Chapter Text
There’s the new sea of interns, Denali thinks watching their welcoming “ceremony” - a dramatic speech about the best and worst years of their lives, about patients’ lives and responsibility, all conveyed to them in the dean of medicine’s booming voice and theatrical inflection.
They’re all the same as they are every single year - wide-eyed and hopeful, ready to prove themselves more than worthless, yet scared shitless by the prospect of failing. There’s the surgical residents, hands itching to touch scalpels, even though most they’ll be doing for their first year is suture and hold retractors still until they’ll want to have their hands detached. There’s the cardiology residents, all regal and imposing, the fanciest of the bunch, even in scrubs, waiting to prove their wit to their attendings. There’s the emergency medicine residents, waiting to call the shots over machinery beeping, as they saw in the movies.
And then, there’s the bunch that Denali will have to deal with: paediatrics. They’re usually the ones wearing the cute scrubs - pinks, pastels and various prints. They’re the one with the tiny stethoscopes, who smile kindly at one another, who smile kindly at everyone, who steel themselves against panicked mommies and bawling babies.
“What do you make of this bunch?” Denali’s boss asks.
She scans the crowd again - fresh faces and optimistic smiles.
“I think Professor Visage will have a field day with them.”
“And leave the pieces for us to pick up,” another nurse pipes up from Denali’s other side on the balcony.
💫
Being watched by some many eyes unnerved Rosé, being whisked around on a brief tour of the hospital dazed her and being assured that they’ll surely get lost left her reeling. She would not get lost - that was not a thing that could happen to Rosé McCorkell, MD, paediatrics intern, valedictorian of her class in med school. It couldn’t happen.
Only, she has to admit to herself that somewhere between the sixth floor - the paediatrics ward - and the basement, where imaging operates out of, she has, indeed, gotten lost. What’s worse is she has the sweetest little girl to take in for her X-ray appointment.
But she won’t admit it aloud.
The blonde child in the wheelchair she’s pushing coughs and she looks down at her.
“Are you doing ok, sweetheart?” she asks her small patient, the girl looking up to her with the brightest blue eyes she has ever seen. She nods, even though she looks a bit scared.
The hallway is lit with fluorescent lighting and filled with people - inpatients, outpatients waiting for their appointments, medical personnel, radiology technicians - and yet, no one seems to notice the unsure intern pushing a small child around in a wheelchair, lingering in the middle of the hallway. The girl is probably intimidated by the amount of people surrounding her, left with her heart in her throat because of the absence of her mother.
Rosé takes a deep breath, trying to look purposeful as she scans the various doorways before her for a sign that will let her know where to go. Her patient coughs again into her small fist. She’s here to confirm whether or not she has pneumonia and, in the process, also, confirm whether or not she was right, whether or not she’s made a good impression.
If only she could find the actual place where she’s supposed to go.
“It’s at the end of the hallway,” a voice startles Rosé. It could be anyone in this hallway, speaking to another anyone in this hallway, but she gets the feeling that it’s not just anyone and that the disembodied voice is speaking to her.
She turns to face one of the nurses she’s noticed on the paediatrics floor, a blonde with a kind smile and cute dimples in both cheeks.
“Yes, I’m talking to you,” she sighs, noticing Rosé’s confused look. “It’s all the way at the end of the hallway, now push… We don’t want Jessie here to miss her appointment, do we?” the nurse directs that last part to their patient, who very seriously shakes her head from side to side, making her soft blonde hair fly around her.
Rosé pushes without another word.
It’s fairly simple to find the door with the nurse’s guidance, to push the wheelchair in and allow the radiology nurse to position the child in front of the screen. She walks into the control room, followed by the nurse, who breaks into a smile at the sight of the people inside.
“Hi, ‘Monye,” she greets. “Hello, Alex,” she nods to the radiology tech, who’s pushing buttons on a keyboard, too busy to look up.
“Hi, doll,” the black woman’s face - Monye? - lights up at the sight of the blonde. “How’s everything going upstairs?” she asks.
“Oh, you know, it’s fresh meat day, so everything’s chaos,” the nurse rolls her eyes playfully. “Speaking of, this is…”
She trails off, turning to Rosé. They make eye contact for a brief instant, before the ginger steps forward, extending her arm out for the radiologist.
“Rosé McCorkell, intern,” she says with more confidence than should ever be awarded to someone who’s on their first day of work.
“Symone Avalon, MD, radiology,” the black woman introduces herself, smiling politely. “And that’s my new intern,” she waves in the direction of the corner, where a girl who seems even more terrified than Rosé leans against the wall. “Speaking of… Intern, what do we see here?” she asks, pointing to the newly generated image on the computer screen in front of them.
Rosé’s eyes scan across the picture of Jessie’s thorax, focusing on the right side of the picture, where the spaces between the ribs reveal a light gray colour, compared to the other side of the X-ray.
“Left lower lobe condensation,” Rosé murmurs to herself, as she’s done her whole way through med school. Symone’s eyes narrow her way in the cramped space.
“It is,” she agrees. “But it’s very slight, caught very early,” she explains, bidding her own intern forward. “Can you see it?” the girl nods quickly.
Rosé can swear that she doesn’t, but probably can’t bear the thought of making a bad impression on day one.
“Most likely lower left lobe pneumonia,” Dr Avalon informs Rosé and the nurse that has guided her here. “Congratulate Professor Visage on another astonishing diagnosis. And come visit me again soon, Denali,” she winks at the blonde, who’s already halfway out the door.
Rosé lingers for a brief second, torn between the pride she feels at proving herself to herself and the revolt she feels at not getting her credit. She follows Denali out into the hallway, taking a deep breath in.
“Doctor Rosie,” Jessie spreads her arms out wide as soon as she emerges back into the hallway. She smiles at the girl. She’s one of the sweetest children Rosé has ever met.
“There I am,” she winks and the child giggles, making her blonde curls bounce.
“Nurse Nali said she’s taking me back upstairs,” Jessie informs her.
“Oh, can I tag along?” Rosé bends down to come level with the child. Jessie nods. “Can I ask you to help me with something?” Rosé quirks her eyebrow at the child. “Can you carry this all the way upstairs? It’s very important,” she winks, handing the child her own chart.
Jessie grips it eagerly, her face becoming serious. “You can trust me, doctor Rosie,” she declares, clutching at the papers in her small hands. Rosé offers her a dazzling smile, which Denali can’t help but feel the effects of.
She wills herself not to react, not beyond what she would normally do - smile softly at the child in her care. She nods encouragingly at the intern, who rises from her crouch.
Rosé falls into a leisurely pace with Denali. They’re turning back the way they came, towards the metal elevators on the other side of the hospital that will take them back upstairs.
“CT scans are over there,” Denali points to a door with a huge yellow radiation side on the door, tucked into a mini hallway to their right. “And the MRI is behind that door with all the instructions,” she reveals as they pass another door on the other side of the hallway, bright red writing informing people of all the things they shouldn’t bring into the room with the giant magnet.
“All the radiologists are great, but doctor Avalon is among the top in her field state-wide,” Denali explains. “And she’s very nice so, if you’re ever unsure about something, I’d ask her.”
“Thank you,” Rosé murmurs. They’ve been shown which floor imaging was on and they made a brief stop here to drop off the radiology interns, who wouldn’t be leaving their base too much, but beyond that, it was all a mystery, a labyrinth of unknown sterile hallways.
“I know you’ve probably heard this before,” Denali throws her a look, “but we’ve all gotten lost in the beginning,” her eyes are kind, Rosé can see that. “You’ll be walking around as if you own the place in no time,” she smiles, showing off her dimples. “Won’t she, Jessie?”
The girl giggles as they come to stand in front of the elevator.
“Still got that chart, Jess?” Rosé asks, pushing the button. The girl nods again, making her hair bounce, showing her doctor the proof.
“Did you make the diagnosis?” Denali asks as they wait.
Rosé nods, unsure of whether or not she will be believed. She knows that she still has a lot to learn, but some things she knows. Some things she’s very confident in. She can see why it’s much easier for anyone to think that it had been Professor Visage, of course. It’s her first day of work - most people are terrified speechless for the first week. Denali’s eyes narrow at her and she hums as the elevator dings.
“Congrats, then,” she announces as soon as the doors have slid shut and she’s had Jessie push the button for their floor. “You’ve passed Professor Visage’s first test.”
Rosé’s eyes widen, sparkling. There’s so much hope in them, a look so open and vulnerable that Denali can’t help but reassure her wordlessly. They’re always like this - paeds interns are hopeful, sweet and caring, supportive. In one word, soft. It always feels bad to see them subjected to the challenges of real life medicine.
“Don’t get too excited, target’s on your back this year,” Denali shakes her head, but Rosé does something that most of the interns she’s seen before didn’t - she steels herself for the trials that are to come, her expression determined.
Her expression is confident, almost smug - a sight so rare among paediatrics interns that Denali is taken by surprise. Maybe, this year, someone will be able to take Professor Visage’s heat.
“Innit?” Jessie tugs at the corner of her scrub blouse to get her attention. The elevator is still making its steady ascent to their floor, but Denali’s gotten lost in thought, studying the new doctor in front of her.
“Doctor Rosie’s hair is the prettiest,” Jessie repeats, pointing at the mass of fiery curls with one of her small fingers. Denali’s eyes come back up to her.
“It really is,” she agrees as the doors open up.
The last thing she sees as she exits the elevator with her patient is the faint rosy blush creeping up Doctor McCorkell’s cheeks.