatly back and carried herself with unmistakable confidence. There was a sharpness in her eyes, as though she'd already sized everyone in the room up before introductions had even begun. Her posture was relaxed, but something about her suggested she wasn't afraid to challenge anyone if she thought she was right.
Next to her, a petite woman offered a friendly wave.
"Victoria Javadi. Third year medical student."
Your eyes drifted to the petite woman as she gave the group a cheerful wave. Dark curls framed her face beneath her scrub cap, and despite the early hour, she wore an easy, genuine smile. There was an infectious warmth about her, the sort that immediately put people at ease. She wore a lilac jumper, making her stand out from the wave of black the rest of you were.
She stepped back, making room for the man beside her.
"Dennis Whitaker. Fourth year medical student."
He offered a small nod as he spoke. His observant eyes swept over everyone before settling on Robby again. His introduction was short, but the relaxed smile tugging at the corner of his mouth made him seem instantly approachable.
Then every pair of eyes turned towards you.
Your throat suddenly felt dry.
"I'm Y/N." You cleared your throat before trying again. "First year resident."
The words came out a little faster than you'd intended. A few people smiled politely. Mel caught your eye from across the group and discreetly gave you a thumbs up, easing the knot in your stomach.
For just a moment, your gaze drifted to Robby.
He gave a single, almost imperceptible nod.
To everyone else, it was nothing more than an attending acknowledging his newest resident.
To you, It was the exact same nod he'd given you before every school play, every exam, every driving test and every milestone that had ever made you doubt yourself.
You've got this.
You couldn't help the faint smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth before you looked away again.
"Welcome to the Pitt, I-" Robby began.
"We've got two traumas from the T. Five minutes out!"
Dana's voice cut cleanly across the introductions. One hand held a phone to her ear while the other was already reaching for a clipboard.
The attending gave a small nod.
"Actually, scratch that." He pointed towards Dana with a grin. "This is the most important person you'll meet today. Charge Nurse Dana Evans, ringmaster of our little circus."
Dana offered the briefest smile before returning her attention to the call.
"Your senior residents are Dr. Langdon and Dr. Cassie McKay," Robby continued. "You report to them. They report to me. Got it?"
Before anyone could answer, the ambulance bay doors burst open.
Two stretchers rolled into the department in quick succession, paramedics calling out observations as nurses hurried to meet them.
Robby clapped his hands once more.
"Right." A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Go find your mother hens and make yourselves useful."
The group dispersed almost instantly, everyone swept towards the controlled chaos of the incoming traumas. You, Mel and Santos followed after Dr Lagdon whilst Javadi and Whitaker followed after Dr Mckay.
The rest of the shift slipped by in a blur.
One moment you were trying to remember where every supply cupboard was; the next, you'd somehow fallen into the relentless rhythm of the emergency department.
You quickly learnt that openly disagreeing with someone wasn't something Trinity Santos was afraid of, Even a senior resident.
Whether it was the order of investigations, a treatment plan or who should've been consulted first, Dr Langdon and Trinity seemed to find something to argue about. The rest of the team had long since stopped reacting, carrying on with their work as if it were nothing more than background noise.
You and Mel, however, frequently found yourselves exchanging awkward glances from across the department.
Despite only being a year ahead of you, you found yourself grateful she was there. She understood enough to answer your endless questions, but she was still learning too. There was something reassuring about watching someone else's confidence wobble alongside your own.
One time you'd stepped out into the med bay for a breath of fresh air between patients, only to find Mel singing Megan Thee Stallion under her breath.
By mid afternoon, you'd begun taking patients of your own.
Most of them blurred together by the end of the shift.
A twisted ankle, a toddler who'd managed to shove a bead up his nose and An elderly gentleman convinced he'd been having a heart attack, only to discover he'd somehow pulled a chest muscle trying to open a particularly stubborn jar of pickles.
One patient however, stayed with you.
She was a woman in her late fifties, neatly dressed despite the hospital gown draped over her shoulders. A silver wedding ring rested against her finger, and every few moments she absent mindedly rubbed at the side of her neck with a tired sigh.
"I'm sorry to bother you honey," she said as you introduced yourself, offering an apologetic smile. "I think I just slept funny."
You smiled back. "Well Mrs. Carter, Getting bothered is what we're here for."
She chuckled softly. "I nearly didn't come in, honestly. My husband kept insisting I get checked out. Said I'd never forgive him if it turned out to be something."
You couldn't help but laugh.
"He sounds sensible."
"Oh Honey, don't tell him that! He'll never let me hear the end of it."
The conversation came easily. She joked about her husband, her grandchildren and how she'd probably be home in time to make dinner if everyone would stop fussing over her. There wasn't a hint of panic in her voice. If anything, she looked faintly embarrassed to be taking up a bed.
You worked your way through the history, asking the questions you'd repeated dozens of times throughout medical school.
You nodded, making a few final notes before slipping your pen into your scrub pocket.
"Alright," you said with an encouraging smile. "I'm just going to examine you, if that's okay."
"Of course, Honey."
You sanitised your hands before stepping closer.
At first glance, nothing immediately concerned you. She was alert, engaged in conversation and followed every instruction without hesitation. Her breathing was even, her skin warm and well perfused, and she maintained comfortable eye contact as you worked.
You began with a brief neurological assessment.
"Can you squeeze my fingers for me?"
She did, her grip feeling equal on both sides.
"And push against my hands."
Again, no obvious weakness.
You checked her pupils, shining your pen torch from one eye to the other before asking her to follow your finger without moving her head. Her gaze tracked smoothly.
"So far, so good," you said, more to yourself than to her.
She smiled.
"I told my husband I'd be wasting everyone's time."
"I wouldn't say that," you replied warmly. "It's always better to have these things checked."
Moving around to stand beside her, you gently examined her scalp and the back of her head before resting your fingertips along the muscles of her neck.
"Just tell me if anything's uncomfortable."
She gave a small nod.
As you palpated along the left side, she remained relaxed.
Nothing.
You moved to the right and instinctively, she turned her head a fraction towards your hand.
A sharp wince crossed her face.
You immediately stopped.
"Sorry," you said. "Did that hurt?"
She reached up to rub the side of her neck.
"Just there."
You gently pressed the same area again, careful not to apply too much pressure.
"And now?"
"A little," she admitted. "It's not unbearable... just sore."
You nodded thoughtfully before comparing the opposite side.
Your mind quietly worked through the possibilities.
Muscular strain, Poor sleeping position… Maybe a trapped nerve?
You tucked your pen back into your pocket and offered her a reassuring smile.
"Well," you said, "nothing's jumping out at me as immediately concerning."
The woman let out a breath she'd clearly been holding. "Oh, that's a relief."
"I'd still like one of my senior doctors to have a quick look over everything, just because it's my first day." You laughed sheepishly. "I don't quite trust myself enough yet."
She smiled warmly. "I think that's a good quality in a doctor."
"You do?"
"Oh, absolutely." She shifted herself a little more comfortably against the pillow. "It's the ones that think they know everything that worry me."
A quiet laugh escaped you. "I'll try very hard not to become one of those."
"I'm sure you won't." She smiled again.
This time though...
Something caught your eye.
Your own smile faltered.
It wasn't obvious. In fact, if you hadn't been looking directly at her, you weren't sure you would've noticed it at all.
The corners of her mouth lifted...
But not together.
The left side lingered, only just. Barely enough to call it a droop.
Barely enough that you found yourself wondering if you were imagining it.
"I'm sorry," you said gently, taking a small step closer. "Would you mind smiling for me again?"
She looked mildly confused but obliged.
Trying not to alarm her, you continued the examination.
"Can you lift both arms out in front of you for me?"
She raised them.
For a second they stayed level.
Then...
The left arm drifted.
Only by a few centimetres.
But it was enough that the hairs on the back of your neck stood upright and your heartbeat quickened.
"I'll just be one moment," you said, keeping your voice calm. "I'm just going to grab one of my senior doctors."
"Is everything alright?"
"I'd just like another pair of eyes." you replied with what you hoped was a reassuring smile.
She nodded, though you could already see the uncertainty creeping into her expression.
You left the cubicle with a hurried walk, scanning the department until you spotted Langdon at one of the computers, most likely charting.
"Dr. Langdon?"
He didn't look up immediately. "Mm?"
"Could I borrow you for a second?"
That caught his attention.
He glanced over, taking one look at your face before pushing away from the workstation.
"What's up?"
"I've got a lady in bed twelve with neck pain. I thought it was musculoskeletal, but..." You hesitated, replaying the examination in your head. "When she smiles, I think there's a slight facial droop. And I think her left arm drifted."
Langdon didn't ask another question.
He simply nodded once, standing up from his seat. "Show me."
The two of you started back towards the cubicle.
As you both reached the curtain and drew it back, a sharp cry echoed through the bay.
The woman had lurched forward violently in the bed.
Her whole body stiffened.
The disposable water cup she'd been holding crashed onto the floor, water splashing across the linoleum as her arms drew rigidly against her chest.
Her body began to convulse, rhythmic jerking throwing her from side to side as the cardiac leads stretched taut across her chest.
The monitor erupted into a chorus of alarms.
"Seizing!" someone shouted.
"Mrs. Carter!" You caught her head as her body jerked violently, easing it back against the pillow before she could strike the bed rail.
"It's alright," you said, though you knew she probably couldn't hear you. "You're okay. We've got you."
The cubicle exploded into motion.
"Time?" Langdon asked.
You didn't take your eyes off Mrs. Carter.
"Seizure started at sixteen twenty-three."
"Good."
Robby appeared almost instantly, squirting hand sanitiser onto his hands and rubbing them together. "What've we got?"
"Possible acute stroke with active seizure," Langdon replied as nurses worked around him. "Get neuro down here and tell CT we're coming as soon as she's stable."
You stood rooted for half a second, watching the organised chaos unfold around you.
Only minutes earlier she'd been laughing about her husband insisting she come to hospital.
Now the cubicle was filled with people fighting to save her life.
The next two minutes and thirty-four seconds felt impossibly long.
Time seemed to slow, every second stretching into the next as Mrs. Carter's body convulsed violently against the mattress. Her muscles remained rigid between rhythmic jerks, saliva collecting at the corner of her mouth as her eyes stayed fixed beneath half-closed lids.
You stayed beside her throughout, one hand resting gently over hers. You knew she couldn't feel it, not like this, but it felt wrong to leave her alone.
A lump formed in your throat.
You should have noticed sooner.
Should have looked harder.
Should have...
"She's coming out of it!" Robby's voice broke through your spiralling thoughts.
The violent movements gradually eased before finally stopping altogether.
Mrs. Carter's body gradually relaxed, the violent convulsions giving way to shallow, uneven breaths. A nurse gently rolled her onto her side while another adjusted the oxygen mask over her face, the soft hiss of oxygen filling the brief silence that had settled over the cubicle.
Her eyelids fluttered.
You stepped closer, kneeling beside the bed so she didn't have to search the room for a familiar face.
"Mrs. Carter?" you said gently.
Her eyes slowly found yours. They were glassy and unfocused, fear lingering behind them as she tried to make sense of where she was.
"...W-what..." she whispered, her words slurred together. "...what happened?"
"You've had a seizure," you explained softly, keeping your voice as calm as you could. "You're still in the emergency department, and you're safe. We're all here with you."
She swallowed hard, her breathing still uneven beneath the oxygen mask.
"My... husband..."
"We'll let him know what's happening," you reassured her, instinctively reaching for her hand again. "Right now, I just need you to stay as still as you can for me, alright?"
Her fingers curled weakly around yours.
"...I'm scared." The admission was barely more than a breath.
Your heart tightened.
"I know," you replied quietly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "But you're exactly where you need to be, and we've got a whole team looking after you."
Her breathing steadied ever so slightly as she gives you a faint nod.
Behind you, Langdon was already repeating parts of the neurological examination, his movements quick but methodical.
"Persistent left-sided weakness," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Princess, how long until CT?"
"They're already waiting for us," the nurse replied.
"Good."
He looked up. "Let's move."
The brakes were released and the bed began to roll towards the corridor.
As it passed, Mrs. Carter's hand slipped from yours before reaching back, fingertips brushing weakly against your wrist.
You looked down.
"...Thank you honey," she whispered.
The words were almost lost beneath the movement of the trolley and the distant chorus of monitor alarms.
You smiled, gently squeezing her fingers before letting go.
"We'll see you again soon."
She gave the smallest nod before the stroke team disappeared through the double doors, leaving the cubicle suddenly and almost unnervingly quiet.
-‘๑’-
By the time the clock finally crept around to 7pm, you were beginning to wonder whether you should book yourself into one of the empty patient beds.
Every muscle in your body ached. Your feet were, without question, the biggest offenders. You glanced down at the cheap trainers you'd optimistically bought a few days before starting.
"Absolutely not," you muttered to yourself. Those shoes were never seeing the inside of the Pitt again.
Your trusty Crocs were definitely coming with you for your next shift.
Dragging yourself towards the nurses' station, you found Santos walking alongside you, looking just as exhausted.
"I think my feet have actually gone numb," she sighed.
"I don't think mine exists anymore."
She laughed quietly. "You survived."
"Barely."
"Still counts."
Together, you followed the rest of the day shift towards the centre of the department where Robby had gathered everyone for handover.
The atmosphere was completely different from twelve hours earlier.
Gone were the nervous introductions and awkward smiles.
People leaned against desks with mugs of coffee, others rubbed tired eyes or absent-mindedly stretched aching shoulders. Across from you stood a fresh group of doctors and nurses, uniforms crisp, hair neatly tied back and coffees still full.
The night shift.
They looked painfully awake.
Robby stepped into the middle of the circle, clipboard tucked beneath one arm.
"Alright, settle down."
The chatter gradually died away.
He glanced around the group before his eyes landed briefly on you, Mel and Santos.
"First of all..." A tired smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "Congratulations."
A few confused looks met him.
"You made it."
That earned a ripple of laughter.
"Your first shift in emergency medicine is one you'll remember for the rest of your career. Some of you are wondering if you chose the right specialty."
His eyes flicked knowingly around the circle.
"That's normal."
"You'll go home tonight replaying conversations you wish you'd had differently, patients you think you could've done more for, and all the things you forgot to ask." He shrugged.
"Then you'll come back tomorrow and do a little better."
The department fell comfortably quiet.
"That's all any of us do."
He glanced towards the waiting night team. "Right. Before we hand over, a couple of introductions."
His hand gestured towards a man standing near the back of the group.
"This is Dr. Jack Abbott."
Your eyes followed automatically.
He was taller than most people around him, salt and pepper curls slightly unruly despite what had clearly been an attempt to tame them. A navy fleece sat over his scrubs, the sleeves pushed carelessly to his forearms, a stethoscope hanging loosely around his neck. There was an effortless calm about him that contrasted sharply with the organised chaos surrounding him, as though walking into the emergency department at seven in the evening was no different to walking into his own living room.
"This is Dr. Jack Abbott. He's the unfortunate soul who takes over when my shift finally ends." Robby continued. "If you're lucky, he'll answer your questions."
A quiet chuckle spread through the group.
"If you're unlucky..." Robby looked towards Jack.
Jack raised an eyebrow.
"...He'll answer them with another question."
That earned a slightly louder laugh.
Jack finally smiled, the expression brief but genuine. "I've been told it's a good teaching technique."
"It isn't," Robby replied without missing a beat.
More laughter.
For the first time all day, the tension in your shoulders eased.
As the laughter settled, Jack's attention drifted across the room, briefly scanning the unfamiliar faces among the new residents. His gaze met yours for the briefest of moments before you both looked away.
"Dr. John Shen." He gestured towards a man already sipping from an oversized iced coffee. "If any of you ever see him without one of those, let me know. I'll assume someone's stolen his identity."
Shen lifted his cup in salute.
"This is Dr. Samira Mohan, one of our senior residents."
A woman with dark curls and a warm, easy smile gave a small wave.
"If you ever find yourself drowning, she's usually the first person to throw you a lifeline."
Samira laughed softly. "Or paperwork."
"Usually both." Robby continued.
"Dr. Parker Ellis, senior resident." A woman with an expression that suggested she had little time for nonsense gave a brief nod of acknowledgement. "If she tells you to do something, I'd strongly recommend doing it."
Parker folded her arms. "That's probably the nicest thing you've ever said about me."
"I'm growing." He gestured towards the broad-shouldered man beside her.
"Dr. Crus Henderson, fourth year resident."
Crus offered the group an easy smile and a casual wave.
Robby nodded towards the nurses.
"Night shift charge nurse is Lena Handzo. If Dana's the ringmaster during the day, Lena somehow keeps the circus running after dark."
Lena smiled warmly.
"I'll take that."
"And finally, Nurse Mateo Diaz."
Mateo gave the group an easy grin. "I promise we're friendlier at night."
"Speak for yourself," Parker muttered.
A few people laughed.
Robby clapped his hands together once. "Alright. Enough socialising."
He looked between the day and night teams. "Let's hand over and go home!"
The organised circle dissolved almost instantly.
Doctors naturally gravitated towards their opposite numbers, clipboards exchanged as patient lists were scribbled on, names crossed off and new ones added.
You stayed close to Langdon, notepad still clutched tightly in your hands as he nodded for you to follow.
The first stop was an elderly gentleman tucked away in one of the medical bays.
"Bed three," Langdon began. "Seventy eight year old male. Chest pain started around noon while gardening. Troponins negative so far, ECG unchanged from previous, waiting on repeat bloods before we make any decisions."
Jack scanned the notes as Shen stepped beside him, already reading over the ECG.
"No concerns overnight?" Jack asked.
"Just keep an eye on him."
A nod.
The notes changed hands.
They moved on.
"Bed six," Langdon continued. "Twenty three year old female. Fell from a horse this afternoon. CT head clear, fractured distal radius. Ortho has accepted her, we're just waiting on a bed."
Parker was already halfway through reading the imaging before Langdon had finished speaking.
"Pain under control?"
"Much happier after morphine."
"Good."
"Bed nine. Twelve years old, asthma exacerbation. Improving after neb. Mum's anxious, kid's not."
Mateo scribbled something onto his sheet. "I'll go introduce myself."
Langdon nodded.
The process repeated itself over and over, each conversation lasting no more than a minute before the group flowed effortlessly towards the next cubicle.
It was strangely impressive, Nobody stumbled over their words.
Nobody interrupted unnecessarily.
Everyone already seemed to know exactly what questions needed asking.
Eventually, Langdon stopped outside the final cubicle.
Mrs. Carter.
The room felt noticeably quieter than the others.
Her husband had arrived as quickly as his old truck could get him here and was sitting faithfully beside her bed, one hand wrapped around hers while she rested with her eyes closed. The seizure had left her exhausted, colour only just beginning to return to her face.
Langdon glanced towards Jack. "Last one."
Jack stepped closer, tucking the clipboard beneath one arm.
Langdon looked towards you.
"Your patient."
Your head snapped up.
"You know her better than I do."
You stepped forward, clearing your throat.
"Mrs. Eleanor Carter, fifty eight years old," you began, glancing briefly at your notes before looking back at Jack. "Presented this afternoon complaining of isolated neck pain after waking this morning. Initial observations were stable with no history of trauma."
Jack watched you attentively as you spoke.
"During assessment I noticed a subtle left sided facial droop when she smiled. Repeat neurological examination demonstrated a slight left arm drift, so I escalated to Dr. Langdon."
You paused briefly.
"Before we reached her, Mrs. Carter experienced a seizure lasting two minutes and thirty four seconds. She is now post-ictal, maintaining her airway independently, with persistent left-sided weakness. Neurology has accepted her and will take her as soon as a bed is available."
Then Mrs. Carter stirred.
Her eyes slowly opened before settling on you. "There she is..." she murmured weakly.
You immediately stepped closer. " Mrs. Carter! How are you feeling?"
"Tired."
"I'd imagine."
A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
She looked towards Jack.
"If she hadn't looked twice..." Mrs. Carter's voice trembled as she looked towards Jack. "...I'd have gone home."
Her husband nodded, "I don't think either of us can thank her enough."
Before anyone could reply, the phone mounted on the wall rang sharply, cutting through the quiet that had settled over the cubicle.
One of the nurses reached across and lifted the receiver.
"Emergency Department."
A brief pause.
"Mhm..."
She grabbed the patient's notes from the end of the bed.
"Alright. We'll bring her up now."
She replaced the receiver before looking towards Langdon.
"Neurology's ready for her."
Langdon nodded once. "Let's get you upstairs, Mrs Carter."
Almost instantly the cubicle came back to life. The brakes on the bed were released, monitors unplugged from the wall and clipped onto portable batteries, oxygen transferred over as the nurses worked with the sort of effortless coordination that only came from doing it hundreds of times before.
You moved instinctively to Mrs. Carter's side.
She looked up at you, tired but smiling.
"I suppose this is where we say goodbye."
"For now," you corrected gently. "I'll come and check on you tomorrow if I get a chance."
"I'd like that, Honey."
You couldn't help smiling. "I'll hold you to it."
Mrs. Carter slowly lifted her good hand.
Without thinking, you took it.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"You don't need to thank me."
"I do." Her grip tightened just enough for you to feel it.
"I hope you feel better soon."
"So do I."
Mr. Carter stepped around the side of the bed, his eyes glassy with emotion.
He hesitated for only a moment before opening his arms. You barely had time to react before he pulled you into a brief, heartfelt hug.
"Thank you," he murmured quietly. "For giving me the chance to keep my wife."
You swallowed hard. "I was just doing my job."
"Maybe,” He stepped back, offering you a grateful smile. "But you'll always have our thanks."
Slowly, the bed began rolling towards the lift, Mrs. Carter lifting her hand in a small wave as she disappeared through the double doors, her husband walking faithfully beside her.
You stood watching until the lift doors slid shut behind them.
"They'll remember you." Jack's voice broke the silence.
You turned to find him standing beside you, patient notes tucked beneath one arm.
"What?"
He nodded towards the now empty corridor.
You glanced back towards the lift.
“I just thought, id rather double check it and it be nothing rather than.. You know.”
A knowing silence fell between you both before the corner of Jack's mouth twitched.
"...Although."
You looked at him suspiciously.
"First shift...and you've somehow managed to get yourself adopted by a patient?"
A laugh escaped you. "I do think she called me 'Honey' about fifty times.”
"You don't like the nickname?" He chuckled.
You let out a small laugh, rubbing the back of your neck.
You shook your head. "Funny enough, my mum's called me 'Honey' for as long as I can remember." You smiled to yourself. " My first Halloween costume was even a honeybee."
A quiet laugh escaped you. "I have absolutely no idea why I'm telling you that."
After twelve hours in the emergency department, your brain had evidently decided professionalism was optional. Though, Dr Abbot didn't seem fazed.
Instead, he folded his arms loosely across his chest, listening with the same quiet attention he'd given every handover that evening.
"A honeybee?"
You nodded, laughing again. "Mum went completely overboard. Yellow tights, little black stripes she'd sewn on herself, tiny wings strapped to my back " You smiled at the memory. "She even made me carry one of those little plastic honey pots instead of a pumpkin bucket."
Jack chuckled softly. "That's... impressive."
"It was," you agreed. "I think she was more excited than I was."
"I imagine most parents are."
You smiled.
There was a comfortable pause before you realised you'd been standing in the middle of the corridor chatting far longer than either of you probably intended.
"Sorry," you said with an embarrassed laugh. "I've kept you."
Jack shook his head. "You've just worked a twelve hour shift. I think you're allowed to ramble a little."
Jack glanced over his shoulder before looking back at you." You should get home."
"I was planning on it."
"Get some sleep."
"I'll try."
He gave a small nod. "And don't spend all night replaying today in your head."
You blinked. "...How did you know I was going to do that?"
"Because everyone does after their first shift."
His expression softened ever so slightly. "The good news is..."
You waited.
"You'll make a different set of mistakes tomorrow."
A groan escaped you." That's.. oddly reassuring."
"It got me through mine."
You laughed, shaking your head. "Well I'll see you around, Dr. Abbott."
He inclined his head. "See you around..."
There was the briefest pause before a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "...Honey."
A warm laugh escaped him as heat rushed to your cheeks.
You scoffed, rolling your eyes, though you couldn't stop yourself from smiling.
"Yeah, yeah...Well, enjoy your shift."
You glanced past him towards the department before adding with exaggerated innocence,
"It sure looks pretty…Quiet."
Jack stopped mid-step. Slowly, he turned back to look at you.
"...You didn't."
You grinned and turned slightly to start making your way to the staff room.
He folded his arms, one eyebrow lifting. "You've survived exactly one shift and you're already trying to curse min-"
The ambulance bay doors burst open.
“GSW to the abdomen! No exit wound! Other victim on the way"
Your own feet almost moved before your brain had a chance to catch up. Every instinct urged you towards the organised chaos unfolding in front of you. Twelve hours ago, you would've frozen. Now, all you wanted to do was help.
But your shift was over. The patient wasn't yours.
There was already a team running towards the ambulance bay.
He was moving before the paramedics had even finished speaking.
"Resus One," Jack called, shrugging off his fleece as he strode towards the incoming stretcher. "Shen, with me. Emery, you're going to want eyes on this."
The department surged around him, nurses and doctors falling effortlessly into step as the trauma team assembled.
With one last glance over your shoulder, you slipped through the staff room doors.
The noise of the emergency department faded behind you as the heavy door clicked shut.
For the first time all day… It was quiet.
You let out a long breath, rolling your aching shoulders as you wandered over to your locker.
The fresh scrubs you'd changed into that morning now felt as though they'd aged twelve years alongside you. Your trainers were somehow even less comfortable than they'd been when you'd put them on, and judging by the dull ache in your feet, they had officially reached retirement.
You tugged your ID badge free before reaching for your bag.
"You ready?"
You looked up with a nod.
Robby was leaning casually against the opposite row of lockers, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.
"You head out first."
You frowned, pausing halfway through slinging your tote bag over your shoulder.
"...Why?"
Robby looked at you as though the answer were painfully obvious.
"So nobody sees us leaving together."
You blinked.
For a long moment, you simply stared at him, waiting for the punchline.
None came.
"...You're serious."
"As a heart attack."
A laugh escaped you, more out of disbelief than amusement.
"Robby..."
"What?"
"You made me get out of the car two blocks away this morning."
"I did."
"So I had to walk the rest of the way."
"You did."
"And now you're telling me to walk two blocks back to the exact same coffee shop so we can leave together."
He nodded once.
"That's the plan."
You stared at him.
"...Do you hear yourself?"
"It makes perfect sense."
"It makes absolutely no sense."
"It preserves plausible deniability."
You couldn't help laughing, shaking your head as you leaned back against the row of lockers.
"Plausible deniability?"
"Nobody can accuse me of showing favouritism if they never see us arrive or leave together."
"They're going to see us drinking coffee together."
"Not if you're already there."
You opened your mouth, paused, then closed it again.
"...That's genuinely your defence?"
"It has worked flawlessly so far."
"It's been….one day?" You raised an eyebrow.
"A flawless day."
You stared at him for a long moment before slowly raising your hand.
Without breaking eye contact, you held up your middle finger.
Robby gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "Well."
He shook his head in mock disappointment. "That's an awfully rude gesture for a first year resident to make towards her attending."
You grinned.
"I can write you up for that, you know."
"Oh, please do."
"I'll have to file a professionalism concern."
"I'll tell Mum."
He pointed a finger at you.
"Low blow."
You laughed, already backing out the staff room door.
-‘๑’-
The automatic doors slide open with a familiar hiss, and the cool evening air washes over you.
You pause for just a moment on the hospital steps, drawing in a slow, steady breath.
It smells completely different out here.
The sharp scent of disinfectant that had clung to your clothes all day is replaced by cool air, damp pavement and the rich aroma of roasted coffee drifting from somewhere nearby. An ambulance speeds past with blue lights flashing, its siren echoing between the surrounding buildings before gradually fading into the night.
Behind you, the Pitt continues as though your shift never ended.
The automatic doors never stop opening, stretchers continue to roll through as doctors hurry from one patient to the next.
The hospital simply keeps moving.
You smile to yourself.
Adjusting your tote bag higher onto your shoulder, you begin the short walk Robby insists on every morning and every evening.
Two blocks… Apparently that is the magical distance required to stop people assuming the attending has a favourite resident.
The streets are quieter now than they had been at sunrise. Shop shutters rattle closed for the evening while the last few commuters hurry home, takeaway bags swinging at their sides. Warm light spills from the windows of cafés and restaurants, the muffled sound of conversation drifting out each time a door opens.
With every step, the adrenaline that has carried you through the last twelve hours fades a little more.
Your feet ache, your shoulders ache, even your eyelids feel heavy.
You can't wait to get home.
To your little boy.
The thought alone is enough to make you smile.
As you round the final corner, the familiar little coffee shop comes into view, its windows glowing amber beneath the streetlamps.
Parked outside, exactly where you expect it to be, sits Robby's black pickup truck, engine idling quietly.
Before you even reach it-
BEEP.
One short, impatient blast of the horn
You roll your eyes. "Alright, alright..."
Opening the passenger door, you climb inside.
Robby doesn't even look at you as he pulls away from the curb.
"Took you long enough."
You let out an incredulous laugh.
"I've literally just walked two blocks because of your ridiculous secrecy."
"It's called discretion," he replies.
"I just want to get home." You groan.
"So do I, I haven't seen Vincent all day."
You turn to him with exaggerated offence.
"Oh, you haven't seen Vincent all day?"
He finally glances across, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"That's what I said."
"He's my son."
"And my godson."
"I've been away from him for twelve hours."
"So have I."
A laugh escapes you, the kind that only comes when the weight of the day finally begins to lift.
The teasing gives way to a comfortable silence as the city drifts by outside the windows. Pools of amber light spill across the dashboard each time you pass beneath another streetlamp before disappearing into the darkness behind you. The soft crackle of the radio fills the car, Hotel California playing quietly through the speakers while Robby absently taps his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the music.
Outside, the world carries on as though nothing has happened. Couples wander hand in hand along the pavement, a bus sighs to a stop to collect the last few passengers of the evening, and somewhere in the distance, another ambulance siren cuts through the night before slowly fading away.