Chapter Text
Chapter 7 - 6,682 words
"GOD DAMN IT RHODES TAKE YOUR MEDICATION!" Will's voice echoed in the condo, the rage and frustration easily identifiable in his tone as he shouted from one room to the other.
"I'm not in pain Will!" Connor snapped back, biting back a groan as he shifted on the bed. Despite his claims he was very much in pain, even if most of the bruises had faded into a dull yellow by now.
"Yeah? So why are you groaning?"
"I didn't groan!" The indignant response was somewhere between a growl and yet another groan.
"You just held back a groan, Connor." Will rose an eyebrow as he walked into the bedroom, only to see Rhodes stretched out on the bed. His askew limbs were taking up every inch of the spacious bed and a pinched expression was on his face. His left arm was still bound to his chest in a sling.
"I am just relishing in the comfort of my own bed, Will." Connor frowned at the red-head, annoyance clearly etched in his pale features.
"You know it would be more comfortable if you weren't feeling any pain. Besides, it's been a week. I'm pretty sure you're already used to its comfort again." Will smirked at the surgeon, who rolled his eyes at the purely innocent tone that Will had used.
"It would be comfortable if somebody wasn't trying to induce a headache with his blabbering." Rhodes closed his eyes, finding it easier to deal with the light-headedness that came with pain if he wasn't seeing his ceiling moving.
"Why don't you take it Rhodes?" Will folded his frame in the chair that he had dragged near the bed in the first night that they had arrived at the condo; when he had kept watch over Connor to keep an eye out for any painful shifting in the surgeon's sleep. It turned out that Connor slept like the dead, only moving to stretch every once in a while.
"I don't need it." Connor's jaw clenched, tight lines of anger -and pain- aging him way beyond his years. Will didn't say anything, just relaxed into the chair and let his eyes rest on the surgeon, knowing that it annoyed Connor when he was stared at and thus caused him to spill whatever he was holding back just to get rid of Will.
"It makes me lightheaded. Weird dreams. Nausea." The symptoms were clipped, but Will saw the surgeon marginally relax as the problem was finally out in the open.
"So that's why you always close your eyes the second you lie down." Will's reaction was met by nothing but stoic silence, the surgeon's jaw tightening as he moved further up the bed so he could lie on the pillows and cushion his swimming head. Will didn't budge, knowing that Connor would despise the help in this situation. "You know I could make you some tea, might help with the nausea, and might sooth you enough to sleep a bit without having weird dreams. All you had to do was ask."
Despite having his eyes closed, Connor felt Will shrug and could detect no smugness underneath the scarcely disguised concern. He would kill somebody to rid himself of the dizziness but he knew that as long as he didn't take the medication, sleep would continue to elude him until he passed out from sheer exhaustion. He carefully breathed in, trying to not bother his ribs, before just as slowly letting it out. The routine of even breathing lulled him in a half-awake, half-asleep state, and Connor was barely aware of the chair scraping against the floor boards as Will tip-toed out, presumably to the couch where he had been crashing for as long as he had been living with Connor.
Despite not knowing where he stood with the other doctor, Connor was grateful for the helping hand. He knew he was a difficult patient, knew that he was toeing the line when it came to Will's patience, and was absolutely sure that he had stepped over it a couple of times, but Will, despite his whines that he was fed up with the surgeon and the repetitive claim of "I don't know why I even volunteered to do this", Connor couldn't as much as groan without the other doctor subtly offering something to help. He was still plagued by nightmares and it wouldn't be the first time that he had been awakened by Will in the middle of the night, held in a supportive embrace until the panic ebbed. The repeatedly darkening shadows underneath Will's eyes were testimony to that part of his recovery.
He was still musing when the aroma of ginger tea reached his nostrils. Despite his light-headedness Connor opened his eyes, watching as Will quietly stepped to the side of the bed with a steaming mug in his hands. The surgeon attempted to sit up but an explosion of pain as well as a hand on his chest stopped him before he rose more than a few centimetres. Connor let out a guttural groan of frustration as he once again became aware of how helpless he was.
"Just follow my lead Connor, you won't magically get better in a week." Will slipped his hand underneath the surgeon's head, making sure to cup the base of the skull and his neck before raising his head carefully, ensuring that the surgeon wouldn't choke before he put the mug against Connor's lips. He couldn't help but softly smile when the surgeon inhaled the lukewarm liquid sip by sip, unaware that there was crushed medicine in the liquid.
"You asshole, you tricked me." Connor's voice was slurred, but the accusatory tone was still prominent.
"I did you a favour, now go to sleep. I'll wake you up if I see you having any dreams." Will dropped a light blanket on the surgeon, making sure that he was covered before dropping into a chair and opening the book he had been reading since arriving at the condo.
It didn't take long for Connor to fall asleep and Will was content to see the peaceful expression on the surgeon's face. It was the first time he had seen it since his stay at the luxurious condo began, and he was relieved that the surgeon was finally resting.
On the first day, the surgeon had barricaded Will outside of his bedroom, putting a huge strain on his injuries and almost passing out after having pushed a bedside table behind the door. Will had almost broken down said door until he managed to open it, only to walk in on a heavily breathing Rhodes curled up on the floor. The nightmares started that night, and they still went on. The next day, the surgeon didn't want to move from bed, content to spend a day cocooned in the sheets without any food or drink. Will had amended that by calling Maggie and having the dark nurse "sweet talk" him into washing and actually take care of his well being. The third and fourth days Connor was moving about, walking a few steps before tiring and resting on a stool or on the sofa. Obviously, Will had to stop the surgeon from over-doing it and ripping his stitches again. The bruises had faded by now, his eye back to normal, and any bruises that remained were just yellow patches on his skin. On the fifth day, Will caught him attempting to remove the sling once or twice before he put him in his place with a few well chosen words and a thinly veiled threat of having Ethan and Maggie replace the ginger as his carers. Rhodes had quickly stopped fiddling with the sling. Just yesterday, he had started refusing the medication, claiming he didn't need it even if he was clearly in pain from his ribs and the stitches. Will hadn't told anyone yet but if it continued he would be forced to consult his fellow doctors to try and get a different pain medication for the clearly suffering surgeon.
Now, as he stared at Connor's sleeping form, the book long forgotten in his lap, he hoped that for once God would be merciful enough to grant the surgeon one full night of rest.
He was dozing when a keening noise woke him up. Will shot up, ignoring the numerous aches that he ignited with his movement in order to get to Rhodes, who although deathly still, was clearly in the grips of a horrifying nightmare. Sweat was evident on his brow, glistening in the weak moonlight that illuminated the bunched up blanket on the floor. Another moan, this one filled with so much pain that Will felt it physically hold him back from his friend, rippled through the air and Will collapsed on the bed, kneeling near the surgeon's hip and reaching one hand to the good shoulder while the other cupped the surgeon's cheek.
Despite him never imagining he would do this, he had come to realise that Connor responded well to those small touches, especially the ones on his face. One time he had said that it brought him out of his dreams because Will's fingers were rougher against his cheek. As Latham's finger tips were smooth and soft, the contrast in texture helped ensure that the dark-skinned surgeon was not with him anymore.
It only took a hard shake for Connor to splutter and come around, lungs heaving for breath as he choked on his own spit and the air that couldn't quite make it past his throat. Now more than accustomed to the routine Will promptly slid behind the surgeon, gathering the shaking form against his chest as he rocked gently, automatically shushing the panicking Rhodes in his arms as the surgeon clutched at Will's arm with a bruising grip. Will felt relief rush through him as Connor visibly calmed down from the nightmare, but was shocked when Connor struggled against Will's light grip before sitting up on his own, wincing as his stitches pulled slightly at his movement.
"Connor?" Will kept his tone light, letting the surgeon decide whether or not he wanted to talk to the other doctor.
"I'm fine, can't go back to sleep at the moment. I'm just going to watch some TV." Will frowned at the surgeon as Rhodes struggled to his feet, taking a few seconds to get used to a vertical position before gingerly trekking to the armchair in the living room, where he melted in the leather cushion.
Will followed him silently, detouring to the kitchen to fetch two glasses of water before collapsing onto the sofa, tiredness pulling him downwards as the crisis of Rhodes re-injuring himself was averted. However he remained awake, smiling softly as Connor nodded his thanks at the glass of water before idly flipping through the channels and settling on "Star Trek" re-runs. The surgeon looked relaxed to those who didn't know him, but Will knew that Connor's mind was still running circles around the last nightmare, most likely one immensely vivid if it kept him from falling back asleep like he usually did. Although worried, Will figured that one night like this wouldn't hurt because Connor had been resting more than enough.
"You look like shit, sleep for a few hours." Connor's statement came out of the blue, knocking Will out of his reverie and bringing to his attention that he was toppling to the side, his eyes fluttering close even as he strained to keep them open.
"Have you looked in a mirror lately? And besides, someone needs to keep an eye on you." Will rebuked, even though he knew that it was weak.
"Keep an eye on me? I'm not going to die on an armchair watching Star Trek, I'm injured, not an elderly. On the other hand you're falling asleep sitting up, so just lay down and get some shut eye. I promise I'll wake you up should I encounter any life threatening emergency." Connor rose an eyebrow, daring the ginger to contradict his statement. Will just huffed in annoyance before he curled up on the sofa, falling asleep just as his head hit the pillows he had been using.
Connor slowly woke up a few hours afterwards to see the sun streaming in through the balcony. He had fallen asleep in the middle of one of the new remakes and while the rest had been welcome, the painful twinge in his neck reprimanded him for the horrible position that he had been sleeping in. He tiredly rubbed his eyes with his only functional hand and then ran the same hand through his hair, ignoring the pangs of pain that made themselves known throughout his body. He blearily looked around, a smile pulling at his lips as he saw Will lying sideways on the other sofa, still dead asleep with one hand dangling to the floor, the slim fingers just brushing the carpet.
Despite being thankful for all the help that the ginger provided, Connor needed a few moments to himself. While Will had left him alone in the bathroom, he would come knocking after a couple of minutes and always stood vigil until Connor fell asleep, at least until the surgeon was harshly awakened by another nightmare. At first he had been open, seeking the provided comfort, knowing that Will wouldn't tell a living soul about the lapse in his strength. However he had immediately raised the walls again when the red-head had said, in an off-the-hand comment, that Connor should talk to Dr. Charles. He could help, Will had said. He might give Connor something for the nightmares. Might give him something that would make him feel marginally rested.
But he didn't want to. He already felt helpless, an incapable, good for nothing invalid that was a burden to everybody, that was keeping Will away from his job, from Jay, from going out and having fun. Talking to Charles would just make him even more pitied by the others. Besides, he didn't need a baby sitter. He didn't need someone to take care of him 24/7. His legs were still functioning, his ribs were healing well, his stitches weren't that itchy anymore and he could manage well even if he didn't take his pain medication every few hours, like Will insisted he did. He could manage some small meals even if one handed, and he wasn't in danger of randomly feeling faint like the first few days.
So why did Will remain there?
Some part of his mind -the one that wasn't shrouded with self-hate- claimed that Will, like the other doctors that had sat by his bedside while he was in the hospital, cared. They cared about his well being and wanted to make sure that he was fit, mentally and physically, to handle being alone without jumping at every shadow. Connor was ashamed to admit that while he had never been afraid of the dark, he was now paranoid by every shift in the shadows of his own home, and Will's solid presence was the only thing keeping him from going completely crazy.
What if he went crazy?
What if he ended up like Latham?
What if he ended up attacking Will?
Attacking the only person that he saw as a possible close friend despite their many fights?
What if his sanity was crumbling?
What if...
NO. He wouldn't think like that. He couldn't think like that. Otherwise he'd truly go crazy. Connor carefully attempted to stretch, succeeding in popping his back before his stitches started pulling and his ribs angrily protested their shifting. He let loose a grunt before getting to his feet, letting himself adjust to the change in altitude before softly padding to the kitchen. The fitted carpet was soft underneath his toes and Connor found guilty pleasure in dragging his foot back and forth, further assuring himself that he was as safe as ever at his home. Who wouldn't attack a person who was just brushing his foot on the carpet? Opening his fridge, Connor grinned at the fully stacked shelves and even though one-armed, set to start making the best lunch he could.
Now, to get all the pots with one hand and not wake the slumbering bear...
Will was stuffing his belongings in a duffle bag when it happened. After two weeks of living with Rhodes, Ethan had come and deemed Connor fit enough to live on his own, even if they would check up on him daily. Will, while he would miss the luxurious condo, was more than happy to collapse on his own sofa with a cold beer and his brother by his side. However, he would have never left had Connor not been as mobile as he was now with the stitches removed and his ribs healing nicely. His shoulder was still immobile, but he could make do with it.
Halstead was making sure he hadn't left anything behind when he heard the rustle of papers as the newspaper fell soundlessly on the carpet and the soft wheeze of someone on the doorstep of a panic attack. He turned just in time to identify the thud he had heard to Connor collapsing against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor with his knees drawn up to his chest and staring intensely at the paper, horror and dread clear in the light eyes.
Will dropped the duffle bag before sliding to his knees next to the surgeon, one hand on Connor's cheek while the other rested on his shoulder, silently grounding him while forcing Rhodes to look into Will's own terrified eyes.
"Connor? Hey, loosen your knees okay? It's keeping you from breathing, you need to inhale properly." Will kept up a nonsensical tirade until Rhodes straightened out his legs and was breathing somewhat normally, even if cold sweat was dripping down his neck and his head seemed to loll, as if his neck was too weak to support it. Will left him against the wall to fetch a glass of water and a moist towel, gently petting the surgeon's face until he became more lucid.
"I'm fine, Will." Connor batted him away, struggling to get to his feet until Will's hand ceased his movements.
"I'm sure, just stay down for a while. What happened?" Will's voice was coated in concern, and Connor hated his weakness for putting him in this position. He didn't say anything, just inclined his head towards the newspaper that was still scattered on the floor.
Will picked it up, the papers tickling his fingers as he searched for the headlines. He was certain his face lost all colour when understood the words printed clearly in bold. He wavered from his crouched position, shock overcoming him before he gulped in a few breaths and regained his sense of self. If these headlines were true, then it meant that their lives would change. They wouldn't have to look over their shoulders all the time. Wouldn't have to fear him anymore.
DR. LATHAM COMMITTED SUICIDE IN JAIL CELL
A picture of the corpse, face blurred but otherwise as clear as day, was shown hanging from the ceiling from the sleeves of a restraint jacket. Skimming through the article, Will read that the doctors had no idea how he had gotten out of it, or how he had managed to hang himself with it, but he had, and now he was dead.
He was still staring at the picture when Connor stood up, yanked the paper out of his hands and threw it in the trash without even glimpsing at it, clearly wanting nothing more than to get rid of it.
"Connor, are you ok?" Will stood up, taking a tentative step towards the surgeon.
Rhodes was leaning against the island, his muscles unmistakably tense as the outline of his veins popped out, the green lines going round his arms and ending in the clenched, white fist. His head hanged down and Will saw him take several deep breaths before the surgeon was physically composed again.
"I'm fine, I just want some time alone." The words were clipped yet soft, as if Connor himself wasn't sure of what he was saying, even if there wasn't a shred of emotion in the words.
"Are you sure? I can stay, I have no one to get back to." Will looked at his bag, ignoring how he longed for his own apartment in order to be there for a friend.
"I'll be fine, Will. You've been here for two weeks and I need some time alone, especially now that this came." Connor didn't turn to look at him, didn't as much as move a muscle from his position of facing the balcony.
"We're just a call away Connor, keep that in mind." Will hefted his bag over his shoulders, his gaze lingering on the surgeon before he closed the door behind him and walked to his car.
"I was the one to push him away, but it felt like everyone was walking out of my life and into their own glorious ones, as if I don't exist at all. I know it's stupid, they were there for me when I was here, when I was at home and even now they still find ways to coddle me - which is driving me crazy by the way, can you find a way to make them at least lighten up in their mother hen techniques?- But I can't help but feel as if this is a thing I must go through alone. Is it bad that the second I saw the headline all I felt was relief? And I still feel it. There is no sadness, no anger, nothing. Just pure relief. Does that make me a monster?"
Rhodes stared at the ceiling, not finding it in himself to look into Daniel's eyes. The psychiatrist was lounging on his chair, undoubtedly examining every piece of language that Connor's body screamed. The surgeon was laying on the couch in the office, ignoring how his denim scratched against the sofa's leather whenever he shifted in an attempt to relax into the cushions.
About a month had passed since the accident, and he was still banned from working despite the sling being removed two weeks prior and the nearly healed ribs. However he couldn't say he wasn't relieved with the enforced leave. He was barely sleeping as it was and had no doubt that he wouldn't be able to fully focus on his job.
"Why do you feel relieved exactly, Connor?" Daniel's voice was soothing and effective, seeking answers that Connor didn't know he knew.
"I..." Connor stopped to swallow the sudden lump that seemed to block his throat, suddenly unsure whether or not he should continue. What would talking about it solve? Surely he didn't have to tell Charles everything...
"Talking about it will help alleviate the guilt you are feeling for being relieved Connor, but it's okay if you don't feel comfortable." Charles shrugged, offering a small smile for comfort.
"When he attacked me, he took me by surprise. I was expecting to be yelled at, or to be reprimanded, not to be thrown around like nothing but a ragdoll. I tried to defend myself, attack back maybe -I don't remember much- it was mostly instinctive, but I couldn't. I have never felt as vulnerable in my adult life as I did at that moment, and I was honestly petrified I wasn't going to make it." Connor felt the huge burden on his chest loosen as he spilled all of his thoughts. Even though he still hated being this open, he had to admit that it was helping. Daniel didn't speak, allowing the surgeon to gather his bearings and continue on. "I feel relieved because with him dead there is no chance of this happening again, either to me or to the others, and I feel as if that is good news. I don't want the others to be afraid of their workspace as well." Connor cursed himself for the small slip, knowing that Charles would undoubtedly catch it and use it to continue on.
"You're scared of being in the hospital?" Daniel rose an eyebrow in curiosity, but didn't show any other reaction to Connor's slipup.
"Not the hospital in general, just the surgery floor and the vicinities of his office. I just feel like throwing up whenever I'm near there." Connor sucked in a sharp breath, glaring at the ceiling as if the white tiles had personally offended him.
"You don't have to face this all at once Connor. Work through it mentally and emotionally first, then get used to the job again, maybe work in the ER for a while, then attempt to venture in that territory again, maybe get acquainted with the new surgeon we'll hire so you can associate the OR with positive persons again. And you know you can always lean on any of the others here, they're more than willing to take your weight." Charles smiled at the visibly pensive surgeon, noticing the red rimmed eyes and the shadows that adorned below his eyes. Wordlessly he prepared a glass of water, slipping a low dosage of a sleeping medication that he knew wouldn't interfere with the pain killers that Connor was supposedly still taking. Rhodes was quiet, apparently mulling things over in his mind. Even if he didn't know the surgeon, Charles noticed that he wasn't going to continue talking today.
"When was the last time you slept properly?" The question was innocent enough, and Charles knew that he had made a good choice when Connor sipped the glass without even thinking about it, shrugging a silent answer to the psychiatrist's question.
"My mind's been a bit too busy for sleep. This should help though." Daniel couldn't help his snort as the surgeon rose an eyebrow at him, as if questioning if Charles thought he was so out of it that he wouldn't notice the way the water was distorted.
"How did you know I would slip a sleeping pill in that?" Daniel was still smiling, even as he fetched a pillow and slipped it behind the surgeon's head. A blanket was soon thrown over the surgeon's body as well.
"Because I was watching you, and I know how you work." Connor's eyes fluttered, and Charles frowned as Rhodes forced them open again. "Dunno know t'was this fas' actin' though." The slurred speech was a testimony to how fast the medication worked and Charles grinned as Rhodes slipped into a healing sleep, his features smoothed out as he slumbered.
Well, he might as well get some paperwork out of the way, not like he had any more appointments today.
Natalie slipped into Charles' office, being careful to not slam the door once Daniel made a shushing motion before pointing at the couch. Her shift had just ended but as her car had trouble, she was waiting for Will to get off as well so she could hitch a ride. Riding a cab at this time was simply too dangerous.
"How is he?" Her own voice sounded exhausted and she realized that she had been stressing so much that she was losing a lot more sleep than she imagined.
"He's dealing, though you look much more fatigued than he is." Daniel followed his statement with a soft smile, watching silently as she ran a hand through her tangled and dishevelled hair before sitting on the arm rest of the sofa near Connor's head.
"He doesn't have to take care of a son while also working." She smiled back, allowing her gaze to travel over Connor's prone body and picking out the small kicks every now and then as well as the tossing of his head on the soft pillow. She frowned in concern. "Has he been this restless the whole time?"
"No, it only started a few minutes ago. It's probably some dreams, doesn't seem like major nightmares though, it's why I didn't wake him up." He neglected to mention that it might be just Connor's body reacting to the drug that he had given him, knowing that Rhodes would not want that titbit of information to be leaked.
"He seems to be recovering nicely, all things considered." Manning grinned when Rhodes curled on his side, burying deep into the blanket and letting loose a small grunt as his ribs protested his jostling. Unconsciously she ran a hand through the jet black hair, smiling when he leaned into her hand.
"He's got all of you to help him, doesn't he?" Daniel rose an eyebrow at the doctor, knowing that like him, she believed that support from close friends could go to greater lengths than medicine ever could.
"He's definitely not alone." Will tumbled in the room, struggling with putting on his coat and making a general ruckus when he tripped over his own gangly limbs and almost face planted the floor. Ethan held him up by fisting his scrubs, almost choking the ginger in the process and earning a guttural cough when Will regained his feet once again. Natalie stared unbelievably at the scene, raising an eyebrow at the same time as Daniel did when Will noticed Connor blinking owlishly and came to the conclusion that he had woken up the surgeon from an apparently deep sleep.
"It seems like Will needs sleep more than Connor does at the moment." Charles commented, taking the attention off of a clearly muddled and uncomfortable Rhodes.
"I'm fine, I just slipped."
"On the carpet?" Natalie questioned with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
"It's slippery."
"You're just clumsy." Connor's scratchy voice sounded in the office and they were all immensely delighted to see a hint of his usual smirk shadowing his face once again.
"Am not!" Will's childish reply dragged a snort out of Ethan.
"You fell over the couch the first day you came to my condo."
"I collapsed gracefully out of exhaustion."
"You dropped 3 pans in one day."
"I told you, my arm was cramping that day."
"You almost slipped in the shower in the second week."
"How do you know about that?!"
"Because I wasn't asleep and I heard you yelp like a dog from my bedroom." Connor's eyes creased with a not quite face-splitting grin, and the others openly laughed as they saw Will's cheek colour as he rolled his eyes.
"You're all ganging up on me, it's not fair." Will had the nerve to pout, mastering the kicked puppy look with a hand over his heart.
"Actually, we're just hearing some very interesting things that you conveniently left out when you told us how the 2 weeks at Rhodes' went." Ethan smiled innocently at Will, clearly enjoying the blackmail material he was getting.
"Gentleman, why don't you take Connor home? I believe he caught a cab here. Might I also suggest you get some shut eye yourselves? You seem to need it." Charles couldn't help but laugh at their antics, but he knew that they needed rest after their gruelling shifts.
A series of goodbyes, waves, and a grunt from Connor as Will pulled him up from the sofa floated in the air as they left, still laughing between themselves. Charles couldn't help but smile himself. He had no doubt that Connor would get through this: He had made huge steps already, and the blossoming friendship between him and Halstead, although not expected, was clearly helping him recover faster as well as teaching him to lean on others when things got too hard.
He still had a long way to go, but for now, Charles was glad to note that good progress was being made.
Two weeks after his first appointment with Charles, Connor Rhodes was in an excellent mood. He leaned comfortably on the kitchen island, sipping his morning coffee as he watched the sun's red rays spreading across Chicago and awakening the city. He had been awake for some time, the adrenaline rush of finally returning back to his beloved job not allowing him to remain asleep. He had taken the time to tidy up his condo as well as stretch, making sure that his muscles were not lethargic for what he knew would be a hectic day, even if he was just on light duty.
Due to everything that had happened he was not allowed to work in surgery for now, but was being assigned to the ED once again until he got used to the routine as well as being in the hospital again. Although he was looking forward to it all, Connor couldn't say that he wasn't afraid. During his recovery some of his memories had returned, and the surgeon could now clearly recall the feeling of lying in his own pool of blood, awaiting for someone to take the surgeon's life into his own hands. It was a terrifying feeling to relinquish control over your own life in order for it to be saved, and Connor couldn't help but wonder just how capable his own hands were.
If he couldn't even take care of himself, how was he supposed to take care of another human being?
When those fears had slipped in one of his appointments with Charles, the psychiatrist had assured him that it was normal to have those fears and that only facing his job and its stress once again would stop those thoughts. So of course, he was both looking forward and dreading this day.
Connor knew that he was not a person who gave up easily and neither was he a person who ran away from problems, so after he finished his coffee he started to get ready for the day. The scrubs felt like a second skin and Connor basked in the comfort of his uniform, not even paying attention to the scratchy patch on his leg, or the way the shirt hung a bit loose on his frame as it didn't find the usual muscles to hug. He tightened the pants and couldn't help the grin as he ran a brush through his hair and observed the scruff that he had trimmed the night before. However he had no more time to observe his own physical appearance and hurriedly donned his coat and slapped on a watch before running to his car.
Stepping in the hospital was like stepping into a whole new, immensely busy, world. He headed to the locker room, cherishing the feeling of his white coat on the scrubs as he once again stepped into the ED area. Maggie was behind her desk, manning the telephones and distributing paper work without pausing. As if sensing his gaze, the dark nurse turned and caught his gaze, a grin lighting up her face as she tenderly wrapped her arms around his mid-section. Shocked by the out of character display of affection Connor returned the hug before she pulled back, the usual scowl on her features.
"Hey guys, gather around, looks like sleeping beauty has finally decided to return to work!" Her voice carried through the ED and soon enough Rhodes found himself surrounded by his co-workers, although after everything that had happened in the last two months, he couldn't help but feel as if he was surrounded by his family.
"Guess we'll have to bear with you down here for a while then?" Ethan shot him a grin of his own, clasping the surgeon's hand in a sure grip before embracing him shortly. Nobody questioned the lingering hand on Rhodes' elbow, as if the veteran was assuring himself that the surgeon was still there and standing on his own volition.
"God help us, we have to put up with his bullshit down here as well then?" Will dramatically threw his hands in the air, but everybody saw the relief in his eyes when Connor raised an eyebrow of his own in response.
"Play nice boys, it's not as if we're in a playground here. I'm glad you're back Connor." Natalie smiled at him before offering a soft hug of her own, discreetly patting his back before her pager beeped and she had to disperse quickly.
"So Rhodes, think you will finally allow us to stitch you up should you need anything, or would you do it on your own?" Connor couldn't help but laugh at April's comment, recalling their first meeting when she had walked in on him stitching his own wound. She laughed back in response before going after Manning to help with the patient.
They all backed away as a sudden chaos erupted from one of the trauma rooms and Rhodes saw Samantha suddenly run out, shouting at the doctor inside to get the patient to the OR as quick as possible. She caught his eyes as she turned to head back to the elevator, and gave him her trademark tight smile before disappearing around a corner.
"Well, looks like we have a new celebrity here." Sharon Goodwin's voice sounded from behind him and Connor couldn't help the slight shock at her sudden appearance. "I'm glad to see that you're recovering well Connor, but do keep in mind not to over exert yourself, okay? I don't want to see you here past 4pm, are we clear?" He nodded, knowing that he would not gain anything by arguing about the strict timetable that they had him following.
"Looks like the day has finally arrived, remember what I told you Dr. Rhodes." Charles inclined his head before heading to his office, his coat swishing behind him.
Connor Rhodes felt a grin split his features as he took in the ED once again, breathing in the mixed smells of medicines that made him feel at home and relaxing into the atmosphere before Maggie's telephone went off. The nurse hurried to her desk, answering and hanging up before they could even blink.
"We got incoming, and it's huge. You better gear up Dr. Rhodes." She nodded at all of them before the front doors burst open, numerous stretchers being wheeled in and filling the tiny space.
He found himself following one of them, automatically cataloguing the injuries that he could see. It was brutal, blood dripping everywhere and a bone peeking from beneath the skin underneath his knee. Only years of seeing the same thing kept him from throwing up. But he wasn't afraid. He wasn't flashing back to his own attack, wasn't blanking with panic, but knew immediately what he had to do in order to stabilise the patient as efficiently as he could while also comforting the panicked teenage girl.
He went from patient to patient, helping who he could and not even paying attention to the blood on his scrubs and the moans of pain so similar to his own on that faithful night. He wasn't totally okay, not by a long shot.
He wasn't magically healed from everything, hadn't somehow moved on from all of it.
Not even close.
But it was getting better.
He was working again. He was practising his craft, helping people when they couldn't help their selves. For now it was triage, for the next few months it was going to be the ED, but Connor knew that by the next year at most he would be back in his element, back in surgery, and he would learn to associate the surgical floor with good memories again, not just those of Latham.
And he knew he would manage, even if he had to lean on a few shoulders in the process.
Connor Rhodes knew that as tough as this whole ordeal was, as brutal, exhausting, and traumatizing as it had been, he was just as tough if not more, and things would get better, even if they took time.
Maggie's voice broke him out of his reverie, and he couldn't help his huff of laughter.
"YOU'RE AT WORK HONEY, NO TIME FOR DAY DREAMING. TRAUMA 2, HIT IT!"
Guess he better listen to her.