Give Me A Sign

Everything in Mia Castries’ life is going wrong. After a situationship blows up in her face, she moves jobs, desperate to put her mistakes behind her. But, the medical director who hired her has terrible vibes and being the sole practitioner of holistic medicine in a place full of skeptics who hate you by extension isn’t exactly making it easy for her to stay positive. Her hope dwindling, she asks the universe to give her a sign.
Reminded what medicine was really about, Elizabeth Wilder moves states work at New Amsterdam Hospital. When her brother moves out and the new medical director doubles down on turning their hospital into money making machine, things take a turn for the worse. Living her entire life between a deaf and hearing world, she fears her connection to both may disappear as the worsening condition of her hands threatens to uproot her career as a surgical oncologist and life as she knows it.
But, Elizabeth seems to keep helping Mia, and she’s starting to think the surgical oncologist might just be the sign Mia has been looking for. As the gaps between their two worlds bridge, Elizabeth thinks Mia might be the connection she needed too.
Or, what if New Amsterdam followed Elizabeth and Mia?

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1: "Blessings And Curses"

Summary:

On her first day at New Amsterdam, Mia helps a patient who thinks he's cursed. A certain oncologist keeps saving her day.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The atrium of New Amsterdam Medical Centre was beautiful, really.

The glass walls came up high and stretched towards the towering skylines. The modern structure had been carefully built a few years ago, diligently protecting the worn, fragile face of the original building. A dozen feet above, the light blue sky shone clear through the ceiling. The beams separating the sparkling windows cast long shadows across the floors and the circular walkways that stretched around the structure's inner edge were all glass panels and sleek white.

Situated in the heart of New York City, America’s first public hospital.

Mia would have appreciated it more, but all of her late night Googling had failed her because she was still very, very lost.

Nurses in blue and purple scrubs rushed in a flurry, accompanying patients in spotted hospital gowns in wheelchairs, holding onto walkers or ones attached to IV poles. There are doctors in white lab coats, tall and short with dark and light hair rushing past her to their next emergency, investors in crisp suits and fancy dresses walking and talking across the upper railings, patients and visitors in hoodies and sweatpants waltzing in through the front door. There are a million conversations happening at once, a myriad of voices high and low and soft and loud overlapping, a dozen accents speaking in countless languages.

Mia squeezes her eyes shut. She takes a deep breath. Her stomach expands, lungs filling with the cool winter air and warm roasted coffee that wafted through the spinning doors. She finds the stone in her pocket and its smooth against her touch, cold from the walk here. The folds of her fitted sleeves, too long and clumsily rolled up over her lower arms tickle at her skin, the spike of a strand of hair that had fallen into her face prickling her cheek. Her stomach hollows with an exhale, slowly filling as she measures her next breath; in... and out.

A sudden touch on her shoulder breaks her focus.

Mia blinks. As her vision clears, right in front of her, a woman in a doctor’s coat has appeared.

She’s nearly the same height as her — Mia notices because she’s staring almost right into her eyes. Under the morning heat streaming through the crystalline glass, there are flecks of gold in the them, like sunlight twinkling between leaves. Autumn browns rim her pupils, blending into a soft, peridot green, and in the soft circles of the outermost edges, the warmth transform into a cooler shade, a little closer to a dark blue like moss agate. Mia can’t place the emotion in them, tranquil but wild, free and untouched like the falling leaves crunching beneath her feet, washing down trickling streams, passing over the old, green stones on one of the off-trails she’d hiked summers before.

The stranger’s thick brown hair was cropped sharply at her chin, contrasting the soft, gentle curves of her face. One side of her hair was slightly longer than the other, neatly tucked behind her ear, exposing an earring.

Mia recognizes it as the constellation Cassiopeia. Its shine was not, dull and more muted brown than the gold she was sure it was meant to be, but the woman wore the earring still in spite of its wear.

Her clothes are pressed with pride, a penlight tucked in the pocket of her doctor’s coat, crisp and all clean, sharp edges as if it were brand new.

Mia can’t make out the name embroidered on the woman’s chest in cursive, she’s always had trouble reading cursive, and it wasn’t helped by the fact it was half obscured by the lapel.

The stranger gestures brings her hand to the side of her forehead, fingers pressed together and thumb tucked into her palm, then away. She points to her, brows furrowing slightly as her pointer and middle finger flicking out into an almost sideways ‘v’ shape.

“Hi!” The man standing beside the stranger greets cheerily, “Are you okay?”

Mia has to do a double take when she actually looks at the man. She could swear she was staring at Michael Phelps. His long face and squared jaw looked scarily like the Olympic swimmer’s, the same deep set eyes that sat high on his face, and his large ears stuck out on either side of his head in the same way. With side-parted brown hair swept to one side and matching eyes framed by bushy brows, the resemblance was uncanny.

But, the man standing infront of her was wearing a big, friendly grin on his face and a plain brown sweater, and he was standing here in a hospital in the middle of New York City, so obviously, it couldn’t actually be him.

“This place is a lot bigger than it looks in pictures.” Mia blurts out, and her face flushes at how ridiculous her answer is.

There’s a moment where the woman looks to Mia’s side, where the man has now swiftly shifted to, and then a smile cracks on her face. A dimple forms in her right cheek when she laughs, and Mia pauses at her reaction, awestruck.

The woman doesn't seem at all weirded out by her awkwardness like most are, and her laugh — she laughs in a way that Mia can’t remember the last time she’s heard. Her voice is light and airy, but is hoarse as if it’s pressed through her throat in a chuckle of pure delight. It sounds real, unchanged by judgement.

Mia thinks she must have laughed that way when she was younger, not polite and controlled, made to sound as pleasant as possible, but genuine, boisterous and loud instead.

Here this person was, who must’ve been close to her age, and somehow she had retained that joy.

The woman's right hand nods before tapping atop the left, both pointer fingers out, and a second later, the man says, “It is, yes.”

Mia pauses. She looks between the pair, glances down at the woman’s hands, then back up at the man when it hits her. That was sign language, and that could only mean one thing, the Michael Phelps clone was her interpreter— and oh my goodness.

She feels like an idiot for taking so long to realize.

Should she apologize? Or clarify if this woman was really signing? No, that would be weird. It would be like asking something obvious like ‘Are you blonde’ or ‘Is your shirt is black’, what else could she be doing? And it would probably be inappropriate to ask if she was deaf, especially considering they just met five seconds ago, but would assuming be worse? She was sure asking would lead the slow chugging tracks of their conversation crashing right into a dead end—

And wait, was Mia supposed to be looking at her, or her interpreter?

She had never actually met anyone who used sign language before. Mia had a few older patients who were hard of hearing — actually, a good portion of her patient population were elderly — but none of them signed.

So Mia doesn’t end up doing anything, just keeps staring wide eyed at the woman because she has no idea what the socially acceptable thing to do is. She feels the twist of self conscience in her stomach at the realization just how weird she must look and what kind of horrendous first impression she’s just made on yet another stranger.

“How can I help?” The woman asks.

Her cheek dimples again in her all too charming smile, and Mia’s rushing thoughts come to a halt when she recognizes the soft look in the woman’s eyes. It’s unmistakably kind, patient; a rare sight since she’d moved to New York 5 years ago. Mia had quickly learnt the rude behavior the city was so infamous for was unfortunately true.

On the walk here alone, Mia had gotten a, “Hey lady! Watch where you’re going!” along with a rather lengthy and excessive string of expletives she wouldn’t dare repeat out loud when she had barely brushed a man’s shoulder walking past, and that was far from the worst she had heard. Here, packed shoulder to shoulder in the bustling streets with places to go and people to be, it was like you were invisible. Well, of course, unless you pissed someone off, then for a split second they would stop to yell at you.

People, much less strangers, never stopped to help, much less spare a glance, especially for Mia. People seemed to pass by her like she was invisible, or pass judging glances.

Mia didn’t know how long she had been standing here before this woman appeared in front of her; people didn’t see you, and it was even rarer that they saw her.

But this person did.

When the woman raises a brow at her, Mia remembers she actually needs to respond.

She blinks. “Sorry. Uhm—” Mia stutters, shaking herself out of her daze. She hopes she hadn’t seemed rude by staring, “I’m looking for the auditorium?”

The woman’s eyes dart to her interpreter before she answers. It’s so quick you could blink and miss it, and Mia wants to understand how she can somehow understand him with only a second long look.

“We need to be there too. ” The woman gestures in the space between herself and her interpreter with two fingers, “You can follow us.”

“Thank you.” Mia says.

The woman nods curtly. She makes this small humming sound when she smiles this time, but her eyes light up like the last.

Mia has barely known her for a few minutes, but she already can’t imagine the woman without that bright look on her. Her aura was definitely an orange, close to a golden yellow. It was captivating, unlike Mia’s nervous purples and murky, clouded blues.

The woman glances over to her interpreter, cuing him to leave, before she turns and sets off towards the busy doorway Mia was staring (cowering) at before with a spring in her step.

It jolts Mia into action, and she nearly trips over her skirt in haste to catch up with the woman. She was fast and way too energetic for this time in the morning. Mia could recognize that buzz anywhere. Caffeine. Definitely caffeine.

Stimulants weren’t good, coffee induced tachycardia and jitters all throughout medical school had taught Mia that much, but the oat milk matcha latte she had this morning didn't make a dent in the tiredness from her overthinking induced insomnia. It made a tiny part of her wish she hadn't quit drinking coffee. Emphasis on tiny, the other part reminded her that her anxiety was the reason she'd stopped in the first place.

It’s then she notices she’s been absentmindedly fiddling with her necklace, probably since they started walking, pressing her thumb over the stamped pattern of the gold pendant over and over. She stops herself, tearing her hand away and placing it firmly by her side.

Gosh, she really should’ve had a calming lemon balm tea instead, Mia thinks. At least that might have soothed her nerves.

The woman guides her expertly through the winding hallways, arm folded at her waist and heels clicking away the linoleum. Her shoulders are rolled back, neck straightened and she is confident in her strides. Her interpreter follows behind dutifully, just ahead of Mia, his hands clasped behind his back.

Mia pulls up the courage to finally take her eyes off of the two of them and look around. If she was going to be working here, she should start getting her bearings straight.

People continue to pass by, workers laughing in groups, talking in hushed voices. The familiar prickling of goosebumps, crawling up the back of her neck makes Mia's stomach tighten. It’s then she catches the little glance from a greying doctor who walks by, the narrowed eyes of a dark haired woman in blue. There are eyes on her, and as much as Mia wants to believe they are only in her head, she knows better.

Mia pulls her eyes away, looking back to the woman leading her as they make a right, towards a pair of elevators that ding! and slide open.

The woman seemed as though she did not care what other people thought, not even stopping to look or acknowledge the people squeezing out and pouring out into the hall. But Mia looked, and kept looking, and only felt more out of place.

Everyone else seemed to know where they belonged, had a home in this little ecosystem, and Mia was an outsider, an invasive species. She couldn’t help but feel like they didn’t want her here, and the odds were that her intuition was right. People always seemed to know that she was different, that she didn’t quite understand them.

All her life, Mia was sure that at any moment, someone would come reaching down to pull her up from the ground where she stood and toss her away from all these people who seemed so much different, so much better at being a person than she was.

Mia finds herself looking at the woman again. She can’t seem to keep her eyes off her, and she wonders what it’s like to be someone like that, someone alluring, captivating. The woman was different from everyone else, and yet she somehow looked so perfectly at home. Mia doesn’t understand. All her life, she’s never been like that. She’s always been acutely aware of her differences, even more so aware of the fact that she just couldn’t seem to fit in no matter how hard she tried.

But, this doctor, this stranger — there wasn’t anything manufactured in her smile, or the way she carried herself. It isn’t practiced or fake-it-til-you-make-it, but real. Realer than she was, anyway.

She felt something rise in her, something she couldn’t quite identify. She was not jealous of the woman. Envy wasn’t a good emotion, not by the mark of any religion. Christianity called it a sin, the Buddhists say it’s a root of suffering, Islam called it a disease of the soul. That wasn’t what it is.

Admiration, Mia decides. That was the closest word to what she was feeling. Mia admires her.

Being able to walk through the world with your head held high, still shining as bright as if you were still a kid, not caring what anyone thought. Even if she cared, it didn’t show, and there was so much strength in that. Mia wishes she was a little more like that, more like her.

They take one last turn and the woman suddenly comes to a stop in front of a pair of large grey doors. Mia almost walks right into her and has to take a big step back, too lost in her thoughts.

The woman turns to her and arches a brow. Mia catches a fleeting glance of her eyes again, a dull green under the dim light. They’re pretty all the same. “Are you sure this is the right place?” She tilts her head, “You don't look like a doctor.”

“I’m pretty sure this is the right place.” Mia laughs, before she pauses, doubting herself momentarily, “Unless I read the text wrong.”

It takes a second long glance from the woman to her interpreter before she smiles and accepts her answer with a simple shrug. She leans on the metal push bar of the door which opens with an unceremonious squeak. She steps aside, “ After you. ” The man voices, even though she hadn’t signed anything.

Mia flashes the pair a thankful smile before she ducks through the door and makes her way to a seat.

The auditorium of New Amsterdam was large, though not nearly as big as the one at her old workplace, but it still held at least 200 comfortably. The seats were divided into three sections, a dozen rows high, and the door she had walked through forked between them. Mia finds her way to the one on the right, ascending the shallow steps and takes a seat one chair in from the aisle, not wanting to be sandwiched between strangers on either side. Though, as the room around her swirls with workers pouring, it doesn’t seem like it’s going to be a problem. They cast strange looks in her direction. A burly man, arms nearly popping through his doctor’s coats, stops by her row, distracted on his phone. He gives Mia one look before he decides against sitting by her and walks away.

Mia feels a pang of self conscience of how she was dressed, looking down and tugging at her skirt around her lap so it wouldn’t touch the floors. She was sure she must have looked incredibly strange in her little brown turtleneck to a room of professionally dressed workers.

As the seats fill and the entire row beside her remains empty, anxiety stirs in the pit of her stomach. What people thought of her didn't matter, Mia reminds herself. She'd given up trying to stop people from judging her a long time ago, but it didn't mean their negative attitudes never affected her.

Taking a breath, she tries to soothe herself. When Mia closes her eyes, she’s no longer in the auditorium, instead, she’s on the pier in Long Island City — where cold wind carries the salty scent of the East River past her nose, and she’s listen to the rustling leaves of the plaza park against the waterside breeze, the only place where for a moment, the people in a city that never slept seemed to take a breath. She consciously turns her attention to the feeling of her diaphragm filling and emptying, five seconds in and five seconds out, controlled, exactly as she practices. She gives the black tourmaline in her pocket a squeeze, hoping it would transform her negative energies into a positive one, and when Mia opens her eyes, she’s a little more ready to face the world.

A woman in a black pantsuit strides up to the lectern in the centre of the room and the room hushes at the mere sound of her heels. Mia recognizes her from their interview a few weeks ago.

She had been waiting at the cafe for twenty minutes prior to their arranged meeting time, sucking at her bottom lip and spinning the two rings on her middle finger as she nervously checked the time on her phone every few seconds in anticipation of her arrival. When the door jingled and Veronica walked in, her stomach flipped.

With sharp features and dark, steely eyes, Veronica Fuentes didn't look very friendly upon first glance. According to the website, she was a recent addition to their hospital, the new Medical Director of New Amsterdam. Veronica's lips were thin from years of pressing them together, deep creases wrinkled her forehead like she had spent a lifetime observing the people around her with narrowed eyes. Her clean-cut clothes, stiletto heels and neatly curled black hair were unforgiving to any imperfection, even on a Monday afternoon for an unofficial job interview in some cafe off 42nd and 3rd. Her presence commanded attention, and Mia found it impossible to look away as she watched her from the back of the cafe. It wasn’t in the way the woman was earlier, a quiet, gentle kind of strength, with Veronica, she oozed power and authority.

When Veronica spotted her, a big smile broke on her face, and she was quick to open with a handshake and introduction. It caught Mia off guard, she seemed much more warm and friendly than her appearance suggested, honestly, she looked quite intimidating when she opened the jingling door.

Veronica spared no conversation or small talk, jumping into telling Mia that she had already looked at her resume and she was hired, which left Mia's jaw hung open. But, when Veronica leaned in and told her, she was curious, why was it that she had left her old hospital so suddenly? — Mia felt her heartbeat quicken.

After a second, Mia recovered from her initial shock, and told her she wanted to have her own control over what she did, that she was grateful to have had the opportunity to work at University, but she didn't want to be there forever. She wanted to run her own department. It was the truth, even if it wasn’t all of it.

Veronica looked at her for a moment, her eyes narrowed like she was studying her, but thankfully, the smile returned to her face as she accepted it and told Mia that she would love it at New Amsterdam. Before she stood up, citing she would be late for another appointment, Veronica told her she would be in touch soon to let Mia know when she should come to meet the rest of the staff.

None of this seemed typical of an interview, or a normal hiring process, but Mia wasn’t the kind to look a gift horse in the mouth.

(She used to think the phrase meant looking into the mouth of a horse who was carrying a gift which made no sense — why and how was a horse carrying a gift, and what did looking into its mouth have to do with anything? In actuality, the metaphor originated during the 19th century when it had been common among the affluent to give horses to one another as gifts. You could tell a horse’s age or quality by its teeth, and the phrase was supposed to warn against doing that, and to simply accept the gift instead. A free horse was a free horse, it would be silly to not just take it — if you wanted a horse of course — which made much more sense than her initial impression.)

That day had finally come at 8:43pm on a Sunday night when Mia received a text to be here at the hospital auditorium at 9:00 am sharp the next morning.

Now, as Veronica addresses each department head, Mia shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

She pushes her fingers up and down one of the flat surfaces of the crystal in her pocket between impatient taps, its jagged edges digging into her palm, still warm from squeezing it all morning. Mia keeps hoping it’ll make her feel better, but each time Veronica calls a new name, her heart drops in anxious anticipation to hear her own.

As a child, she used to dread the end of summer break. Going months without seeing her classmates or teachers only to be thrown back into school and having to feel like a fish out of water, flip flopping her way through socialising all over again was the worst. As melodramatic as her teenage self was, Mia is pretty sure she hates first days even more as an adult.

At least, to Veronica’s right, there’s a friendly face. The big, bright look in the man’s eyes is a comforting sight, unchanged from before. But, his brows are tighter, gestures sharper and harsher than how he or the woman who brought her here signed. Mia thinks it matches Veronica’s commanding tone.

Veronica apologises to Dr Frome about ending his vocational program with a huge smile on her face and tells Dr Bloom they’re not here to solve the social ills of the world. Objectively, Veronica isn’t wrong, but she sounds cold, uncaring, and exactly like the people who ran her old hospital. Maybe worse, Mia thinks, but she had to take this job.

No other hospital here or even in the next state over was looking for someone in her specialty, unless she wanted to leave the East Coast entirely. Mia also refused to work at a private practice that charged their patients thousands for treatments. It didn’t make any sense to her, they were supposed to help people, not bankrupt them.

But considering that Veronica had told Dr Bloom that she was no longer allowed to send patients up for procedures, to cancel all any non-emergent surgeries, to get patients to book through insurance and turn away anyone who didn’t have a provider, Mia thinks this place might bankrupt people anyway, or result in preventable deaths at any rate.

When Mia hears another name being called, she breathes a sigh of relief that it isn’t hers. Searching in the crowd for a face to match, Mia spots her. Across the aisle and a few rows down, the woman who helped her raises her hand.

“Dr Wilder, please be advised that we are lowering the suggested screening age for mammograms from 40 to 30.”

Mia blinks. She was the Head of Oncology?

“Consider it done.”

That meant they were bound to work together.

Veronica stammers, surprised by the lack of resistance. She breaks out into a smile, “Well that’s the spirit! Everyone give it up for Dr Wilder.”

Wilder. Origin, the word wilderness; something untamed, free, resilient like nature. Mia wants to her first name, and wonders if it is as intriguing as her last, nearly forgetting to join in on the applause in her thoughts.

“Everyone, I know that this budget squeeze has been very, very hard on everyone here, so I am very happy to share with you exactly what you’ve been sacrificing for.” Veronica pauses, and Mia swallows. Her saliva is thick down her throat, suddenly dry. This was it.

“Would you please join me in welcoming Dr Mia Castries, Chair of Holistic Medicine.”

So much for trying to align her chakras.

Mia takes one last breath and stands. She closes her eyes, just like she practised in the mirror, and raises the crystal to her head. “I sense a very powerful energy here.”

Someone coughs. A chair squeaks.

She drops her hand, “I'm just kidding. I'm not a crazy person.”

A man at the front of the room cracks into a loud laugh that actually sounds like a 'ha.... ha.’ and a few others join in.

“Because obviously, this is black tourmaline and to get your pineal gland ready for energy discernment, you would need amethyst or lapis lazuli. Blessings." Mia breaks into a smile, unable to stop herself, "I'm excited to be here.”

“And we're so excited to have you.” Veronica smiles. "Welcome!” She begins to clap and a few others join in. Dr Wilder’s interpreter throws his hands up in the air, shaking them enthusiastically with a huge grin on his face.

She shuffles back into her seat, crossing one leg over the other. Mia sucks at her bottom lip, running her tongue against the back of the soft flesh. Her heart flutters in her chest the way it would when it quickens, and she sucks in a breath, hopeful to slow it. Searching for her skirt pocket, she begins squeezing the crystal as discreetly as possible.

Veronica is still talking her up, and as her pulse slows, the sinking feeling in her stomach sets in. Mia can’t help but feel the judgement now emanating from the crowd around her, and there are a few whispers, people moving in their seats, bored, disinterested. Half of them didn't even turn to acknowledge her when she was speaking. Those who did looked at her the same way her colleagues at University used to, their noses turned up in prejudice, eyes narrowed like they could see right through her.

People always seemed to look at her that way, strangers on the streets, the doctors in hospitals, no matter what she said or did. Everyone — except for the woman who brought her here.

In the blurry haze of her introduction that sped by too fast and yet dragged on longer than it could’ve been, she recalls her eyes. It was only a split second that Mia caught her gaze, but from across the room in a sea of strange faces, she had turned to look at her. Her cheek was dimpled as she clapped, a turquoise phone clutched in her hand, but still there, attentive.

It was not odd or hesitant like the looks on the other’s faces, but real, kind — the exact same smile she had given her this morning before she knew who she was.

It feels almost a little ridiculous. Mia would chide herself for reading too much into the tiny expression, but the thought settles the anxiety in her stomach in a way black tourmaline hadn't been able to all morning. She felt almost compelled to speak to her. It was a strange and foreign feeling, this almost excitement catching her attention at the thought that maybe, they could be friends.

Veronica's spiel comes to a close, and she sends everyone off on their way with a few words of encouragement. The room erupts into a chatter, and Mia catches a few disgruntled words as everyone queues to get out of the door. Mia stays seated, waiting for the crowd to thin, not wanting to be trapped bumping shoulders with her new not so friendly colleagues.

She sees Dr Wilder stand and join her interpreter, who starts signing to her rapidly, and they engage in some sort of lively conversation, his brows snapping together animatedly and hands wide in what looks like him almost jokingly arguing with her. Mia watched them closely. She was fascinated — sign language was so physical, unlike most other languages that were written and spoken. Admittedly, she couldn’t help but be a little curious about what they were talking about.

Her eyes follow them until they walk out of her field of vision toward the door, and Mia wants to turn to keep looking, but it would be really innapropriate to do.

When the noise dies down and the auditorium is empty, Mia deems it's safe to finally move, but she only makes it halfway down the stairs before she’s stopped.

“Mia!” Veronica clasps her hands together. Her chipper attitude seemed nice the first time they met, but it’s almost eerie to her now. She had kept the exact smiley demeanour while telling Dr Reynolds that by choosing less invasive treatment methods to avoid unnecessary risk, they were also avoiding down profits. Mia wasn’t so sure about how she felt about that.

“I am so sorry for the short notice, but I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Me too.” Mia smiled politely.

“Unfortunately, your office isn't ready quite yet, but I really hope it will be soon.” Veronica gives a pointed look at the man beside her.

Standing next to Veronica with a mop of orange hair and in a grey coat at least a size too big for him, the man looks small. The wrinkles in Veronica’s eyes disappear as her smile drops for a split second and the man looks down at his feet, shrinking under her gaze. He looked almost afraid of her.

Veronica turns back to Mia, her smile returning, "But! Until then, we'll have you working in one of the consult rooms outside of the E.D. Adam would be happy to show you the way.”

***

When Mia finally entered her new workspace, she frowned. It was washed out, lacked any semblance of color and it was far too small for any meaningful work.

Adam handed her an ID card and shoved a box of her things into her hands before his phone buzzed and he hurried right out the door like a frightened mouse, leaving Mia staring at the empty space where he had been standing seconds ago.

She spent half her morning following that encounter reorganizing the tiny consult room into a semblance of a workspace. The rest of her things were apparently waiting to be moved into her real office, there was no space here for anything much less her massage table. So, she'd just have to work with a ridiculously uncomfortable examination bed, horrible plastic chairs and a thousand pound weighing scale in the corner she had absolutely no use for.

Mia discovered they stocked the medicine cabinet with some of the supplies she requested, but if she was ever going to transform this space into a healing one, it was going to take a lot of work. She held back a groan at the thought of just how much. On the positive side, they did manage to keep her things safe. To her relief, her precious crystal lamps and singing bowls were unharmed.

The cleansing process should have been calming after all the craziness trying to get here, but it was quiet. Too quiet. She missed Cecilia and John and Emma and all of her old patients, even grumpy old Mr Jensen, and it hadn't even been 24 hours.

She quickly shut down her thoughts. Thinking about what happened would do the opposite of help, and if she continued lingering on the past any longer, she’d need to sage herself too.

Mia took a breath, then another, and kept her mind on her intentions.

Halfway through setting down her amethyst lamp, a younger looking doctor knocked on her door, something about a patient who had been struck by lightning? Why exactly this was under her specialty, she was confused. Greg Triyez should have been getting a full work up from emergency medicine, neurology, cardiology and kept under close surveillance, not seeing a holistic medicine doctor.

As it turns out, Mr Triyez was convinced he was cursed.

Maybe she couldn't magically change her life and go back to her old hospital, but that? That she could do something about.

***

“Oh, that tingles.” He chuckles as Mia inserts another needle in.

She gently tightens her grip on his shoulder, “Just try and stay still—”

The door bursts open, “What the hell ?”

Mia looks up, but before she can open her mouth, the woman starts again. “ Look , I don't know how things were done in the lost city of Atlantis, but here? In this hospital where we practice real medicine? We don't just take other doctors' patients.” She scowls, “Are we clear?”

The woman had a slight accent, reminiscent of patients Mia had met at University. It wasn’t the thick drawl of lower Manhattan, rather the slight twang of upper class New Yorkers. The doctor’s coat she wore was crinkled, fabric thin as though worn down over time, different to the one Dr Wilder wore.

The name embroidered into her lapel read, Lauren Bloom M.D, and it clicks. She was one who talked back to Veronica at the meeting this morning about patient care, that was why her voice sounded so familiar.

“Yes.” Mia smiles. She leans in, serious, “Listen, I don't want to bum you out but.. Atlantis was not a real place.”

Lauren jabs a finger at Greg, “Get those needles out of him.”

“This man needs his chi rebalanced.”

“And I'm a Pisces.”

Lauren was easily frustrated, fixed in her beliefs and had a very strong personality. Mia feels tempted to correct her, she was doubted that Lauren had Pisces anywhere in her birth chart.

She stops herself, turning her attention to Greg. “Why don't you tell her what you told me?”

Mr Triyez looks up at Lauren, “I'm cursed.” He declares.

“Okay, there is no such thing as a curse .”

“I was hit by lightning in January.”

“Climate change.”

“I've been bit by a shark in a river!” Greg insists, “I got hit on the head with a golf ball while I was skiing. One time, I was kicked by a horse.. While surfing !”

Mia bends him back over the seat, explaining, “When your energy is out of alignment, bad things happen.”

“The man was hit with 50,000 volts of electricity, and he survived.” Lauren argues, “That's not a curse. That's a blessing.”

The door bursts open again. This time, there's a resounding thump! and suddenly, Greg is on the floor.

“I'm sorry, I didn't—” The janitor's eyes are wide in panic as he looks between them, “Is he?”

Lauren’s mouth is hung open.

Mia just looks at her.

***

“Okay, Greg. No talking. I want you to take some nice, deep breaths for me, okay? This is just to make sure there's no brain injury from the door... Or from any of your other hundred head injuries.”

Mia sits down and leans forward, deliberately placing her arms on the table to lean closer, “Okay, so.. That's not actually going to help you find what you're looking for.” She says matter-of-factly.

Lauren doesn't turn to her, only staring harder at Greg's CT scan. Her mouse rattles as she scrolls, “Yeah? Well, call me old-fashioned, but everything I do is rooted in science...” She clicks out, swapping to an image of his chest. “Unlike energy work or curses , or magic rocks, which only power is in your head.”

Mia nods along slowly, “Oh, so you're saying they have a psychological impact rather than a measurable physiological effect.”

“Yes.”

She stares. “That's the definition of placebo.” Mia deadpans. How did Lauren not get it? Mia can’t stop herself from correcting Lauren, her irritation breaking through her usually careful demeanour as she continues, “Belief has power and when a patient believes that they're healing, they can, and that's why Greg's belief that he is cursed is a medical issue and one that you should take seriously."

Mia knows exactly where her work ended and where Dr Bloom's began. Curses were her department, and Mia hated the idea that what she did was not based in evidence. Even if what she did was placebo like Lauren was trying to imply — which it wasn't, and the very idea frustrated her— medicine is about helping their patients. If energy healing and crystals worked, did the specifics of its mechanisms really matter so much to her?

When Lauren chooses to ignore her again, turning the PA system on with a click, Mia grits her teeth and looks away, grip tightening around the lepidolite in her right hand. She’s pretty sure that if she spends another second looking at Lauren, she was going to lose her calm and then she would actually have a valid reason to judge her.

Mia takes a breath, taking particular notice of the cold, smooth feel of the lepidolite under her fingertips and pressing into the palm of her hand. The sensation is calming as it always is and grounds her, Mia’s usual choice in crystal when dealing with frustration. Lepidolite resonated with the heart chakra, Anahata, which governed compassion and forgiveness -- something she could really use the help of right now.

As her thoughts begin to clear, Mia realises there’s no point in trying to argue further. Lauren wouldn’t listen no matter what she said. She was everything Mia disliked about western medicine doctors. They were always quick to judge, small minded, and they always thought they were better than her.

“Okay, Greg. I'm looking at your CTs and you are concussion-free. For those scoring at home, that's curse, zero, modern medicine...”

Lauren suddenly goes quiet and Mia knows something is wrong. She turns to look, and on the left of the scan, there's a small white spot near the spine. It had been years since she'd read a CT, but whatever it was, it was obvious it wasn’t supposed to be there.

“What's that blotch?”

“Cancer.”

***

When they break the news to Greg, the only thing he has to say is: “Typical.”

The prognosis is good, at least. They were lucky that they caught it early. Judging by the size and location of the tumour, it could be excised in a thoracotomy that they could schedule today and Greg would be back to being bitten by sharks in rivers in no time. Lauren looks almost sad when makes that joke and Mia feels a little bad for her. They might have disagreed, but finding out a patient had cancer wasn’t easy, and Mia had her fair share of experience in that.

Greg, however, doesn't seem to expect anything less.

“Tell me how this is good luck again?”

The curtains rattle as Lauren tugs them shut. “Okay, look–” She turns, “I will grant you that a lightning strike, followed by a freak head injury is unlucky, but if those things hadn't happened, we would never have found the cancer.”

Mia watches as Greg shakes his head, muttering under his breath as much as a person can when their jaw only has an inch of space in a cervical collar. “It just never ends.”

“Look, I get that cancer sounds scary, but we can take care of it with a simple surgery–”

“ No.” He says firmly, “No surgery.”

“But Mr. Triyez, it is a routine procedure–” Lauren attempts, beginning to get frustrated.

“Until the curse makes you drop a scalpel in me!”

"That—" Lauren blubbers for a second before she shuts her mouth, “That is not going to happen.”

“Yes! Yes, it will. If it can go wrong, it will go wrong!” Greg squeezes his eyes shut, sighing deeply. His head shrinks as far as it can into his shoulders. “This is my life . You don't understand.”

Lauren stares, her mouth hung open and silent, not knowing to say.

Mia’s eyes widen as she suddenly realizes what she has to say. “You're right.” She says, looking at Greg. She can feel Lauren's eyes turn on her, “She doesn't understand. She has no idea. The fear that you live with?”

Lauren’s tone grows higher with frustration, “Dr. Castries, can I have a word—”

“You've tried everything.” Mia continues, ignoring her. “You say that you'll be more careful, kinder, you pray, and none of it works because the universe is against you.”

Greg looks at her thoughtfully, “So? What do I do?”

“Get the surgery.” He opens his mouth, ready to protest. “See, someone has to fix your cancer, and that's her job.” She looks to Lauren who glares right back. “And someone has to fix your curse… And that's me.” Mia smiles and leans in, deliberately placing a hand on the bed to make him feel safe, comforted. “And I am going to be with you every step of your journey.”

Greg swallows, uncertain eyes looking back at hers.

“Okay.” He finally answers. “I'll do it. I’ll do the surgery.”

She smiles. Lauren lets out another disgruntled huff.

It looks like both of their luck was finally turning around.

***

A few hours later, Mia is informed Greg’s surgery was canceled.

And the curse persists.

When she asks why, the short man, Walsh, tells her it had something to do with it being elective and Mia suddenly remembers what Veronica had said that morning.

She feels for Greg, but this was out of her purview now. He needed an oncologist, not a holistic healer. There was nothing more she could do for him, not in regards to his cancer anyway. No amount of belief or acupuncture she did for him would change Veronica’s rules, there would be no more sending your patients up to surgery for elective procedures. If it's not emergent, discharge them.

Mia does ask about Lauren, as rude as she was, recalling the way her tone fell when she told Greg he had cancer. Walsh tells her she was pissed and stormed out of the ED before he shuts the door and Mia is alone again.

There aren't many patients that day, well, Greg is her only patient that day.

Reorganising her decorations on the teensy tiny countertop in her not-official office for the fiftieth time just trying to keep herself busy, she can feel the frustration start to slither up the back of her head like a snake.

Her schedule used to be packed at University. She knew all of her patients inside and out. She worked there for years and all of them loved and trusted her. She had an actual workspace that she spent months putting together and now she was going to have to do it all over again. There were doctors like Dr Bloom there, yes, but at least she had the others in her department. They understood her, at least to some extent, and Mia might even have said they were friends.

She knew this transition would be difficult, but between being forced to walk under a ladder this morning, being trapped in this crappy room and her first patient at this hospital having lung cancer and not being able to get treatment , Mia was starting to think she might be cursed too. At this point, it was starting to sound like the only plausible explanation for everything that had happened to her in the last month.

Her pager buzzes and Mia snatches it eagerly from her waistband. She breathes a sigh of relief that she has an excuse to leave this room.

When she arrives in the Emergency Department, the doctor from before, Turan, tells her that Greg wants to talk to her about his chi.

“Yes,” Mia looks around the ward, absentmindedly drumming her fingertips atop the reception desk, but she doesn’t find him at the bay they were at before. She turns back to Turan, “Where is he?”

“Post-Op. In the Oncology Ward.”

Mia blinks, "But I thought his surgery was cancelled."

”Nope.” Turan looks up from her notepad, “Heard it went pretty well actually.”

Her drumming stops. She doesn’t understand why, or how Greg had been able to have his surgery. It couldn’t be Veronica, it didn’t make sense that she would so clearly impose a rule only to make an exception barely a few hours later. Mia had only met her twice, but she seemed like she took her job extremely seriously.

On the way to Oncology Department, Mia gets lost again. There aren’t nearly enough signs around the hospital building, and there hadn’t been a map on the hospital website either, something Mia reminded herself to inform Veronica of at a later date.

It's across the big glass walkway she'd seen from the street, up two flights of stairs, two right and a left and then according to the nurse she'd asked, she'd see it, and Mia does.

New Amsterdam’s Hematology and Oncology department stuck out like a sore thumb, the reception area crisp and lit with bright whites built with sharp, clean edges. It was unlike the hallways of grey walls she'd passed on her way there, so far divided from the worn marble, red and black chequered floors that drew paths in the linoleum floors. It looked brand new, out of place.

The receptionist at the front desk, Gabby, is sweet. She asks how she's finding it here and mentions something about integrative medicine for cancer patients when Mia shows them her ID card.

Mia sighs in relief, finally , someone who knew what she did.

Gabby tells her she’s glad she’s here, acupuncture had been a game-changer for her mother in law when she was going through Chemotherapy. She even hops up from her seat and brings her personally to the room she’s looking for.

The room Greg is staying in is the furthest one down from the oncology ward, out through the doors she came in, down the hall and tucked around the corner.

From the hallway, there was a rectangular window seeing into the room, but its blinds were drawn, which Mia assumed was to provide privacy. Gabby opened the door, before leaving her to enter on her own.

Inside, there was a narrow space where two chairs sat just below a large window, blinds similarly closed too, and at the adjacent wall, a painting that hung above a white drawer. It was a little how private the room was, and reminded Mia of how they would hide the VIP patients at her old hospital away from the others.

She opens the door, “Hi.” Mia smiles, her hands falling to her side, “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” He answers, “Now that I don’t have cancer.”

Mia nods. A silence falls over them and she feels a little awkward just standing at the door as she searches for what to say. She carefully walks over to take a seat by the window, “I'm guessing the surgery went well?

“One hundred percent cancer free.” Greg gives her a smile, a little awkward and strained against his cervical collar. “Dr Wilder said she was able to remove the tumour, said it didn’t spread any further than she saw on my scans.”

At the sound of the familiar name, Mia can’t help but smile. The doctor who found her this morning when she was lost performed his surgery, a surgery that was never meant to happen in the first place.

It intrigued Mia. Why was it that their paths had been so inexplicably entwined from the moment she had arrived here?

“Well," Greg smooths his legs out from on-top of the hospital sheets and they make an offensively scratchy sound, "-thanks to you, I'm not cursed anymore.”

Looking at him, Mia remembers what Lauren had said before.

She smiles.

Maybe Lauren was right.

Maybe this was a blessing, not a curse.

Notes:

To everyone who stuck it out to the end, thank you!
This has been my passion project for the last year and I am so SO excited to finally share it. There aren’t many of us left in this fandom, but I wanted to tell Elizabeth and Mia’s story the way I hoped it would have happened if Mia had stayed on the show.
I think we can all agree that season 5 did not go the way we wanted it to and I’m hoping to rectify that in my writing, with character, Max and Helen, and Lauren and Leyla. There was so much lost potential in all of these characters and their relationships with one another and I love them too much to not tell their stories in a way that does them justice.
NEXT UP, Elizabeth employs unconventional methods to convince a patient of Helen’s to continue treatment. She finds there’s more to the new holistic doctor than meets the eye.

Chapter 2: "A Leap Of Faith"

Summary:

Elizabeth employs unconventional methods to convince a patient to continue treatment. She finds there’s more to the new holistic doctor than meets the eye.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Elizabeth contorts her hands uncomfortably. There’s a pop in her wrist, a small tension releasing, but it does little to relieve the worsening ache in her arms.

Ben glances up at what must be some sound she's made for a split second before quietly turning back to his work.

They had been sat at the circular table in her office for the past hour, working together to review and organize all of the previous Head of Oncology’s patient files, trial notes and budgets.

Although Elizabeth preferred the ergonomics of sitting at a proper desk, she and Ben were a team and she’d rather work alongside him than alone — even if it meant having to sit on an uncomfortable plastic chair that stuck into her tailbone.

Elizabeth picks up the stack of papers closest to her. They detailed the latest phase of a drug trial New Amsterdam was involved in alongside Mount Sinai. She takes her time to flip through them to make sure the methodology was rational, the sample size was reasonable — that every ‘i’ was dotted and ‘t’ was crossed. Being thorough was the foundation of good science, and it was especially important when it was the lives of other people your work was affecting.

Leafing through the pages one last time, she scribbles down her signature on the last page, signing off on it.

There were boxes were sat on either side of their chairs, piled up two to three high and just barely tucked under the table. Thinking about all the paperwork waiting under each flimsy cardboard lid made Elizabeth miss the familiarity of her old hospital. But, she was confident that they would finish it soon enough. They had already made a significant dent since they started working here, even though it had only been a little over two weeks ago. After five years of working together, she and Ben were efficient, and she trusted him with her work as much as she did being her voice and ears.

Elizabeth sets her pen down, fingers too numb to continue possibly carding through and sorting more paperwork. She turns to her computer, wanting to check her emails again and possibly update her schedule.

She cranes her wrists back, trying to loosen the tight sensation. A dull pain shoots down her arm and through the centre of her palm, up through her last two fingers. Slowly, she flattens her hand out on the table, and the ache eases, feeling returning to her fingertips.

She glances up at the clock on the wall for what must be the hundredth time this morning where the short hand is long past 11:30. Willow was supposed to be here already.

Elizabeth feels a tap on the table. She looks over.

“I know that look.” Ben signs, a sour expression on his face, “Do you think she won’t show?”

“I don’t know.” Elizabeth answers. Out of all of Dr Sharpe’s patients she had taken over, Willow seemed to be having the hardest time adjusting.

“I’m sure she’s just late.” He assures, “She will show up soon.” Ben offers a smile and Elizabeth stares, still uncertain. She knows he’s just trying to make her feel better. And it works, just a little.

She returns his expression and nods. Elizabeth pulls her laptop toward her and swipes her finger across the mousepad, quickly checking through her emails for anything new. There was a email from the AACR, reminding her of the webinar she was supposed to attend later this week on recent advances in immunotherapy. Without anything new, she clicked open her calender, having forgotten what surgeries were scheduled for tonight.

At 5:00, there was a surgery labeled in maroon, and then one lined up right below. The first, Elizabeth tried to remember, was on Phyllis Reiner, and the other on Jansen Marroe. Even though the lumpectomy and thyroidectomy she was scheduled to perform were both short surgeries, usually only an hour or two, Elizabeth could still feel the sensation in her fingers disappear even more in rebellion at the reminder.

They were supposed to be meeting with the others after her next appointment in the morgue; the same place they had met the last Monday and Friday after work. Their resistance had started gathering together after the head of department meeting, just under two weeks ago, when she’d asked for the numbers of a few of Max’s trusted friends and tried to recruit them to join her in her plan, which Ben didn’t fail to inform her was insane and could get them fired.

Elizabeth was delighted when she saw their three figures, blurry through the cutout in the door to the morgue. Considering the fact she invited them to an unused morgue that, apparently, no one ever went to, and her protected number, she was pleasantly surprised they’d shown up. Ben was against the idea, but resigned, already knowing he couldn’t change her mind.

Getting them to agree to what she had in mind, however, was the real challenge. But, she had her ways. After finding a loophole to rehire the participants of New Amsterdam’s vocational program and one very illegal procedure later, Iggy, Lauren and Floyd were all on board.

They'd agreed they would all clear their schedules at least once a week to reconvene and share information. Today, they were meeting at lunch instead. Iggy leave work early for Sameera's ballet recital, Martin would kill him if he missed it.

Over the last week, Elizabeth often bumped into Lauren at Pan De Vie, the cute cafe in the hospital’s front lobby, getting coffee anyway. The ED doctor was always one or two ahead of her, even at 8:00am in the morning.

Despite Lauren’s initial skepticism, they sat together at lunch with matching coffee cups the day after Mr Triyez’s surgery and talked. There, Elizabeth noticed her eyes kept wandering to a woman in navy blue scrubs with long dark hair that was slicked up into a straight ponytail, who was standing in line chatting with a few of the other residents.

Elizabeth glanced between her and the woman across the hallway. She wasn’t an idiot. She knew lingering looks and a queer woman when she saw one.

“Are you two fucking?”

Lauren choked on her coffee at the sign, vulgar enough it didn’t need an interpretation. Elizabeth was sure Ben wouldn’t give one anyway, while she had a mouth like a sailor, he was a prude. Lauren had turned the shade of the pink gum stuck to the table, still shaking as she tried to hack up her drink. The group of doctors looked over, including the dark haired woman, who looked more than a normal, stranger concerned for a stranger, amount of concerned.

Bingo.

“Jesus,” Lauren swore, pointing at Elizabeth, “is she always this invasive?”

Elizabeth is pretty sure Ben said yes.

She asked her to tell more, and to her surprise, Lauren obliged. As it turns out, Lauren had a soft spot, specifically for a certain Pakistani resident in her department.

Elizabeth finds herself holding back a smile thinking about it. She was only beginning her second full week here, but it felt like she’d already found friends in Lauren and Iggy. The latter would often bounce up to her in the hallway to chat about his day, and although it felt strange at first how friendly he was, and she’d started to look forward to passing the Psychiatry Department where Iggy worked.

Elizabeth doesn’t know how long it had been since she felt like she truly fit in with people where she was, but for the first time, it felt like she might be starting to.

She suddenly feels a tap on her shoulder that pulls her from thoughts. Elizabeth looks up. The sight of a light blue wig sends a flood of relief through her.

“Willow.” She stands from her seat, “Thank you for coming. Can I get you anything?”

“Yeah.” A scoff breaks free from the usually controlled look on Willow’s face. Her eyes hang heavier, eyelids drooping as if tugged down by sleeplessness, and they’re set further into her face than they were their last appointment. The movements on her lips are indiscernible, words melding together on her lips like she’s mumbling and Elizabeth finds herself looking to Ben for his full interpretation, unable to piece it together. “Less cancer would be great.”

“That's what we're all hoping for.”

Elizabeth stares, expecting a response, but Willow’s lips remain still and she can’t help but notice that her clothes hung looser than she swore they did. Concern bubbles into her mind, a reminder of why Elizabeth made an appointment for her so urgently in the first place.

Willow doesn’t meet her eyes. She tries to adjust the strap of her tote bag on her shoulders instead, tugging. It doesn’t budge.

“Now, you have lost a few pounds since your appointment a few weeks ago.”

“My high school self would be jumping for joy.”

Elizabeth frowns at the attempt at a joke and when Ben finishes interpreting, he flashes a similarly grim expression. She looks back to Willow, “How's your appetite?”

“Nothing looks good, or smells good-” Willow shifts on her feet uncomfortably, only the smallest bit like her legs are full of lead. In a split moment of animation, her hand moves out to protest, “-just talking about my appetite is making me feel sick so let's just not, okay?”

She takes a step forward, “Willow, many patients who are in remission and have a recurrence feel angry, anxious. But this regimen, Etoposide, Cisplatin, Cytarabine, is still your best shot.” Elizabeth takes a breath, she doesn’t want to scare her off. “But I am concerned about the side effects.”

“Yeah.” Willow confesses, lips impossibly small in a whisper, honesty. “Me too.” And for a a moment, the mask slips.

Elizabeth raises her hands, about to respond when Ben starts first. “But I have an idea how to fix that.” He interprets for Willow.

She blinks, “That— that’s wonderful!” Elizabeth smiles, hand flipping outwards in question. “What is it? ”

“I wanna stop all the treatment. I give up.”

***

She can’t stop thinking about Willow. Elizabeth doesn’t understand. There were options, there were things they could still do, things Willow could still try. Elizabeth was sure of it, she just didn’t know what .

But she wouldn’t give up, she couldn’t. There had to be another way.

As they make their way down the floors, elevator doors popping open every few seconds, Ben is there to try and take her mind off it. He doesn’t mention Willow or their current predicament, nor the way she tried to chase after her when she left, voice breaking from her throat.

The elevator jumps when it halts to a stop like it always does, the mechanics surely as old as its wobbly metal buttons and peeling wallpaper. They step out, Ben walking by her side, hands moving with barely restrained excitement as he struggles to hold back a smile.

For the past few days, he had been so engaged in his phone during lunchtimes that Elizabeth could barely get his attention.

This was one of the times Elizabeth appreciated the fact that no one else around them knew sign language. They could gossip freely without anyone in the hospital knowing what they were talking about – except, Ben was an absolute killjoy and now that she’s asking, refuses to tell her anything, not even where they met. The only facts he spares are that ‘he’s been talking to someone’ and ‘she’s nice’ (both of which were details that were extremely obvious.)

“Just tell me about this woman.” Elizabeth tries again. “How was your date?”

“Nope.” He says, the 'p' popping from his lips distinctly, speaking as he signs now that they’re alone. “That’s personal, and I am only here in a professional capacity.” He says turning his fingers at his wrists before tossing the key over his shoulder for emphasis.

She narrows her eyes, unimpressed. “You play that card every time I want something juicy.”

The corner of Ben’s lips tilt upwards boyishly and Elizabeth shimmies her shoulders, earning a laugh from him.

“Okay, maybe I will tell you after our insurrectious meeting, which-” Ben shushes her as they round the last corner to the morgue, “by the way, is highly unprofessional–”

He suddenly looks up. Elizabeth catches a glimpse of familiar strawberry blonde hair that could only belong to one person, and she’s approaching them, fast.

“Hi!” The holistic doctor beams.

“Oh— Hi! ” Elizabeth waves, sidestepping way too far in front of the door. Her heart skips a beat, fluttering much faster than she needed it to be. She was supposed to not draw suspicion, and judging by Mia’s narrowed eyes, she wasn’t doing a god job at that.

Mia stops in her tracks, looking strangely between the two of them. Her head tilts in a confused laugh, “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, nothing! I mean— “ Elizabeth stammers, tripping over her own hands as she tries to come up with the most plausible answer. “I like to come here and think.”

Mia nods, not missing a beat. “I get that.” Elizabeth’s hands fall to her side and she almost breathes out a sigh of relief that Mia actually accepted her shitty excuse, but she quickly closes her mouth and smiles instead. “Dead bodies are pretty quiet.“ Mia says, “Although, if you listen with your root chakra, you can hear them from the other side.”

Elizabeth’s mouth falls back open. “Uh–?”

“It's a joke,” Mia’s brows tighten, lips pulling back in an awkward smile, “I'm not crazy, remember?” Ben exaggerates the movement when he cuts his thumb down the center of his chin sharply, emphasizing the not.

She feels her cheeks heat up. “Right. Totally.”

Mia didn’t seem crazy when they met, but Elizabeth knew nothing about holistic medicine. So, Mia could have been completely serious and she wouldn’t have known the difference.

When Elizabeth first saw her, this stranger standing so perfectly still in the middle of the bustling atrium, Mia looked like she was from another world. Her strawberry blonde hair was elvishly long, almost perfectly straight and reaching her waist. The off white skirt she wore fell to her ankles in delicate waves and the earth-toned turtleneck that hung off her slender frame stood out in a sea of fitted white coats and baggy blue scrubs.

Elizabeth kept glancing to back check on her as she and Ben talked, wondering if she needed help. He caught on quickly to her distraction, asking what she was doing. Elizabeth had explained that woman was still standing there frozen in place a near entire minute since they’d walked in.

When she and Ben had arrived for her interview, they had been left to wander, confused by the 5 signs that said ‘New Amsterdam’ in different directions, which resulted in her being late to meet Max. Thankfully, he was even later than she was, but that might not be the same for whatever this stranger was here for. She looked like she could use some help, and the wide look in her eyes when Elizabeth tapped her on the shoulder her told her she was right.

A few minutes later in the auditorium, the woman introduced herself as Mia Castries. Crystals and all, she’d cracked jokes and smiled, but her body told a different story. Her shoulders were turned inwards, her hands clasped together in front of herself, elbows extended and looking painfully tight as she sat, averting her gaze.

She found herself offering Mia an encouraging smile. She had been in her position just a few weeks ago, she remembers how daunting it was, and having a friendly face would have helped. Then, across the room, she caught those blue eyes for just a moment.

Elizabeth clears her throat, changing topic before Mia has any more time to realize how weird it was to go to clear your head in a morgue of all places. “So, you were looking for me?”

“Yes.” Mia smiles sincerely, “Veronica placed me in the oncology department, so I wanted to reach out, and connect. “

“She did?” That was news to her, “Why?”

“Well, my work can be very helpful with patients who are going through chemo and radiation and… We're both new here, so I thought we could work together!” Her eyes are sparkling with excitement that pulls back as she tilts her head, attempting a joke, “Show each other where the bodies are buried?” Mia turns to Ben, saying something under her breath. “Pun intended.” Ben interprets for her.

Elizabeth hums in amusement, her voice pressing from her throat. “And accomplished!” She clasps her hands together, trying to think of a way to end the conversation before Mia developed any suspicions, and she stutters over her hands awkwardly, “So, I guess I'll see you around?”

“Great.” Mia smiles warmly, and her hands find their way infront of her again, this time, they’re loose, no longer as nervous as she was before or the other day and for a second, Elizabeth wonders what it is she’s always worried about. With a nod, Mia acknowledges them before she turns and keeps walking.

The second she’s out of sight, Elizabeth slumps against the door, letting the smile drop from her face. She lets out a breath, not having realized she had been holding it.

Mia was awkward, and genuine, and her nervousness was strangely disarming. She seemed like she meant what she said, but Elizabeth wasn’t sure if she could trust her. While the loyalties of everyone else at the hospital lay with Max, Mia had been hired by Veronica. It seemed too much of a coincidence that Veronica had put her in her department, and that she had been looking for her, right where they met with the resistance. But there was no way Veronica already knew, Elizabeth rationalized, it hadn’t even been two weeks.

Ben presses his brows at her pointedly. He doesn’t need to sign anything for her to know what he’s thinking, this was a bad idea, and that close call was proof.

Elizabeth shakes her head at him and opts to open the door instead of responding.

Inside the dimly lit morgue, everyone is already there, including their latest addition Agnes. The wall across from, and to the right of the door, are lined with a dozen square doors from floor to cieling, now empty refrigerators too old to store cadavers. The floors were what Elizabeth thinks were supposed to be a white linoleum, for ease of cleaning, though now they had slightly yellowed with age and the vinyl popped under her feet as she stepped in — a telltale sign of water damage.

The group is gathered around the autopsy table closest to the door and they quickly exchange greetings and launch into conversation about something that’s probably important. Elizabeth tries to follow along, but her thoughts keep wandering back to Willow. Lip reading and interpreting, especially in a group setting, was difficult to keep up with, not to mention if you were distracted. If she didn’t focus hard enough or have her full attention on what was happening, it was too easy to get lost. The conversation rolled on without her, and she found herself just staring in silence, occasionally nodding along even though she had no idea what was being said.

Iggy is the first to notice, eyes turning on her as his brows press together in concern, asking if she’s okay. The others share similar expressions, Lauren saying something about how she hadn’t said anything the entire meeting. Elizabeth gathers they were probably discussing something they had expected her to add on to.

When Elizabeth answers, telling them about Willow, they all look at her sideways. She taps her fingers in confusion, “What?”

“Look, I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you this, but Willow was a friend of Max. She was part of the euchre group.” Iggy explains.

“The euchre group?”

“Yeah. When Max was doing chemo.” Lauren replies.

Elizabeth blinks. Max had cancer?

“Shit.” Floyd curses distinctly, “He didn't tell you?”

She shakes her head. Elizabeth guesses this was common knowledge, for everyone except her.

“They used to play together. Four of them. Then, Max got better and…” Iggy’s expression darkens, “They stopped.”

“What about the others?” She asks cautiously.

“Millie died.” Agnes answers. “During the pandemic." She clarifies, "The cancer metastasized to her brain and there wasn’t anything we could do to help… And Mike passed a few months ago too. It's just Willow.”

Oh.

***

She asked Gabby at the reception to get Willow to meet her in her office in 15 minutes.

Elizabeth had made a few phone calls to colleagues she knew, hunted down pamphlets she was given at the International Conference of Interventional Oncology a few months ago and thankfully finds the ones she's looking for in one of the boxes she had yet to unpack, hidden away under her desk from patients. It’s almost a miracle Elizabeth still had them considering how much they had travelled. She’d packed them in her suitcase after the conference in Lousiana, put them in her drawer back to her office in Maryland, and then all the way here when she moved.

Elizabeth stepped out to speak with one of the other oncologists in the hospital to confirm her proposals, and Dr Chandran was positive that there was indeed a chance what she wanted possible.

Now, as she and Ben walked back to her office, she feels uncertain. Wringing her hand, she watches the grey linoleum floors pass beneath her, preparing herself for the words she’s about to sign. Elizabeth isn’t sure how this is going to go. What if Willow just walked out like she did before? She had made it clear what she wanted. Was this really the right thing to do?

Even if Willow agreed, she wasn’t sure if this would work, but in her years as an Oncologist, Elizabeth knew she had to try. There was still a chance it could, and there was still a chance Willow could change her mind, and that chance however slim was enough reason to place her bets on.

Elizabeth doesn't see Willow until they step into the office. She’s hidden away by the window, obscured by the wall and hunched over, arms folded as she looks at the bookshelf in front of her. Her canvas tote bag is abandoned on the windowsill, an extra jacket, the oversized black one with the zipper down the front, sitting on top. Willow carried it with her everywhere, she always got cold, cancer patients often did.

“Thank you for waiting.” Elizabeth says.

Willow turns, her fingers squeezing at her upper arms, her long sleeved, star-dotted shirt creasing under her grip. “I would eventually like to go home.”

“I want to propose an experimental surgery. It's shown promise in several trials, and I can apply for compassionate use. It is not without risk— ” Elizabeth raises her brows, “But, we can get the cancer out in one go. “

“Am I supposed to light up at this news?”

“Let me send you home with some information about the trials, okay?” Elizabeth pulls the pamphlets from under her armpit, offering them to her. Willow's mouth goes slack. She doesn’t respond, instead she turns her head and snatches her bag and jacket from the window, folding it over her arm before she steps past her.

“Please, think about it.” Elizabeth attempts, turning around to face her, “If you have any questions, I'm here.”

“I don't need to think about it.” Ben circles his finger on his forehead with sharp frustration. Willow whips around. Her shoulders crumple, “The answer's no.”

“It's a big decision, Willow. We can talk about this tomorrow?”

“I don't wanna talk to you.” She looks frustrated. “I wanna talk to Dr. Sharpe.”

“I am sorry, Willow. I know that these transitions can–”

“Transitions —?” Willow recoils like she’s been slapped and Elizabeth regrets her wording choice. “This is my life.” She says, Ben cutting his folded fingers up his chest with sharp precision. Willow shakes her head in a silent scoff, “I don't know you, and I don't trust you.”

Elizabeth feels the pamphlets slipping from her grasp, just like Willow is now. There's a whirlwind of feelings in her chest, signs jumbling in her mind, things she wants to say, but they die in her head before they can even reach her hands.

She was right.

Willow tugs her bag strap onto her shoulder, “Can I go now?”

Elizabeth swallows back the urge to reach out, to tell her to stay. She stands, unmoving. She doesn't stop her. Instead, she watches silently, heart sinking into her stomach as Willow turns on her heel, feet dragging as she walks out of the door.

Ben looks at her, his expression softening. He taps his fingers together, “What are you going to do now?”

Elizabeth tightens her grip on the pamphlets. She breathes out carefully through her mouth, shoulders shuddering, and in that moment she realizes she was right to tell Max no.

Anyone who had a phone or television knew Dr Helen. She was at the forefront of oncology, one of the best – if not the most well known – in their field even though she was only a few years older than she was. Helen debated and pioneered treatments like Precision Targeted Therapy, raised awareness for rare forms of cancer and hundreds of thousands for charities all while appearing on daytime talk shows and treating patients at New Amsterdam. Every patient of Elizabeth’s always talked about her, that doctor on TV.

At her interview with Max when he had told her it was Helen she would be replacing, Elizabeth knew her answer long before she gave it at the end of the day. Anyone who came after Dr Sharpe would be a disappointment. She refused to work herself to death trying to do the impossible, she had done enough of that in her life.

When she suddenly received a call from Helen a few weeks later, Elizabeth didn’t know what to expect. Helen told her about her patient, 37 year old Guillaume who had been diagnosed with stage 3 pancreatic cancer. Scar tissue from previous radiological treatment had tied together his spleen, liver and small intestine and his cancer had spread to his heart, wrapping around his aorta and superior mesenteric arteries. His last option was surgery and Elizabeth was the only one who could do it.

Multi-visceral Ex-Vivo Surgery was an extremely complicated and risky procedure, not to mention expensive — nearly $2 million dollars expensive — but it was their patient’s only option. When she proposed it, Elizabeth hadn’t expected Max to agree, she doesn’t know any Medical Director who would, but he does, reasoning simply that it was ‘his day of yes’.

Helen was brilliant and funny and incredibly passionate. Elizabeth was starstruck as she regaled her with tales of their patient all while she assisted in the surgery, how a near ten years ago she'd fallen in love with him and just on their third date, he'd taken her on a boat halfway across the world to Cuba.

Floyd Reynolds, the Chair of Cardiothoracic surgery, was incredibly skilled and took lead of their second group of surgeons, working in his own expertise to remove the tumors from around the aorta and left ventricle.

And Max, he stood in his scrubs watching on, a medical director with far more important things to attend to, ready and desperate to jump in and help.

In that moment, Elizabeth felt something in her chest she hadn’t since she was a kid. Hope. Like the doctors she would watch on TV when she was ten, wide eyed and cross legged on her parents living room floor, they were doing everything they could to help their patients — she was doing everything she could to help her patient.

For the first time in years, being a doctor wasn’t about budgets, it wasn’t about how much money she made or how many surgeries she did or how many people she had cut up.

By the end of that night, she accepted Max's offer.

Two weeks later, Elizabeth had packed her entire life into cardboard boxes and closed the door of the apartment in Maryland she’d called home for the past five years.

Now here she was, standing here in an office that's supposed to be hers now, trying to take care of a patient she was supposed to know, trying to do the impossible anyway because after that day, a renewed belief that she could.

And suddenly, it made sense.

Elizabeth had been trying to fill Helen’s shoes, to treat the patients she had entrusted to her to the way she would’ve if she were still here, but Elizabeth was never supposed to replace her. In all of her hopes to do right by Helen, Elizabeth had forgotten; Dr Sharpe was irreplaceable.

Helen had worked here for years. She was an entire person of her own, a brilliant woman with a different approach to oncology, a different skill set, a different life that made her into the doctor she was — just as Elizabeth was too.

Willow didn’t need a replacement.

And Elizabeth thinks maybe the doctor Willow needs isn’t her, or Dr Sharpe, at all.

“We need to stop Willow before she leaves.” Elizabeth says.

Ben's brows raise, “What?”

She smiles, “I think I know someone who can help.”

***

“I'd like... Press charges.... Kidnapping.”

Ben laughs. "OK." He signs. "I'll let security know.”

The elevator comes to a halt and the doors slide open. Elizabeth steps out, Ben and Willow — in a transit wheelchair — in tow.

Technically it wasn’t kidnapping. Willow was a fully grown adult and she was a patient under her care, not to mention very much still on hospital property when they found her. Elizabeth quite enjoyed technicalities, there was always a way to find a good loophole.

They walk down the hallway, turning a corner before Elizabeth leads them into an unmarked room.

A distinct flowery scent began at the doorway, subtle, but definitely there. It was nothing like the smell of detergent that permeated through the rest of the hospital, milder and much less artificial.

Elizabeth reaches up, and with one swift tug, the beige curtains rumble open. They rattle in protest, skipping over the metal pole holding them up.

They part to reveal a large office, much bigger than her own. It looked nothing like where a doctor would work.

Lit warmly with Himalayan salt lamps and intricate lanterns hanging from repurposed IV poles, the sanitary white lights from overhead were blocked by hanging tapestry, drooping from the ceiling in delicate swoops. Intricate mandalas were woven into the red fabric, sheer, just enough to let through the light.

There are a pair of white bookshelves to the left housing an array of textbooks, and a collection of crystals and succulents which were displayed proudly. In the centre of the room. a large black bed sat that looked like it had been stolen straight from a massage parlor, and anatomical posters in another language were posted up on the walls, even on the other door in the far left corner at the back of the room.

Mia turns around at the sound, her flowing skirt swaying after her. She meets Elizabeth’s eyes, acknowledging her with a smile.

Elizabeth stops beside her. “Willow, this is Dr Mia Castries.” She gestures to her. “She’s the Chair of Holistic Medicine.”

“Hi Willow.” From where Elizabeth is standing by Mia’s side, she can’t read her lips at all. She trusts that Ben will interpret accurately, watching him as his hands meet in the space between them, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Where are your windchimes?” Willow asks.

“My bamboo chimes are at home, but I appreciate the humor.” From the corner of her eye, Elizabeth sees Mia’s shoulders shake in a laugh.

“I'm here all week.” Willow adds, “Maybe.”

Mia’s are wide when she turns to her, unsure of how to react.

People going through cancer was one of the hardest things Elizabeth thinks she will ever see. She doesn't blame Willow for trying to lighten the mood, as morbid as her jokes were.

For some of her patients, the thing that kept them alive was a hobby. Others, a bucket list, loved ones. Those things, whoever or whatever they might be, brought her patients through difficult times. Even through all the side effects, losing their hair, their weight, their jobs, all of the grief and helplessness, it offered them something that made life worthwhile to fight for.

But Willow had nothing left to fight for. She was alone. Stuck. And deep down, under all the dark jokes and sarcasm, she was scared. Elizabeth understood that now.

She takes a breath, steps forward and kneels in front of Willow. “I need to give you a reason to trust me.”

There's a moment before Willow turns to her slowly, her big brown eyes lowering sluggishly.

“I don't know Dr Castries, but she comes highly recommended?” Elizabeth glances back at Mia when she gestures to her, whose usually warm smile is replaced by a careful expression. “And I don't trust Dr Castries because I don't give away my trust easily.” She presses her brows upwards, “Does that sound familiar?”

Willow breaks into a small smile as if amused, but presses her lips together as soon as it comes, pulling her expression back into a cold, unfeeling line.

“But I am willing to put all that aside if she can help you.” Elizabeth pauses, “Will you let her try?”

Willow looks past her at Mia, expression unreadable.

Elizabeth watches carefully, unsure if her words have found footing.

Then, Willow nods.

Elizabeth quickly stands back and Mia moves in.

Mia rubs her hands together, taking a seat in front of Willow, wheeling herself closer. “Can I take your hand? ” Ben interprets.

Elizabeth watches carefully, eyes flitting between Ben and Mia as Willow hesitantly lays out her palm.

She’d taken a massive leap when she came to Mia’s door, asking for her help. Even though she didn’t understand her methods, this was her last chance – Willow’s last chance. She only hoped Mia’s methods were as miraculous as she made it sound.

As if sensing her uncertainty, Mia turns back, still rubbing her hands. Her usually warm smile falters for a moment when her eyes land on Elizabeth’s, and she presses her lip up, as if challenging her to watch and see.

Elizabeth gives her a tight lipped smile.

“This is called acupressure.” Ben interprets as Mia begins. Out of the corner of Elizabeth’s eye, Mia finally takes Willow’s hand. "It's non invasive, it’s what we call ‘good touch’." Her slender fingers are adorned by gold rings that Elizabeth hadn't noticed before, as delicate as she is when she gently presses two fingers into the centre of Willow's wrist. "This is pressure point P6. Its meridian pathway travels up your arm into your chest and upper abdomen. It’s okay if it’s a little achey, but it shouldn’t hurt.” Ben interprets, twisting his pointer fingers more aggressively the second time he signs hurt to show that it shouldn't be very painful.

“Its… Not?”

“Okay. Now I’m gonna take your other hand and I need you to do one thing for me. Can you say, ‘I accept healing touch?’” Ben signs Mia’s request.

“With a straight face?”

She smiles when she sees Mia chuckle from the corner of her eye. “Energetically speaking, that is not required.”

When Willow looks up, uncertain, Elizabeth presses her brows upwards, encouraging her forward like a deer to a fawn on its wobbling legs. The small push seems to be enough. Willow looks back at Mia, taking a deep breath before she starts. “I accept…. Touch.” She pauses between words, unsure as she follows Mia’s strange instruction.

Elizabeth watches with careful anticipation in search of anything that could prove that whatever Mia was doing was working. This was the moment of truth, like staring down the barrel of a microscope, studying what she saw, hoping her experiment had taken. She doesn't know what to expect, but as Willow continues to repeat the phrase, the possibility of her crying was at the absolute bottom of her list. Her face softens, caution subsiding after another repetition. Beginning to speak it for a third time, her eyes grow glossy, brows tightening with each word.

“I accept healing touch. I accept—“ Her shoulders jolt, her Adam’s apple twitching as her mouth breaks. Tears bubble onto her cheeks and Elizabeth stares. What did Mia do? She couldn't understand why Willow was crying from saying such a seemingly benign thing, but she thinks maybe how doesn't really matter, because sitting in front of her, Willow is there, sniffling, real, letting herself feel and show something other than that cold, outer shell she'd built to protect herself.

“What are you feeling?” Ben asks Mia’s question in gentle swoops, his hands small in a whisper.

Willow’s cheeks pull back for a second before they relax, a little laugh at herself. “Extremely self conscious.”

“Anything else?”

A beat.

“Hunger.”

When Willow turns to her, she smiles for the first time, and Elizabeth recognizes the look in her eyes. Hope.

Elizabeth feels the sting of tears as she looks back at Willow. Gratitude blossoms in her chest, tugging the corners of her lips upward. In the moment, there’s nothing she feels like she can say to capture what this means to her, what it means for Willow. Instead, she turns to Mia, reaches out and places her hand on her back.

Mia looks up at her touch. The warmth in her gaze returns, blue eyes softening, her own uncertainty washed away in the gesture. Then, she smiles too.

***

They schedule for Willow to visit again the following week. Willow even agrees to continue her regimen. Elizabeth is overjoyed at the change of heart and Mia seems just as pleased as she does.

After they brought Willow to the exit and hailed her a cab, Mia in tow, Elizabeth asked her if she could keep walking with her to discuss. She told her she had somewhere to be, and Mia, smilier than ever, agreed to come along.

Unsure as Elizabeth was at first, it was clear that Mia had a place here. Without her, Willow would have left and there would’ve been nothing more she could do to help. Judging by how fast her cancer had spread the first time, and how malnourished she had gotten, she likely would have died within a few months, a year at most. It made Elizabeth grateful for her help.

As they walk, she wonders why Mia’s treatments weren’t available at more hospitals, or why she hadn’t even heard of it as an option until now. She had crossed paths with natural remedies like black salve before in the past, she tells Mia. It ran rampant a few years prior, and she had come across a few patients of her own who turned to the flesh eating paste searching for an alternative cure. It harmed her own patients, and many more across the country at the time, and there had been warnings placed across the news and posted to oncology offices throughout the states with horror stories of the dangerous scam.

But, Mia on the other hand, was more helpful than she could have imagined.

Elizabeth understood why Veronica had placed Mia in her department. She might just be grateful to her for doing that, as ridiculous as being grateful for anything Veronica did sounded.

They stepped out of the elevators of the basement floor as Mia explained that holistic medicine wasn’t a replacement to traditional cancer treatment and care, but rather something that worked alongside it.

“You really did wonders for Willow today, thank you.” Elizabeth says.

Mia’s face lights up in another smile. There is newfound confidence in her stride, her hands no longer clasped stiffly in front of her or shoulders drawn tight. Elizabeth likes this new look on her. She finds herself smiling as she watches Mia, hands now waving animatedly as she talks, “And if we continue our sessions together, I can help manage her pain and her nausea as well–”

“If you want to do more, help more people, we have a way to do that. But–” Elizabeth quickly steps in front of Mia, who steps back wide eyed, having nearly walked into her. “Veronica can’t know.”

Surprise crosses Mia’s face and she draws her head back slightly, raising her brows.

“You in?“

Mia ‘s mouth opens in disbelief, pulling in a nervous laugh, “Are you asking the holistic doctor if she'll say yes to something mysterious and unusual?”

Elizabeth smiles, “Welcome to the resistance.”

Notes:

In the earlier drafts, scenes where Ben was interpreting for a character who Elizabeth could not lipread or their voices were turned off and they were signing solely were written in ASL gloss. For example, "This is called acupressure." was initially written as THIS NAME A-C-C-U PRESSURE, where the dashes between letters showed they were fingerspelling and individual words represented a sign. (I ended up interpreting everything visible from the scene in the show into gloss!)
I've been reading 'The Silence Between Us' by Alison Gervais and thought it would be a bit more immersive to format my fic in the same way, everything signed was glossed instead of in English and everything lipread was choppy. However, my knowledge of ASL is limited and as conversation topics grow more complicated over the course of the fic, I wouldn't be able to do the language justice, hence the change. Since this is a small project and fandom, I wasn’t sure how to or where to find a language consultant for this who I wouldn’t have to pay for, so we make do!
In the end, I settled for all signing being in English and labeled with italics as translation/interpretation of the language since a lot of books with characters who speak other languages do this and I thought it would work well with sign. I still kept the second half though, anything Elizabeth lipreads without Ben interpreting at the same time will be choppy and spaced out between multiple ellipses to emphasise the experience of what it's like to lipread! And in turn, anything in Mia’s perspective when Elizabeth signs without Ben there to interpret will be choppy at first, and then over time will become fuller sentences as she’s able to understand more ASL.
NEXT UP, Mia meets the resistance to hesitation from the others. Her inability to help a patient results in a difficult suggestion from Floyd.

Chapter 3: "The Law Of Resistance"

Summary:

Mia meets the resistance to hesitation from the others. Her inability to help a patient results in a difficult suggestion from Floyd.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Okay wait, let me get this straight. You performed Greg Triyez’s surgery here…” Mia can't believe the words coming out of her mouth, speaking them slowly as if it would get them to sink in. "In the morgue?”

“That’s right. ” Elizabeth nods her hand, shrugging her lip upward like it wasn't a big deal.

Performing procedures on patients in an old storage space for dead people was definitely a big deal, not to mention behind their medical director's back.

What was with this place? Mia was starting to rethink her decision to move here. First Veronica, then Lauren, and Greg, and now this? Gosh, maybe she should have gone back to California.

“Doesn’t that break the law?”

Elizabeth hums. “Yes, but, with Veronica tightening our budgets, imposing so many new rules and regulations on our departments, shutting down programs, this is the only way we can give our patients the care that they need.” When Mia doesn't respond, Elizabeth looks at Ben, sharing an uncertain look before her hands raise again. “I understand if you don’t want to join. What we are doing here is dangerous, so, if you want to leave and forget this ever happened— ”

”No.” Mia surprises herself at the sudden response, and Elizabeth raises a brow. “You don’t need to do that.” She worries she might seem overeager. Shaking away the thought, Mia sighs, “I get it.”

Elizabeth blinks, as if surprised. “You do? ”

She nods.

Elizabeth was right. Mia hadn’t forgotten how Veronica ruthlessly cut Iggy’s vocational program, actually, it was one hell of a way to make a first impression, and she wasn’t a stranger to the public healthcare system either. If they’d gone through the correct routes like Veronica wanted to, waiting for Greg to schedule the surgery himself through a backed up insurance company, for them to negotiate the bills and then counting down to the day of, they were putting his life at risk. Even if they weren't, they would’ve been throwing him into the deep end, into a system where he would have to pay thousands for necessary chemotherapy treatments, drowning in medical debt he could never dream of paying off when they could have avoided it all with one, simple procedure.

His surgery was non-elective. Not because it was an emergency, but because it was the right thing to do, and really, if Veronica was so concerned about cutting costs, what they did would save them. The countless MRIs and PET scans and chemotherapy and surgeries and prosthetic limbs and palliative care that came with cancer was expensive and the lump sum for the surgery Veronica refused to agree to was nothing in comparison. With the way she was running this hospital, it was only a matter of time before someone got hurt. People would be left without care, and that guilt would fall onto their shoulders for not stepping in when they knew there was more they could do.

Sure, Mia could understand why Elizabeth was doing this, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t nuts. Seriously, they all thought Mia was crazy when she came here but it was becoming pretty obvious to her they were the ones who were insane. A secret resistance, off the record treatment, disobeying direct orders from their medical director (who gave her the heebie jeebies) to team up with a bunch of doctors who thought she was a quack was a bad idea if Mia had ever heard one, and it was the last thing she should be getting herself into. She needed this job. Badly. Getting in hot water with Veronica would probably end her career for good, and then she'd actually have to go back to California. The thought alone sends a shot of fear through her.

Mia looks at the door. She imagines turning on her heel and walking out right now, leaving this morgue and taking the elevator back to her office and pretending this conversation ever happened, and it seems perfectly safe, and it's exactly what she should do.

But then she thinks about Willow, the way Elizabeth touched her shoulder and smiled down at her. It made her skin tingle. Mia wanted to make her smile at her like that again.

Elizabeth raises her brows, “So?" She smiles, "You in? ”

“I’m in.”

***

“What the hell is she doing here?”

Wow . And she hadn’t even closed the door yet.

It's a Tuesday night when she's standing behind Elizabeth in the morgue, sometime past 8:00pm, well after the end of her shift.

The room around them is cold, as it always is, the draft running through the basement floor of the old building especially noticeable standing by the metal of the now unused freezer doors.

Halfway across the room and just behind the autopsy table, Lauren stands, lip curled as if she was offended by her mere presence, looking somehow even more annoyed as when they first crossed paths the week prior.

Beside Lauren is the doctor she had kept whispering to when Mia was introducing herself. Floyd Reynolds, Chair of General Surgery. He stood half a head taller than Lauren, his arms folded. His muscles bulged through the sleeves of his doctor's coat, shoulders squared. It was the same confidence, maybe even ego, that Mia had come to expect from cardio thoracic surgeons like he was by trade, dressed in a perfectly ironed shirt and tie just like his photo on the hospital website.

Mia had done her research. There was no way she was diving headfirst into a new workplace without getting a feel of the landscape. As much as her googling did her little to no use in regards to getting lost, she at least knew her way around the people. Sort of, anyway.

To his right was the man with the grey hair who had laughed loudly – and very awkwardly – at her joke on her first day. Dr Iggy Frome, how could she forget? The poor psychiatrist whose vocational program Veronica ruthlessly shut down. The fuzzy grey sweater vest he wore over his soft, slightly chubby build made him appear more approachable than the other two. Though, tonight, he shared the same stern look as them.

Just after Mia had finished picking at her lunch this afternoon, her phone buzzed with a text from Elizabeth.

Meeting at 8:00 tonight. Last minute surgery scheduled at 6:00.

You ready?

Mia didn’t mind the change, but she would’ve been lying to herself and the fluttering in her stomach if she said meeting the others didn’t scare her.

Sounds great 😊 I’ll see you then

I hope your surgery goes well 🤞

She had spent a good portion of her morning wondering (worrying) about how the others would perceive her, the new doctor, suddenly showing up in their sacred space.

Luckily, Elizabeth seemed to be one step ahead of her, and Mia could save herself from embarrassingly asking, or trying to hint, that she wanted Elizabeth to accompany her to the meeting like a child being begging a parent to bring them to their first day at school.

But now that she was face to face with the resistance, it seemed like Mia had had every good reason to be worried.

On the way here, Elizabeth had told her they would be missing a few other department heads at the meeting. Mia would be lying if she said she wasn’t impressed with the rebellion Elizabeth had stirred up, but as they stared her down from around the autopsy table, that feeling of admiration was very quickly replaced by discomfort. In any other situation, Mia would say she sensed the energy of the room, but it really didn’t take more than a look to know that they did not want her here at all.

Mia swallows. Hard.

Elizabeth’s hands come up, and she begins to sign with firm motions as she steps forward. “Dr Castries helped me with a patient. We can trust her." Her interpreter, Ben, voices with certainty.

The energy in the morgue stays painfully heavy despite her attempt at defending her. It’s nothing like when she was alone with Elizabeth the other night and it makes Mia shift on her feet uncomfortably from her place behind her. It didn't take a genius to know that they wouldn't trust her - didn't trust her - but standing here and watching Elizabeth try, and fail, to vouch for her was much, much more painfully awkward than she imagined.

Iggy is the first person to speak, “Are you sure this is a good idea Liz?” he asks sincerely.

“Yeah.” Floyd agrees, quickly turning to Mia, “I mean, no offense, but Veronica hired you.” He said, sounding a little skeptical.

“None taken.” Mia inserts quickly.

Lauren shoves her hands into her arms, “How do we know she won’t just go running back to mommy to tell her everything?”

Okay, now she was a little offended.

As grateful as she was to Veronica for hiring her, Mia could think for herself, unlike what Lauren seemed to believe. The very idea that Veronica was someone she would mindlessly listen to like she was some kind of pet taking orders from its master was really insulting.

Mia couldn’t understand why Lauren still disliked her so much. She had managed to convince Greg to do the surgery when Lauren couldn’t, and it wasn’t her fault that she hadn’t been there when it happened. The surgery was cancelled, and she hadn’t been there only on the account that she didn’t know it was still happening. It made no sense. Did Lauren somehow hold that against her?

But as Lauren’s words sunk in, a familiar sense of rejection curled in her stomach. Mia bit her lip, unsure how to react, or if she even should. She looked at Ben for guidance, who looked just as uncertain as she felt.

“We don’t.” Elizabeth answers, “But, she can help our patients. She helped Willow.”

Then, Elizabeth looks back at her, hazel eyes wide and sincere. In the dim lights of the morgue, her eyes are more brown than the shimmering golds and greens she recalls. Yet still, it’s unmistakeable; it’s the same look she gave her in the auditorium. Just like then, Mia feels a sense of calm wash over her. She finds the courage in Elizabeth’s eyes to take a steadying breath and smiles at her, a silent thank you.

There’s a twinkle in Elizabeth's eye, a spark of something when she smiles back and nods, and Mia wants to see her look at her like that again.

Elizabeth turns back to the others. “And that's something I am willing to bet on.”

Mia watches carefully as the group look at each other, deciding if Elizabeth's word was enough for them to trust her.

As she watches, Mia thinks to herself that even if she was Veronica’s lapdog like Lauren had been trying to insinuate - which by the way was really degrading to even think of - she already knew about the resistance now. It wouldn’t really matter. Regardless of whether or not they liked Elizabeth's decision to ask her here, or if they agreed, they would be doomed already if she was really a mole.

To her surprise, Lauren is the first one who moves. She gives Mia a look, sharp as ever before she turns back to Elizabeth. She drops her arms. “Fine. But I better not be here telling you I told you so.”

Mia smiles, “You won’t.” she says matter-of-factly.

A muscle in Lauren’s neck twitches.

Iggy clears his throat, “Oh-kaaaay!” He claps his hands together, the tension erupting like the first whistle at a baseball game. He smiles, reaching out and placing a guiding hand on her shoulder, “Mia, why don’t you come on in? You know, I for one think it’s pretty cool that you were able to help Willow.” He turns to the others, “Right, guys?”

Lauren rolls her eyes.

Mia takes a deep breath.

This was going to take a while.

***

Later that week, she finds herself a bit too early to their Friday meeting because when she opens the door, the morgue is empty except for Iggy.

They exchanged greetings and stood in awkward silence for a while before Mia finally came up with a conversation topic; what ever happened to Adam? She hadn’t seen him with Veronica since her first day, and Mia swore she had seen Veronica barking orders at someone else the other morning.

Her question launched Iggy into an insane story about how Elizabeth had swooped in and came up with a brilliant idea to save the vocational program Veronica shut down. He told her that everyone had gotten hired at their old jobs.... Except for jolly old Saint Nick she'd seen spreading holiday cheer in the hospital lobby the other week.

Mia's mouth falls open. “Seriously? Veronica’s new assistant is Santa?”

Iggy grins, “That’s how the resistance does it, baby!” He claps his hands, laughing gleefully.

Mia finds herself laughing too, but before she can respond, the door suddenly bursts open, slamming against the stopper with a bang! Her hand flies up to clutch her chest, her breath catching in her throat as she snaps around to see who it is.

“Hey!” Iggy looks up, not even phased, like he was used to it. Did Elizabeth always come in like this? “Look who finally decided to show up.”

Mia’s heart is pounding against her hand, so hard she thinks it might just beat right out of her chest. She tries to breathe it back into a steady rhythm, sucking in the cold air of the morgue.

Elizabeth circles a fist over her chest, smiling apologetically. “Sorry.” Ben interprets. “We got caught up with a patient. ” She gestures between her and the other woman at her side, who looked way too young to be the head of a department.

They walk over, coming to a stop on the other side of the table. The younger doctor had straight cut bangs that ended at her eyebrows, streaks of brown in her black hair highlighting the plain gold studs in her ears. The perfectly slicked back ponytail, crisp doctor's coat and the tablet she clutched over her chest made her look like she'd just walked out of a highschool school lab class.

Mia glances over as Ben begins to speak. She notices the concern in his tone matches Elizabeth's furrowed brows. “Where are the others?”

“Late too, guessing for the same reasons you were.” Iggy offers with a shrug.

“Hi.” Mia turns to the voice. The other woman is smiling at her, and Mia pulls her attention away from the blossoming conversation between Iggy and Elizabeth, turning her attention to her. The young doctor stretches a hand over the autopsy table, the other still holding her tablet close. “You must be Dr Castries. Agnes Kao, Chair of Neurology.”

Oh! So she was the one missing at their last meeting. Mia takes her hand, “Dr Kao. It's wonderful to finally meet you.”

Agnes’ grip on her hand is gentle, matching her soft voice. “Thank you for what you did for Willow.” She says sincerely, “It means a lot.”

Mia blinks. She swears she hasn't seen anything in Willow's files about any neurological symptoms, much less to the severity of needing to consult a neurologist. When had Agnes been involved in her care? “I'm really glad I had the chance to meet her.” She answers sincerely, deciding not to question it. "She’s a wonderful patient.”

She'd just seen Willow yesterday morning. After what Elizabeth told her about what happened to the others, she wanted to make sure Willow wasn't going through this alone — that had to be how Agnes knew Willow. She must have been involved with the other cancer patients.

Mia promised to herself she would visit Willow whenever she was in the hospital, whether it was when she was here for chemo or a checkup, and she would see her weekly during their acupressure sessions too on Mondays.

Willow had now finished her second round of chemotherapy, and she would have about two weeks off the infusions to give her body the time to recover, before she’d be admitted again for her next cycle of 6 days for chemotherapy and subsequent monitoring, then another break, and repeat.

As much as Willow's fatigue and other symptoms were worsening, her mood seemed to be lightening up — just a little. Thankfully, their acupressure session the day before was able to ease the nausea enough for her to have a few of the sliced apples Mia brought her, so at least she was getting in some of the vital nutrition she needed to fight her cancer.

“Nice.” Willow said, picking up her fork, ”Kill two birds with one stone.”

Mia hoped there wouldn’t be any killing, or death, happening any time soon.

The door bursts open again and Agnes’ hand rips from hers. Her tablet falls out of her arms and she barely catches before it smashes on the ground. This time Mia’s heart doesn't jump nearly as high.

“One of my patient’s insurance claims was denied.” Lauren storms in, her voice high and snappy with frustration. “Can't get the treatments she needs for her CF and now she's in my ED because she hasn't seen a specialist in months. They won't even cover her stay today and thanks to Veronica, the community care fund is gone so I can't even help. She is the fourth patient I've had to hand off to another hospital in the last week.”

“Yeah.” Iggy concurs, “Same here. One of my kids can't afford to come to therapy anymore. Her parents' insurance won't reimburse the full cost. It's only a few dollars but..." He sighs, "It adds up.”

Filing insurance claims had never been a problem at University. Mia's patients were rich enough to afford private healthcare and good insurance. Even if her claims were denied, she was still able to give her patients the care they needed. Here, on the other hand, was another story.

“I've been seeing the same thing happening with my patients.” Mia says.

Lauren scoffs, “Yeah, good luck getting insurance to cover you.”

Well, clearly it wasn't only insurance companies that weren't fond of her specialty.

***

The next day, Mia barely made it a few steps out of the elevator when she was stopped by a resident. Mia had seen her in the ED a few times before, a Dr Leyla Shinwari. She had a patient she thought Mia might be able to help.

Kristin Levers had been brought into the ED after she fainted, the third time in the last month. All of her tests came back normal, her ECG was unremarkable, blood tests in normal range, the only thing that was irregular was her postural blood pressure and heart rate. They bolused her a liter of saline and they were ready to discharge her, but Leyla wasn't so keen. She had done some research online and said she found that a holistic approach could be helpful for patients with Dysautonomia.

Mia spent an hour with Kristen, listened to her talk about how much her symptoms had impacted her life, how suddenly after a COVID infection she was struggling to stay functional at work as a preschool teacher. It was a story she was familiar with, she had patients just like her back at University and just like them, she needed an actual doctor who knew what they were doing to help her, not an 80 year old cardiologist who probably hadn't picked up a medical journal since Mia was born. Not only did he tell her she was anxious, but he sent her home without any help.

Frustration clouded her aura as she marched back to her office.

New Amsterdam took care of the city's most vulnerable, the people who couldn't pay for better healthcare, the ones without insurance, those who had nowhere else to go. It was becoming frustratingly obvious that a number of the doctors here didn't take that responsibility seriously. One of their own had abandoned Kristen with no other choice but to go home and wait until she experienced another syncope episode again, and she could have seriously gotten hurt, it was a miracle she hadn't already, Mia thought. If not for doctors like Leyla, Kristen wouldn't have gotten the care she needed. Mia doesn't want to even begin to think about the dozens of other struggling people who didn't.

She pushes the thought out of her mind, trying to take a breath and calm herself down as she makes her way back to her office. This kind of energy would not be healing for her patients, or helpful for her either.

Mia turns the corner from the Neurology department when she hears someone calling out.

“Hey!” Mia looks up in time to see Iggy run up to her, “Just the person I was looking for.”

“Dr Frome,” She puts on a smile as he slows to her side, “What can I do for you?”

Iggy rubs his hands together, falling into step with her. “So, I had a couple of questions. Not work related, just some personal stuff.”

Well now she was curious. “What is it?”

“My garden is an absolute jungle. I don't even know why we bought a house with one. The old owners had it done up all nice but it got ruined in that freak storm last winter and the kids have been begging me to get it cleaned up so I thought, 'Hey, why not do it up myself?' Martin thinks it's a terrible idea but getting out into the sunshine, the fresh air, learning something new...” Iggy trails off, “Anyway, you seem like you're someone with a green thumb. Got any tricks of the trade? Tips for a newbie?”

“Out of everyone here I didn't think you'd be one to fall into stereotypes.”

“What? No!” Iggy's hands shoot up, his voice suddenly high. “I am so not the type! I would never judge a person like that. I just meant that you've got plants in your office so I thought maybe—”

Mia holds back a smile, “Relax, I'm kidding.”

“Hah. Yeah that's...” He laughs a little, “Very funny.”

“Well, I think it's a wonderful idea.” She says sincerely, “Gardening is so healing for the soul. Being able to be apart of the process of helping something grow and thrive is so special." Mia puts a hand over her heart. "I love it. I actually have a garden myself.”

He drops his hands, letting out a sigh of relief. “Phew! Good, 'cause I was starting to think that I asked the wrong person.”

She shakes her head, barely able to hold back her smile. "No, you came to the right one. So, what do you want to know?”

“I actually have... No idea.” He confesses. “I was hoping you might know where to start?”

“I do.” Mia says, and she can feel her energy lift just at the idea of getting to teach someone about one of the things she loved.

She had picked up gardening not long after she moved to New York, some five summers ago. It started off with a succulent she'd gotten as a housewarming gift, and now, she was tending to a bamboo palm, a monstera, a maidenhair fern among a a dozen other flowers and herbs across her balcony and apartment windowsills.

They slow to a stop in front of her door and Mia quickly checks her phone, “Why don't you come into my office? I don't have a patient for another hour.”

“Wait, seriously? You'd do that?”

She beams, “I think I have a couple books you might find helpful.”

***

Mia can't believe her kettle broke.

Granted, it was second hand and lasted her longer than she'd expected, but seeing Willow this morning without her Thermos this resulted in a deadpan, 'Where's your leaf juice?' from her, which tea was definitely not. As a matter of fact, the tea Mia usually gave her at the start of their sessions didn't even have leaves in it. It was ginger, red dates and rock sugar for nausea.

The next best thing? Buying an overpriced cup of chai at Pan De Vie.

It had only been a few weeks since she moved here, the Monday beginning her third to be exact. Between somehow forgetting her keys to her office this morning and the no kettle fiasco, it wasn't an auspicious beginning to her week and Mia felt a little worried at how the rest of it would go, tallying the unfortunate events, surely harbingers of bad luck for the week to come, in the back of her mind.

Mia takes a deep breath as she steps forward in line. She really wasn't looking forward to crowding with people at the store tonight.

At least she had made some progress with Iggy.

They spent the entire time talking on Saturday until her patient arrived. Mia worked a few hours on Saturday, compared to her longer shifts during the week.

That day, she’d pulled a few choice selections from her shelves, loaning Iggy a few of her favourites, and scrawled down the names of a few plants that were easy to take care of and repot. A good number of them were succulents, resilient in all weather and low maintenance — she had a few on her windowsill at home. He and Martin couldn't be constantly tending to a garden, they were both busy with their jobs and they wouldn't trust the kids to do anything but water it on their own.

She learnt his kids were adopted, three of four of them siblings from Bangladesh. He had mentioned one of them at the resistance meeting the other night, saying Saleem had just finished his grade 4 piano exam. It was sweet how much he loved his family. He spoke about them fondly and Mia found herself smiling alongside him whenever he brought them up, which he had multiple times over their hour long conversation.

Iggy bounced up to her this morning on her way into the hospital to thank her for her help. He had spent the weekend reading 'Seven Secrets To Sucessful Gardening' and finished the book in two sittings. It was the book that had kick started Mia's own garden many years ago, and she'd figured he would enjoy it, so she was overjoyed that he did.

And, while Iggy had his nose buried in her gardening books, she been doing some research of her own.

Mia swipes down on her phone, eyes scanning her screen. The site she was on now had been one of the first that showed up when Mia had searched for 'ASL courses near me', a company named Sign Language Center. Their about section detailed that all their instructors were Native Deaf individuals, something she had found out the other night was important when learning the language.

Their ASL courses were six weeks long each, with two hour weekly sessions in person at their workspace on 39 East and 30th, barely a two minute walk from her apartment. Mia scrolled further and looked through the class times, pleasantly surprised when she found there were both afternoon and night classes most days of the week. Their evening ones were held at 6:00 to 8:00pm, just after when Mia would end her shifts early on Wednesdays, and it was one of the time slots where the button didn't say 'Join Waitlist".

It seemed a little too perfect for the universe not to have intended it.

Mia taps 'More Info'.

Level 1 is a 6-week session focusing on the introduction to American Sign Language and Deaf Culture. You will develop a strong basic ASLary (OUR word for vocabulary), syntax, and grammar. You will learn numbers 1-100, visual discrimination, practice fingerspelling, and begin to understand the use of space and gestures. You will be introduced to interacting with the Deaf community and begin your journey!"

She eyes the orange 'Register' button on the right on her screen and pauses. Maybe was a bit premature to start learning a whole new language. Things were going well here so far, but the universe was unpredictable, and things could change again in a drop of a hat. Mia shook her head. no, she shouldn’t be thinking so negatively. Worse come to worse, it would surely come to use at some point in her life, even if things went horribly wrong and the new relationships and life she was trying to build at this hospital somehow blew up infront of her… Right?

“Thank you for coming to Pan De Vie. Next!”

The sound pulls Mia back down to earth, where she’s still staring at her phone. She pockets it quickly as the person infront of her walks away with their drink and Mia steps up. She would think about it later, now wasn’t the time to be worrying about this, after she had a warm drink and time to herself to meditate, the answer would come to her.

Mia quickly orders her drink and swipes her card, grimacing at the $3.50 charge on the screen. Not wanting to hold the line, she steps aside, and it’s less than a minute before she's handed her cup and Mia shimmies past the crowd of workers into the lobby, searching for a place to sit.

The little circular tables lining the short wall between the security station and the fork in the hall are all occupied, a few faces she has seen at least once before and others she hasn’t sitting at each one. At the very furthest end toward the hallway that branched toward the atrium, Floyd is sat opposing the only available seat.

His neck is shrunken into his shoulders, eyes fixed across the room in a vacant stare as he raises the cup in his hands to his mouth. He takes a sip, swallowing almost robotically. There's an open paper bag sitting dejectedly in front of him, forgotten to whatever was on his mind. The depressing energy circulating in the air around him was a breathing ‘Do Not Enter’ sign. No wonder no one was siting at his table.

She felt a little concern for the surgeon. He was usually down to business, a little more stern and presented in his demeanor than someone like Iggy or Elizabeth, but his usual rolled back shoulders and tall back had been traded for a hung head and slouching. Even when speaking about Veronica, he never lost that confident posture. Something was clearly bothering him, and enough for him to look so unlike himself.

Mia walks up, fingertips brushing the side of the tabletop. “Hi.” She greets softly, careful not to startle him. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

Floyd quickly sits upright, blinking his thoughts out of his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, go ahead. Seat’s free.”

She offers a smile, quickly sitting down. He leans over, pulling his bag of food toward him to make room for her.

Mia blows into the lid of her cup which whistles in protest. After a few breaths, she takes a small sip and she winces at the sting on he tongue. Way too hot. She sets it down.

She tries to keep her prying eyes away from the surgeon across from her, studying the lobby instead, but his energy keeps pulling her back in.

Floyd narrows his eyes at her, picking up his drink. Black coffee, and strong, Mia can smell it from across the table. “Why—“ He laughs over the lip of his cup, nervous. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You're definitely a tan dominant but there's this encroachment of red and blue clouding your aura.”

“What?”

“Your aura is troubled.” She simplifies.

Floyd scoffs, his cup swaying in his hand, “I mean, I don't know about troubled but...”

“What if I told you I could make you feel better in five minutes?”

His eyes widen. “Uh, look.. I'm flattered, but I don't get involved with coworkers.” He says. Mia can sense the anymore hanging in the air, and she wonders if that’s the reason he looks so glum, but she isn’t one to pry.

“Not like that.” Mia cringes at the suggestion, “That would be very unprofessional of me.”

“So then uh—” Floyd clears his throat, setting his drink down. “What do you mean?”

Mia bites her lower lip, trying to hold back a smile as she reaches into her pocket for her phone. She can feel his eyes on her as she pops off the phone case, pulling out the sheet she kept safe behind. Placing it on the table, she peels one of the stickers off.

“These are Vaccaria seeds.” Mia explains, beckoning him closer with a hand. “You place them on pressure points along the earlobes for clarity.”

Floyd leans over the table and she presses one of them into the bottom of his left earlobe, then the right.

“All you have to do is—” Mia presses her thumb down, “Squeeze them.”

“Oh my goodness.”

She draws her hand back, “You try it.”

Floyd reaches up, pinching his ear between his fingertips. His eyes flutter shut. “Ohhh.” The tension in his shoulders melts, “This is insane.”

Mia’s grin breaks free, “Right?”

He opens his eyes, “Yeah. Wow. You ever do this on yourself?”

“Sometimes, but for clarity, my go-to is meditation. It has to be on the water.” She leans in, “Have you been to the pier in Long Island City?”

“The new one?” Floyd asks. “No.”

“I love it. It’s my favourite spot in the city. It—” Mia pauses at the sound of a buzzing across from her.

“Hold on. Sorry.” He looks down, pulling out his pager. His eyes scan the screen for a moment before he pockets it and his chair screeches against the tiles as he stands.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, they need me in the OR.” He sighs deeply, “Place doesn't stop, not even for lunch.”

Mia presses her lips together in understanding. Memories of residency play in her mind, rushing around from patient to patient, chugging down coffees just to keep herself awake through 40 hour shifts and constantly interrupted naps in on call rooms. She doesn't miss it at all.

She reaches out for her cup, watching as Floyd gathers his things to leave, swiping his paper bag and drink from the table.

When Mia takes a sip, it’s just the right temperature. The chai is sweet and milky, the taste of spices and ginger warm and yet a little cooling on her tongue, thanks to her mishap from earlier, and there’s a hint of something stronger from the black tea. It isn’t bad, although, the taste of cinnamon was a little overpowering. It was definitely different to the masala chai she always ordered from the family owned restaurant on 204 and 38th, but it tasted familiar enough.

“Hey.”

Mia looks up over the lid of her cup. Floyd is stopped a few steps away, having turned back to look at her.

“Thanks.” He says.

Huh. This wasn’t such a bad start to her week after all.

“Of course.” She smiles.

***

Come Friday night, Mia finds herself venting about Kristen Levers.

She usually stayed quiet during their resistance meetings. She didn't have much to add to the conversation when it drifted into angry rants about Veronica and her latest victim in her reign of terror, but today? She was over it.

At their appointment yesterday, she learnt that Kristen had passed out again. She couldn't even go the week without fainting and looked more worn than she did the first time they met.

Chronic illness was already difficult to manage and considering the treatment Kristen had experienced here in the past, she was hesitant to trust another doctor. Mia didn't blame her for it at all, if anything, she felt lucky that Kristen even came back.

Mia would have to help her on her own but she couldn't do much more than telling her to drink more water, up her salt intake, use compression socks, eat small and frequent meals and listen to her frustrations. She couldn't even teach her yoga because there wasn't enough space in her office.

If she was back at University, she would've been able to refer Kristen to physical therapy, use biofeedback, teach her breathing techniques, give her infusions or have a cardiologist prescribe appropriate medications to control her symptoms. Here? The most advanced thing in her entire office was the computer and that thing was at least a decade old. As much as the resistance had grown since she joined, she clearly couldn’t trust the other doctors here to take care of her. If they did, Kristen wouldn't be back here in the first place.

It was becoming painfully clear that Mia didn't have the tools she needed to do everything she could for her patients. She even tried calling up her old coworkers, but none of them could offer anything more than their condolences. Without the money to access private healthcare, it was unlikely her patient would be taken anywhere else, even with a referral.

The disappointment Mia suddenly felt in herself was foreign. She had always been the one to help her patients when they had nowhere else to turn, but now, she was only joining the list of doctors who couldn't help them. It made her heart ache.

“The thing is, there is so much more I could do for her but I just don't have the tools to do it and it’s so…” Mia lets out a huge sigh. She takes a deep breath, trying to release the stress from her body before she can get too agitated. “I just wish I could do more to help, but I can’t.”

“Well, welcome to public healthcare.” Lauren grumbles.

Elizabeth frowns, circling a fist over her chest. Mia recognized it, the sign for 'sorry'. “I'm sorry. That sounds very frustrating.” Ben interprets, voice soft with empathy.

There's a moment of silence, the others looking between each other knowingly. They'd shared similar stories in nights before, patients who the system dropped the ball on, doctors in other departments who only fended for themselves.

Iggy told her the other night that things used to be different here, when Max was in charge. He was the old medical director at New Amsterdam. Mia had heard of him before, or rather seen him before.

Max Goodwin's face was plastered all over the news a few years ago when he had been on the news talking about the skyrocketing costs of insulin and its effects on their patients. It was hard to forget him as moments later, the red headlines sweeping across the bottom of the TV in the reception declared that he trying to bring insulin across the border from Canada. She and her coworkers gaped, gathering around the television to watch in awe.

Mia had heard he was promptly arrested later that same day. It was an entirely ridiculous thing for him to have done, but Mia admired him. It was clear that he cared about his patients, something Mia rarely saw in many of her own colleagues, and even more than the potential of losing his job. Now that he was gone, it was clear to Mia that things had changed, and not for the better.

“Why don't you just ask Veronica?” Floyd asks thoughtfully. Lauren elbows him so hard he yelps, “Hey!” His lower lip juts out in a pout as he rubs his arm.

Mia grimaces. That looked like it hurt.

“The hell is wrong with you?” Lauren hisses at Floyd, “That is literally the last person any of us should be talk to, much less crystal lady!”

“Yeah, Veronica is kind of the whole reason we're doing this.” Iggy adds.

Floyd puts up his hands in surrender, “Look, all I'm saying is, maybe Veronica would consider if Mia asked. I mean, she brought her here, right? If she's going to give anything to anyone, it would be her.”

“What, and take another ten percent of our departments?” Lauren snaps back, stuffing her hands into her arms. “There is no way in hell I am giving her any more of my money.”

Elizabeth turns to Mia. She raises her brows just slightly as if to ask what she was thinking.

Mia bites her lip.

She might just have to consider it.

Notes:

NEXT UP, Elizabeth meets someone who reminds her of a mistake she made in her past. Iggy tries to help her to right her wrong.

Chapter 4: “Children Made Of Glass”

Summary:

Elizabeth meets someone who reminds her of a mistake she made in her past. Iggy tries to help her to right her wrong.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

When Elizabeth finally has a chance to go to the infusion center, she doesn't expect to see Mia there.

She’s sitting in one of the empty couches opposing Willow, pulling a card from her hand and flipping it over onto the face-up pile in the center of the table. Willow does the same, then Mia again. The moment she places down her card, Willow's hand shoots out, slapping her hand over the deck so hard the wooden bowl infront of her trembles.

Mia's lips pull in a laugh and Willow’s turn upwards in a small smile, a genuine one, something Elizabeth had only seen from her once or twice before. She can't help but smile too.

Mia looks up, saying something to Willow, one of those always warm smiles stuck on her face as she quickly collects the cards from their hands. She cuts the deck into two with a swift swipe of her thumbs down either side, shuffling them together expertly.

Willow's lips move in response. Her knees are comfortably tucked up on the seat, a knitted pink cardigan that matched her wig wrapped around her shoulders. It was at least a size or two too big for her, but her star spotted shirt wasn’t nearly as loose as it was last time. The infusion line snaked up her sleeve, the clear liquid steadily dripping in. The bag was already half empty, but there was something drawn on the other side Elizabeth couldn’t quite make out.

From the way they’re talking, completely relaxed in their places across from each other, it seemed like they'd gotten to know one another over the last few weeks.

Elizabeth had meant to visit before, but things had been busy lately. This would have been Willow’s third cycle, and she must’ve been admitted earlier this morning, but with the recent budget cuts, consults, performing more surgeries than she could count and organizing an increasing number of procedures and tests behind Veronica's back, she was never free at the right time.

Mia told her she was doing well at their meeting the other night. Elizabeth didn’t think much of it, guessing she’d known because of their weekly sessions, but it didn't occur to her that she might have been visiting her at her infusions.

She isn’t really sure how long she’s standing there before Willow makes eye contact with her, looking up from their game. A puzzled expression overtakes Mia's face and she turns around to see what Willow is looking at. Elizabeth’s cheeks flush, suddenly feeling self conscious when Mia’s eyes land on her. It was probably a little strange for her to just be staring at them. She quickly walks over before Willow can comment on it, knowing she very well would if she were given the opportunity.

“Willow.” Elizabeth acknowledges each of them with a nod, “Dr Castries.”

“Nice of you to finally check in.” Willow nearly smiles, looking up from her hand.

“Sorry.” Elizabeth signs sheepishly. She notices the bowl of cut up fruit in front of Willow, certainly not something of her own doing. She had gained a few pounds when Elizabeth followed up with her the other week and it made her wonder if Mia been preparing her food. “I see you are playing cards? ”

“Yes," Mia smiles, "Slapjack. We were playing Go Fish before but—”

“She always loses.” Willow finishes smugly.

“I always forget the cards she asked for.”

So Mia had been visiting often.

Elizabeth looks up at the bag hung on the IV, trying to figure out what they had drawn on it now that she was closer. It was still facing away from her and was warped and wiggly through the yellow liquid, but it kind of looked like a blob… With a smiley face?

Willow pulls it over, spinning the IV pole around. “Hey, you found chemo.”

She blinks. That was a bag of chemotherapy, yes, but she wouldn’t say she found it…. And why was there a fish on it of all things? "Chemo?"

“Finding chemo?” Willow’s forehead creases, “Like... The Disney movie?”

Elizabeth nods slowly, closing her mouth. English puns didn’t translate very well into sign language, at times when Ben wouldn’t catch the joke and the word was signed rather than finger-spelled, Elizabeth had to think about how the words were pronounced before it made much sense. By then, it usually stopped being funny.

“If you're chemo, then she must be Dory?" She points at Mia.

Ben raises his eyebrows. Mia just looks at her, and if she were watching a movie right now, the captions would probably read something like [crickets chirp loudly] or [awkward silence].

Willow’s mouth slowly falls open, “Oh my god.. Did she just make a joke?”

“I think she did.”

“Dude that’s…” Her shoulders twitch with laughter, “That’s terrible.”

Mia squints at her, “Yeah, I think you need to work on your sense of tumor.”

Elizabeth scrunches her nose, “I’ll try to come up with something better next time.”

Mia gives her a nod, satisfied with her answer.

“I have to say, Willow, I enjoy your new jokes much more than your old ones.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing about cancer puns.” Willow pauses. “They grow on you.” Ben has to stifle a laugh as he interprets, a smile flashing on his face that betrays Willow’s always deadpan delivery. He squares his shoulders, coughing his professionalism back on. “Have time to join us?”

“No, unfortunately. I just wanted to check in, see how you were doing, but, I can see that Dr Castries is already taking very good care of you.” She notices Mia’s cheeks turn a little pink at the compliment from the corner of her eye. Elizabeth hums, "I do have a minute before I have to leave. I'd love to stay and watch you play? One round?”

Willow gestures to the chair, “Knock yourself out.”

“Go Fish?” She suggests.

Mia pales, “Do you want to see me lose?”

Elizabeth holds back a smirk, “Maybe.”

Shaking her head, Mia turns back to the table. Elizabeth leans against the arm of one of the chairs as Mia gathers and hands out the deck again. She carefully lays a card in front of her, then one in front of Willow, alternating between them one by one. For someone who seemed to know how to shuffle cards well, it was a rather interesting choice of method to deal them.

As she watches, Elizabeth absentmindedly begins massaging at her wrists again, trying to relieve the tingling in her fingertips. She hardly took notice of it, but some part of her must have as she often caught herself doing it.

When Willow stabs a blueberry from her bowl, holding it in the air for dramatic effect, Elizabeth quickly stops

"I think my cancer just went from stage three to four.”

Mia raises her eyes disapprovingly.

Elizabeth just laughs.

***

She has to leave not long after, as much as she didn’t want to.

Willow had quickly collected 7 suits and threw her cards down, looking extremely satisfied with herself when the deck emptied. Elizabeth found herself smiling as Mia won Willow the next round; in setting the new world record for ‘fastest to lose a game of Go Fish.’

Elizabeth found herself feeling a little less bogged down than she had been this morning as she watched. After the restless night she had, she was glad she found the time to stop by.

It was nice to see Willow smile. She didn’t think it was possible to see her let loose and relax, but Mia seemed to have this ability to pull something out of Willow she didn’t think was there.

Having support from friends or family members was critical to a patient’s care. It was difficult enough to face a cancer diagnosis, much less a recurrence, and without a good support system it was hard for patients to find the strength they needed to keep fighting. Chemotherapy was brutal, but it seemed like Willow had found a reason to stay.

A small part of Elizabeth felt guilty for not being the one there playing cards with her or bringing her food at her infusions, but the most important thing was that there was someone who was. It was clear that Mia and Willow had bonded, and she was glad that Willow had someone looking out for her.

“What is this, your third one today?” Ben asks, gesturing to her cup. It pulls her out of her thoughts.

“My fourth, actually.” Elizabeth answers, her shoulders rolled back proudly. After completing a two hour bilateral thyroidectomy, she deserved a coffee. Her forearms ached from gripping her scalpel, fingertips numb to the heat she knew was supposed to press through the thin walls of her paper cup.

Ben shakes his head at her as they step outside, drinks in hand. He had given up a long time ago trying to get her to cut down on her caffeine consumption.

“Soooo...” He drags his hand out, smirking, “How was your date?”

Elizabeth’s brows shoot up in mock offense, “Oh, so you are interested in personal matters when we’re at work, just when they’re not yours.”

“Well, technically we’re not working right now.” Ben taps his cup.

“Smartass.”

He just smiles.

She takes a sip of her macchiato, cringing as a thick layer of fluff immediately hits her tongue. They dissolve quickly but she has to swallow twice to get the texture out of her mouth. “It was okay. Better than the last one.” Elizabeth signs one handedly. She has another mouthful, the sooner she got over and done with the foam — too much for her liking — and to the actual coffee the better.

Ben narrows his eyes, “That doesn’t say a lot considering he sold taxidermied rats on the internet as a job.”

Elizabeth almost spits out her drink.

“Careful,” He grins, “He might get you next.”

She barely manages to swallow it down, forcing herself to hold back her cough before she aspirates her coffee and risks getting acknowledges and sold off to the highest bidder.

“Please.” Elizabeth chokes out, hands shaking when she finally coughs, “Never say that again.” She cringes, trying to rid the image of that creepy stuffed skunk from her mind. She couldn’t quite believe her eyes when her date pulled out his phone and started proudly swiping through photos of the dozens of rodents he had delicately groomed and posed into strange scenes, the one in particular she couldn’t forget depicted a two rats kissing in clothes that looked like they had come right out of The Crown.

“I’ll think about it.. ” She can already sense the ‘but’ coming. “ If you tell me more. ”

Elizabeth presses her lips together.

The familiar pressure of the wind in her ears and the cool breeze that brushes through her hair is a welcome change from the stuffiness of the mask she’d been wearing for the past few hours.

As much as she loved being in the OR, it could be exhausting at times. The bright lights, the lipreading, her hands, multitasking as she tried to concentrate on the surgery at hand all while trying to communicate with her colleagues through an interpreter was difficult on days like today. It’s a relief to be able to just be in her world for once, even if Ben was trying to butt into her business.

“She was nice.” She finally tells him, “But it was hard to connect with her. You know what it’s like. Hearing people. It’s different for them. ”

“Sorry it didn’t go as well as you hoped.” He offers.

Even though he was hearing, Ben was a CODA - a Child Of Deaf Adults - and he knew how it felt. He understood what it was like to be born into a family of people who weren't like him, to grow up surrounded by people who lived in a different world, always dipping your toes in the waters but never being able to truly be a part of it, and never being apart of the world you were 'supposed' to be apart of either.

He had grown up interpreting for his sister, while Elizabeth had always been the one needing interpreting. Like many other CODAs, he naturally fell into interpreting as a job. It was interesting how they both seemed to gravitate to the world they weren’t apart of. Elizabeth had always wanted to pave her path in the world, a hearing one, while Ben had completely immersed himself in a deaf one.

Still, neither of them felt like they had ever belonged wherever they went, and in that, Elizabeth found herself feeling most at home with him of anyone. Despite their differences, they understood each other better than most.

Over the five years since they had met, he had begun to tow the line between coworker and friend. Throughout her entire life, Elizabeth had never had an interpreter who had stayed with her for more than a few years, but Ben had rearranged his entire life, moved across states just to keep working with her. In all of it, he was the one person, the only thing that stayed constant, and Elizabeth was grateful for that.

“Maybe the next one will be better?” Ben says hopefully.

Elizabeth gives him a smile, admiring his ever optimistic outlook. But, she wasn't so sure if there would be a next one.

As they make their way towards an empty table, Elizabeth notices something amiss. A few down from where they’ve stopped, a girl is sitting alone. She doesn’t look like she’s past the eighth grade, black hoodie is pulled over her head, neck pressed up against the wired metal head of the chair. She’s slouched uncomfortably, her bottom nearly off the seat as she wrestles a video game console.

Ben must have spotted her too, shooting a look of concern at Elizabeth. He doesn’t need to say anything for her to know he was thinking the same thing. They quickly walk over, stopping on the other side of the table.

“Hi.” She attempts.

The girl doesn’t respond. Her lip twitches as she bites down in determination, completely focused on her screen. Her thumbs move wildly at the joysticks, the console wobbling in her hands from the force. Multicolored lights flicker and flash in her eyes, some sort of fight scene happening on the device.

Elizabeth raps her knuckles on the table and the girl finally looks up. Before she can move again, the girl snaps back down at her screen and curses under her breath. She says something when her eyes land back on Elizabeth’s, half mumbling something she can’t read. Luckily, Ben is standing behind the girl, interpreting.

“I’m sorry I distracted you from your game.” Elizabeth signs, “Are you okay? You shouldn’t be out here alone. It’s dangerous.”

“I’m fine, I can take care of myself.” She says. Elizabeth cocks a brow at her. She isn’t so sure about that. “There’s a bunch of people out here, it’s not like anyone’s going to kidnap me. If they do, I’ll just scream.”

“Where are your parents?”

The girl’s shoulders slouch in a sigh as she tucks her chin to her chest, pulling her screen up to her face again. “Somewhere with my sister as usual. They probably didn’t even notice I was gone.”

Elizabeth’s brows furrow, “I’m sure they did. They must be very worried. Do they know where you are?”

“Nope.” Ben swiftly taps his fingers onto his thumb, the ‘p’ coming from the girl’s lips.

“Can we bring you back inside?”

The girl just keeps playing her game. Elizabeth isn’t sure if she’s deliberately ignoring her or just focused.

“Where’s your sister?” She tries again.

The answer Elizabeth gets is the last thing she expects. “In the psych ward.”

***

“Her name is Alice Wu, her sister’s been in and out of inpatient for the past two years for an eating disorder. Their parents are busy, her mom’s a social worker and her dad’s a professor at NYU, but they always find the time to visit.” Iggy explains as he plops down in his chair, setting a yellow file on his desk.

“And Alice?” Elizabeth asks.

“She must have slipped out.” He shrugs his hands, “With Veronica’s budget cuts, we’re all working on half pay. You know how it’s been.”

“Slipped out?” Anger rises in her chest, hands launching into rapid sign, “She was sitting outside alone and her parents didn’t notice she was missing, your staff didn’t even notice she was missing! ”

“Hey, that is not on me! That—“ Ben interprets sharply, hands wide and loud. Iggy stops himself, his eyes shutting in a breath. He places his hands flat on his table, trying to calm himself. His lips are smaller when he begins again, “Elizabeth, what happened with Adam? That is not what’s happening here.”

She stares at him for a moment. He’s sitting in the same place he was that day and Elizabeth had gotten angry at him again, just like she did then.

Elizabeth lets out a breath through her mouth, feeling the anger settle in her chest as shame washes over her. She feels the sting of tears pricking at her eyes as she exhales. He was right. This wasn’t the same, and this wasn’t his fault.

“I’m sorry.” She signs, “I shouldn’t have gotten upset at you.”

“Hey.” Iggy stands up, stepping out from behind his desk. He places a hand on her arm. “We’ll figure this out, okay? I’ll talk to Alice, and her parents, make sure she’s okay.”

Elizabeth nods.

***

She found herself needing Ben to repeat himself multiple times throughout her next appointment, her thoughts elsewhere. Her mind paced Iggy’s small office, guilt bubbling up in her chest as she found herself thinking back to the room down the hall and the seats outside of Pan De Vie even as she stood halfway across the hospital.

Ben stays quiet, knowing not to pry. He just sets down his papers, hops up from his seat when Elizabeth says she wants to go back and see what happened with Alice. He follows her wordlessly on the walk and elevator ride over.

When they turn the corner into the Psychiatry Department, Elizabeth spots Alice. This time, she’s sitting on one of the colorful plastic chairs, still slouched over, a black mass in the array of pastel rainbows that line the hallway. Iggy is nowhere to be seen.

She sees Gladys at the reception just to her right, her tiny reading glasses perched precariously on the bridge of her nose as she’s hunched over in her desk chair, flipping through a file. There was a stack of similairly coloured ones discarded on the desk beside her, sticky tabs of pink, blues and greens poking out of the tops. Half of her wirey orange hair is pulled up in a messy ponytail, the wrinkles in her aging face seeming somehow deeper than they were the week before as she frowns down at her work.

Elizabeth taps the counter for her attention and Gladys sets down her papers, “Dr Wilder, what can I do for you?”

“Where’s Iggy? I thought he was supposed to be talking to Alice.”

“Lauren needed him, it sounded like an emergency. He said he’d come back to speak with her later.”

“And no one’s watching her?”

Gladys shakes her head, “Sorry Dr Wilder. Veronica wants the budget in by tonight. I would keep her company but—“

Elizabeth puts out a hand to stop her. “It’s fine.” She says out loud. “Thanks.”

Gladys gives her a nod before going back to her work.

When she turns to look at Alice again, her heart aches. She looks so comfortable alone, slouched in a hospital chair like it was a couch at home, so familiar with this place that no child should ever be that she seemed completely at ease.

It reminds her of peering into the bedroom down the hall, a lanky figure sitting in the dark, a guitar gifted two birthdays ago on his lap he had finally grown into. The way she stared, wishing she could sit by his side and watch him play, unable to recall the last time she had. She loved to watch his fingers pluck at the strings, how they'd buzz, a different strength with every new note. It felt like a lifetime since they’d talked, really talked. Most days, he’d come home from school and go straight to his room. Even though dinners were always silent growing up, her world felt so much quieter without him there, joking and laughing in the way his cheeks would crease or sitting out in the dining room where she’d tousle his hair when she walked past.

Elizabeth tries to push the image out of her mind. She wishes she could just pack it all up into a box, mail back to her childhood home where they should have stayed, but looking at Alice now, memories she'd just finally managed to put away resurface with no regard to the present.

Squaring her shoulders, she walks up and stops just in front of Alice.

“Hi.” Elizabeth attempts out loud.

Alice’s eyes flicker up, her gaze just as vacant as it was before, though she doesn’t seem annoyed this time.

Gesturing beside her, Elizabeth signs, “Can I sit with you?”

“Go ahead.”

Elizabeth takes a seat beside her. “What are you playing?” She asks.

“Animal Crossing.”

At the familiar name, a smile pulls at Elizabeth’s face.“My brother loves that game.”

“Seriously?” Alice gives her a once over, “Aren’t you like.. Thirty?”

“Thirty five.” She corrects, laughing. “I’ll have you know that adults can play video games too.”

Alice narrows her eyes at her, unconvinced.

“During the pandemic, I was always at the hospital. My brother would be alone at home, bored. So, what did he do?” Elizabeth asks rhetorically, and Alice’s brows pique with curiosity, “He played for hours. Making little houses, collecting villagers, and every night when I came home, he would plug his console into the TV and show me everything he did while I was gone.”

A smile cracks Alice’s stoic exterior, “Your brother sounds cool.”

“He is.”

Alice pauses, staring at her screen thoughtfully before she looks up. “Do you want to see my island?”

Elizabeth nods before Ben can even finish interpreting, a hum escaping her throat in the excitement.

Alice shuffles over to the edge of her seat, stretching her console out between them. Her character, shoulder length black hair and hoodie to match her own, runs across the screen. Elizabeth watches Ben interpret between stolen glances at the game, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips as Alice shows her the insects in her museum, lamenting that she was only missing a few more to complete her collection.

“Your brother is lucky to have you.” Alice suddenly says. It makes Elizabeth’s breath pause. “My sister is never around. She used to have time for me, but now, we’re always here at the hospital.” Her avatar continues to walk around her island, chopping down trees as she explains, “Even when she’s home, everything’s always about her. What we do, what we eat, where I go, the movies we watch…. I know she’s not doing well and they need to take care of her but—“

Alice’s character skids to a halt.

“Sometimes it feels like I’m invisible.” Her lips are small in a whisper like she was afraid to have even said it out loud. She doesn’t dare to raise her eyes from the screen. “They only care when something bad happens to me.”

Ben’s always light expression fades as his hands come to a stop in grim realization of the words he just signed. That was why she was out there alone.

“I’m sorry, Alice.” Elizabeth says. “I know that situations like these can be challenging. Having a family member who is sick isn’t easy… But I see you. And you are not invisible.” Her voice presses from her throat in insistence, “You’re not. Your sister might need more support, but it doesn’t mean you don’t need that same support too.”

Alice’s throat rises and drops as she swallows harshly, dark eyes shaky as she stares back.

“I hope your family remembers that.” Elizabeth signs, and she means it, more than Alice could ever know. When her hands fall to her lap, no one moves for a moment. Then, in the stillness, Alice finally responds.

“Me too.”

Elizabeth offers her a smile, but before she can say anything else, she feels a buzz against her thigh. Pulling out her pager, she quickly glances at the screen.

“Do you have to go?” Alice looks up at her, brows furrowed. She almost looks disappointed.

“I’m sorry, I wish I could stay.”

She shakes her head, “It’s okay. I know you’re busy being a doctor or whatever.”

Elizabeth frowns a little, realizing what she’s saying. Everyone was always too busy for her.

“Thanks for talking to me.”

She gives her a small smile.

***

Elizabeth hits the backspace button twice, deleting her error. She pauses, stretching her hands. The tiredness beginning to seep through her coffee driven buzz reminds her to grab another sip before turning back to her computer.

The keys feel fuzzy and strange under her fingers as they move quickly across the keyboard, eyes fixed on her screen. Like most nights, she was seated at her desk while Ben was sat at the circular table ahead of her, engrossed in the newspaper. She wasn’t quite sure why he enjoyed reading them so much, but his reading glasses were perched on his nose bridge as he peered down, one leg was tossed over the other, slumped in his seat as he lazily flipped through this week’s articles.

The two of them had been stuck in the OR for the past three hours. Elizabeth had been paged to consult on a patient who had been brought into the hospital over the weekend, presenting with bleeding from her breast. The 62-year-old patient had left a cancerous tumor unattended for a year post diagnosis, resulting in a drastic growth since. The tumor had breached the skin and a clot was removed from the site, but they were unable to control the hemorrhaging in the ICU. Her resulting anemia ended in her needing an emergency surgery to remove the mass and better control the bleeding. Trying to resect the mass was difficult as it had grown so tangled into the breast tissue and even into her aging skin.

It was a rather unusual case, it wasn’t common in her field for patients to need surgeries right then and there. Then again, it wasn’t common in her field for people to be aware of and leave their cancers untreated.

Elizabeth makes it halfway through typing out the case report she notices a figure stopping at the door of her office.

She looks up.

“Hey.” Iggy says, the word clear on his lips. Ben abandons his newspapers, jumping up to Iggy's side to begin interpreting. “You look kinda busy,” He points out at the hallway, “should I come back later?”

“No.” Elizabeth shakes her head, quickly clicking out of her word document and pushing her keyboard away. “Did you get to speak to Alice?” She signs.

“Yeah, yeah, I did.” He pauses and it seems like there’s more he needs to say. Elizabeth presses her brows at him, urging him to continue. “I think there’s something you should see.”

She blinks, quickly standing up.

The walk to the Psychiatric Department is quiet, neither of them saying a word. Ben falls into step behind them. Despite the gentle expression on Iggy’s face, Elizabeth can’t help but worry. The lack of information from him makes her wonder if this can possibly be good. As they make their way out of the elevator and into the ward, she absentmindedly massages the centers of her wrists. It did little to soothe the numbness and buzzing anymore, and what little ache it relieved was almost nothing, but over time it had developed into a nervous habit.

From the corner of her eye, she sees Ben give her a sideways glance. Elizabeth stops herself, planting her hands firmly by her side.

It had gotten worse in the past few weeks. It was only a matter of time before Ben asked her about it again, and someone drawing more of her attention to her hands were the last thing she wanted.

They stop outside of a room and Elizabeth is about o ask why they’re here when she notices the family through the window.

Alice was sitting beside a taller girl, squished together on the hospital bed. She didn’t look much older than her, sharing the same dark hair and eyes. They both held controllers in their hands, one blue and one green. The table was pulled over them, the console propped up in the center on a kickstand, turned just slightly to face them.

An older man sat to their left, a controller that matched theirs in his hands. His eyes were narrowed as he tried to stare at the screen from further away, leaning in as close as he could, nose scrunched in determination as he swayed his whole body with a turn.

A moment later, Alice throws her hands up in victory as an older woman steps into view, telling her something. Their father’s lips pull back in a laugh, shaking his head. The only thing Elizabeth can read from here is, “Too old… This.” Her sister smirks from beside her, mouth moving. Alice snaps around, hitting her on the shoulder, head pulled back in mock-offense.

Elizabeth turns to Iggy. His stance is wide, hands tucked proudly into his arms as he watches on. “What did you do?” She asks.

“I spoke to her parents.” He explains, “They’re going to try to be there for her more, spend more time with her. They’ll come once a week for therapy, all of them. As a family.” Iggy pauses, finally looking at her. He presses his lips in a small smile. “She’s gonna be okay.”

Elizabeth turns back. The look on Alice’s face is so carefree and young, all glimpse of the quiet, distant girl suddenly gone when she’s surrounded by her mom and dad and sister. She’s pointing at the screen, her eyes bright with interest as her sister watches, nodding along.

They saw her.

And she was going to be okay.

***

The wooden floors are hard under Elizabeth’s heels as she steps into her apartment. Shutting the door behind her, she slides the chain lock into place, then twists the deadbolt until it clicks.

Elizabeth bends down to unzip her boots, trying to find the tiny metal zippers under her numb fingertips, managing them down just enough to slip her feet out. Pulling her coat off her shoulders, she drapes it over the hanger pinned to the wall beside her door, empty except for a purse she kept on display, much too small to be practical.

Her feet pad through the small hallway and into the living room where a pillowy orange couch sits, framed by the painting behind it with its splashes of oranges, blues and black swirling on the canvas. The cold hardwood floor turns to plush carpet, one she had laid out on the floor for comfort. Hung on every wall surrounding her are picture frames, photographs of nature proudly displayed alongside the cliche photo of the Hudson River and the New York City skyline behind it, one Ben had given her as a housewarming gift. Elizabeth had thought it was silly when she unwrapped it, but she'd hung it on the wall and hadn't moved it since.

Elizabeth loved this apartment when she found it. It was perfect, with its doorways and high walls, large empty rooms she envisioned she could fill with new memories. It was just a fifteen minute walk from the hospital, more than comfortable for two. Now, the walls loom over her, and though the floors are decorated with soft rugs and the walls line with shelves and cabinets, full of treasured belongings; it feels too big, too empty.

She walks past the cabinet where an unhung painting leant against the wall, the rest of its small top occupied by a plastic house plant that's sheen was obviously fake, the glass jars of tiny stones and seaglass she had picked with her brother a windy afternoon at Chesapeake Bay.

Elizabeth steps around the shelf in the corner of the room, a path she hadn’t taken in weeks. Tucked away from view, a large wooden door stares back at her. When she pushes it open, the hinges jolt in a way she knows would creak and she nearly pauses out of reflex, but the room that greets her is empty.

A queen bed sits in the center, stripped bare. There’s no grey sheets, no flattened pillows sprawled out on the bed or the stack of blankets that used to sit at its feet. Against the dark wood of the squared frame, the bare mattress and its jagged patterns look anything but welcoming. Barely lit by the living room, two bedside tables stood on either side, the only other thing left behind.

She squeezes through the doorway, a replication of when she would come home too late from work. The air inside is thick and cold with ghosts, still lingering long after their welcome.

Elizabeth takes a seat, feeling the mattress sink under her weight the way it had a million times before. It's the same spot she’d sit after long days, talking and laughing until her problems melted away.

This time, no one is beside her.

She stares into the darkness, her shoulders rising in a deep breath and falling limp in the heavy exhale that follows. Elizabeth rubs at her wrists, trying to soothe an invisible ache as the emptiness stares back, unmoving to break the gaze, watching the specks of dust swirling in the moonlight that peaks through the curtains.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a photo frame, the metal tacks on its cork back twinkling in the dim light. An ache grips at her chest. She leans down, fishing it out of the narrow space where it had fallen between the bedside table and the wall, forgotten.

When she pulls it into her lap and flips it over, her younger self beams back at her, cheek dimpled. Dirty blonde hair came down to her chin, falling in gentle curls. Her chubby arms were flung around her big brother’s shoulders, little fingers clinging to Adam’s shoulders. It was a team effort, his forearms wrapped under her legs, holding her steady on his back. His head was tilted back to look at her, teeth on display and eyes crinkled in a smile as if their parents had said something ridiculous and he had been caught mid-laugh.

They were stood in front of a sparkling pine tree — a real one, her parents always insisted on — a rainbow of festive tinsel wrapped around the branches, the angel he always let her put up clumsily flopped to one side at its very top. Adam came up to nearly two thieds of the tree’s full height. He had taken after their father, and despite only being two years older, was much taller than Elizabeth.

In the bottom right corner, the numbers ‘ 12 25 ‘92 ’ are printed on the film.

The year before everything changed.

Elizabeth brushes her thumb over the glass, dust collecting thick under her touch.

The ache deepens in her chest as studies the photo, wondering how it had been left behind, how she could have forgotten such a happy memory.

She tries to imagine Adam picking her up, laughing as she giggles and they wobble, trying to set the tree topper where it belonged, but the room she places them in is blurry and the picture in her mind is fleeting, disappearing before she can reach out and grasp it.

Elizabeth recognizes the walls surrounding their younger selves more from childhood photos than her own memories.

There is little she remembers of that house in Wyoming, one her father told her he had grown up in. The girl in the stories her parents would tell her about as they flipped through their family albums feels more like a stranger. Images of her feeding the goats out of her mother’s arms, ones she said bellowed and made such strange noises Elizabeth and Adam would laugh until they were in near tears, the infant who would startle from her sleep every morning when their chickens would cry out from the hen house at sunrise, the little kid grinning in a bathing suit and pink sunglasses posed with her brother as the bright blue skies sparkled with water sprinkled from a hose.

What Elizabeth does remember flashes of conversations she could no longer make sense of, words pointed at with whiteboards markers she could never seem to pronounce right no matter how hard she tried to mimic the shapes of her teacher’s lips. It’s the hazy watercolor whales and bubbles that would swim across the painted blue walls of a doctor's office, the growing quiet that never left.

She wonders if Adam missed the crackling of the fireplace that painted them in soft yellows, if maybe he remembered the bleating goats and the whistling pine trees their parents spoke about and if he knew them fondly in all the ways she didn’t. She yearns to know if the ugly blue wallpaper surrounding them, the sound its peeling edges would've made, if it was her doing and if her stubby fingers had reached out to pick at them when she crawled on the floors. Elizabeth wants know what memories they might have made sitting in that mousy armchair behind them, inside those four walls.

The angel on the tree had followed them halfway across the country half a year later, and so did the mousy brown armchair, boxed in a moving van and away from the place Adam called home.

It was always about her, always about what she needed, what was best for her.

He could have resented her for it, but he never did.

She tried so hard to make it right, to make it up to him. She owed him that.

Elizabeth swallows.

She doesn’t remember when the silence had ever been so loud.

Notes:

Looks like we’re getting to see a bit more of our characters personal lives…
For any readers who haven’t seen the show, the only thing I can tell you is there’s a lot more that drives Elizabeth’s guilt than the reason presented in this chapter. You’ll have to wait to find out!
Trying to figure out the timeline for these past two chapters was an absolute pain, but SO worth it. This one was definitely hard to write, but I think it turned out pretty okay all things considered. Would love to hear any feedback in the comments as this is one of the first cases I wrote for this fic, any suggestions would be lovely.
NEXT UP, Mia is asked to help fix a cursed room and makes an unexpected development with a member of the resistance. Her loyalty is tested when she's forced to make a choice.

Chapter 5: "Playing Cards"

Summary:

Mia is asked to fix a cursed room and makes an unexpected development with a member of the resistance. Her loyalty is tested when she's forced to make a choice.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

This was not what Mia had in mind by a while.

It had been a month since she moved to New Amsterdam and Lauren Bloom still hated her guts.

“She'll warm up to you.” Iggy waves his hot chocolate in his hand, “Lauren's just... A little slow to come around, that's all.”

Mia narrows her eyes skeptically.

“She will!” He insists, “Hey, who’s the one here who’s been friends with her for years?” Iggy points at himself, “This guy. Trust me, she’s not as tough as she makes herself out to be.”

"I really hope so, I don't think I'm going to survive another resistance meeting where she's just glaring at me for an entire hour."

"Come on, it's not that bad." Mia gives him a look. "Okay, maybe it is that bad but hey! I’ll cross all my fingers for you?" He waves his hand infront of Mia and she laughs.

When Mia first got here, she didn't expect anything from anyone. Well, she did, but it tended towards the negative. Not once did Mia ever think the others would even give her a chance, but they did.

Everyone except for Lauren.

Mia has no idea why she seems to hate her guts.

This morning, she refused to hold the door of the elevator for her even though it would've only taken a second of her time. She spent their resistance meetings scowling at her and making snide remarks, or better yet, not even acknowledging her when she spoke and seemed even more pissed than usual last night when she saw her and Floyd walking into the morgue together.

She'd bumped into him on the way down to the basement. He seemed better than when they’d spoken the other day and thanked her for her help. Mia was glad. She ended up offering that he’d know where to find her if he ever wanted to talk, and Floyd looked a little taken aback at first before he explained why he wasn’t doing so well when they bumped into eachother at Pan De Vie. He had gotten into a complicated situation in his personal life, in his own words, and he wasn’t too sure what to do about it.

Mia wasn’t sure what advice she could give with so little information, but she wouldn’t pry if he wasn’t willing to share more. Instead, she told him to take care of himself, and that in time, he would know, and everything would fall into place. The universe had its way of making sure things happened exactly the way they needed to. And, meditation always helped her to clear her mind and find clarity when she was overwhelmed by life. Her patient base had grown in the last few weeks, but she wasn’t completely swamped by any means, so, if he ever wanted to, he could drop by any time and she would be happy to guide him through a session.

He gave her a grateful smile right before they walked into the morgue, and of course, right when it felt like she was really getting everyone on her side, Lauren had to remind her she wasn’t.

Mia can almost hear her scoffing and saying something along the lines of, ‘You really thought you could do this? Dream on.’

Honestly, she wouldn’t be surprised if Lauren somehow knew how she felt and was being even more… Lauren to throw her off her game.

Out of the five resistance meetings Mia had been to, Agnes had only been present at two, but even she seemed to have warmed up to her more than Lauren and Lauren was the first person she ever worked with here.

“You know, one year she bought me a Christmas present.” Iggy pauses to take a sip of his drink, pumpkin spice latte (the smell is almost nauseating.) “Even though she’s Jewish.” He adds.

“Really?” Mia can’t see Lauren buying anyone a gift, much less getting involved in holiday festivities. Honestly, she seemed like kind of a grinch. Mia can totally imagine her stealing presents from children and living alone in a desolate mountain cave. Although, Mia couldn’t say much about the holiday season. She had spent last Christmas alone… And the Christmas before that, and the one before that one too.

“Yeah, well, it was for a hospital Secret Santa way back and it was this mug that said World’s Best Grandpa on it?” He trails off, “Actually, you know what, I think I might still have it somewhere in my office…”

Mia sighs, feeling more drained after talking about her predicament. She changes the conversation before all the negativity can zap her of any more energy. “How is Sameera doing?”

“Finally got over that stomach bug and still wants to become a horticulturist.” He shakes his head, then his eyes suddenly light up, “Oh! I forgot to show you...” Iggy pulls out his phone, holding it up to her. “Look, isn't she adorable?”

A young girl smiles up at the camera with a large bunch of weeds in her hand. Her lion's mane of curly brown hair was pulled back haphazardly, plopped on the top of her head in a makeshift bun. The gloves on her hands were far too big for her and covered in dirt, a little spot of mud on her nose too.

It was sweet how much Iggy loved his kids. It made her feel better despite the not-so-amazing start to her day.

“She has a beautiful smile.” Mia says.

“Doesn't she?” Iggy's eyes glisten with pride. He pockets his phone, letting out a huff. “I just can't believe she's almost twelve. It feels like yesterday I saw her for the first time. She was so tiny then...”

“My patients always say that they grow up too fast.”

“They do! Next thing I know I’ll blink and she’s getting married, or not, if she doesn’t want to.”

Theres a secondary pause in the conversation as Mia bites her lip, trying to come up with something to say next, finally deciding to ask; “Do you have anything planned for her birthday?”

“She's having a party with her friends at the Bronx. Bunnies, angry goats stealing all of your food and a bunch of seventh graders, what could possibly go wrong?”

Mia laughs. She can already imagine. "It sounds like a nice way to celebrate.”

“Yeah, well, for the kids, yeah. But the adults? Not so much.”

It sounded like he was speaking from experience.

“Well, I think she’s lucky to have such wonderful parents like you and Martin.” Mia says sincerely.

Iggy shakes his head, only further proving her point. “We're the lucky ones. You know, the other week, she was still taking care of the others even though they were all–- Shoot.” He whips around to the hallway they just passed, gesturing at it with his drink. “That's me. Catch you tonight?”

Mia nods, giving him a wave. She watches him leave before setting back off toward her office.

It was easy to fall into a routine over the past few weeks. She’d wake up every morning, make herself a smoothie bowl (always frozen mixed berries, collagen, yogurt and then fresh berries and chia to top), take a shower after her morning meditation and 15-minute yoga and walk to work. On Mondays, she’d have acupressure sessions with Willow at 3:00, then she’d join her on Wednesdays for her infusions at 2:30, and when she had some free time on Friday, she’d pop by to visit aswell. On Tuesday and Friday nights, she’d meet with the resistance at 7:00, spend an hour or so sharing hard cases, talking about their patients, but mostly complaining about Veronica, really.

There were moments when Elizabeth would crack a joke and Iggy would start laughing or Floyd would say something and everyone would stare at him in silence, and she’d even seen Lauren actually smile and not sardonically once — moments when it almost felt like they were all friends; instead of a group of ragtag doctors who just happened to care enough to break every rule in the book to help the people who needed it most.

But Mia wasn’t so sure about how things would go tonight. Fear stirs in the pit of her stomach at the thought and she recognizes the bundle of anxiety threatening to form again. The reality of it all, the danger of the resistance, suddenly feels all too real, too close and all looming tall and dark.

She takes a steadying breath, closing her eyes for a moment. She envisions herself breathing out her worries, breathing in light and warmth, positive energy. It was something to worry about later. There was no use in panicking now, she had already made her decision, and she couldn’t take it back now.

Mia takes a sip of her chai, hoping to find some comfort in it. She didn't often stop by Pan De Vie for lunch, only once since that time she’d broken her kettle when she had somehow forgotten her vinaigrette. Mia always made her own food, but as much as she adored her home-brewed lavender and chamomile, there was something about a cup of warm, spiced milk tea that kept her going back for more as the weather turned colder – even with the exorbitant price tag.

She looks up at the clock when she enters her office, quickly picking up the lunch bag from her table when she sees the time. Mia shuts the door behind her.

***

“I think I’ll die of ginger poisoning before cancer can kill me.”

“That is not a thing, and you know, you don't have to drink it if you don't want to.” She says, “But it helps, doesn’t it?”

Willow closes her mouth and Mia laughs as she takes another sip. Willow's eyes flicker up to look at something past her. “Save me.” She mumbles over the lip of her cup.

“Should I be concerned about what you’re doing to my patient, Dr Castries?”

Mia looks up, immediately lighting up at the new presence in the room. One of Elizabeth’s brows is quirked at her in that only-Wilder way that Mia had come to enjoy. It was usually accompanied by a smart comment, a question, or something thoughtful but still self assured. She was always so confident in everything she did and it never seemed false or disingenuous in a way that, quite frankly, Mia was always a little worried she came off. She was sure people would notice how much effort it took for her, how often she had to pause and remind herself to smile and or think of what to say. But Elizabeth always seemed like she floated through the world, that it was right where it belonged.

It is hard not to notice the shirt Elizabeth is wearing today. Her navy blue top brings out the warmth in her golden-yellow aura like bold, with a V-neckline that dipped past her collarbones, a stark contrast to her usual circular collars that came right up to her neck. It suited her, and it made Mia wish she wore the color more often.

Right as Elizabeth and Ben come to a stop on the other side of the table, Ben puts up his hand in a little wave, giving her one of his ever joyful smiles.

The two of them had dropped by a few days ago but couldn’t stay. Mia didn't think they'd be back so soon considering how busy they always seemed to be, but the mischevious smile playing on Elizabeth's face right now makes her think that maybe she just couldn't wait to come back to see her lose (spectacularly) to Willow again.

“Our patient." Mia corrects, "And no, you shouldn’t be, she just doesn't want to drink her tea anymore.” She gives Willow a pointed look.

Elizabeth's brows press together in confusion, fingerspelling, “Tea?”

Mia leans over and grabs her Thermos from the table, unscrewing the inner lid. It takes a bit of effort before it opens with a squeak and she hands the bottle over to Elizabeth who raises it to her nose, sniffing carefully.

“It's lemon, honey and ginger.” Mia explains, unable to hold back her smile as she explains, “The ginger helps with nausea while the lemon contains vitamin C and antioxidants to boost your immune system. The honey is from New Zealand. It’s from the Manuka plant that's native to their country. It has antibacterial and anti-inflammatory properties that help to improve digestion.”

Elizabeth blinks, pulling it away from her face. Mia watches her intently as she signs, “That smells amazing.” one handedly, eyes big in wonder. She feels a little rush of pride as she recognizes the signs, understanding what Elizabeth is saying before Ben even interprets it.

“It's not.” Willow answers flatly.

“I have an extra cup if you want to try?” Mia asks.

When Elizabeth nods, she quickly pours her a cup, one of the thin, constantly crinkling plastic ones she'd stolen a stack of from the water machine across the room.

Elizabeth takes it, raising it to her mouth. She pauses before she takes a sip, pointing at Willow, “Do you still have a deck of cards?”

“Yeah, always.” Willow answers, “Why? Does Dr Wilder finally have the time for a game?”

A playful glint sparkles in Elizabeth’s eyes. She smiles smugly, “Only if you're up for the challenge.”

“Oh, you’re on.” Willow leans down to ruffle through her tote bag, quickly emerging with her deck. The edges of the red box that held them were turning white with wear, the paper fraying at the seams. At the end of every session, Willow would carefully place the cards back in fractions of the set, careful and deliberate in her movements. It was clear that it meant a great deal to her. For what reason, though, Mia didn’t want to pry.

Elizabeth finger spells something and Mia can’t for the life of her figure out what word ‘CHRE’ was supposed to be, half wondering if she had read her signing wrong.

The way Elizabeth and Ben finger spelt was similar to her Deaf instructor, each letter blending into one another fluidly as if the word were one sign. The one thing Mia found difficult in her classes was fingerspelling. Sure it was easier to understand her classmates who separated each letter perfectly and signed so slow her brain had time to catch up, but it was by a barely conceivable margin.

Out loud, it usually took Mia a moment to put a word together when people spelt things to her, or asked her to spell something, and that seemed to apply to ASL too. It had always been like that. Mia never had problems spelling words on paper, but if she had entered a Spelling Bee at any age but her current one, she would’ve come dead — like a buried in the ground a thousand years ago kind of dead — last.

Recently, Mia had started practicing by fingerspelling along as she did her nightly reading, and when Ben’s voice fills in the blanks a second later, she’s glad to know she was on the right track.

“Euchre?” Ben voices for Elizabeth.

Willow looks at her, “Mia, you're with me.”

She accepts her fate, saluting Willow, “Aye aye captain.”

***

“Dude, seriously?”

Elizabeth shrugs nonchalantly.

“Again.” Willow insists.

It was unlikely she and Willow would emerge victorious at this point. Elizabeth and Ben had won two of the three rounds they had played and didn’t show any sign of stopping any time soon, the odds of them winning were slim to none.

Willow pushes her fork into a piece of tofu, pulling it off with her teeth and chewing it slowly. It was nice to see her eating, even if she only ever took a few bites.

Willow had mentioned not having the energy to cook and that it was something that was contributing to her weight loss. Even though she had lost her nausea, her appetite was so little she couldn’t find it in her to use what little energy she had on cooking and would often skip meals.

It was important she was receiving the proper nutrients she needed to continue her treatment, and naturally, Mia undertook the task of making sure of that. She always stopped by the farmers market on weekends to get her food for the week, and buying an extra punnet of blueberries or a bag of greens wasn’t a problem. Whenever Mia cooked, she often ended up with more than she could eat anyway, with the meals she prepped for the week often running into the next. And, a little selfishly, it made Mia happy seeing someone else eating the things she made. As much as she liked cooking, food was something better enjoyed when shared with someone else.

She always let Willow take the remainders home, and when she came the next time, they’d swap boxes. She would take home a few meals for the week, and if Mia was lucky, she would be traded empty ones.

The awkward sound of paper scratching paper and smacking against the table breaks Mia from her thoughts. Elizabeth is shuffling the cards, or at least trying to, pulling half of the deck forward, cutting it in front and repeating, but every few moments a card slips from her grasp and she has to pick it up from the table. Mia watches, surprised at the lack of precision. For a surgeon, she didn’t seem very coordinated.

“Woah, how are you even worse at this than Mia?”

Years of reading tarot cards meant that Mia was slow and deliberate, but like all things in life, taking your time was far better than rushing.

Mia looks up at Willow, “I’m pretty sure last time it was my dealing you were criticizing, not my shuffling.”

“Yeah, you suck at both.” Willow shrugs.

Mia pauses when Elizabeth lets out a chuckle. She often smiled, either in that way where she would so hard her cheek would dimple, or in that soft kind of way where her eyes sparkled, but she rarely seemed to laugh out loud. She’d make small sounds when she signed, often speaking along quietly in English, or humming for people’s attention or in agreement. But Mia had only ever heard her laugh this way once, the first time they’d met. It was almost as if it was something that only escaped her in the joy of a moment, when she lended herself to the present and forgot about seeming professional or composed. It bubbled out from her throat before it quickly faded back to silence.

Mia’s pager buzzes on her hip, pulling her back into reality. “Sorry. One sec.” She lifts her sweater and pulls it off her waistband, puzzled when she reads the bright green words on the small screen.

“What is it?” Ben asks for Elizabeth.

“It's the ICU.”

“The ICU?” He repeats.

“Yes.” Mia answers, looking up. She scrunches her nose, “I really hate to leave in the middle of a game, but...”

“You should probably go.” Willow says, “Some dying person probably needs you to heal them with your magic crystals or something.”

She glances between Willow and Elizabeth, unsure. There's still another half of Willow's bag left to empty and at least another thirty minutes until it finishes. She’s never left her alone, much less in the middle of a session before.

Her pager vibrates in her hands again, complaining at her to hurry up. She looks at Elizabeth.

"Go." Elizabeth signs. She points to herself before her three middle fingers close into a ‘Y’ handshape, facing down. “I’ll stay.” She signs, and Mia doesn’t need Ben this time to interpret to understand. Then, as if knowing what she had been thinking, Elizabeth gives her a smile - one of the soft ones - and it makes her feel a little better about having to leave. The golden yellow in her aura glows a little brighter.

It wasn't a color Mia often saw, and she realizes now it was what made Elizabeth so special. She had sensed something different about her the moment they met, even though she hadn't placed her finger on it then. There was just this inviting warmth she felt in her presence, this confidence and certainty in herself that pulled you in. Like a sunflower couldn't help but turn to admire the sun, Mia can’t help but stare.

Pulling her eyes away from Elizabeth, Mia clears her throat, the sensation grounding her back in her body. She stands from her seat, stepping out from behind the table before she pauses and turns to Willow. “I’ll see you on Monday?”

“Unfortunately.” Willow says.

Mia shakes her head at her before she gives Elizabeth a smile and ducks out.

New Amsterdam Hospital was much larger than University. It was into two buildings that housed over a dozen different departments. It was a bit of a maze to navigate at first and Mia gotten lost far too many times to count in her first two weeks, having to ask passerbys for help, but now, she was much more accustomed to the hallways that all looked the same and knew how to navigate them.

The morning sun was shining brightly through the walls of the glass walkway, casting long shadows on the grey linoleum through the white beams that supported them. People heading in both directions brushed past Mia as she walked, the traffic in the area busy as ever. It was the only connection between the old and new parts of the hospital, and she would wager that thousands of people passed through this walkway each day. Groups of doctors discuss patients quietly as they walk by, chattering amongst themselves, while lone ones like her were dutifully making their way from one end of the building to the other in silence.

Deciding against the stairs, Mia takes a sharp left to the elevators. It would be a pain to try and scale them in her skirt, she’d already have to make her way down to the morgue later tonight bunching the fabric up in her hands just so she wouldn’t step on it. She usually took the stairs down to their resistance meetings after she had bumped into Veronica in the elevator the other week on the way to lunch. Even though it had happened in another part of the hospital, Mia worried Veronica would have questions if she saw click the button for the basement floor.

The doctors eye her strangely when she steps in, stopping their chatter. Even now it seemed like they weren’t so keen on her presence around here. That was one thing that hadn’t changed.

Mia presses the button to the third floor and an awkward ten seconds later, the doors chime and she squeezes past the others, muttering apologies as she makes her way out.

The moment she pushes the door of the ICU open, she hears an all too familiar voice from inside.

“Seriously, Reynolds? First you’re sticking seeds in your ears and now you won’t let me put a patient in a room because you’re buying into some superstitious crap?”

Of course Lauren was the one who brought her here.

The Intensive Care Unit of New Amsterdam was bright and clean, the large glass panes that made each room created the illusion of more space. Its tiled marble floors and off-white walls, the square reception that sat in the middle looked much like the ICU back at University and it was a very far departure from the appearance of her tiny department — or rather her old, singular and office it comprised of.

Lauren and Floyd are standing diametrically opposed, and the air around them is buzzing with tension as they stare eachother down at the furthest left corner of the reception.

“Look. I can’t risk it—“ Floyd’s hand juts out, “Mister Diaz already had complications with his surgery and if that room has actually got some bad juju, he is not gonna survive me cracking him open again.”

“Well, unless you want Mister Diaz in the hallway with everyone else, you’re just going to have to suck it up and put him there because that’s the only room we have!”

Lauren had been upset about how Veronica had put back the waiting room outside the ED at their meeting the other night - and ranted about it at length - but Mia hadn’t thought it was this bad. Were they really so over capacity that their patients were being treated in the hallways?

Mia sees Lauren open her mouth and she quickly walks over before they can start arguing again, ducking between them. "Hi." She says a little awkwardly, and Lauren’s head snaps around to look at her, “I was paged?”

Floyd turns around, sighing in relief hen he sees her. “Oh thank god you're here.” Mia blinks, confused by his reaction. There was a first time for everything, she supposed. “Can you please tell Dr Bloom that I am not putting my patient in that room?”

Mia looks between the two of them in confusion, “In what room?”

Lauren rolls her eyes, “Dr Reynolds here refuses to put his patient in there –” she jabs a finger at the offending room to the right, the only empty bed among the full ones Mia had passed on the way in, “Because he thinks it’s cursed.”

“That’s because it is!” Floyd groans. He folds his arms with finality. “No one else is putting their patients in that room and neither am I.”

“Am I the only sane person left around here?” Lauren asks through gritted teeth, “Just because a couple people died in that room doesn’t mean it’s cursed. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in a hospital!” She throws her hands up, “People literally die here all the time!”

“You really think Veronica’s going to let me operate on him again if things go south?” Floyd readjusts his stance, the muscles i his shoulders bulging in sheer frustration, “I already had to push to open him up instead of sending him home like she wanted me to.”

“You know what? Fine.” Lauren shoves her hands into her arms, whipping around. “Can you fix this or what?”

“The curse?” Mia blinks dumbly.

“Yes, Dr Castries, the curse.” Lauren’s tone lifts with her brows, “Unless you want to give back the funding you stole from my department for your crystals and hand massages instead?”

Mia forces herself to take a deep breath before she says something she’ll regret. Blowing up at Lauren would only make things worse, but she wasn't making it easy, and it takes every bit of calm from her morning meditation to stay collected. Mia breathes out into a smile. “I can try.”

Lauren turns back to Floyd, “See? Problem solved. Happy?”

“Happy.”

“Great.” Lauren smiles, “Now that that’s sorted, excuse me, I have an actual department to run.”

***

It would’ve been more helpful if someone had told Mia what she was supposed to be doing when they paged her because she has to take a trip down the elevator, across the walkway and all the way back to her office just to collect her things.

Luckily for Lauren, Mia had done a cleansing ritual when she moved into her new office a few weeks ago and still had her equipment. If not, she probably would’ve had to make an impromptu trip home and she wasn’t too sure how she was supposed to justify that to Veronica.

Trying to cleanse a space wasn’t a simple process, especially one as tainted as this. When Mia had made her way back to the ICU and first stepped inside the darkened room, she felt uneasy, a deep sadness stirring in her chest that only grew as approached the hospital bed. There was a lot of grief here, a lot of pain.

Mia took a deep breath and pulled up the blinds so the sunlight could stream in. She pushed the window out as far as she could and drew the curtains, obscuring her from the rest of the ward. She struck a match, holding the flame to the stick of dried sage, waiting for it to light.

As the sage began to burn, plumes of grey smoke swirling through the air, Mia began to draw lines of across each corner and surface, carefully setting her intentions as the aromatic scent surrounded her and the lively bustle of the world outside the walls of the hospital poured in. She closed her eyes, whispering a quiet prayer into the air before she guided as much of the dark smoke from the room out of the open window.

When Mia finally finished, she slid the doors open and stepped out.

Floyd looks up at the sound, standing upright from where he had been leaning against the front desk as if he’d been waiting for her.

“So?” He asks.

“It’s clear.” She says, “For the most part.”

“The curse is gone?”

Mia laughs, “Yes, about that… I don’t actually believe in curses? Not in the traditional sense, anyway.” She tilts her head, “You know, Lauren actually had a really good point when she said that people die here all the time.”

He narrows his eyes, confused.

“Death can leave its mark in a space, on people, and that’s something that doesn’t ever really go away.” She explains, “The grief and heartbreak, it doesn’t exactly create a healing atmosphere, and over time, that kind of negative energy can become overwhelming. It can start to impact the things around it, like your patients.”

Floyd nods, slowly taking it in. “So how’d you get rid of it?”

“In Native American practices, smudging has been used for hundreds of years to cleanse things. You set intentions before you begin, then, you light a stick of sage. The smoke released is thought to contain and carry the negative energy, so by guiding it out, you’re able to clear it. Traditionally, you’d also use an abalone shell to snuff it out, but I lost mine when I moved here.”

“That’s all?” He questions, tone lifting with skepticism, “You just.. Burned some herbs and said some prayers?”

Mia scrunches her nose, “Not exactly.” She takes a breath, trying to explain. “These are ancient practices, and ones that don’t belong to us. It’s really important to understand the origins and cultures behind them so you can be respectful and mindful to them when performing these rituals… And I also placed black tourmaline in the corners to protect against negative energy.”

Floyd’s blinks as he stares back, processing what she’s saying.

“Oh, and the uh, smell might stick around for a while? So I probably wouldn’t place any patients with any sensory sensitivities in there if I were you.”

“Huh.” He smiles, “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Mia returns his expression before turning on her heel. She’s a few steps down, halfway to the door when she hears him call out.

“Hey! Mia.”

She looks back. His shoulders are turned inwards like it was that day outside of Pan De Vie. The sleeves of his doctor’s coat are strained as he pushes his hands into his pockets, pulling taught.

“Thanks for your help. With everything. And… I’m sorry.” He says.

She guesses he’s talking about earlier. Mia offers him a reassuring smile, “It’s okay.”

***

Mia feels stupid for thinking she would get a moment to breathe before Lauren snapped at her, because the second she steps into the Emergency Room, she does.

“What are you doing here?”

“I thought you’d want to know I was able to cleanse the room.” Mia explains, “You can send your patients up there now.”

“Great.” Lauren deadpans. She walks out from behind the counter, moving to one of the bays where a sleeping man is curled up on the bed.

The ED is full of patients, half of the blue curtains drawn and the other half open, giving sight to the nurses and doctors attending to the people in each bay. Amongst the beeping and whirring of the LED lights overhead, someone coughs loudly from halfway across the room and the noise is grating in her ears.

Picking up the chart from the footboard of the bed she’s at, Lauren makes a show of studying it for a moment. She glares up at Mia, “And why are you still here?”

“If you really don’t believe in what I do, why did you ask me to help?” Mia asks.

“Because, unfortunately—“ Lauren shoves past her, stepping back behind the counter, “I needed that room back and some of my colleagues here believe in curses.”

When Mia turns to look at Lauren, not quite believing her reasoning, she slaps the clipboard down.

“Look, Dr Castries, just because I asked for your help today doesn’t mean I believe in any of your crap.” Lauren pops the pen open with her teeth and caps it against the other end, the felt tip scratching near holes into the paper as she scrawled. “I still think you’re a quack, but for some reason, you’ve gotten yourself into everyone else's good books and I trust them, not you.” Lauren looks up, “Don’t get it mixed up.”

Mia looks at her thoughtfully. “You aren’t as bad as you make yourself out to be.”

Lauren’s writing stops for a moment. It continues. “Don’t you have some patients somewhere to stab or something?”

“Yes, it’s called acupuncture.” Mia corrects thoughtfully.

“Mmm-hmm.” Lauren hums absentmindedly, flipping through her chart.

Mia shakes her head. She would let it rest for now. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she quickly checks the time.

Shoot.

She was going to be late.

***

“Oh there's my holistic-wellness chieftess.” Veronica kicks her legs down from her desk, “Please, have a seat.”

Mia quickly shuts the door behind her, “Thank you.” She steps in, and her chest feels ridiculously tight. Only then does she realize she’s been holding her breath half the walk here. This was just to test the waters, to see what she could ask for, whether the others were right, but it felt more like she was diving headfirst into an ocean Mia knew a shark circled. But, if Veronica had a soft spot for her like the resistance believed, this might work, and she might just be able to help.

"So, you saw my request.”

“How could I miss it, being as large and... Inflated as it is?”

Mia takes a seat, “I prefer to think of it as aspirational.”

“Well, wanting a bigger office space certainly qualifies. What's wrong with your current situation?” Veronica walks over, heels clicking against the linoleum, intimidating as ever. She sinks into the chair opposing her.

“'Low ceilings and tiny rooms cramp the soul and the mind.'”

“Dostoevsky.”

Mia blinks. “Yes! Oh my gosh. People usually just think I'm quoting Deepak Chopra.”

Veronica shakes her head, “Not me. That's why I hired you.”

Huh. Maybe she wasn't as bad as Mia had thought either.

“So, you want more space for yoga and meditation, a new ultrasound for physiotherapy and a biofeedback machine?”

Mia nods, sucking gently on her lower lip, a nervous habit she'd always had.

Veronica tilts her head, lips scrunched like she's considering her answer. “That’s a pretty big ask.” Mia watches her carefully, and from the look on her face she thinks she’s about to say no. “But I think I can make that happen.”

Her eyes widen, “Really?”

“Why ask if you didn’t think I could?”

Veronica’s aura was brown, logical, anything but flexible. Quite frankly, Mia didn’t actually think she’d consider it, much less say yes, but pulling the wheel of fortune from her cards the other morning told her to take a chance.

Mia has to remind herself to shut her dropped jaw. “No! I’m— Wow. Wow! That’s great! This is a dream, manifested.”

“Good! Good.” Veronica exclaims, clapping her hands together almost happily as she stands from her chair and sits down beside her. She throws an arm up over the back of the couch and one leg over the other, leaning in. “Now, that’s going to help your patients, but I’m gonna ask you something that’s going to help the whole hospital.”

Mia turns to face her, trying to hold back her smile as she tucks the loose strand of hair that had fallen out back behind her ear. “Yeah! No, anything I can do to help push that rock up the mountain.”

“So, what do you know about the so-called resistance?”

Notes:

So, Mia has made some friends... Or has she?
Fun little bit for the title of this chapter, playing cards can be read in two ways. 1. 'Playing cards' as in the cards used to play games like euchre and 2. 'Playing Cards' as in playing your cards which Mia was trying to do with Veronica. Emphasis on trying.
NEXT UP, Max and Helen return to New Amsterdam and are recruited into the resistance by Elizabeth. Their rogue operation is interrupted by an unexpected visitor.

Chapter 6: "Talkin' Bout A Revolution"

Summary:

Max and Helen return to New Amsterdam and are recruited into the resistance by Elizabeth. Their rogue operation is interrupted by an unexpected visitor.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

It takes everything in Elizabeth to keep her footsteps light as she steps out of the elevator.

Veronica had pulled them out of surgery an hour ago to discuss a ‘few new changes to her department’. She sat behind her desk, resting her chin on her hands innocently like she hadn’t spent the last month fucking terrorizing the entire hospital.

Elizabeth barely held her anger in as she stood there, trying to hold back the sneer threatening to show on her face, asking questions as nicely as she could bear instead.

She’s practically seething as she walks down the hallway, breath hot on her cupid’s bow. Her shoulders rise as she sucks in another breath, wringing her wrist in her hands. Ben’s taps her shoulder gently and gestures behind them, telling her someone’s coming. She doesn’t have it in her to bother to look.

A second later, Iggy bounds into her periphery, chipper as ever. “Today is a good day! I can feel it!” Most days, she would be more than happy to talk to him, but today, the massive grin plastered on his face makes her grit her teeth. “Okay, you are not feeling it.” Iggy grimaces, slowing down at her side. “What’s up? You look kinda… Down.” He gestures vaguely at her face.

She has to take a deep breath to even answer, “Veronica is making me remove the chemo lounge.”

“The chemo…” Iggy’s mouth falls open, “Holy no– You’re serious?”

Her brows shoot up with a harsh vocalisation, hand twisting out to ask if he seriously thought she would be joking about something like this.

“Geez, Elizabeth, I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.”

“She wants the space for a surgical suite. Says that our patients can just be given their chemo in the infusion clinic with everyone else.” Her anger swells as she explains, “I have signed off on every single one of her changes and she is still not happy.”

“Can’t you set them up elsewhere, do one of your little behind the scenes things?”

“I can’t! I–” Elizabeth has to stop herself, pulling her voice back, “I can’t just lie on our budgets or find an unused room, Veronica would find out I moved my patients from the infusion clinic and– ”

“Then we’re done for.”

The fact they had been working together a month under Veronica’s nose without her finding out was a feat. She couldn’t risk all of that now, not for her, not for Iggy either.

She nods.

Iggy stops her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Hey. You’ll figure something out. You always do.”

Her anger dampens at the soft look on Iggy’s face. Elizabeth's shoulders slump as she forces a breath out through her mouth, trying to let go of her frustration.

When Veronica had told her what she wanted to do, the first thing she thought about was Willow. She spent so much time in that lounge, laughed with her friends long before Elizabeth had ever arrived here, went into remission, played cards with Mia, ate enough to gain her weight back and now, she was en route to finishing her first round of chemo again. All that progress, the memories, torn down for some state of the art operating room she knew Veronica would’ve had to strip even more funding from other departments just to build.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell my patients.” Elizabeth admits, “Their lives have changed so much as it is, now I have to take the only place they have in this entire hospital away from them?”

“It’s not.” Iggy says and Elizabeth raises her hands to protest. He stops her, “Look, I remember when Max was going through chemo. That place meant a lot to him… But I also know how much his doctor meant to him too. They’ll still have a place.” He points at her, “You.”

Elizabeth looks at him. Everything they had worked for was still here, even if Veronica had won this time. She just needed to remember that. “Thank you.”

“This is just another bump in the road. We’ll be back in business in no time.” He smiles, giving her two firm pats on the shoulder. “How about we get you some coffee? That’ll make you feel better, right?”

She finally finds it in her to smile, “Only if you’re paying.”

He pats her on the shoulder, “You know what? I think I will.”

***

Veronica at least had the decency to give Elizabeth the week to get everything ready for her oh-so visionary plans.

After she and Iggy stopped at Pan De Vie for a coffee, she felt ready to tackle her problem head on.

Elizabeth spoke to the charge nurse at the infusion centre. Like most other departments, a number of their staff members had been fired due to the recent budget cuts. The nurses from the oncology department would be transferred to work there as they were trained to deal with chemotherapy while the cancer patients would need to be placed in a seperate area for safety.

When asked who would help them reorganize the clinic, Elizabeth said she would.

She’d have to speak with the others later tonight at their meeting. Mia and Iggy would jump at the opportunity to help, but she wasn’t sure about the others. Lauren had been even more overwhelmed in the last week after Veronica had decided to implement automatic kiosks outside of the ED and she and her staff scrambled to adapt to the new system, while Floyd’s department had turned into a factory line for endless and unnecessary CABG procedures.

In her time doing Medecins Sans Frontieres, she learnt to make the best of what little resources she was given, and that experience had come in handy more often than not since starting at New Amsterdam. She was grateful for the experience. Honestly, she doesn't think she would've been able to pull half of this off without it.

She’d been paged to prep for her next surgery, but as the afternoon passed, the rest of her schedule for the day was on call, and Elizabeth retreated to her office, grateful for the time to finally breathe.

Back in the comfort of her own space, Ben sat by her side at the table. checking through the budgets for the last month.

He often helped her send emails back to patients, proofread reports and transcribed them for her at times. She'd sign and he'd write everything down when she needed a break from the typing and handwriting.

It took a lot of trust and time to build a relationship like that with your interpreter, a connection Elizabeth had never really managed to form with others in the past. She was glad for Ben. When Elizabeth had been looking for a new job, she knew she wouldn't go anywhere without him, and she hesitated to ask if he was willing to move to New York with her. Thankfully, he enjoyed working with her as much as she did, and he agreed without a hint of hesitation.

Elizabeth raises her page away, glancing at the one on her desk as she tries to double check the all the expenses for a whipple surgery she’d completed the other day. Before she can look back up to compare the prices, the door swings open and a figure marches in.

Helen stands, eyes fiery and lips moving faster than she can read. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt, and I want to be respectful,” Ben interprets a moment later, trying to catch up as Helen barrels on, brows pressing higher with agitation, “But I am not going to stand idly by while you gut the department that I built and love and—”

Elizabeth stands from her seat, waving her hands to stop her.

Helen bats her eyes, taken aback.

“And is still here. All of it.” Elizabeth says, “Just… Hidden hidden from view.”

“What do you mean?”

She smirks, “Welcome to the resistance.”

***

“So you're basically running a shadow hospital?”

Elizabeth breaks into a grin, tapping her nose excitedly. “Bingo.”

As they took the stairwell down, she’d asked Helen what she was doing here. Out of all the things to happen today, seeing her back in New York was the last thing she expected.

She watched over her shoulder as Helen explained that she and Max had come back to get the last of their things, tupperwares and furniture left behind in a haste. When she’d received an offer two months ago to become the Medical Director of a struggling clinic back home in London, Helen said ‘yes’ before she could even think.

Having Dr Helen work at their clinic would save any place, and Elizabeth knew very well that she – not her TV personality – was more than capable of doing so.

She had wanted to stop by to see how things were going and was understandably upset by the state of her old department. Veronica had made about a dozen changes since she left, starting with getting Elizabeth to sign off on a brand new reception on her third day. Then, it was a makeover of the entire wing. She couldn’t blame Helen for getting angry, from the way things looked from the outside, everything she knew had disappeared.

“What about our research lab?” Helen asks.

“Oh, it's not gone.” She answers, “It's just moved off site, secretly folded into another lab that we outsource our biopsies to.”

There’s a glint starting in Helen’s eyes and Elizabeth can’t help but smile as she looks at her, “Look at you, you little rabble rouser. I didn't know you'd be so clandestine.”

“Hey, we're just continuing the tradition that you and Max started.” Elizabeth quotes her fingers in the air, “‘How can I help?’”

Ben’s eyes suddenly snap up at the door and Elizabeth’s heart skips a beat. She hadn’t told anyone they were here, the others wouldn’t come here if she hadn’t texted either. Helen suddenly smiles, stepping out and Elizabeth whips around, eyes wide.

Relief floods through her when she sees it’s only Max. His beard is longer, scruffier than it was the last time she saw him a month ago, obscuring half his lips. Her eyes drift back to Ben who’s interpreting for the pair, hands flying in rapid sign as he tries to keep up. She watches, amused.

“Chaplain Alpert needs an endarterectomy to save his life, but guess what? We don't do those anymore.” Max throws his arms up, dropping them back down in defeat.

“You got my text.” Ben shifts his body to show he’s now interpreting for Helen, and then again when Max begins speaking.

“You know, he's given everything to this hospital, and we can't give it back to him? We can't give him the dignity, the—..” Max blinks, “Why are we in the morgue?”

“Why?” Ben signs for Helen, “We’re going to save the Chaplain's life.”

Max’s brows shoot up. “We are?”

“Welcome to the resistance.” Helen turns to Elizabeth, a smile on her face.

Elizabeth bites her lip to hold back the smile tugging at her own cheeks, throwing her fist up.

***

Elizabeth’s skin prickles with the cold of the morgue, the heat of the portable surgical light warming the air gently. But the temperatures were near undetectable in her hands. The only thing she could feel was that ever present ache in her wrists, like an invisible bruise that never seemed to heal, and that tingling of pin pricks in her thumb and index finger that always came before the swelling sensation.

As she digs into a box to pull out a bag each of Propofol and Epinepherine, a sharp pain shoots down into her palm. She stilled for a second, steeling herself to continue. Grasping the bags, the liquid wobbled under her grip strangely as she picked them up and out, handing it across the table to Aimee. She reaches back in to grab the two bags of saline in case of a hypotensive emergency.

Aimee takes the bags from her and quickly hangs them on the IV pole, a practiced dance they’d performed a dozen of times over the last few weeks.

The morgue had been turned into a makeshift operating room, the screen she’d use to ask for things during surgery was set up opposing her, the assortment of pedals for each according instruction set out at her feet. Her surgical team surrounded her and Max, all donning clear masks and gowns.

Behind her, the vital signs monitor stood, hooked up to Chaplain Alpert who laid, his eyes shut in a peaceful sleep on the autopsy table. A nasal cannula sat comfortably on his face, the portable surgical light they’d stolen from the emergency supply closet upstairs shining down on the blue poly apron sheet that covered him, illuminating what would be her surgical field.

Elizabeth turns back to the supplies she’d packed earlier, pulling out a surgical tray that housed all her necessary instruments, concealed by the same disposable blue sheets to keep them sterile on the elevator ride down to the basement level.

Gesturing to Max to unwrap the tray with her free hand, she points at the table next to him to put it down.

“Kind of feels like you've done this before.” Max says, taking the tray from her.

Elizabeth nods her hand, “Yes, but never a procedure this risky.”

He sets the tray down as instructed, and glances back at the Chaplain before looking up at her. She gives him a nod, trying to reassure him.

Elizabeth was confident that this surgery would go well. She had done it a few times during the pandemic and remembered the movements precisely, recalled the way everything should look, what she needed to do. Back then, everyone chipped in, everyone helped. They’d never had any complications then, even when they had so few supplies and they’d lost near half of their staff. She was sure this time would be the same.

“Okay.” She says out loud, calling her team’s attention, “Everyone, look at me, please.”

The others stop what they’re doing.

“I need you all to consent to the following. You're all here of your own free will. You are aware of the medical risks of this procedure. You know by performing surgery in this place under these circumstances, we are all putting our jobs on the line…” She pauses, “But, every one of us here feels a duty to save this man's life.”

Elizabeth looks around the room. Kathy nods at the head of the table, then Aimee across from her, Ben and Dr Martin too. Max’s brows are pressed together, blue eyes wide like a wounded puppy dog. She studies him, waiting, uncertain of the look on his face. Then, he shakes his head.

“Okay. Let's get him intubated.” She orders quickly before turning to the sink, tearing open the scrub sponge. Just as Elizabeth reaches for the tap, someone touches her back. She turns, “What–”

Ben quickly signs that someone is knocking.

Max whips around, halfway to the door. “It's okay. It's Reynolds.”

“How do you know for sure?”

He reaches for the handle, “I know him.” Max says, holding out his other hand to settle her, “He's here to help.”

Before she can move again, he opens the door. Then, Max stops. His smile falls and he’s staring blankly at something, someone in the hallway and Elizabeth knows something is wrong.

Veronica steps in. Her paper-thin lips pull upwards like a smug cat when she sees her, unable to help herself as she slips her thumbs into her too-small pockets of her perfectly preened pantsuit.

Elizabeth raises her eyes, the corners of her vision pulsing as she forces herself to stare back. Her heart pounds. She forces herself to be brave.

Taking slow, purposeful strides, Veronica slinks in, looking around with a sly smile on her face, basking in the glory of the moment.

Elizabeth tightens her jaw, gritting her teeth as Veronica begins to speak, refusing to look away.

“When I heard the resistance was in the morgue, I thought, ‘Isn't that poetic?’ and I just had to come and see it for myself..” Her eyes land on the Chaplain as she stops mere inches away from the autopsy table.

In Elizabeth’s periphery, she can see Max, still standing by the door like he’s frozen in shame, gazing back with wide, apologetic eyes.

Veronica turns to Elizabeth. From this close, she towers over her. “And here you are.” Her face suddenly snaps into animation, lips pulling so wide they’re impossible to read. “How does that saying go? Uh…. ‘Liberte. Egalite… ’” She tilts her head, “What’s the other one?”

Elizabeth rolls her eyes at the theatrics.

“Oh.” She smiles, “Busted?”

Notes:

And it looks like things are about to take a turn for the worst...
NEXT UP, Veronica doles out strict punishment to certain members of the resistance. Mia comes to a painful realization.

Chapter 7: “Do No Harm”

Summary:

Veronica doles out punishment to the members of the resistance. Mia comes to a painful realization.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Floyd drums his fingers atop the wooden table, like the ticking of a timebomb, counting down the seconds before it explodes.

There’s no timer, no big red numbers telling her how close they are to zero and that terrifies her the most.

Any minute now.

Veronica stands at the head of the room, her back towards them, facing the windows with her arms folded. On the other end of the table, Elizabeth sits, her hands thrown up on the armrests. A muscle in her cheek twitches.

Mia closes her eyes, sucking in a deep breath. Her heart pounds in her chest anyway, in syncopated rhythm with Floyd’s drumming. He hasn’t stopped since they got in here. Its tempo picks up with another set of those tap-tap, tap-taps across from her. She forces her breath out of her nose, trying to draw her attention away from the sensations in her body, knowing if she keeps focusing on them they will only get worse. Still, the weight in her stomach pulls her further down into her chair.

The door suddenly opens.

“Sorry I’m late.” Iggy pants out, still holding onto the handle.

Veronica turns at his voice, staring hard as he lets go of the door. The hydraulic hinges squeak shut like a cage of an animal. Now, they’re trapped in her den.

Iggy takes a seat on a couch behind them. The table is full, the resistance, even members Mia hadn’t seen before, surrounding her.

Her thumb finds the crevice in her ring, the missing crystal from always snapping her fingernail over the minuscule gap between metal and amethyst. It had fallen out at some point, she only found it missing the morning she handed in her two week notice from University. Her fingers always wandered back to that one ring in times like these, the clicking sensation picking away at the building dread.

Veronica finally takes a step forward. Her heels click, then another, dulled against the linoleum.

The metal prongs dig into Mia’s fingernails. Another snap.

“The ‘resistance…’” Veronica hits the head of her chair with a thud, “The résistance.” She chuckles a little like she just can’t help herself before continuing, “Ignoring mandates, conducting illicit surgeries, risking the accreditation of this hospital–”

“It was me!” Elizabeth bursts up from her chair. Mia flinches, heart launching itself into her throat at the sudden burst of noise. Elizabeth’s hands cut through the air, sterner than she’s ever seen her sign. “I authorized the Chaplain's surgery, and I was going to lead it, so you do not need to punish anyone else here.”

Mia’s thumb has stilled, no longer fighting the openly waiting prongs of her ring, and she watches as Elizabeth rolls her head to the other side of the table and meet Lauren’s eyes. Lauren looks back.

The realisation sinks in as she recognizes the daring look, set hard on Elizabeth’s face. She and Veronica stood tall above them, staring the other down. Elizabeth was protecting them. She was throwing herself to the wolves to protect them.

Elizabeth circles a flat hand over her chest, “Please, accept my resignation.”

“No, Dr. Wilder, I do not accept your resignation, because, unfortunately, your surgeries generate a staggering amount of revenue for this hospital.”

“But I will not stay here under these conditions.”

Veronica clicks her tongue, “Well, actually, I think you might… Otherwise, I'll have to report you to the AMA for what you did, and then they'll strip you of your license–”

Mia’s eyes shoot open at the threat and she turns back to Elizabeth who blinks, batting her eyes so quickly you’d almost miss it. Her face twitches in a flash of anger, jaw tightening as Veronica continues. Her gaze hardens, eyes completely fixed on Veronica in a challenge, barely glancing away even to look at Ben for his interpretation.

“-and it will get very, very messy indeed.”

“No.” Iggy launches from his seat, voice firmer than she’d ever heard before, “No, that's enough. Hey, you are entitled to call us out, that's fine, but you don't get to–”

“I don't get to what , Dr. Frome?” Veronica spits out, “Do my job? Which unlike you, Dr. Frome, I happen to take very seriously.”

He folds his arms, “Oh, do you?”

“And, actually, while I have you, let me ask you this. How many scheduled patients did you see today?

Iggy looks down at the ground, the carpet suddenly pulled under his feet with the one question. “Uhm, scheduled?”

“Scheduled, yes, mmhmm..”

“One.”

“Well, actually, I know that, because while you were playing video games, the other five were rescheduled.” Iggy shakes his head, mouth opening like he’s going to respond but he shuts it a second later, unable to say anything. “That's revenue straight out the door.” Veronica emphasises each word from her mouth, as if completely exasperated and done with the sheer incompetence of the people around her. “I just don't know how much longer I can drag you by the ear before I see some semblance of professional behavior from you!”

“I called each of those patients, and I rescheduled them.” Iggy finally attempts.

“As of now, you are no longer chair of your department.” She clicks her tongue again. Mia was starting to hate that noise. Veronica shakes her head. “Sorry. Has to be done.”

Iggy’s forehead creases, his jaw dropping open. It snaps shut before popping open again. “No, what? What–”

“Dr. Bloom.” Lauren turns to look at Veronica, who snakes her hand over the back of her chair and finally slinks into her seat. She forward to rest her head on her hands, a contented look on her face like a cat whose chin had just been scratched. “You were going to resign today as well. Is that correct?”

“I was going to…” Lauren glances around the room at the faces around her. She swallows, so quiet Mia can hear it. “But after everything I've seen today, I'm staying.”

“Well, unfortunately, that's not your decision to make. So, I happily accept your resignation, and I sincerely thank you for everything that you've done for New Amsterdam.” She gives her a smile, the saccharine dripping from her voice making Mia feel even sicker.

Lauren’s eyes grow glossy, head slowly turning back to face ahead of her. She stares vacantly in the space in-front of her, not right at Mia, but somewhere past her, her shoulders quivering in a slow breath that looks a lot like defeat.

Mia feels a tug in her chest. She had never seen Lauren like this. It was always that cold, hard exterior, snapping and barking orders at people, pretending she didn’t care. For the first time, Lauren had shed that. And Mia knew in her heart that she cared a great deal more than she ever let on.

At Lauren’s side, Floyd shifts in his chair. She doesn’t miss the way he glances up at her for a moment before he averts his eyes, like a child stealing glances at a cookie jar, tempted to reach out and take it but purposefully staring harder elsewhere to not to garner suspicion.

“Mia.” Her breath catches in her throat. “Mia, Mia….” Veronica pinches the bridge of her nose, her elbow hitting the table and sending a shot of panic through Mia when she looks up and sets her eyes on her. “If you weren't the sole practitioner of holistic medicine, I would have no choice but to relieve you of your duties as well.”

She forces herself to look back at Veronica, trying not to be afraid, willing herself to find some semblance of courage because Elizabeth had faced her before, but Mia was not fearless like she was. She never has been.

Her shoulders are rising and falling in shallow breaths and she tries to focus on sucking them in through her nose, attempting to work through the exercises she’s spent years practicing. She isn’t breathing in the right place, she doesn’t think she can, but she’s trying, it’s all she knows how to do in the moment. She’s counted on those exercises for years, to get her through each day, each stress and patient and spilled coffee and broken cup and right now, it’s the only thing holding her together, but the thread of control she has over her body’s reactions is far thinner and more fragile than she wants to believe.

“You had the chance to come to me, and to tell me the truth.” Mia’s breath catches in her throat. “And you chose not to.”

She feels Lauren’s piercing gaze shift from her.

And then, there it is. Mia can hear that little voice in her head, one she hadn’t heard in weeks and hadn’t missed; telling her that the others are staring at her just like that, that none of them ever trusted her, that she was wrong to think that they ever could.

Mia turns, hoping, hoping with every part of her heart that for once, it will be wrong, that they will prove it wrong.

But instead she sees her. Elizabeth. She tilts her head, surprise, wide green eyes flickering around the faces that surround them like she’s trying to figure out who it could be, who else it could be but her.

Mia stops breathing.

“But I'm going to give you a second chance.” Veronica says, “Against my better judgment… But I certainly hope you follow the lead of Dr. Reynolds in the future.”

She turns her eyes on Floyd. All of them do. He’s slouched in his chair, eyes fixed on the table as he taps his hand soundlessly at the edge. It’s that same expression from earlier today, the same look he had outside of Pan De Vie–

Sorry.

He said he was sorry.

“You had the courage to come forward and to alert me about the resistance.”

Mia searches for Iggy’s eyes in the room. They were friends, weren’t they? He talked to her almost every day, she helped him with his garden, he told her about his family, his kids–

Iggy’s head slowly turns to Floyd, his greying brows pressing together and the realisation stings like a slap in the face. He’s just as surprised as the others.

“Not just for your patients, but for all the patients at New Amsterdam because you saw that there was a possibility of doing them harm, and our oath states that we must protect them at all costs…” Veronica pauses, “And for that, I'm grateful.”

Floyd doesn’t dare to raise his eyes. He can’t even look at them.

“So please, send me a list of the surgeries you would like restored, and let's certainly hope this never happens again. And if you'll excuse me,” Veronica’s tone lifts happily, “I have a hospital to run.”

Mia stares at the table. Her vision begins to blur. The grain of the wood blends together, turning into a mess of browns. She doesn’t know what to think, she doesn’t know if she can conjure a thought even if she tried. Her mind feels painfully empty, the words slipping just out of reach in the settling fog.

She thinks she can see a figure stand up to leave. The fabric of scraping against one another. The blob of a chair ahead of her spins in its owner's absence. The door clicks shut.

There’s a sting in her eyes when it fully sinks in, like the rub of salt in a wound.

They thought it was her.

The just like that she comes undone.

Mia loses control of her carefully controlled breathing. The more she tries to suck in the suddenly too thick, too hot air and pull it into her reins, the more it feels like she’s going to suffocate. Her heart is swelling, bigger and bigger, now pressing against the cage of her ribs like it’s threatening to burst free and she swears she trembles when she hears it’s hoofbeats again.

She doesn’t know how much longer she can hold herself together.

Mia stands from her chair, wrapping a hand around her arm like she’s trying to protect herself, pinching herself shut between her fingernails before she can spill out and everyone sees her as she is now, a mess, unpresentable, wrong.

She thinks she hears someone say her name before she leaves.

The walls around her morph into something unrecognizable, hallways she thought she finally knew no longer familiar. She can feel a dozen eyes staring, judging her as her legs carry her back to the office, the only place that’s safe.

Everything she did, helping them, listening to their problems, doing everything she could to earn their trust, was all for nothing. Those looks on their faces in that meeting room, the way her friends, her colleagues turned their eyes on her, looking at her with that same look the people passing her do now.

When she finally shuts the door behind her, her vision tunnels. The room around her feels like it’s spinning, pulling her to the floor and the comforting cool air of her office is now too thick, too warm, depriving her of oxygen. Her shoulders rise in quick, shallow breaths, desperate for air, but it stays trapped in her airways, halfway down to her lungs, never going down far enough to stop her from choking. Her hands are beginning to go numb and that suffocating feeling in her throat only tightens its grip on her.

Stupid.

Mia was so stupid to think that things could ever go right, for letting her guard down, for not listening to her instincts. Stupid for thinking that maybe, she was wrong about the people here, that maybe she could finally let herself feel comfortable in this place, in all those conversations and late night meetings and Floyd asking for her help and Iggy talking to her about his kids and Elizabeth.

Elizabeth.

Mia swore to herself years ago she would never put her faith in something unproven ever again. Yet, she believed her, believed those kind eyes and that always bright smile, those looks across the room like she trusted her. Like things could — like someone could possibly be different for once in her life.

She said yes, to her, to the insane idea that nearly just made her lose her job. Mia said yes without a second thought, yes.

And maybe somewhere deep down, she believed that it could undo every other thing she’d said yes to in the past year, that maybe doing this one, right thing could reverse the karmic debt she'd accumulated, that god-damned tally of wrong decisions that brought her here in the first place.

The very thought makes her vision wash white with shame and the beads of her necklace suddenly feel like the ones on the rosary she was gifted after her first communion. The cold metal reminds her she’d been cursed by some higher being the moment she was born, cursed by a God she’s stopped believing in years ago, to forever be doomed to trying to obey to rules of a world she could never seem to understand. Even here, even now, so far away from all of it, she could never fully escape.

She was stupid to think that any of this could ever be a blessing.

A pathetic sound escapes her throat and Mia barely chokes it back. She squeezes tears out of her eyes. Her breath catches and she has to force an exhale through her mouth, lungs shaking. She breathes in and her heart gives one last, thunderous boom before it pauses, and a second later, it pounds so hard she nearly coughs.

Reaching for her phone, Mia shakily thumbs in her passcode, her hands quaking under the sheer force of her pulse. Her vision throbs as she finds her Messages app. Another breath. She finds the contact she’s looking for.

I need to see you.

She hits send.

And Mia finally breathes.

Notes:

Mia got too attached, or maybe it was reasonable?
NEXT UP, In the aftermath of the resistance, Elizabeth struggles to come to terms with her dying patient. Mia helps her to fulfill the promise she made. They find each other in an unexpected place.

Chapter 8: "Every Tool In My Toolbox"

Summary:

In the aftermath of the resistance, Elizabeth struggles to come to terms with her dying patient. Mia helps her to fulfill a promise she made.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The days after the resistance ended passed slowly.

Between the hours of 3 to 8 p.m every day, Elizabeth would finish one surgery, scrub out, then back in just to do another in an OR down the hall. If she didn't have one scheduled, she was often called in to supervise and train residents.

It wasn’t that Elizabeth didn’t enjoy surgery or teaching, but rather that Veronica had cut down the time she spent doing clinical work. Elizabeth could barely escape the distance between the OR and the locker rooms nowadays, but Elizabeth reminds herself, more often than she wished she had to, that things could be worse. Veronica could have gone to the medical board, told them everything, and losing her job, losing her life, wasn’t an option.

So, she kept her head down, performed every surgery, agreed to all of her changes and looked forward to the few patients she did get to see.

Iggy had been in a terrible mood for the first week. No longer the head of his department, Martin had to start working more hours to cover their expenses. Because of that, he was rarely at home. Luckily, Veronica told him she'd consider reinstating him if he could prove that he was capable of upholding his position and he was a little closer to his usual self.

Lauren was gone. A new Dr Vosch had taken over the ED, and as capable as he seemed, things weren't the same without Lauren. Elizabeth missed their afternoon talks over bagels and coffee, complaining about Veronica and picking eachother’s heads about patients they had. Walsh told Elizabeth that she had started working at Baptist, some hospital somewhere across the city. Elizabeth recognized the name, it was where Max told her the chaplain ended up getting his surgery.

Elizabeth had been meaning to check in on Lauren, but she hadn't found the time. Well, she didn’t really have any to search, much less find.

After work, Elizabeth would often be so exhausted she'd fall right asleep after getting home, only to be woken up a few hours later because she couldn't feel her hands, only to have to repeat it all over again the next day.

Earlier this morning, Floyd walked into her elevator, because of course he did. Just when she’d stopped constantly thinking about what happened, seeing him made her pissed off all over again.

The ride up the ten floors to the Cardiology Department was awkward to say the least. Elizabeth stared holes into the back of his head for those few, painfully motionless minutes, and hoped he got the message. She was not happy. Even Ben wasn’t happy either.

Floyd sold them out, and now, he was happily basking in the light of being in their medical director’s favor. He reinstated surgeries and put back programs in his department, which was now flourishing while the rest of them were put through the ringer.

There was probably something ironic about his reluctance to join them in the first place and his hesitance with Mia. Elizabeth would appreciate it more if he hadn't jabbed a knife right into her back.

The meeting with Veronica had left her reeling, gripping her desk that started to blur with tears and trying to take deep breaths as she struggled to process what just happened.

Sitting in there, looking around at the faces she had come to know, Elizabeth thought she'd let it get out of hand. She thought that maybe, she asked the wrong stranger to help with a surgery, with a patient, that Veronica had blackmailed one of her friends into telling her, or maybe she knew just caught a whiff that something was going on and that was the only reason they were there.

As Veronica went head by head down the table, one by one, each of the people she trusted were cleared of suspicion, but Elizabeth still held her breath with every name that was called, hoping it wasn’t them, but knowing full well it would eventually have to be. Someone put them in that room, someone told Veronica.

She didn’t expect it to be Floyd.

Elizabeth blinks the thought out of her vision, trying to focus on where she was going. Thinking about what happened would only make her upset and she didn’t need that, especially right now, but as she and Ben make their way towards the holistic medicine department, her mind keeps drifting back to what happened.

She doesn’t know why she’s coming here. Every rational part of Elizabeth is saying that what she wanted was impossible, but, before she met Mia, she didn’t think it was possible that you could help nausea just by pressing your fingers into a someone's wrists. If Mia could do that, maybe she could help now too.

When Elizabeth turns the corner into the holistic doctor’s office, she forgets to breathe. She hadn’t been here since she brought Willow a month ago.

The room, like so much since that day, was the same, and yet changed.

The head of the massage table was now facing the other direction and the sheer patterned cloth once covering the circular table was gone. Instead, there's an assortment of plants and cork-capped glass bottles laid out ontop, what looks like crystals and herbs filling each one halfway. There's a stack of books just to the side, shimmering silver celestial figures, moons and stars etched into one of the spines like they’d been pulled from a witch’s library.

For a moment, Elizabeth wonders how Willow is, wonders if Mia has still been playing cards with her and a patch of guilt springs up in her chest at the memory of smiles and shaking with laughter and Euchre, but her thoughts come to a grinding halt when she sees her.

Mia is standing there, behind the table, just a few feet away. The thick blue sweater she’s wearing is a departure from her usual earthy tones and she must be cold even in the mid February weather. Her lip is bitten in concentration as she grinds something in a large wooden bowl.

Things ended so abruptly after they left that meeting room. They’d gone from speaking to eachother every second day of the week, laughing together at Willow’s infusions and sharing smiles when they passed each other to nothing at all. She hadn’t even caught a glimpse of the holistic doctor or her flowing skirts and turtlenecks in the hallways, or anywhere for that matter.

Would it be awkward now, just coming here after what happened and asking her for help?

Looking at her, Mia looks almost like a stranger, and this place is suddenly unfamiliar all over again — but there’s still something about it, about Mia, that says so clearly: I know you.

The feeling of questioning eyes pull Elizabeth out of her daze. As expected, Ben has a brow raised at her. Elizabeth remembers why she’s here, and it’s not just to stand in Mia’s doorway and stare.

She raises a hand to knock, but before she can, Mia’s eyes land on her. Elizabeth doesn’t remember them being so blue.

“Hi!” Mia says, lips wide in a big smile. She looks.. happy to see her again. “Welcome.”

“Do you have a minute for a consult?” Elizabeth asks, glancing back at the cluttered table. She looks like she’s in the middle of something.

“Yeah! Always.” Mia invites with a wave of her hand, skirt swishing as she walks up to the table. She sets her bowl down, looking up with patient eyes.

“I have a patient who is losing his battle to late stage bone cancer. His only wish is to attend his daughter’s wedding.” Elizabeth explains, “It’s only three months away but I don’t think he is going to make it that long.”

“That's heartbreaking.”

“Well I was hoping that you—” Elizabeth pauses, realising she has no idea what she’s trying to say. “That you might have a way to extend his life...” She frowns at her hands. It all sounds so silly now that she's signing it, and she's sure it sounds even sillier out loud. “With the means and methods outside the realm of scientific study?”

Mia stares, her lips parted for a moment before she closes them with a nod and says, “You came to the right place.”

Her brows shoot up and she glances at Ben, not really sure what she was expecting, and meets the same surprise on his face she’s feeling. She knew it was a long shot coming here, but maybe this wasn’t as silly as she thought.

Mia picks up a glass bottle from behind the others, gesturing to the shimmering golden liquid inside, “I was just mixing together this elixir. It’s from the springs of the Loxahatchee River where, in 1513, Ponce De Leon searched for the fountain of youth.”

“Oh–” Elizabeth blinks, “Seriously?”

Mia leans in, her jaw slowly falling open. “Of course not. This is dijon vinaigrette…. For my arugula salad. ” There’s a wide look in Ben’s eyes as he interprets and when Elizabeth looks back at Mia, it hits her. She fucked up. Badly.

The corners of Mia’s mouth pull taut as she starts to rant, words flying from her lips in a jumble. Her eyes are wide in disbelief, splayed hands motioning wildly and Elizabeth tries to stop her and tell her it’s okay, but her hands fall to her side when the body language clicks. Mia is yelling at her.

“I am a medical practitioner, I don’t make magic potions! I’m a healer, I’m like you, I can’t just wave a magic wand and heal your patient—“ Mia takes a sharp breath like she’s trying to calm herself, pulling back her irritation with a flutter of her eyes. Her face is smaller when she says, “Even though I wish I could.”

Elizabeth steps back. “I’m sorry.” Her voice catches in her throat and she tries to smile because Mia would’ve heard it, there's no way she didn't, and she has isn't sure just how broken she sounded, but her vision blurs, betraying her as she turns her voice off and signs - “Enjoy your salad. ”

She sees the line between Mia’s brows soften just before she turns and walks out without another word.

Elizabeth’s breath hitches as she walks down the hall. She doesn't know where she’s going, but she has to leave before anyone sees her like this. Her lungs are quivering inside her chest as she tries to suck in a breath. When she reaches up to her face and finds tears, she feels ridiculous.

Mia never got angry, not even when Lauren would make comments about her specialty at meetings. In the past, whenever Elizabeth had questions, she would happily talk to her about her practices and not once had she ever been anything but kind… But today, at a time she would’ve tried to help or correct her with a smile on her face, she blew up at her instead.

She didn’t mean to offend her. Did Mia really think she had?

Even if she did, why had she gotten that agitated so easily? Was she upset about what happened with the resistance? They all knew what they were getting into, and she tried to protect them, but she couldn’t stop Veronica from what she did. If anything, the others had more of a reason to be angry at her, and they weren’t. Out of everyone, she and Mia were the only two unscathed. Mia hadn’t been fired or demoted and she left that meeting with her entire department still intact, that was more than the others could say.

Elizabeth forces herself to take a breath but her shoulders tremble on her inhale even as hard as she wills it not to. She sniffles, trying to pull back the tears that threaten to spill again at how silly she's being. She shouldn’t be crying at work, not in the hallway where her patients can see her and not over this.

Everything that had happened in the last few weeks had just worn her down, the fact she can't even feel her face under her fingers trying to wipe her tears, bumping into Floyd this morning, and then Lewis too. Mia blowing up at her— Mia not being able to help was just the straw that broke the camel’s back. That was all.

She feels a cautious hand on her shoulder and Elizabeth looks up.

“Hey,” Ben gestures, stepping out infront of her, “You okay?” His eyes are soft, careful, and it reminds her to breathe. It’s a little less shaky this time.

Whatever was happening with Mia could wait another time. Her mind wanders back to the song Lewis had showed her, his father daughter dance.

“I don’t know what else I can try.”

***

She's lost count of how long she’s been standing outside of Lewis’ room.

He was on the phone again with his daughter, smiling and talking between coughs when his body would rattle with sickness.

Three more months.

When he said it, the words left his lips like it was the easiest thing he ever had to do. Elizabeth knows it’s not.

One of the first things you learn as a doctor is to never make promises to a patient. You don’t make garauntees, not about treatments, not about prognosis, not even if all they had was a cold. The human body was unpredictable, things could change, and they so often did.

When she first met Lewis, she estimated he would have six to eight months to live.

Just in time, he’d said.

He told her he needed to be here to walk Marissa down the aisle, to dance with her, to be there for his wife. She’d passed when Marissa was young and he’d raised her as a single father. Now, his daughter had a beautiful life in Conneticut with her fiancé and Lewis just needed to give her away, Josh would take care of his little girl, and then he could go.

Against her better judgement, Elizabeth told Lewis that she would get him there.

She wasn’t so sure she could do that now.

Lewis’ urine output had dropped since they admitted him. His neck was hyperextended even further than when they’d visited earlier that morning. His Adam's apple caught in his throat when he swallowed between words and his jug of water sat untouched by his bedside. The height of each peak on the heart monitor had decreased, so slightly any of her residents would have missed it, but Elizabeth had been practicing long enough to know what was coming.

She was familiar with death. As much as being a doctor was about saving lives, the prospect of losing them loomed like an ever brewing storm.

Death was a certainty. It awaited everyone — the end of the road. Even her. Even if the chemotherapy worked, the radiation, even if Elizabeth resected the tumors, amputated their limbs, she was only delaying the inevitable.

There was comfort in that, she supposed, knowing what was coming.

But what scares her is that she doesn't know when.

She’s seen patients she’s given months to live go on to years, patients whose treatments had worked only for them to die from the flu, a car accident, patients who rang the bell and cheered their last days of radiation treatment who suddenly passed in their sleep.

Every time it happens, Elizabeth still feels as helpless as she did the first.

She watches as the morphine continues to drip steadily into Lewis’ IV, a permanent fixture on the back of his hand since he was brought into the ED a few days ago. She’d adjusted it to a rate of 2mg an hour, but even that didn’t decrease his pain levels at all. A discomfort, he said, always there.

Elizabeth couldn’t begin to imagine how he felt, but the sluggish way his lips would pull when Marissa smiled and the drawn out blinks that had only grown longer in the last few hours alone told her that he was tired, and that three months was a long time.

She only pulls her eyes away when she feels Ben touch her shoulder.

When she turns around, she sees Mia standing at the door. It’s cracked open just slightly and the holistic doctor is peeking in like a child, scared to wake their parents after a bad dream. Elizabeth can’t help but smile a little at the image.

Mia takes a big breath like she’s trying to prepare herself, shoulders rising to her chin as she opens the door the rest of the way and walks in. She stops beside her, shoulders falling in an exhale. Her mouth begins to move in small movements. Calm, collected. The Mia she knew.

“I know it’s hard for people trained in western medicine to understand what I do.”

“Look, I swear, I wasn’t trying to ridicule your specialty—”

“I know.” Her lips pull into a tight line, “You were struggling with the limitations of your power to care for this man and you came to me for help and… I whiffed it.”

Elizabeth looks back at Lewis. His smile droops further as he talks, his arm propped up on a pillow just to keep his phone up. He looked the happiest when he was with his daughter and looking at him now makes Elizabeth want nothing more than to keep her promise.

“I just know that I have used every single tool in my toolbox. ” She confesses.

Mia looks through the window just like she had been before. She smiles. “I think I might have one left in mine.”

***

“Lewis. These are Tibetan singing bowls. They’re used in traditional buddhist practices and their sounds are known to be very healing.”

Lewis looks up at her, “Well at this point I’d try just about anything.”

“Can you take a deep breath for me?”

From the corner of her eye, she can see Mia’s hand swirl around the top of the golden bowl, holding a matching wand. Elizabeth watches Lewis follow Mia’s instruction, breathing along in unison. The cool air fills her lungs with the first half of the circle, hot breath exhaling onto her cupid’s bow with the second.

“Good. And another?”

“So far better than chemo.” Lewis sputters out through a cough. He winces, his face screwing up as he tries to swallow it down.

Elizabeth reaches out, wrapping her hand around his and they’re cold to the touch. She squeezes, trying to comfort him because his daughter can’t and she wishes Marissa were here right now instead of her.

“I’m curious, where is your daughter getting married?”

“In the country.” He answers, “An old hotel. In Connecticut.”

“You got your tux already?”

“Oh yeah.” He laughs and Elizabeth can’t help but smile.

“I bet it’s beautiful there this time of year. Do you have a live band?” He doesn’t answer. Mia tries again, “Tell me about her dress.”

It’s still for a moment. Ben’s hands don’t move, Lewis doesn’t answer, and Mia doesn’t say anything either. Lewis’ eyes simply lull to a close for a moment before they open, slow like he’s half awake. “Her dress?”

“Yeah. Her wedding dress, what’s it look like?”

“It’s cream. Long. Nothing fancy.” His lips tug upwards into a smile but it’s immediately cut off with another cough. When he speaks again, his lips are impossible to read, movements growing too lazy, too small to be discernable. Elizabeth looks to Ben to understand and his words are signed in the silence. “My little girl… So beautiful.”

“Who’s there at the wedding?” Mia asks.

Elizabeth can see it now.

It’s a quiet reception. Blurry figures in dresses and tuxedos, flowers of a dozen colors melding into her vision. She’s no longer in a hospital room, now a wedding venue in a small hall, lit by glowing stars of fairy lights and peonies that drape between the pews instead of flourescent whites. She’s sitting at one of the rows in the pantsuit she kept in the back of her closet, for special occasions. Marissa had promised her an invitation. It was the least they could do. She was getting her dad there.

Beside her, she catches a glimpse of strawberry blonde. Golden dreamcatcher earrings, a beautiful, flowing satin dress in earthy tones. There’s a smile, filled with warmth, clearer than anything else in her imagination.

“Her friends. My brother and his kids. Friends and family.”

Marissa was just as sweet as her father. She had the same bright smile, the same fight and determination, and there wasn’t a doubt in Elizabeth's mind that the bridal party was large. A collection of friends from college and work and childhood in long pastel dresses, people she’d found over her life and stuck around.

There's Lewis’s brother too in a black suit, his wife on his arm and their two little girls skipping down the red aisle, throwing petals down. They’d met once when Elizabeth first moved here, wanting to visit their uncle. Anna and Julia loved pink, judging by the handmade card and matching shoes they wore that day, and Elizabeth knows their flower girl dresses would be the same color.

She can see Marissa walk in, Lewis holding her arm as he leads her down, past the pews, down to the floral arch where someone in a suit stands, smiling. They’re blurry in her imagination, figments and ghosts of his family she knows.

“Dr Wilder told me you were looking forward to your father daughter dance. Have you picked a song yet?”

“Helplessly hoping. My wife’s favorite. It was our first dance.”

“That’s beautiful. Are you doing the same dance with your daughter?”

“No. It’s… A different one.”

Lewis’s eyes droop a little further, the stillness between words drawing further with each answer to Mia’s questions. His hand grows looser in hers.

“Do you remember the dance?”

“Yes, I—” His chest empties. “I remember.”

Elizabeth can see him dancing with his daughter, guiding her across the fairy lights blurring in her stinging eyes, her flowing skirt sweeping across the darkness…

And then it’s gone.

There's no wedding, no dance, no flowers or pews; just the hospital room and her standing beside Mia, holding a hand that isn’t holding back.

Lewis’ eyes have fallen shut, closed gently in a peaceful slumber, the smallest of smiles still ghosting his face like he had drifted into the visions she dreamt up moments ago.

When her thumb finds its way to his pulse, her breath shakes under the weight of the confirmation.

Mia looks up at her, wide eyes glistening the way she’s sure hers are too. “Is he….”

Elizabeth nods. She pulls her hands away from his for the last time and has to press her lips together to hold back the tears beginning to blur her vision, “But you got him to his daughter’s wedding. ”

Mia stares for a moment, her lips parted in surprise but unmoving, not knowing what to say. Then, she smiles too. She bites her lower lip under her teeth, blinking tears out of her own eyes as she turns back to Lewis.

As they stand side by side, Elizabeth reaches out, placing a gentle hand over Mia’s arm. In the silence, she takes a breath, tries to trace a thank you into her sleeve — Mia helped her keep her promise.

***

Elizabeth stands at his bedside long after Mia leaves. She’d wanted to give her some time alone. He was her patient after all.

There's a call to make, a daughter, a brother, nieces to inform. The ones left behind.

Lewis Aronova had passed away peacefully on the 18th of August at 8:38 pm.

Ben hugs her tight and pats her on the back before he leaves for the subway. He's been here, for every single patient that had died over the last five years, and he was here for her now.

When she’s alone and her hands become too numb to hold her pen, she finds herself climbing the freezing stairwell.

The rooftop had become a safe space for her in the time since she’d moved to New Amsterdam. When the walls of her office felt too small and she needed a place to think, she’d go there, watch the streets from over the ledge, trying to count the constellations but losing every second star in a night sky polluted by city lights.

Max told her they’d turned it into a community garden years ago, but it had been destroyed in a freak snowstorm not long after. No one ever went up there anymore, he said. Sometimes the door would lock on its own, it wasn’t really safe. Iggy had gotten stuck up there with a patient for nearly three hours in the cold without reception that same month. Since then, it had been abandoned.

When Elizabeth opens the door, there’s someone else on the rooftop. In the city lights and darkness, Mia turns, and she smiles.

Elizabeth feels a rush of cold air hit her back, the door slamming shut behind. Her two feet feel like they've suddenly sunken into the concrete, suddenly drying in place, heart pressed on pause in her chest as she stares at the holistic doctor.

Mia turns back around to the city and her long hair tangles when the wind blows, the world spurring back to life as her thick sweater is shoved into her side by the cold air. Still, Mia stays steady as ever as she looks over the ledge, her shoulders rising and falling gently, at peace even in the freezing autumn air.

She's never seen her up here before.

A shiver runs down Elizabeth's spine when the wind suddenly picks up again, cutting through her doctor's coat and the suddenly too thin shirt she has on underneath. The air rushes into her eardrums, pressure sending a shot of discomfort through her jaw. The outside temperature sinks into the heels of her palms, suddenly ice cold under her sensationless fingers. She swallows. The drag of her saliva down her throat is enough to pry her focus away from her hands.

Elizabeth walks over, careful not to startle the other woman, stopping just shy of a few inches away. The air around her feels warmer than the rest of the empty rooftop, surely just body heat, but a little part of Elizabeth thinks that it’s just Mia.

“What are you doing here?” Elizabeth attempts out loud. Her voice feels strangely thick in her throat, coated in congestion from the cold, but she knows it would be much simpler to use it. The phone in her pocket would be no better — her hands are numb, stiffly entombed by the frigid air.

Mia looks up, her brow twitches inward like she's pondering how to respond. She bats her eyes, widening like a doe in an idea as she reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone. She types for a moment before flipping the screen, I like to come here and think, it reads.

Elizabeth laughs. “Right.” She signs, forgetting Mia won’t understand. She seems to get it anyway.

Mia’s lips break in a laugh and she says something, nodding, but her mouth is pulled into one of those nervous smiles and in the darkness, Elizabeth can’t decipher what she’s saying. She raises a brow and Mia seems to notice, quickly muttering what looks like a ‘sorry’ before she starts to type again.

When she turns it around, the words on the screen ask Elizabeth, Are you okay?

Elizabeth stares. The question is sincere — and as she’s come to learn, Mia always is — and she wants to be honest, but she isn’t sure what to say. She isn’t so sure there is anything she can possibly express that Mia could understand. The signs Elizabeth knows, the ones Mia doesn’t. So her hands stay by her side, and she presses her lips into a thin line.

The corner of Mia's pulls downward, a silent reassurance that she isn’t okay either, and maybe that made it better. She flips her phone around again and types, turning it back to face Elizabeth. Do you want to talk about it?

When Elizabeth meets Mia’s eyes, the look she’s giving her is gentle, stars sparkling in blue from the yellow-hued city lights surrounding them. There's a carefulness in the soft knit of her brows that she can't ever recall seeing on another person before. A part Elizabeth can imagine pouring her heart out to the holistic doctor — and maybe someday she could — but tonight, there's nothing she can sign and all the words she might ever try to write would never be able to express the oceans of feeling swimming in her mind.

Yet, for the first time, the silence between them almost feels like understanding. She doesn’t feel compelled to push her voice from her throat to answer, or raise her hands to sign something Mia could surely not understand. The feeling in her chest is unfamiliar, new, and she supposes so much about Mia is. It isn’t the loneliness Elizabeth has come to associate with the quiet that's followed her since she was old enough to remember.

And maybe, she doesn’t need to say anything at all.

So, Elizabeth shakes her head, and Mia accepts her answer with a nod. She just slips her phone back into her pocket and looks back over the ledge. She doesn’t ask any more questions, she doesn’t pry.

The ends of Elizabeth’s hair prick into her cheek when the wind blows again.

Looking down over the edge, red and blue lights whiz past a thousand feet beneath them, the soundless cry of an ambulance arriving in the hospital’s bay. From up here, the world looks so small, but all at the same time, the entirety of it all was all too large to understand. The cars crawling across the streets like ants, the billions of lights in the buildings surrounding them. So many people, so many different lives, a million stories to be told and the thousands that would never be heard and her own — their own — was simply a drop in an ocean. All of those stories would go on, whether they ever intertwined with hers, with Mia’s, whether they were heard by anyone, whether they were seen or not.

Marissa would get married in the fall. They would choose a tombstone and funeral flowers and a casket for Lewis, a wooden box under the ground, or turn him, a father, a husband, a person, to dust they could scatter at a beloved place. His nieces would grow up without an uncle. His daughter would have children he would never get to meet, and they too would have children, and someday, the stories of the man he was would be resemble nothing of his true self, and he would be lost to time too.

Elizabeth can’t remember the names of all her patients who’ve died. There are too many, too many family members and friends, too many people who are dying, who are fighting and losing. There is no time to linger, no time to commit any one person to memory when there are a dozen more to help.

In a few years, she would forget his name too, in a few months his face would become a blurry image of miscellaneous characteristics, lips and eyes and ears she can’t form into a person. She tried remembering, for the first few years, but she couldn’t, not when one patient blended into the other until she couldn’t remember which teenage girl loved constellations and which one of the dozens of little boys had wanted to be a firefighter.

Tomorrow, Elizabeth will come to work in her best clothes. She will tell another person they are dying, that their best hope is flooding their body with toxic chemicals in hopes it will kill their cancer before it kills them, because even in all the research, every step they’ve made and the thousands of dollars poured into research and funding, there is still no cure for cancer.

And then the world would move on without them.

Elizabeth can see Mia from the corner of her eye. Her long hair, shades of copper in the darkness, whipping against her face. She doesn’t move, still as she breathes in and her shoulders just draw ever so slightly up, and down, with every careful breath.

She wonders if Mia feels helpless too. Did anything they ever did truly mattered at all if the world would simply move on if they were gone, as if they were never here?

But, there’s a certainty in Mia’s presence, reassuring the way Elizabeth hopes she was at Lewis’ deathbed.

She saw her. Right here and now, she did.

Somehow, that was comforting enough.

Notes:

NEXT UP, Mia makes a mistake. The same mistake that lead her to New Amsterdam in the first place.

Chapter 9: "An Apple, The Garden"

Summary:

Mia makes the same mistake that lead her to New Amsterdam.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

She doesn’t know when it ended.

Mia can’t remember when he got off her, how long ago he fell asleep or when she finally came back into her body.

The fog recedes and the world stops feeling like if she were to reach out into the open air, her fingers would meet frosted glass. The ceiling pulls finally back in and it’s the right distance away, not warping over her like a fish eyes lens. The two lightbulbs stare, peering down at her in the darkness, watching, always watching.

Stripes roll across the shadows, the city lights peaking through the cracks in the blinds. Her legs are aching, pain radiating through her hips. There’s a soreness spreading in her right shoulder, dragging her further into her body.

Mia tries to swallow the lump in her throat. It doesn’t go all the way down.

There’s a body lying next to her in the darkness, a leg touching hers. His skin is almost scalding hot against her own, spikes of shaven hair pressing into her bare calf.

Kevin.

Goosebumps crawl over her skin and it suddenly occurs to her how bare she is. The duvet is somewhere past her feet. Mia can’t find it in her to move.

Something is sticky on her collarbones, coating her skin when a chill blows through the apartment, saliva where he’d lapped at her wounds, licked her clean. Mia has never felt more dirty.

She’d woken up next to him a dozen times before, but not like this.

When Mia tries to take a breath, the only thing she can smell is that scent, so familiar, sweet and flowery, the hint of citrus. Mia used to find comfort in it. Now, it only reminds her of the last time she saw Jules.

She was her patient, before she moved. They were close, friends even. When Jules would leave the state for a case, she would always return with a souvenir, a tin of tea, a dreamcatcher, a box of homemade mooncakes one Mid Autumn Festival. She spent months talking about her fiancée, her wedding, how her parents had finally approved and Mia was happy for her. She deserved the best after everything she had been through, and it sounded like the universe was finally falling into place for her.

Mia didn’t know then.

Jules had wrapped her up in her arms and congratulated her on her new job. Her brilliant smile feels like a distant memory now, the woman it belonged to a ghost in her mind’s eye even though it had only been a few months since she’d last seen her, since she moved from University.

The way Mia bit her tongue that day and choked down the truth, hugging her back like she hadn’t committed a horrible crime against her, like she didn’t know what her fiancée had done, makes her stomach drop now.

That distinct quiet Mia once thought was peace rears on its hind legs, stepping back wearily, disgusted at the sight of her. The ceiling lights judge from their place above.

Her hands form claws into the bed like muscle memory, learned from months of gripping at a warm, hard back, cotton shirts, bathroom walls and kitchen countertops and that smell, Jules’ smell, is suddenly too strong. It’s all over the sheets, imprinted in the pillow where her head is pressed, imprinted into the bed Mia is lying in like it’s hers and when she tries to breathe again the weight beside her feels heavier than she knows it should be.

Mia spent days in fetal position when she found out. Called in sick to work, unmoving from her couch, too afraid of that growing urge to pick up her phone and respond to the messages that kept flooding in from Kevin or crack open the bottle she kept in the back of her cupboard, but most of all, afraid she might end up in his arms again instead of curled up into her own.

It reminds her of sitting in that small room in the back of Saint Cecilia’s as a child, her CCD teacher cross legged at the head of their circle like she always was. Mia doesn’t remember her name, only the glasses she wore that looked like her grandmother’s, but she does remember the story she told, the one about Adam and Eve.

She said they were God’s favorite creations, free of imperfection, happy in the garden with the beautiful animals and plants where they lived. Some seven years old, barely in second grade, Mia knew already that things never stayed that way. What her teacher said next in a hushed voice, like she was sharing some sort of secret, proved her right.

God told them there was one tree they could not eat from. Though it was the one thing Eve was not allowed to want, not supposed to want, passing that tree every day in that garden, even full of its other beautiful fruits and flowers, made her want to know what it’s flesh tasted like.

Mia could see her phone, there where she laid curled up on her couch, just beyond reach sitting on her coffee table. It was right there, pulling her in like the candies they’d pass out in classroom birthday parties or the bar down the block from the teaching hospital and she would think about the tree and the fruit and Eve and that garden.

She had never been good at resisting temptation.

That night after the resistance fell apart, Mia was weak. She gave in. She reached out, plucked her phone from where it hung heavy in her pocket. She sent the text, took a bite, then another, and another, a desire burning in her stomach for more and more, an ache that couldn’t be fulfilled.

She throws her legs over the edge of the bed and stands, picking up her clothes with pinched fingertips that lay scattered on the floor, rotting with the knowledge of what she’d done. He’d torn them off her how many hours ago, his hands groping, mouth desperate, a tongue intruding and canines sinking into her flesh where Mia is sure she will see marks when she tries to get ready for work in the morning. She’d have to cover them, carefully apply layers of foundation, green then the shade of her skin so the naked body staring back in the mirror could be free of sin too.

Mia doesn’t dare to breathe. She worries if she does, that scent, Jules’ scent, will suffocate her and she’ll never make it out of this apartment.

In the silence, she tiptoes toward the door, feet sinking into the fuzzy carpet, too afraid to make a sound. It’s a quiet escape, it always is. Guided by light from the massive glass window in the living room, she slips out into the apartment. There’s a perfect view of the city from the penthouse and she catches a glimpse of the Hudson past the blurry reflection of her naked body, and it looks so small from up this high. The walls around her are decorated in the kind of art only people who swore that some childish scribbles symbolized some higher meaning would ever buy. A photo of a a couple stands out in the impersonality, the vague shape of a man down on one knee in the darkness, and that same bright smile that haunted her. It’s just as picture perfect as the rest of the home.

Mia feels sick.

She didn’t know then, but she should have. She should have known better, should have realized. But she tried to stay away, she did. She flipped her entire life upside down to stay away.

She’s shaking like the weak, pathetic thing she is when she unfolds her clothes. Mia shoves her feet through her pants. They come up in jerky motions and when she pushes the button through the eye all she can think about is how he had torn them open. She tries to ignore the distinct bite in her throat that tells her she’s verging tears because she has to get out of place before those perfect marble floors can open up and swallow her whole. A part of her almost wishes they would.

The brand new leather of her boots crease under her carelessness when Mia stuffs her feet inside. She thinks she’s already ruined so much, one more thing doesn’t feel like it matters anymore.

She snatches her parka from the dining chair, barely pulling it over her shoulders before she twists the door handle and walks as quickly as she can away. She can feel the invisible eyes boring holes into her skin, and Mia looks over her shoulder, and checks again half a moment later even when she finds no one there. Her heart is pounding, beating restlessly with the fear someone had seen her leaving the apartment — Jules’ and Kevin’s apartment.

When she hears a door open, her stomach drops. She freezes. Someone saw her, someone would say something and Jules would know, everyone would know and this life she had built for herself in New York would come crashing down around her. It was what she deserved now, after everything she had done. All of the sneaking around, the unexplained texts, the hotel rooms and locked phones. How stupid she was. She takes a tentative step forward, and another. Then, she hears the click of a door closing and there are no footsteps but her own.

She needs to leave. She needs to get out of here. Fast.

Mia turns sharply around the corners, trying to escape this place before her fears have a chance to come true. Winding hallways she’s seen one too many times in the past two weeks blur past her. She clambers down the freezing stairwells that echo her pounding footsteps when the elevator takes too long to come. Her hands are still shaking and so is her heart inside of her chest and she wishes she could say it’s from the cold.

When her lungs begins to empty and fill faster than she can help and her breaths grow ragged with exertion, Mia can almost feel his body flush against hers, her pants mixing with his, breath hot in her ear, kissing her like he wanted her in that bar, in so many hotel rooms the smiley clerks at the Four Seasons and Marriott had memorized her face.

The way he let her in that night, this time into his home, when she showed up after months, the fur of her jacket sticking to her neck from the pouring rain and kissed her wordlessly made her mind go quiet. Then, it was just him. Just the scraping of calluses up like damp nylon. Only the hands in her hair, on her clothes, on her body. He was warm like she needed to be. Her back hitting a wall. Hands siezing hers, hard.

Mia’s breath quickens at the memory. The sound of her own ragged breaths only makes them flare. She tries to put it out of her mind, but the harder she tries, the more they close in. She sucks air in and out through her mouth, trying desperately to keep herself in control.

When Mia bursts onto the street, the air outside is cold, polluted with old rain and gas, not expensive perfume. No citrus. No sandalwood. She finally breathes in. Goosebumps erupt on her skin on her inhale and she can almost feel each one prickling against her cloths as they form. She’s suddenly all too aware of the sensations in her body, the sounds around her, louder than she remembers them to be.

Someone’s dragging a trash can down the sidewalk, wheels rattling over the bumps and cracks in the concrete. An ambulance whines in the distance. Her eyes water when a car zooms past her, headlights impossibly bright. Mia recognizes the kind of shouting and laughing from somewhere down the block, slurred and giddy with alcohol — college kids, she’d guess, partying even on a Sunday night. For a split second she recalls what it was like to feel like they probably did, that burn in her throat, the empty bottles and the haze they gifted, the blur she always searched for. Remembering being draped over toilet seats after sobers the thought.

She can’t find any warmth in her parka. Mia half thinks the stupid thing might actually be trapping the cold. Her shoulders shudder when she blows into her hands and rubs them together, trying to squirrel away any heat she can before she reaches into her pocket for her phone.

The screen lights up and she winces, hurriedly swiping the brightness down. The massive numbers stare back at her still from her lockscreen, reminding her of the life ruining secret, hidden behind a 6 digit code like it could somehow protect everything she built.

Mia finds an Uber as fast as her frost-bitten fingers will let her. She bites her tongue when she realizes her location had been memorized by her phone, input so many times it auto fills. A cyclist whizzes by. That nauseating sensation in the pit of her stomach grows and a cramp follows like she had eaten something terribly wrong.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket and not a moment later, the driver shows up just before her fingers can fall off.

The ride home is quiet, only the low hum of a car engine. Not even the radio is on. The driver doesn’t try to make conversation, but in the rear view mirror, he keeps stealing glances at her like he knows what she’s done.

Mia shrinks into the fur collar of her jacket, wanting to hide a hickey she might not remember happened.

She catches his eye when he looks back again.

He can’t know, there’s no way he can, but Mia can’t shake the feeling he somehow does and soon, everyone will know what kind of terrible person she is and that the drunk teenagers they pass might be laughing at her and all the people she has to face in a few hours will stare in disgust, and they'd have every right.

For a split second, Mia wonders what they would think of her now. Her stomach twists, and her hand curls in her lap. Their faces flash in her mind, the way Elizabeth turned her eyes on her, the way Iggy turned away, and now she deserved it. She was sitting in the back of a cab in the middle of the night, fleeing another woman's lover for the too-many times.

Mia steals at the sides of her coat. They crinkle under her fingertips as she pulls them tighter and tighter still around her flimsy frame like she could squeeze herself back together if she just tried hard enough. Even if she can't, she would crack herself open by morning and squeeze her split edges into that perfect mold she can't even recall who'd created.

Mia Castries, always warm, always friendly, always trying — always trying.

She recognises the sudden sting of tears in her eyes. A sob cracks, sour through her throat, and she barely chokes it back.

There’s a loud bang beneath her. The car lurches, and her heart jumps. The driver curses about a pothole, but it sounds like a gavel, deeming a final deliberated sentence.

She doesn’t think she’ll ever forgive herself.

Notes:

Religious trauma is definitely a tough topic to write! It just felt right for Mia and her character though so I wanted to take on the challenge, especially with the way she develops throughout the fic. If anyone reading this has dealt with this personally, I hope I did this justice. I've had my own issues with religion but most definitely not to this extent so this is another one of the things in this story that has needed a lot of research.
NEXT UP, Elizabeth has a patient who believes his cancer was cured by supplements. Mia helps her get to the bottom of it. A long overdue apology brings them closer.

Chapter 10: "Finding The Bright Spots"

Summary:

Elizabeth has a patient who believes his cancer was cured by supplements. Mia helps her get to the bottom of it. A long overdue apology brings them closer.

Notes:

Elizabeth uses text to speech in this chapter as a form of communication in this chapter. I chose not to put this in italics as they are used to represent an interpretation or translation of another language into English.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Bob, Louise, thank you for coming. ”

The former raises a sharp hand, “Skip the preamble. Just tell me how long.” Bob’s bushy brows are furrowed, thin lips pressed together in annoyance. His eyes dart around as he speaks, clearly uninterested. “Whatever time I have left, I wanna spend as little time as possible in this office.”

“She'd tell you if you stop talking.” Louise remarks.

Elizabeth sees Bob’s nose twitches in irritation, and she quickly sits down, inserting herself into the conversation, “Okay. So, I actually have some good news. I just got your numbers and— ”

Louise takes her husband’s hand, her bright white turtleneck and woolen jacket a stark contrast to his monotone.

“And they're what?” Bob asks.

“They are phenomenal. ” Elizabeth smiles, “Your cancer has shrunk dramatically."

Mr and Mrs Levin’s expressions soften, the latter letting out a sigh of relief.

“Now, I get to say something that I don't get to say often enough.. ” The oncologist pauses, taking her time with each word because she doesn’t know when she will ever get to say them again. “You're looking at a full remission.”

Louise’s hand hits her chest and Elizabeth looks over to the other half of the couple, expecting a similar reaction..

“I told you Louise–” Bob grins smugly, “I told you, Louise, I told you!”

Louise glares at her husband, “A miracle occurs and the first thing you do is yell at your wife— Real nice, Bob, real nice!”

Elizabeth blinks, eyes darting hastily between Ben and the married couple arguing too fast for either of them to keep up less than a foot across the table from her.

“Sour grapes!” Bob mocks, face contorted in ridicule. “Hmmm?!”

“I'm relieved, okay! What the hell is wrong with you?” By the time Ben shifts his body to sign for Louise, a few seconds behind, Elizabeth can already see Bob starting again. Ben flashes her a desperate look. Even after years of interpreting, he’s struggling to keep pace with their ongoing game of argument ping pong, hands flying so quickly and both Bob and Louise’ lips moving so rapidly that Elizabeth isn’t even half sure what is being said anymore.

“A cancer diagnosis is stressful on everyone,” Elizabeth attempts, trying to calm the pair. “Even good news scan be hard to accept after months of chemotherapy– ”

“But that's where you're wrong, I haven't had months of chemo because I've been throwing your stupid pills in the garbage.”

What?

“Straight. Into. The trash!” Bob jabs his finger into the table between each word.

“Against his wife's wishes!”

“Okay, okay, hold on.” Elizabeth blinks, “You have been throwing away your chemotherapy pills? ”

“They made me feel sick, so I stopped taking 'em. And now? I'm not sick!” He throws his hands up. Elizabeth only gapes further, wide eyes glancing between Mr Levin who’s waving his head mockingly and Ben interpreting behind him, mimicking his expression.. “You doctors, acting so fancy.. You have no clue. Just a bunch of puppets for Big Pharma!”

Oh dear.

“Mr. Levin—“

Bob stops her with a hand, “Yeah, save it for the next sucker.” He’s already getting up from his seat, “Come on, Louise.”

Elizabeth stands up to try and stop them, but before she can even open her mouth, Bob throws up his hand again and walks right past her without another word. She turns around, slack jawed, hoping Louise can offer some sort of explanation for this.

Instead, she says, “Apologies.” awkwardly, “He gets a little crazy.” before she rushes off after her husband and scurries around the corner of the hallway in her little white heels.

Elizabeth turns, blinking at the empty seats. What just happened?

She looks up at Ben, who looks just about as stunned as she feels. His brows pull together, “If he never took his medication, how is his cancer in remission?”

”I have no idea.”

***

Elizabeth tugs the ends of her sleeves back over her palms, trying to squirrel away whatever warmth she can find as she steps out through the front doors of New Amsterdam Hospital. Nearly March, the chill still passing through the city was colder than what she had been used to in Maryland this time of year.

She and Ben had chased Louise down before she and Bob left the hospital, but Bob still refused to talk. He told Elizabeth he wouldn’t spend another minute talking with another ‘big pharma shill’ and Louise opened her mouth to protest, but Elizabeth cut them off — she would be grateful to at least get to speak to one of them about this, if they were willing to just give her a moment. She even offered to buy them a drink for their time, bribery always worked, and it did. Louise told her get outside for some fresh air, and away from her husband.

Louise had a proper coat on, and it made Elizabeth wish her doctor’s one was a little thicker. Ben, in his grey sweater vest — the wool fuzzy and sticking out in odd places from loving wear — looked much more comfortable in this weather than Elizabeth was feeling.

The scent of caramel and cinnamon spice brewing from Louise’s cup keeps drawing Elizabeth’s attention, and combined with the still lingering hot cocoa and year-round dark roasts wafting through the cold air, her craving for coffee only strengthened. She stopped herself from ordering another macchiato before, she’d already had three cups today and it wasn’t even 2:00.

Not wanting to miss if Louise began speaking, Elizabeth turns to face her as they walk, but instead, in the top of her eye, she spots the ridiculous signage above the doors to the hospital.

Sitting on top of the awning, in humongous block letters, read ‘NAH’.

Nah.

It was apart of some mission to rebrand the hospital from it's 'reputation' that Veronica had concocted, and it was becoming very clear that she was happily putting the money she wasn't giving to their patients towards just about anything now.

The morning it the giant metal letters were erected, Elizabeth and Iggy stood outside, staring in some mixture of awe (with matching Pan De Vie cups in their hands, the question on both of their minds was, why?) and annoyance (whatever money she had spent on this endeavour could have gone to far better uses, like towards the procedures Veronica had cut for funding, Elizabeth argued). Looking at the thing, neither of them could decide whether the person who gave Veronica the idea needed to be fired or given a raise. It was funny, too much so, and Elizabeth took a little pleasure in the idea that Veronica hadn't realized how it looked.

Elizabeth can’t imagine that absurd sign had made it easy for anyone to take them seriously, and she thought briefly that maybe Louise and Bob had seen it, and that it contributed to Bob's abrupt change of attitude.

Trying to warm her hands, Elizabeth rubs her fingers together, a small hope she might be able to lessen just one of the unpleasant sensations encasing them. She always tries to keep her focus on other things, but it was more difficult than usual to ignore the discomfort and let it fade into the background today. The cool temperature brought in by the clouds that didn’t show a sign of lightening didn’t help. It felt like what Elizabeth imagined edema to feel like, as if she had dipped her arms into an ice bath and they had swollen multiple times beyond a healthy size.

S they come to a stop halfway through the courtyard, Louise finally begins speaking, and a second later Ben swiftly interprets, “If I may be candid, there are parts of Bob that have definitely gotten smaller with age, but I didn't know cancer worked that way.”

Elizabeth manages to stay professional despite the innuendo, but Ben's lips pull as he tries not to smile. Elizabeth flashes him a warning look.

“Has Bob gotten sick recently, maybe in the time since his last scan?” Elizabeth asks.

“No, not that I remember.” Louise answers, “Why?l

“Spontaneous remission is extremely rare. In most reported cases, the most common factor is an infection with a high fever.” Elizabeth explains, and Louise nods, “But yeah, his cancer has definitely shrunk. I just need to figure out how, because either it's a fluke, or Bob has inadvertently found a cure for his cancer.”

“Oh, please don't tell him that.” Louise waves her hand, “That will definitely go to his head. Nothing is easy with that man. Ever .”

Elizabeth offers a tight lipped smile. If the situation earlier today was any indicator of how he normally acted, he was anything but easy to deal with.

“But I love him,” She declares, pressing her hands over her heart, “Even in spite of his behavior.”

"Finding out you have cancer is never easy.” Elizabeth says. Being told you had cancer would change anybody’s life, for better, or worse apparently. The first time she’d met the couple, Bob was a much different person compared to the angry, raving man he was now.

“Oh please, I know several people with cancer who aren't going through the same mortality-induced mania that Bob's going through.”

Elizabeth narrows her eyes, "Can you be more specific?”

“Trading in our Volvo for a Cherry Red Miyata? Fine.” Louise brushes it off, “I expect him to do that around this age, and while the spray tans are unsettling, I can literally look the other way— But spending hundreds of dollars a month on vitamins and elixirs instead of taking the meds prescribed to him by a doctor is ridiculous, even for him.”

“Hang on," Elizabeth stops her, "what kind of vitamins and elixirs? ”

“Oh, they all have crazy names.” Louise turns to Ben. “Are you ready for this Ben?”

He nods.

“Horny. Goat. Weed.”

Elizabeth's mouth falls open.

Louise throws her hands up, “Tell me that's not a scam!”

When Elizabeth tilts her head, barely able to hold back a smile, she sees Ben narrow his eyes at her from her periphery. They had been friends long enough for him to know that look. It was often the precursor to a brilliant, or absurd and completely insane idea, and he had little choice but to be pulled along.

“Can you bring me everything that Bob has been taking? ”

“Everything?”

“Yes. ” She clarifies, “Everything.”

Elizabeth lets her smirk break free.

She knows just the person for vitamins and elixirs.

***

At a glimpse of strawberry blonde hair, Elizabeth looks up.

“Hi!” Mia smiles, coming to a stop just before Eizabeth's desk. “You paged?”

Mia is toying with a large pendant between her fingertips, its gold edges slightly warped and uneven, a design Elizabeth can’t quite make out stamped in the middle. The glint from the pendant catching the sunlight, even through the drawn blinds, every time Mia flips it in her hands keeps pulling Elizabeth's eyes back to it. The chain of her necklace overlapped that of her ID card and it came halfway down chest. She was wearing cropped dark blue sweater. It made her eyes seem even bluer than usual.

Mia’s hand stills, thankfully, the shiny distraction ceasing, and she bats her eyes at Elizabeth like she’s waiting for a response.

Elizabeth hums affirmatively, locking her fingers together on the small space she has left on her desk.

The movement draws Mia’s down to the massive collection of bottles infront of her. They replaced the usual stacks of paperwork on Elizabeth's desk, now sitting in piles discarded on the floor at their feet. Some are glass, others a matte plastic or clear blue, capped with orange screw-tops and black droppers and the odd orange prescription bottle or two with the child-proof lids that were embarrassingly Elizabeth-proof too.

“That is.. A lot of supplements.” Mia laughs nervously. She looks at Elizabeth, cringing, “Please don’t tell me all of these are yours…”

Elizabeth chuckles at her seriousness. She taps her fingers to her thumb, “No, they’re not. This–” She gestures at the spread, “-is everything my patient has been taking to cure his cancer. ”

Mia blinks. “Supplements?”

She nods.

Mia laughs incredulously, “You can’t cure cancer with-” she takes her pick of the bottles and frowns when she reads the label, “green tea extract.” She puts it down, “I appreciate the thought, and holistic medicine can do lot of things, but curing cancer is not one of them—” Her eyes narrow, “If it was, I’m pretty sure I’d have an actual department.”

“Except,” Elizabeth stops her, stepping out from behind her desk, “apparently, you can.” She pulls her tablet from its place on her table and offers it to Mia who takes it. "Mr Levin has been throwing away his chemotherapy pills for months, but his cancer? Is in full remission."

Mia looks down, studying the screen for a moment. She squints at the PET scan. There are no glowing, white spots anywhere to be seen, and Mia pinches the screen to take a closer look, skeptical. If Bob wasn't her patient, Elizabeth never would have even guessed based off his scans that he ever had cancer.

Elizabeth raises her brows at Mia, who looks up at her, handing the tablet back over. “And you’re sure this is everything he’s been taking?”

Tucking her tablet safely under her arm, Elizabeth nods. “Yes. This is everything. ”

Mia glances at the bottles again, then back up at Elizabeth.

“So,” Elizabeth smiles, quirking a playful brow, “How do you feel about helping me find a cure for cancer?”

***

“Sorry I wasn’t as helpful as you hoped.” Mia apologizes sheepishly as she sits down, smoothing her skirt out over her lap.

It had been over half an hour since Mia had walked into Elizabeth's office, and they were still looking for their miracle cancer cure. Though, they were now situated in the holistic doctor’s office, since apparently the negative energy in the oncology ward would not be useful for their search.

Elizabeth taps her thumb to her chest, “It’s fine.”

The holistic doctor cracks a smile. Her graying blue eyes paint with pink and orange, the Himalayan salt lamp in the corner of the room and the yellowing bulbs of the old building, and Elizabeth can’t help but smile too.

Elizabeth pulls her eyes away, shaking herself back into focus. She’d already spent 20 minutes just sitting here filing through supplements and the odd drug or two. So, it was only a matter of time before Veronica hunted her down for sport and using what little time she probably had left staring wasn’t going to get her anywhere. And, she was almost 100% certain that if she angered Veronica any further, she might just turn her into a centerpiece for her office.

The oncologist sets down yet another useless bottle and shoves it to the side with the others. She, along with Mia and Ben, had checked through a majority of the supplements already, and despite the numerous benefits of all of them – which Mia explained to Elizabeth in great detail – there was nothing so far that screamed ‘miracle cancer cure!’

So much for positive energy.

On the bright side, Elizabeth did learn that curcumin was a distant cousin of ginger, and that the bark of the white willow plant contained a pain killing chemical similar to Aspirin, so at least it wasn’t a total bust.

And.. It was nice to see Mia again.

It felt like forever since they crossed paths, with Elizabeth mostly spending her time in the OR and Mia placed in another department, both courtesy of Veronica, she hadn't seen her since she’d asked her for help with Lewis the other week.

Now here she was again, just across the table from her, working with her, talking to her, smiling at her like she used to over games of Euchre and late night meetings in the morgue. There, in that moment, it felt like the resistance had never been exposed, like nothing had ever happened.

But something did.

The way Mia blew up at her, just hours before the other night on the rooftop, is a sore reminder. Her mind would wander back to it every time she couldn’t sleep and Elizabeth had spent far longer thinking about it than she wanted to admit.

Elizabeth had been meaning to talk to her. She didn't understand why she hadn't already.

A sweater-clad hand pops into view and Elizabeth quickly blinks the thought out of her eyes. Stretching her wrists, she leans forward to swap out her bottle for another. When she flips it over, she turns her nose up at the label. There’s an extremely angry, demonic goat plastered on the front, accompanied by an almost offensively large ‘HORNY GOAT WEED ’ slapped across in bold. Wow. Louise was serious.

Elizabeth raises a brow at Mia, holding the bottle up. “Is this for what I think it is?”

“Sex?” Mia asks. She tries to remain her composure when she answers, barely holding back a smile. “Yes. Yes it is.”

Elizabeth looks back at the label thoughtfully, “You’d think they'd try to be a little more subtle about that. ”

“Yeah, I personally wouldn’t recommend anything to do with horny goats to any of my patients?” Mia tilts her head and Ben's brows lift questioningly as he interprets, “But, I won’t judge.”

Elizabeth cracks a smile, taking a look at the demonic goat one last time before she pushes it away. Mia places down a bottle of her own too, but before either of them can pick up another, there's a tap on Elizabeth shoulder.

She looks up just in time to see Iggy starting to greet the room breathlessly. “Hey, hi, do you-”. His eyes dart to Mia and Ben before they land on– “Elizabeth! Oh thank god.” He claps his hands, grinning. Elizabeth thinks she's never seen anyone this happy to see her. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

”You have?"

“Yes. Do you have a scheduling nurse I could borrow? I’m drowning up there.” He pants out, wiping the invisible sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

A question mark draws Elizabeth's brows together, “ How’d you get so buried? ”

“Veronica.”

Of course. “What did she do now?

“You know the new nurse?”

Elizabeth nods. Gladys had been fired last week due to budget cuts, Veronica citing the fact she couldn’t afford to pay such a senior nurse. Her eyes flicker between Ben interpreting and Iggy, who’s now picking up and putting down bottles as he rants.

“Yeah. She didn’t just double book me, she triple booked me.” He grabs another bottle, “I- I don’t even know how that’s possible, but now she’s disappeared somewhere and the entire department is completely turned upside down because our medical director fired our entire staff.”

Iggy slams the bottle of Ashwagwanda down and the table shudders in fear. He recoils, having even scared himself, and by the wide look in Mia’s eyes, Elizabeth guesses it must have given her a shock too.

“God. Sorry.” He turns to Mia apologetically, then Elizabeth, “Sorry. I’m just so-“ Iggy groans, looking just about ready to rip his greying hair out, which Veronica was no doubt added to. Elizabeth had found one of her own the other morning.

“I will send someone up as soon as they're available.”

“Yes , yes!” Iggy shoulders slump in a sigh that looks like it's been hours in the making. “Thank you, thank you, you are a lifesaver.” He starts walking backwards toward the door, “I love you, thank you.”

Elizabeth gives a small smile.

“Oh, and you too Ben. Mia.”

All three of them narrow their eyes at him.

Iggy is at the door when he turns back, “Also, was someone having a midlife crisis down here? All you’re missing is the uh–” He gestures to his hair, “Toupé.”

Wait.

Elizabeth spins herself back around with a kick of her feet, rifling through the medications and supplements. She swears she saw it somewhere in here.

“What is it?” Mia asks, rushing over to her side of the table. “What are you looking for?”

Elizabeth snatches up the bottle victoriously. "I think I know what cured his cancer."

***

"Bob, thank you for coming back on such short notice. ” Elizabeth gives Louise an appreciative look, knowing it must not have been easy convincing her husband to come back. “Are you sure this is everything you’ve been taking for your- ”

“Breakdown?” Louise asks at the same time as Bob says, “Holistic healing journey?”

Elizabeth blinks. They had a habit of cutting her off.

Bob folds his arms before Elizabeth can raise her hands to finish her sentence, suddenly agitated again. “What is this, some– Some kind of shakedown?”

“No--”

“And who’s this?” Bob jabs a finger to her right.

“This is Dr Mia Castries.” Elizabeth answers coolly, “She’s the chair of Holistic Medicine here at New Amsterdam.”

“Hi Bob.” Mia nods curtly at both halves of the couple with a smile. “Louise.”

“See Louise, I told you this was real! They got someone here who knows what I’m talking about.” Bob points at Mia triumphantly. His wife just sighs and rolls her eyes for what Elizabeth can only imagine is the millionth time since this morning, stuffing her hands deeper into her folded arms.

Mia scrunches her nose. “Not exactly.”

“What do you mean ‘not exactly’? You’re a holistic doc aren’t you?”

”Uh—” She smiles, “Yes, I am.”

“So?” He shrugs, “What’s the big deal? Aren’t you supposed to cure people naturally?”

“Dr Wilder asked me for my help to find out which one of your supplements put your cancer into remission.” Mia explains.

“Except, ” Elizabeth continues, “It wasn’t one of your supplements."

“I'm sorry to disappoint you Bob, but supplements can’t cure cancer.” Mia says, “If they could, Dr Wilder would already be doing that.”

Elizabeth nods in agreement. “Have you been taking a drug known as Midoxidil? ” She asks.

Bob purses his lips instead of answering.

Louise smacks him on the arm but he still doesn’t budge. She rolls her eyes and turns back to Elizabeth and Mia, “What's it for?”

“It’s for hair loss.” Mia pipes up matter-of-factly.

“Why would I take that?” He shoots back a little too quickly.

“Bob, we can all see the giant bald spot on the back of your head.” Louise glances to her right, “Ben has a perfect view.”

Ben's lips pull as he tries to hold back a smile. Elizabeth clears her throat, turning away from her friend and putting on her best poker face before she can start smiling too.

“Fine! I'm taking it.” Bob throws his hands up in surrender, “So what? I wanted to feel young for however long I had left. Sue me.”

She finds herself smirking. So much for professionalism. After the big show he’d put on earlier this afternoon about pharmaceuticals, it made her feel just a little smug.

“Dr. Wilder, is that drսg the reason that his tumor shrank?” Louise asks.

Elizabeth tilts her head, “Not a lot of people know this, but Viagra was first invented to treat hypertension.”

“For the record, I’m not on Viagra.” Bob clarifies.

“Yet.”

“Louise–!“

“What?”

Mia cuts in, “But when Pfizer found out that it had the side effect of treating erectile dysfunction, it was rebranded and began being prescribed as a medication for erectile dysfunction instead.”

“Our point here is that sometimes, discoveries are made by accident.” Elizabeth smiles, “You, Bob, might just be the proof that Midoxidil could be used to treat clear cell carcinoma.”

“What are you trying to say?” He asks.

”A hospital in Illinois is currently in Phase 2 trials studying the effect of Midoxidil in patients with recurrent ovarian cancers, and the results have been extremely promising in animal studies. Considering the genetic similarities between your tumor and the ones being studied, it would be more likely that Midoxidil caused your remission, rather than being from any of the supplements you were taking.”

“So you’re trying to tell me my hair medication get rebranded? Will that make it more expensive?”

“Bob!” Louise exclaims.

“What!”

“It's not all about you!”

Elizabeth waves her hands, quick to reroute before they can start bickering again. “No, no, no. That wouldn't happen. But, with your permission, I’d like to write a case report. It’s not often in my field that spontaneous remissions occur, much less ones that pose potential new treatments, so I would really appreciate if you could take the time to think about it. ”

Bob pushes his lower lip up thoughtfully, “Well, as long as I don’t get poked and prodded like some lab rat.”

It earns him a jab from Louise’s bony elbow and Bob snaps around to her, mumbling something even Ben doesn’t catch.

Elizabeth inserts herself quickly lest they start fighting again. “ No, no. We have everything we need. ”

“Then.. Sure.” He shrugs, “Glad to help or whatever.”

Elizabeth blinks. She didn’t expect this to be so easy. Was he pulling her leg? “ Again, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“It’s for the good of humanity or whatever, right?”

She nods.

“Then yeah. I’ll do it.”

Elizabeth smiles. That’s the Bob she met four months ago.

***

It’s nearly eight o’ clock when Elizabeth is pacing outside of the holistic medicine department, or to be more accurate, the tiny hallway in front of Mia Castries’ office.

Elizabeth stops, shrinking into herself as she lets out a heavy breath. She takes in another, trying to pull herself together and pick up the courage to knock.

Just beyond the curtains of the little glass cutout in the door to Mia's office, Elizabeth can see her working inside, her hair cascading down the sides of her face in soft swoops as she looks down at something in her hands. Her eyes are focused but gentle as they always are, and she looks so completely at peace as she works.

It must be quiet, a serene kind of silence that felt more like an escape from the noise of the world than something that dragged on endlessly. Mia always looked wide eyed when she wasn’t alone, but in her office, her eyes narrowed to something quiet, almost a little tired. Away from the rush, the moving lips, the hurried chatter in the always spinning world, those moments of stillness seemed like a reprieve.

She doesn’t want to disturb her, but Elizabeth thinks about that night on the rooftop, thinks about how for a moment, by Mia’s side, she felt that stillness too, and the silence felt less a little less lonely.

Elizabeth finally takes a step forward. She brings her hand up to the door, but inches away, her thoughts freeze her.

What if she offended her again? That was the last thing Elizabeth wanted to do, especially after today. It seemed like they were on good terms again, what if she said the wrong thing? Then, it would all blow up in her face like last time.

She curses under her breath. This shouldn’t be this hard. She was just with her a few hours ago, why was she suddenly so afraid now?

That day with Lewis, she didn't expect Mia to find her and apologize, much less offer to help, after she clearly offended her. She was so thoughtless, she knew that now. What Mia could do had limits and it must have been frustrating for her always having to defend her specialty. Not only was it insensitive to imply that what Mia did was some sort of magical pseudoscience, but Elizabeth was so firm in that belief, enough she thought Mia was serious when she was just pulling her leg.

Then, later that night on the rooftop, somehow Mia was there, in her hiding place. And even though they hadn’t even spoken a word, it felt like she understood. Just for that night, it felt like grief was not hers alone to share.

Working together side by side with Bob today, she couldn’t have thought it would be so easy after everything that happened. They were professionals, and they could set aside their personal problems to work together, but it felt like nothing had happened at all and Elizabeth couldn’t just leave it like that. Yes, they had both apologised, but it was clear that there was something more to what happened that day.

It dawns on her as she stares at her through the door. Elizabeth doesn’t want to hurt her again, and that fear keeps her just staring at her seperated by a pane of glass and a flimsy door, too afraid to knock, to do the hard thing, the right thing.

No. She had an apology to make, things that needed to be said, and with the amount of interrupted sleep Elizabeth had lately, she’d also had far too much time to plan out all the things that could possibly go wrong. Mia deserved better. She deserved to hear this, even if it meant risking the progress they’d just made.

Elizabeth squares her shoulders. She finally knocks. Mia’s eyes bat curiously at the sound as she looks up from what she’s doing. Then, she circles around the table, and walks up.

The door opens.

Mia breaks into a smile the second she realizes it’s her. “Hi!” She blinks at the empty space beside Elizabeth. “Where’s Ben? ….thing okay?”

Elizabeth was more than capable of lip reading, but it wasn’t perfect science. She only picked up every few words and the rest had to be pieced together with context. So, it takes a moment for her to understand what Mia is saying without an interpretation to fill in the gaps, but she wanted to do this alone…

And she’s sure that Ben would give her shit for this if he was here, for all of it. To be fair, he had every right to.

“He went home for the night. Everything is okay.” Her voice buzzes in her throat as she speaks. It’s a rare, strange, but familiar feeling. The concerned look on Mia's face doesn't leave. “Can I come in?” Elizabeth asks, gesturing inside the office.

Mia seems to catch on and steps aside. She closes the door behind them and turns back to face her. “What… Here for?” Her brows furrow, “….something wrong?”

Elizabeth holds a hand up, gesturing for her to wait a moment, and Mia takes a little step backward. Taking her phone from her pocket, she types her response, each letter buzzing in her hands, a tactile response Elizabeth had always liked to have. Highlighting the words, she presses speak . The speakers vibrate against the pad of her index finger.

“I wanted to thank you for helping me with Lewis. It meant a lot to me.”

A little smile pulls up Mia’s face, "I know. You don’t need… thank me… wanted to help. And I snapped at you.. shouldn’t have. I know you weren’t trying.. offend me.” She looks a little ashamed, her eyes not quite meeting hers, “But.. appreciate you.. here.”

Elizabeth nods.

Mia furrows her brows, her lips parted expectantly as if wanting to ask and knowing there was more to this visit than that.

Before she can overthink it, Elizabeth presses speak again. “I never got the chance to thank you for not telling Veronica about the resistance.”

Mia’s eyes dip down to the offending voice, the phone outstretched between them for her to take. Her smile falters. She looks up, her face softens. "You thought… me, didn't you?"

Elizabeth doesn’t know how to answer. Mia blurs in her stilled vision. She isn’t sure if she wants to give Mia that confirmation, to give her the truth, when she’s sure it will hurt her only more.

For a second, she considered it, when Veronica had called Mia’s name.

Elizabeth presses her lips together, and nods silently.

Mia reaches out to take the phone from her hands. Elizabeth watches her with patient eyes, hopeful, waiting for a reply. And surely, a moment later, Mia flips the screen to show her.

I get it.

Elizabeth blinks. She did?

Mia types again.

Veronica hired me. She placed me in your department and she took funding away from everyone else’s just to bring me here. I was the obvious choice.

The words send a pang through her chest.

Elizabeth had spent the first week after that meeting thinking about everything had happened. Then, after the anger and confusion of where she had gone so wrong ran dry, she was back to being alone at night, counting the ceiling lights of her bedroom and trying desperately to think of anything else but her hands so she could just sleep, and still rest would evade her until she fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion.

But after that night on the rooftop, Elizabeth found herself unable to stop noticing — not the numbness in her wrists, or the pain in her arms — but instead her mind would wander back to Mia as she laid awake and every detail about her. That look on her face in that conference room, in her office the week later, angry, irritated, hurt. She’d replay it over and over in her head, wondering where she had gone wrong, wondering what she could’ve done until it finally hit her.

Veronica gave her the chance to tell her the truth, and she chose not to. She made the decision not to tell Veronica, even though she knew how much it could’ve jeopardized her job, her livelihood.

And then she understood, everything from the very beginning had been real. That day when Elizabeth had bumped into Mia, she meant every word. All Mia had wanted to do wanted to connect, she had been looking for her only because she wanted to talk to her, searching for someone who might understand, who maybe, could be her friend in the confusing mess of moving to a new hospital.

None of it had ever been a ploy.

Elizabeth never sat with Veronica’s words long enough to see it.

Mia had always been genuine, and Elizabeth had only ever really thought of her as just another tool in her toolbox. She only went to her when she needed help, only spoke to her during their meetings, when they had a shared patient, and then she did it all over again as if nothing had ever happened. Elizabeth had gone to her only for help, not out of concern for her feelings, or out of care for her, as if Veronica hadn’t nearly fired Mia for the resistance that she had started.

But here Mia was now, standing in front of her and telling her she understood.

She wonders if Mia spent as many sleepless nights thinking about what happened. More? How long had it taken for her to force herself to sympathize with them when Elizabeth was the one who had hurt her in the first place, and so callously overstepped agin?

Her heart aches at the thought. Elizabeth wishes she’d realized, wishes she’d come to her and done this sooner.

That day, she asked me what I knew about the resistance. She told me that I could help the whole hospital, that she would give me a bigger space to practice, more funding and new equipment if I told her.

Elizabeth’s eyes widen when they cross over the last three words.

But I lied.

She looks up at Mia.

“Why?“ Elizabeth asks.

And the words are clear on Mia’s lips. “Because of you.”

She blinks, pressing a finger to her chest, “Me?”

Mia nods. She raises a hand, almost like she wants to sign something, but she drops it. Instead, Mia starts typing again and turns the phone back around.

I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but you didn’t know me and you didn’t trust me, but you let me help Willow anyway. You asked me to join the resistance and you vouched for me, even when the others didn't want me there. You put your faith in me. Not many people do that.

The weight of Mia's words sink in, and it falls to a thud at the very bottom of Elizabeth's stomach.

She had told Mia the first time they worked together that she didn't give away her trust easily, but she did. She so readily gave her trust to Max, to the others, but the person she should have trusted was right infront of her all along. Mia had the chance to get everything she wanted, to give her patients the care they needed if she had just told Veronica one thing. It could’ve been so easy, it would’ve. But she lied. She lied for her.

Elizabeth didn’t understand what Mia did, but she was patient and answered every question she had about holistic medicine with a smile. She went the extra mile to sit with Willow during her chemo sessions even though she didn't have to and never once showed a hint of anything but sincerity – and still, she let herself doubt her.

Even if it was just for a moment, just like everyone else never did, in that meeting room, Elizabeth had stopped believing in her too.

And the worst part was that Mia saw it.

She’d realized by the third morning spent thinking about her, when the sun had started to push through the cracks in her curtains. She must have noticed the way she looked at her, even with her eyes closed as she took deep breaths, Elizabeth looking at her like some sort of suspect, like she could have been the one who ratted them out.

The whole time, everything she had done, everything she had said to her, it meant more to Mia than Elizabeth knew.

She circles a fist over her heart, “I'm sorry.” Elizabeth says. Her voice cracks in her throat.

Mia gives a weary smile. “It's okay.” She says.

Elizabeth frowns. It wasn’t okay, was it?

For the first time, she notices the thin lines in the corners of Mia’s eyes, and she finally understands.

Elizabeth remembers being small, sat cross-legged on the floor her classroom with the bumblebee yellow walls and the painted tree stretching out to the ceiling, watching her classmates talk. Even though the memory is hazy in Elizabeth’s mind from so many years between, she remembers that sinking feeling in her chest, the muddled up words that she couldn't understand, the way her ears felt like they'd been stuffed with cotton swabs. She'd watch people's lips moving, one after the other too fast to catch, words being said about something that was always too difficult to to repeat again when she asked, long conversations boiled down to simple 'nevermind’s.

She could see everything, the smiles, the laughter, the sadness and joy, and she yearned to be apart of it. But, there was her, her family, and then, there was the rest of the world beyond the looking glass. A world that told her she was too hard to accommodate to, that told her time and time again to be glad for the interpreters, for the speech therapy, for needing to ask people constantly to write things down, to face her, to slow down, to just be okay with the fact that nobody else ever put in the effort, that nobody else ever tried.

For the first ten years of her life, Elizabeth dreaded to ask for anything more than that. She worried that someday, the world would grow tired, and people so often proved to her it could. Every group project she couldn’t keep up with, all the teachers who tried talking to her until they grew angry, even the people she called friends whose faces would flash with irritation and brush her off, say it wasn’t important when she couldn't understand.

Elizabeth learnt to smile and nod. To be quiet. People liked her more that way, when she didn't ask for anything, when she didn't bother anyone - when she was invisible.

For too long world made her feel small, and she let it. But, Elizabeth had grown up, and she wasn't afraid anymore.

Yet, in the silence, Elizabeth still recognizes the tired look in Mia's eyes. She spent too long knowing it not to, and even though she had worked so hard to move past those years, they had left a mark on her heart like a thumbtack in a wall.

It dawns on her how motionless the room was the day Mia had first introduced herself, the way she would simply smile every time Lauren made a pointed comment about her, how she'd just watch quietly during most of their meetings. Mia had never been at the forefront of those memories, not until now. It was always the resistance, always their patients, how they could help, to change things, Veronica’s newest policies, what she could do.

It isn’t okay. Mia knows that, Elizabeth knows she does. Somewhere deep down, she knows it isn’t, but she wants it to be, needs it. She had to be tolerant and agreeable and settle for less, that’s all she’ll ever get, there’s no point of wanting more, no point thinking you even deserve anything better because that’s when it hurts the most.

A pang of guilt shoots through her; it was so easy for her not to see Mia. All Elizabeth had ever wanted then was for someone to hear her for once in her life, and it was still so, so easy for her not to ever see her.

Elizabeth looks up at Mia, and when she meets her eyes, there's a sadness in the blue she hadn't seen before, behind the warmth and smiles, something that felt cold and lonely. It’s the same look that stared her back in the mirror when the quiet felt too loud, when her half empty apartment felt hollow.

And for the first time, under the dimmed lights of the office, Elizabeth sees her. She looks at Mia and realizes she was right there all along if she had just heard her instead of simply listening.

In the stillness, Mia is the first to move. She turns the phone around in her hand and begins to type again. It feels like a lifetime before she finishes and shows it to her.

When I first got here, everyone looked down on me. It was the same way the doctors at my old hospital did too. I saw the looks on their faces, judging me before they even got a chance to know me. But you were different. You were the only person in that entire room who saw more than just some crazy hippie crystal lady.

She lets out a soft laugh at the joke, coming out in a little breath through her mouth. Mia cracks a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Mia types again, flips the phone.

And I’m grateful for that.

Elizabeth reads the words, once, twice, and then carefully, she takes a step closer. She reaches out for her phone, gently touching the back of Mia’s hand to ask for it back. In her periphery, she sees Mia’s chest shrink in an exhale, and then she allows Elizabeth to slip the phone out from her palm.

“If it's worth anything, I know you now.” The phone's voice says. Elizabeth looks up, “And I trust you.”

Mia meets her eyes, staring back with her wide, blue ones. Her lips are parted, her shoulders caught mid breath and her brows drawn together softly in an awed silence; like those words have never been said to her before. They should have. She decides she wants to tell her that again, maybe even for all the times she never heard it.

“I do.” Elizabeth says. She doesn’t feel her voice break in her throat. She’s sure, maybe more sure of it than anything she’s said aloud before.

Mia’s eyes soften, and the beginnings of tears glisten on her waterlines. She bites her lower lip in a smile, the same way she did that night at Lewis’ bedside. She looks down at her feet, taking a breath before she lifts her eyes to look at her again.

A thought pops into Elizabeth’s mind, something she’s sure Mia would find funny. She has to hold back a smile as she types and hits speak, and waits for the phone to finish talking. “And you’re still a crystal lady. Just.. Not crazy.”

And it gets Mia to laugh, a real one. Her face brightens with the pull of her lips, her teeth bared with a carefree sense of joy like the sun itself was shining on her. Then she presses her lips together, tugging her smile down in a way Elizabeth recognizes. She was trying to make sure Elizabeth could read them.

“I am glad that you remembered.” Mia says, and Elizabeth understands every word.

There’s that gentle look in Mia’s eyes that she only ever saw in moments like these, when blue never looked more genuine and warm, a gratefulness, like for a moment, fears washed away. It’s an expression Elizabeth remembers. Mia had looked up at her that night when she helped Willow, and looking back at her now like she did then, standing in the same room, Elizabeth can’t help but smile too.

From up this close, she can feel the heat in the space between them, see the little dark spots in Mia’s eyes like grottos in an ocean, the little wisps of blonde beginning to grow past her gold studded ears. Elizabeth can smell her shampoo, floral and fragrant, soft and sweet like the look on her face.

There are inches between them, and it’s only then she realizes how narrow that distance is.

Elizabeth takes a step back. She can still smell her lavender shampoo. “I should let you get back to work.”

A blush rises to Mia’s cheeks and she blinks, suddenly pulled from the moment. She takes a step back too. “Yeah, I should… finish up… the night.” There’s a moment when Mia raises a hand to her lips and Elizabeth isn’t quite sure what she’s doing. Then, she signs — “Thank you.”

Elizabeth breaks into a smile, the dimple in her cheek deepening impossibly so.

It could just have been something Mia had picked up from watching her and Ben signing over the last month together. The thought crosses her mind, that maybe Mia was learning sign, it only makes her smile wider. No matter where or how, she had learnt something, even such a simple gesture, and yet it meant something more. Mia wanted to, she was trying, learning for her.

And maybe it meant she saw her too.

Elizabeth nods, accepting the gesture. She pockets her phone, trying to control the smile on her face because she’s sure she's starting to look silly now.

“I'll see you next Monday?” Elizabeth signs, speaking at the same time so Mia could follow.

She blinks anyway.

“For Euchre?” Elizabeth fingerspells, arching a hopeful brow.

Mia’s eyes light up in recognition, “Yeah, no— Of course…” Then, Mia stops and raises her hands, a little hesitant at first, unsure, before she begins to sign, slowly, but clearly. “Next time maybe.. ” There’s a small pause between when she gestures between them with two fingers, the sign for ‘we’ , and when she signs again, “Play together? ”

Elizabeth laughs. She’s pretty sure Mia is only asking because she and Ben won in a landslide last time. She hums, agreeing with a nod.

Mia looks at her hands, and a small smile pulls at her lips as her hands begin to move again, “ We make a good team.” she signs, and she doesn’t pause over a single word. Then, her eyes meet hers, and the corners of them crinkle.

Yeah. Elizabeth takes a breath, and she smiles. They did make a good team.

Notes:

Sorry for the long wait! This one's been a chapter I wanted to write the moment we saw that episode in Season 5 with Bob and the 'elixirs', it just felt like the perfect missed opportunity to have had Mia and her specialty come back in again and honestly when I was watching I thought that was where it was going to go.
Fun fact — Midoxidil, the hair loss medication mentioned in this chapter, is really in Phase 2 trials studying its effect on platinum resistant ovarian cancers and has shown to be effective in mice studies! The types of ovarian cancers that are most likely to be platinum resistant also do have genetic similairity to clear cell carcinomas. Although the rest of the case was taken directly from the show, I thought it would be fun to make it a little more accurate.
NEXT UP, Mia struggles to stay away from Kevin. Elizabeth comes to her for help, but it isn’t for a patient.

Chapter 11: “How Can I Help?”

Summary:

Mia struggles to stay away from Kevin. Elizabeth comes to her for help, but it isn’t for a patient.

Notes:

I received a LOT of feedback that everyone wanted more Ben so I edited the chapter after initially posting to feature him a bit. Rest assured he will have more time in the upcoming chapters!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Her báguàn cups let out a shrill squeak as Mia sweeps them across the table. She flinches at the sound, almost sharp as it rings in her eardrums. Slower, she pushes them across the tabletop with the flat of her palm.

She was trying to finish re-packing her equipment, her bottles of massage oil and singing bowls left in a mess last night when her eyes grew too heavy to continue organizing. Mia had been the one to pluck each bottle from her shelves the moment her shift ended, deciding to wipe down every surface for a second time and flatten out the vibrant tapestries that laid from her tables to cover their bland, beige or cold metal tops.

Mia had woken up an hour early today and took a cab to work just to make sure she had the mess cleaned up before her first appointment of the day. She wasn’t sure exactly how long left she had, but she was nearly done and she hadn’t been here nearly long enough to kill all that free time.

Making her way across the room, Mia places her tray of cupping materials onto the top of her metal cart. It was pushed up against a wall where a short, wide window sat. Ordinarily, it would give view to the hallways outside her office, but the blinds had been drawn for privacy.

When she had first moved here weeks ago, Mia had found the most gorgeous deep red tulle at the bazaar that would’ve been perfect to add a pop of much needed color to her new workspace. Delicate flecks of gold scattered across the fabric, catching the sunlight, and a pattern of golden dots that decorated it, each one just smaller than a fingerprint.

She couldn’t figure out exactly where to put it at first, but eventually, she draped over the window frame, bunching the tulle in the middle so swooped down on either side, covering most of the window. Mia managed to secure it by tucking the fabric into the corners and the center of the frame to hold it up where the glue holding the plastic to the wall had weakened enough to be popped off.

The other fabrics she had found that day, a plain bright red chiffon and a darker maroon with a pattern of large golden circles, were draped from the ceiling. They hung from one end of her office to the other in two delicate waves that dipped a few feet above her head at its lowest point. They made the office seem a little more intimate and less clinical, dimming the giant, bright lights installed into the drop ceiling overhead, each one taking the space of an entire square tile.

Mia always never wanted her workspace to look like a doctor’s office, and she had decorated her office carefully to conceal as much of the sterile metals and medical equipment as possible. It had always made her feel safe, comfortable in her office, and that energy transferred to her patients too — but today, the softness felt too large, too looming, and Mia was all too aware of her phone sitting on her table a few steps behind her.

Whenever she was alone, in her office, in her home, Mia would find herself thinking about Kevin.

A thought would lead to an urge, and then the white hot shame that would wash over her when her stomach curled.

It had only been once, no, two times she had fallen off the wagon and given in.

She was nearly finished organizing, but the idea of stopping, just staying still and doing nothing made her skin crawl. That pull, tugging in her chest to go to him, rumbled low like a flame she could only extinguish by listening to it.

Kevin was right there if she just wanted, if she just picked up her phone and texted, she could see him tonight, and that urge would go away. He would be here for three weeks, hers for three weeks.

Mia would say no, she always tried to. Until something went wrong, until every tiny frustration, every sideways glance and awkward silence piled a log and that fire was burning too loud and she said yes when he texts her to,

Come over at 8?

Jules trip extended another week.

I miss you.

But she won’t, not again. That urge would only grow the more she gave into it, she knew it would. There couldn’t be a third time.

And yet she couldn’t seem to ignore it.

When Mia spots the tulle over her window, a badly hung mess that does the pretty fabric no justice, it’s the last thing in the office she hasn’t tried to fix.

Mia marches over and stands on her tippy-toes, prying her fingertips between the wall and the center of the window frame. It takes a few tugs before it budges off, and the tulle sags, just clinging on from either corner. If she could get the entire length of it hung properly, and then bunched the centre, it would look better.

So, she gathers the tulle in the pinched fingers of her right hand and presses the plastic frame down with her left as she goes along to keep the fabric in place. It’s going perfectly according to what she had imagined, until she gets to the middle. The plastic squeaks and creaks, trying to mold over the thick, bunched up tulle as she presses it over, but a half second after she lets go, the frame pops back out again, and the fabric drops with defeat.

Mia bites her lip, a sharp pain spreading through her mouth. She shouldn’t have messed with it when it was working already.

Balling her fist, she hammers it into the frame, once, then harder a second time for good measure.

“What did that curtain ever do to you?”

Mia jolts, whipping around, her hand flying to her chest to clutch her heart that had hopped right into her throat. She tries to make out the figure at the door through the pounding in her chest that blurs her vision with each thud.

It’s Elizabeth. She has a sheepish expression on her face, her lips pulled in an apologetic smile, eyes slightly narrowed. The dark red shirt she has on today has an low cut, empire neckline. It’s a distractingly bold color.

Unlike the other night, Ben is back at her side dutiful as ever, hands clasped behind his back.

She steps in, her brows raising; an open ended question. “Sorry. Did I scare you?” Elizabeth circles a fist over her chest in a gentle motion, hands moving slowly. Ben’s voice is soft to match when he interprets a half second later, careful not to startle her again.

“No! I–” Mia stops herself when she hears how high her voice is, and Ben interprets her response with huge, exaggerated brows from the corner of her eye. She takes a breath, trying to slow her heart that’s betraying her. “I was just trying to fix.. This.“ She looks back to the window where her makeshift curtain is sagging asymmetrically, the middle to left corner of the frame refusing to stick to the wall. Mia lets out a huff at the thing.

Elizabeth smiles, somehow still affectionate at Mia’s evident frustration. She begins sighing and Mia watches her closely, trying to translate her words back into English. You need… help… with… And then she points to the curtain, and pressing her brows up in a question.

“Yeah. That would be great.” Mia says, before Ben can finish interpreting, “Thank you.”

Acknowledging her with a smile, Elizabeth walks up to the window where Mia is standing, hands moving swiftly, “How did you want it put up?”

“I wanted to have the edge of the fabric clipped into the top of the frame and bunched up a little in the middle, swooping down with the two sides coming down on either side like...“ Mia gestures as she speaks, drawing the outline of what she’s imagining in the air over the window. Elizabeth’s eyes follow as Mia’s thumb and pointer fingers of both hands draw out the curtain draping on either side, then tracing from the center to connect in a sweeping motion down in an almost ‘W’ shape. “That.”

Elizabeth nods. She steps up onto her toes and reaches over, pulling the edge of the tulle taught from the left to where it gathers in the middle. Mia grabs the centre of the tulle, bunching it up in her fingertips. When Elizabeth leans just a little bit closer to pinch her end of the fabric to Mia’s, her arm presses against hers, their hips bump. It’s only a split second their sides are half pressed into each other, but it felt almost comfortable. Too comfortable.

Using her other hand to pinch the entire bunch, Mia quickly takes it out of Elizabeth’s grasp and steps away from her. Her skin is still tingling where their arms had brushed as Mia tries to refocus, slowly feeding the fabric in between the frame and the wall. She stops after a few shoves, enough of the tulle bunched up to create the illusion she wanted.

Mia holds it in place, and Elizabeth presses the plastic frame down, leaning her entire weight into her fingertips and with one snap, wow. It actually stays. The universe must just hate Mia then.

Stepping back, the two of them look at their work.

Elizabeth turns to her, cheek dimpling when she gives her a lopsided smile.

“So?” She asks quietly.

“It’s perfect.” Mia says, looking back at her. “Thanks.”

Elizabeth nods, and it hits Mia just how close they are to each other.

She can feel the warm energy radiating from Elizabeth, almost hot in the narrow distance between them. It’s inviting, wanting her to lean closer, and then that same panic she had felt the other night suddenly kicks in her chest. The energy between them had shifted, when she was standing in this office with Elizabeth, just the two of them, alone together.

No one else had said more than a word to her since the resistance had been discovered, not even Iggy. Everyone had gone their separate ways, Lauren was gone, Floyd didn’t dare to speak to her, Elizabeth never acknowledged what had happened. They all seemed to have just forgotten everything that happened in that meeting room, but Mia couldn’t, not after what she did.

Yet somehow, after Elizabeth had come to her office with an apology and understanding, she laid in bed and the guided meditation she had memorised every word of finally melted away, replaced with thoughts of Willow and Elizabeth and the little joys of laughter and euchre stolen from an uphill battle, wandering until her alarm buzzed and she was completely unsure of when she had fallen asleep.

For the first time since she went back to him, Mia didn’t spend all night awake, tossing and turning until the dulcet tones of the voice trying to guide her to sleep grew frustrated at her restlessness, shame crashing over her when her hands grazing the sides of her bare thighs felt like his and temptation gnawed at the pit of her stomach.

It was the strangest thing.

She found herself looking forward to the week to come instead of dreading it.

Hope.

Elizabeth seemed to have that effect on the people she met. Mia had risked her livelihood at Elizabeth’s side, for those few weeks she knew every person in that morgue believed the world was bigger and more important than just their own paychecks or how many patients they saw and how many insurance claims they put in. They were willing to put their jobs on the line just to help one more person, because if Elizabeth could, why couldn’t they?

Now she, with that glowing smile of hers, was standing only a few inches to her left. Just one step, and they’d be pressed shoulder to shoulder.

A little part of Mia wants to know what it would feel like to lean in and close that distance.

But they’re not alone today and Ben is still here and Mia catches a glimpse of him in the reflection of the glass, a curious look on his face, and her own suddenly feels warm.

Mia takes a step back, clearing her throat as she walks over to her table. Trying to distract herself from the heat glazing her cheeks, she smooths her hands over the cloth covering the tabletop. She flattens the creases over, but the usually calming repetition and sensation of the soft fabric doesn't do anything to soothe that weird feeling in her stomach.

“What are you doing here?” Mia asks, trying to sound as casual as possible, “You obviously didn’t come here to play handyman.”

Elizabeth hums at the joke, opening her mouth and bringing her hands up like she’s about to make a clever joke, but only a quiet sound escapes her before she closes it. Her fingers curl, her hands dropping from their position infront of her.

A wash of concern quickly floods over her. What was that? Was Elizabeth hesitating? Maybe she had something to speak to her about, or maybe she was scared of saying the wrong thing, of Mia blowing up at her again. Mia felt a pang of guilt at the thought.

She watches Elizabeth carefully, who takes a breath, and then raises her hands and signs, “Do you have a minute to talk?”

“Of course. Is this about a patient?” Mia asks, but Elizabeth doesn’t move to answer. Mia studies the expression on her face, completely relaxed, her lips set in an almost neutral position, but there’s a gentle tug between her brows that lends itself to something almost darker. “Is something wrong?” She asks cautiously.

Elizabeth purses her lips, and then she moves. She points a single finger to herself, and Mia’s heart sinks.

“It’s about me.”

“How can I help?”

Mia watches as Elizabeth’s eyes flicker over to Ben. He gives a sure nod in return, as if trying to encourage her forward, and Mia can’t begin to imagine what Elizabeth could possibly need the reassurance to tell her about. Her concern only grows as she waits. Elizabeth sucks in an audible breath before she steps forward, and begins to sign.

“I have Carpal Tunnel Syndrome.” She says, “I have had it for years, but, in the last few months, my symptoms have gotten worse.”

Ben interprets Elizabeth’s words with a sullen tone, and the expression on her face suddenly makes sense. It was wear, tiredness, a near apathy to her situation.

“I have tried everything. Physical therapy, bracing, painkillers, ice, rest, steroid injections—” Elizabeth lists each one by one on her fingers, so many failed attempts she has to flip her hand to keep counting, “—and none of it has worked.” She pauses, the muscle in her cheek tightening with gritted teeth. “My only option left is surgery, but I would be unable to work for months and there is no guarantee that it will cure me.”

In the moment when Mia’s eyes are fixed on Elizabeth’s hands, and listening to Ben’s interpretation of her words, that the reality of the situation begins to sink in. Like someone had stolen her capacity to think, every way that Mia has ever learnt to comfort a person eludes her.

“I’m sorry.” Mia says, and she knows it’s a weak response the second she hears it.

“Well-” Elizabeth's brows raise, her hands stuttering for a moment, “I was hoping that maybe… I was wondering if maybe you might have a way to help me.”

Her hands fall down to her side when she finishes signing, and Mia recognises the look in her eyes. One foot just slightly behind her, Elizabeth stands, anticipating, waiting for disappointment she was so sure would come that she was ready to turn and leave without another word.

And still, that tiny a glimmer of hope in a ticked up brow.

She’s seen it many times over the years, in more patients than she could count, and it makes her wonder how many times Elizabeth has been told no, how many doctors have told her that they couldn’t help her.

Her heart ached. Out of anyone in this world, Elizabeth didn’t deserve this.

“There are some things we can try.” Mia begins gently, “I’ve had patients with chronic pain who, like you, have tried everything and nothing worked.. But I’ve been able to see some success in some of my patients with accupuncture.”

Elizabeth’s brows unfurrow, urging her to go on.

“I can’t make miracles happen, and it’s definitely not a cure, but it’s helped some of my patients improve their quality of life.” Mia explains, “In combination with lifestyle changes and physical therapy, it was able to help with issues like numbness, tingling, weakness and pain and shows improvement over a 4 week period comparable to more invasive interventions like night splinting and steroid injections in a recent study.”

“Really?” Elizabeth twists her finger at her chin, wide eyed.

“Yes.” Mia says.

Elizabeth blinks, laughing a little in disbelief. “That sounds too good to be true.”

“It isn’t, but you really have to be committed to it. Two sessions a week, resting regularly, taking breaks, doing exercises… Asking people to change their lives isn’t easy.” Mia furrows her brows, “Do you think you’re up for the challenge?”

Elizabeth’s eyes look past her, chin wrinkled as she presses her lower lip up in uncertainty. There’s a moment before she turns back, raises her hand and says, “Yes.”

“Well, in that case, you can take a seat.” Mia gestures to the chair beside her. Elizabeth is already stepping forward when Mia stops her, “Oh, and I’ll need to examine you, so you should probably take the coat off.”

Mia is met with a curious look before Elizabeth shuffles her jacket off and hands it to her. Mia drapes it over the massage table before she wheels the stool over, rubbing her hands to warm them before she sits down in front of Elizabeth.

She looks down at Elizabeth’s arms and the ribbed crimson top she’s wearing that goes well past her wrists.

“I’m going to pull up your sleeves so I can examine you, is that okay?”

With a nod from Elizabeth, she punts herself closer and carefully begins to roll Elizabeth’s sleeves up to her forearm one at a time.

“Can you tell me which arm is worse?” Mia asks.

Elizabeth points to her right.

“I’m just going to feel your hands, okay? Let me know if anything is painful.” Mia says, and with a nod of permission, she takes Elizabeth’s hand in hers.

Mia observes for any signs of swelling or obvious deformities in the muscles and tendons, before gently turning her palm over to face the ceiling. Pressing gently, she moves her thumb up Elizabeth’s hand, feeling for any obvious changes in anatomy.

She moves her attention to Elizabeth’s wrist, pressing her thumb two fingerwidths down the line of the median nerve, before guiding her wrist upward. She hears a sharp breath, a wince. Mia looks up, cautious.

“Does that hurt?”

She nods, “And tingles.” Elizabeth shudders through parted lips, crawling her fingers up the length of her inner arm like a five-legged spider.

“Okay.” Mia says quietly to herself as she reaches for Elizabeth’s other arm, and repeats the motion. Elizabeth doesn’t react as visibly, her right hand seemingly more affected than her left. Gently laying Elizabeth’s hands, palm-up, onto her lap, she meets Elizabeth’s eyes. “Now, I’m going to need you to close your eyes and tell me when you feel me touching your hand. You can nod or raise your hand whenever you feel it.”

Elizabeth quietly closes her eyes. Then, Mia begins with the base of the thumb, just ever-so-slightly pressing the nail of her pointer finger into Elizabeth’s hand, which gets a nod from Elizabeth. A little further up by the second joint is the same, but by the time Mia reaches the tip of her thumb, Elizabeth doesn’t move at all. She repeats the same thing through the rest of Elizabeth’s fingers, and it’s a similar story with her index and middle finger, though when she moves to her ring and pinky finger, Elizabeth raises her hands for both.

Mia gently taps Elizabeth on the wrist twice, one of the ways they were taught to get the attention of a deaf person. Elizabeth opens her eyes.

“Okay, can you push against my hand as hard as you can? Don’t let me push your thumbs down.”

The push that comes is weaker than Mia expects. Elizabeth scrunches her face in determination, trying to press harder, and a lump forms in Mia’s throat as she has to weaken the resistance on Elizabeth’s thumbs.

Mia had thought her carpal tunnel would be mild, maybe moderate. Being a surgeon required a person to be extremely mobile with her hands, and she couldn’t think there would be a way for Elizabeth to continue working if her condition were any worse, but the lack of sensation in the tips of her fingers, the weakness, it all suggested it was severe.

Elizabeth’s hands weren’t only her job, it was how she communicated, writing notes, typing, texting, signing.

How much pain was Elizabeth in right now? How long had she ignored it and carried on, every day, during her surgeries, every conversation until she came here?

It must have hurt when she told her.

Mia breathes deeply, trying to reconnect with the peaceful energy she’d collected for the weekend. “Okay.” She says, trying to smile reassuringly, but there isn’t anything reassuring about Elizabeth’s condition at all. “You can let go.”

Elizabeth twists her hand awkwardly before letting it fall back into her lap. The motion looks familiar. She had done the same thing the other week when they were looking through the supplements together, craning her wrists back as far as they could go before she kept going and grabbed another bottle.

Mia thought it was just a nervous tick, or maybe a little soreness from her work, the way Elizabeth would rub her hands when she was standing, how she would stretch her hands. But it was all making sense now, how clumsy she was with the cards when they first started playing Euchre, how she’d tilt her wrists back and forth between games.

“Do you remember what I did for Willow?” Mia asks.

Elizabeth's nose crinkles, trying to remember, “The pressure points?”

“Yes, acupuncture follows the same concept. Are you familiar?”

Elizabeth shakes her head, tapping her middle and index finger to her thumb, “No.”

“It's based on the traditional Chinese belief that the body is composed out of meridians.” Mia begins to explain. She leans forward, glancing up for permission before she scoops Elizabeth’s arm into her hands. She traces up Elizabeth's arm with a thumb, from the base of her wrist to the cuffs of her rolled sleeves and Mia can almost feel Elizabeth’s gaze trailing after her touch. “They believe there are pathways that connect your whole body together, allowing a flow of energy, or Qi, to circulate. These are called meridians. When these meridians are blocked, it can cause symptoms, like carpal tunnel.”

Elizabeth nods, even though her brows are furrowed. She seems to be a little confused, but still trying to follow along.

“There are points along these meridians that we can target to unblock the flow.” She lightly presses an index finger at Elizabeth’s wrist, pressure point P6 — the same one she’d used for Willow the first time they met. Elizabeth nods, and Mia sets her arm back down in her lap, sitting back up to her full height. “In acupuncture, we insert needles into those points for faster relief.”

“And this is safe?” Elizabeth asks.

“As long as I don’t use the needles for my voodoo rituals.”

Elizabeth’s eyes go wide, her jaw falling open, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you again, I only meant—“

“I know. That was a joke.” And a distasteful one at that. Mia grimaces. This wasn’t the time for smart comments. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Elizabeth’s eyes soften. Her lips press together as she gives a small nod, accepting the apology.

“Do you still want to try?” Mia asks gently.

Elizabeth looks to Ben, then back at her. “Yes.”

***

The quick separation of glued foil to plastic is as harsh as a zipper when Mia peels the back off the disposable packet of needles in a practiced motion. Each acupuncture needle had its own section in the pack, separated by a thin wall of plastic to keep them sterile. They click like tic tacs in a tin as she sets it down on the table where Elizabeth’s right arm was laid out.

Her palm faced the ceiling on top of a white towel Mia had carefully laid out, the plush fabric carefully folded twice over for comfort. Instinctually, Mia had taken two towels from her cupboard before. She normally did two hands at once, but she had quickly paused when she imagined her usual routine, realizing that it wouldn’t work for Elizabeth. They settled on trying acupuncture on her dominant hand first, leaving her the left to sign with if she needed anything or had any questions.

”Okay.” She punts herself closer to Elizabeth on her rolling stool, rubbing her hands to make sure they’re warm again. Reaching out to steady Elizabeth’s arm with her hand, Mia meets her eyes, enunciating clearly, “A couple of years back, there was this analysis on accuouncture in carpal tunnel. The pressure points I’ll be targeting today were in the most commonly used and effective. This is pressure point H6. You’re going to feel a little pinch when I insert the needle, but stop me if the pain is too much or if it feels wrong, okay? We can stop at any time.”

Elizabeth nods.

Mia takes the closest needle from the pack, gripping the ribbed end between her fingers. Her pinky presses into Elizabeth’s wrist, stabilizing her as she slowly guides the sharp end, fine as a strand of hair, right into the centre of where her hand met her arm. Mia stops about half an inch in and glances up, checking Elizabeth’s face for any visible sign of discomfort.

“You okay? How did it feel?”

Elizabeth furrows her brows thoughtfully, cutting her thumb down her chin. “ Not bad. ” Mia understands that, but when Elizabeth tilts her head and continues signing, she’s completely lost. “ I expected it to be more painful. ” Ben interprets, thankfully.

There were dozens of signs in ASL, some only differentiated by the location, movement, whether one hand or two were used, and the meanings changed even depending on your facial expression. She was so used to the words being signed in a specific way, for example ‘ not ’ and ‘ painful ’ with two hands, that she hadn’t even caught it at all . It reminds Mia how much exactly she still has to learn.

“I mean, we tell our patients it will just be a little pinch, but that usually isn’t true. ”

She laughs, “Yeah, most of my patients think it’ll hurt more than it actually does. Acupuncture needles are a lot thinner than the ones we use for IVs and blood draws.” Mia turns her attention back to the task at hand instead of getting too distracted trying to decipher Elizabeth’s signing. Mia lets Ben do the interpreting as she reaches for another needle, “Though, you definitely wouldn’t have wanted to do acupuncture when it was first invented.”

“Oh,” She looks curious, “ why not? ”

Mia pauses, holding the needle over Elizabeth’s arm, “Well, people in ancient China didn’t exactly have the machinery we have now… They were basically tiny swords.”

Elizabeth scrunched her nose, “ I’m glad I was born in a modern world. ”

She pushes the needle into the second pressure point, two finger widths below the first. “If we weren’t, I’d probably be draining you of your blood right now.”

“Uh…”

She stops, looking up, “It’s a joke.” Mia tries to explain, “Bloodletting?”

Elizabeth closes her mouth, nodding slowly.

“I’m not a vampire.” She tries to clarify, making sure Elizabeth understands what exactly her joke was about.

“Are you sure?” Elizabeth asks, looking serious, and Mia is about to respond when she continues, “Because now that you mention it, I’ve never seen you in the sunlight…”

Mia blinks, surprised by the return of volley. It’s a first time, she swears she spends most of her conversations explaining herself than talking to people who actually understand anything, much less her humor. It’s a first time, and Mia doesn’t know what to say back, but Elizabeth is looking at her and it’s been a second too long since she should have responded, so she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Porphyria is actually thought to be what vampires are based on.”

She immediately wants to dig her own grave and bury herself the second she finishes speaking. Elizabeth made a joke, was actually joking back with her, and she basically just killed it with all the subtlety of a wooden stake in the chest.

But Elizabeth doesn’t narrow her eyes or look at her like she just sprouted a second head, instead, she just tilts her own at her curiously and asks, “Really?”

Mia quickly forgets her embarrassment. “Yes. The blistering in the sun, avoiding light, changes in skin colour, weakness, hair growth… Well, aside from the garlic and fangs, it’s all what we now think about when people say the word vampire. It’s actually thought that physicians in the past recommended patients drink blood for the disease, though, it was animal blood, not human.”

She looks at her incredulously, “It’s amazing how you can remember all of this. I can hardly remember what I ate for lunch."

Mia smiles softly. It wasn’t all that great, people thought it was weird if anything, but Elizabeth didn’t seem to mind. She actually seemed interested, or at least willing to give her a chance. Elizabeth always did, even if it was a little misguided at times.

A twinge of worry hits Mia, wondering if she had said too much or made things awkward. She reaches for the next needle, trying to find an end to the conversation. When she inserts it into Elizabeth’s wrist, she begins to finger spell something with her other hand.

“Pressure point P6.“ Ben interprets.

Mia looks up at her, “You remembered.”

Elizabeth meets her eyes and hums softly as if it was nothing, but it had nearly been two months since Elizabeth had brought Willow to see her, and Mia has to bite the inside of her lip to stop herself from smiling.

“Willow and I have different symptoms, why the same pressure point?”

“Each pressure point corresponds with multiple symptoms. While P6 is mainly targeted for nausea, it can also be helpful for patients experiencing nerve issues, digestive issues, anxiety and heart palpitations. You also have needles inserted in other pressure points, for example, this—“ Mia gestures, “Is pressure point P7, and that is pressure point L9. So, even though one of the pressure points is the same, not all of them are. By targeting specific combinations of pressure points, it can help to treat a number of different conditions. In a comprehensive analysis done of patients with mild to moderate carpal tunnel, these were among the most commonly used and most effective pressure points in treatment.”

When Elizabeth nods, accepting her answer, Mia leans over to take the next needle. She carefully inserts it into Elizabeth’s arm a few inches away from P6, toward the inner side of her wrist where her pinky was.

Then, in the corner of her eye, Mia sees Elizabeth’s brows snap together, and then she starts signing something. Elizabeth isn’t looking at her, instead past her at Ben, too fast for Mia to catch a word, but Ben doesn’t interpret like he usually does. Instead, Mia hears him start signing back rapidly behind her, the sound of his hands smacking eachother in forceful motions.

Elizabeth’s jaw drops in a scoff, half laughing, as she points a finger at him. Mia catches the word ‘true’ and swears the next one she signs is ‘scared’, even though it’s one handed, the facial expression gives it away.

Mia spins around to look between them, “….What are you two doing?”

Elizabeth turns to her, “I’m making fun of him because he’s a chicken, he looks away every time you insert a new needle...” Ben interprets slowly.

He swaps to his own words, “It makes me uncomfortable seeing things being inserted into people’s skin, is that really so wrong?”

A incredulous laugh breaks from Elizabeth’s throat, beginning to sing again. Mia watches, trying to interpret what she’s saying. You…. Was the second one work? She’s able to catch the next few thanks to Elizabeth’s mouthing, with me… five years. She doesn’t get further than that before Ben shoots back.

“Do I need to remind you that you need me here?” He asks.

” Not if you….. say you’re… wuss.” Elizabeth finger spells the last word exaggeratedly, and Mia has to purse her lips to stop herself from laughing.

“There’s plenty of people in the world who are scared of needles!” Ben defends.

Elizabeth starts signing back again even faster, the first sign out of the jumble being ‘ not ’.

As amusing as it was to watch them tease eachother, Mia did have an appointment later and how long had passed since 8:00, Mia wasn’t sure of. She quickly cuts in before Ben can respond. “Okay,” she stops them thoughtfully, “Ben, you really don’t have to keep watching. A lot of my patients are afraid of needles, it’s why I tend to use acupressure more, it can be uncomfortable to watch and experience. You can look away or close your eyes and I’ll let you know when we’re finished,” she turns to Elizabeth, “and I’ll answer any questions you have after?”

Elizabeth shrugs.

Ben breathes out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Mia says, though, she couldn’t understand how Ben could work with Elizabeth look at people’s internal organs during surgeries but somehow be freaked out at the sight of needles. She decides not to question it, and hears Ben turn around. With that, she reaches out for a needle, taking Elizabeth’s arm again.

Ducking her head, Elizabeth tries to whisper to her, “Wuss.” a lot louder than Mia is sure she intended.

”I can hear you!”

Elizabeth breaks into a huge smile, sitting back to her full height and looking completely satisfied with herself.

Mia shakes her head at them, turning her attention back to their treatment.

If she hadn’t known Ben was her interpreter, she would have mistaken them for brother and sister, less colleagues and more like family. They must have worked together for a long time, five years Mia guessed from what she caught of their earlier conversation.

It must take a certain amount of faith in other people to let another person be your speaking voice and ears, to communicate everything that was said to you and express your thoughts to every person you ever interacted with, strangers, patients, friends.

And he must have been there too when Elizabeth saw the other doctors before her.

She can’t imagine letting anyone know that kind of personal information, about your life, your health, your feelings. That level of vulnerability, especially with someone you had to see and work with every day sounded uncomfortable, awkward, but Elizabeth had no choice but to put that kind of trust in someone — Mia wonders if that’s why Elizabeth was so quick to believe in her. She must have had to do it all her life.

She finds the next pressure point in the web between Elizabeth’s thumb and pointer finger, L4. Wiggling the needle into the right depth, she grabs one last needle, and inserts it at T3, between Elizabeth’s ring and pinky finger.

“All… done. You can turn around now.” Mia announces.

Elizabeth smiles at Ben, her cheek dimpling smugly.

“Don’t.” He says warningly.

Pointing at herself, Elizabeth bats her eyes innocently. Ben just sighs from his spot behind Mia.

“Do you have any questions?”

Elizabeth nods, “P6, H7…” she furrows her brows as she begins signing one handedly. Mia watches her closely, trying to piece together what Elizabeth was signing with her own knowledge again. Elizabeth continues, but the rest, aside from a ‘why’ at the end, Mia doesn’t catch. “Why the different letters?” Ben interprets.

“Well, in Traditional Chinese Medicine, the body is divided into 12 primary meridians.” Mia answers. Gesturing with her hands, she continues, “Each one regulates a specific organ or function in your body. They’re separate, but still interconnected – like the circulatory system, but instead of transporting blood, they carry Qi.”

Elizabeth nods. Her eyes flick between Mia and Ben.

“The different letters correspond with the names of each of those meridians. For example, P6 is the sixth pressure point of the Pericardium meridian.”

“Pericardium?” Elizabeth echoes, “As in the pericardial sac?” She asks, and Mia picks up on the sign, ‘meaning’ or ‘mean’, this time. She was starting to get a little familiar with the one handed signing. It isn’t what Ben interprets, but Mia noticed that was the case whenever she did her class homework. In the first few weeks of 101, she quickly noticed that ASL was a lot more direct, shorter than the same sentences in English. It reminded Mia of Chinese in that sense, both languages conveyed more meaning in fewer words, or rather signs, than English.

“Yes, but not exactly.” Mia answers. “In Western medicine, the pericardium is strictly a physical organ, a membrane surrounding the heart. In Chinese beliefs, the heart is considered the center of emotions, your consciousness, and mental activity. It protects the heart, both physically and energetically, which is also why it’s known as the heart protector meridian.”

Elizabeth nods slowly. She makes a vocalization, “So, all of these meridians are connected to different parts of the body?”

“Exactly.” Mia smiles, “Each meridian is associated with specific functions, which means when a particular meridian is blocked, it causes specific symptoms. It’s important to not only unblock the flow of Qi, but also to balance the energies in your body.”

Her brow ticks up, “Balance the energies in your body?” She parrots back.

Mia laughs a little at herself, “Right. I probably should’ve started with that.”

Elizabeth shakes her head, smiling, “It’s fine.” She taps her thumb to her chest, hand facing the side. That one, Mia catches.

“In Chinese Philosophy, Qi is often translated as vital energy, or life force, and it can be separated into two categories, Yin, and Yang.”

Elizabeth nods, her eyes swapping between Ben and Mia, watching.

“Yin is the black, a passive and a cooling energy. Yang is the white, an active, warming energy. Think of it like the sun and moon. They represent the dual nature of life, the opposites of dark and light, the good and bad, cold and heat. Yin and Yang need to be balanced to bring harmony, to the world, to life, and to our bodies.” Mia pauses, waiting for Elizabeth to give her a sign she’s able to continue. When Elizabeth nods, Mia keeps going, “And each of the 12 meridians correspond with either Yin or Yang.”

“I’m guessing that 6 are Yin and 6 are Yang?” Ben interprets.

“Yes!” Mia beams, “The Lung, Spleen, Heart, Kidney, Pericardium, Liver are Yin meridians, and the Large Intestine, Stomach, Small Intestine, Urinary Bladder, Triple Burner, and Gallbladder meridians are Yang. When Qi flows smoothly and Yin and Yang are in balance, the body functions in harmony. It’s thought that if there’s a blockage or an imbalance, that’s what leads to disease.”

Elizabeth does this thing where she pauses for a second, looking over Mia’s shoulder at Ben, before she turns her eyes back to her and nods, “That’s fascinating.”

Mia pauses, realizing how much she’s been talking, and how little Ben had been voicing for Elizabeth.

She always talked too much when it came to alternative medicine, and always forgot to let other people have the time to speak too. Mia hardly ever noticed whenever her colleagues got annoyed, too distracted by her own thoughts to realize until she finished what she wanted to say, or people stopped her. In all of it, she hadn’t really been paying attention to Elizabeth’s signing either, she had completely forgotten to, or really pay much mind to her facial expressions.

Mia had a tendency to get carried away, she knew that, but she still never seemed to catch herself in time when people showed even a lick of interest in what she did. It made people dislike her if they hadn’t already been judging her for the fact that, seriously, you believe in this stuff?

She deflates in her seat, her shoulders drooping and suddenly self conscious. “That wasn’t too much information was it?”

“No!” She shakes her head, her eyebrows pressed tightly and hiding her green eyes, “it wasn’t.” The look on her face is soft and reassuring as she continues, “I can see how much you love your work, not many doctors can say that.” She presses her brows up and pauses for a moment, leaving her hand in the air, a little smirk ticking up the corner of her mouth. “You smile every time you talk about your passions. It’s inspiring.”

“Well, I’m glad that someone here cares about what I do.” Mia’s laugh is dry and a little forced.

Elizabeth frowns, “Are you finding it difficult working with the other departments?”

“Sometimes.” Mia admits, “I don’t think they take very well to me being here, you know, since the whole thing about Veronica cutting their funding to hire me?”

She presses her lower lip up like she’s trying to remember something, “You’re working in the Neurology department now, correct?”

Mia nods, “Don’t get me wrong, Agnes is wonderful, but the other doctors? Not so much. The patients are amazing too but.. I miss working in Oncology. I know Veronica wants me to expand my patient base and branch out but–”

“It’s not where you belong.” Elizabeth finishes.

Mia nods.

Elizabeth looks at her thoughtfully.

She’d be lying if she said that Elizabeth wasn’t one of the reasons she felt more comfortable in Oncology. She actively tried to involve Mia with her patients, referring them to her, bringing her to meet them, and Mia had gotten the chance to talk to other patients during Willow’s infusions. Everyone in the ward was friendly, the nurses knew her, she stopped sensing that the other doctors were judging her any time she walked by them. It wasn’t as if she was welcomed here with open arms, but they were used to her, and she was familiar with the people, the place, what to do and say.

Yes, Agnes was nice, but Mia found it difficult to talk to her. A part of it was because she hadn’t been there when the resistance ended. Somehow, it was even more awkward than walking past the others who knew what happened, because Mia didn’t know what she did know and how much she could say. Their conversations often ended quickly, strictly professional about how their patients were doing or about the referral she had sent.

A gentle buzzing breaks into her thoughts, Mia’s first phone vibrating on the table. She reaches for it, quickly turning it off before she places it back where it was, face down.

Elizabeth raises a brow, “Finished?” She asks, and this time Mia understands it before Ben interprets.

She nods. “I can take these out now.” Mia says, reaching out for Elizabeth’s hands. “I'm gonna need you to tell me if anything hurts, okay?”

With a nod, Mia carefully repositions Elizabeth’s hand and starts with the needle on her upper forearm. She can feel both Elizabeth and Ben watching as she swiftly plucks each needle from her right arm, then her left, and gathers them in her other hand.

There's a sudden jolt and Mia snaps up. She frowns, “Was that painful?”

“If felt like something shooting up my arm.”

“Acupuncture can cause some strange sensations, but it shouldn't hurt.”

She takes Elizabeth's hand again, quietly removing the rest of the needles, making a note to be more careful this time as she glances up between each one, monitoring for even the smallest change in expression. When she plucks out the last without any reaction, Mia asks, “What are you feeling?”

There’s a thoughtful expression on Elizabeth’s as she watches Ben’s interpretation, then looks down at her hands. She turns them over, tilting her hand back from her wrist, testing out the movements. Elizabeth then repeats the motion with her other hand.

Mia watches carefully, hoping she didn’t let her down.

Elizabeth’s mouth falls open in a quiet breath, She begins signing slowly, still staring at her hands with furrowed brows, trying to take it in. “The numbness, it’s decreased. The pain too.” She meets her eyes, “How does this work?”

Relief washes over Mia and she smiles at the question. Elizabeth was curious as ever. “Scientifically? It’s very poorly understood. The general theory is that it helps to improve circulation and reduce inflammation, but, if we go by Chinese beliefs—”

“You unblocked the flow of Qi.”

A smile pulls on Mia’s lips as she looks at her, a little amazed. She really did listen to her. Mia can’t remember the last time someone ever took the time to.

“You’re a fast learner.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks suddenly flush pink. It’s a very different expression than any Mia has seen on her before, the usually confident oncologist looking almost shy at the compliment.

“Don’t worry,” Mia teases, leaning in to touch the back of Elizabeth’s hand jokingly, “I won’t be converting you to crystals or yoga anytime soon.”

Elizabeth’s expression turns serious, the blush leaving her cheeks, “I think after today you might just have a willing participant.”

Mia laughs. It’s quiet for a moment when the joke dies, and Elizabeth looks her down at her hands before she looks back up. Her green eyes meet Mia’s, more certain than they were before.

“Thank you.” Elizabeth signs.

Reaching out, Mia takes the hand on Elizabeth’s lap in hers, giving her gentle squeeze. And Elizabeth cracks a smile, brushing her thumb over the outside of Mia’s hand, once, then twice. She always did that, when she put her hand on her back with Willow, on her arm with Lewis.

A warmth blossoms on Mia’s cheeks at the feeling, comforting, familiar, soft like the sunlight on her skin summer mornings, spent on her balcony with a cup of freshly brewed herbal tea. There’s a thin divot on the side of Elizabeth's wrist she hadn't felt until now, a scar Mia is sure there’s a story behind.

The pounding of a fist against the door throws Mia back into reality. She rolls herself away with a kick of her feet and snatches her phone up from the other end of the table.

09:13

Seriously?

“I’ll be with you in a moment!” Mia calls out, quickly clicking her phone off. She hops out of her seat and pops it down beside her salt lamp.

When she twirls around, Elizabeth is standing too. “Did you have an appointment?” She asks.

”Yes— well, technically not for another twenty minutes? But Ms Yarrow always tends to run early…” Mia presses her lips together, “A lot early, but usually not by this much.”

“I can see that.” Elizabeth signs, amused. Her brow cocks up, “So, when can I see you again?”

“I’m sure you’re way busier than I am with your surgeries and appointments and having a whole department to run, so really it depends on your schedule.”

Elizabeth nods absently, eyes trained on Ben behind her. She turns her eyes back to Mia. “What about next Monday at 12:00? After Willow’s infusion?”

”Great! Though, I should warn you, that’s usually my time for consults and walk ins, so I might get paged or have to cancel, but I don’t really get them all that often so…” Elizabeth gives her an understanding look. Mia continues, “Monday it is.” She smiles, “And maybe when we meet, we can discuss some other things you can do to help manage your symptoms, since we didn’t get a chance to talk about it today?”

Elizabeth nods, and when she smiles the dimple in her cheek deepens.

Three, very loud, and increasingly insistent knocks come from the door again. Mia’s pretty sure if she takes any longer Geraldine — who is nearly as old as her name sounds — might actually break down her door. Either way, her aggression was seriously disturbing the calm in the room.

“I’ll be there in a minute!” Mia calls out, sounding much harsher than she’d intended. She has to take a deep breath to calm herself and not let the negative energy affect her own.

Elizabeth scrunches her nose, “She’s not very patient is she?”

“Well, you’d hope that your patients would have more patience… Pun intended, but unfortunately for me, no.” Mia grimaces, “Sorry.”

Tilting her head at her, Elizabeth narrows her eyes, “I think Ms Yarrow will be the one wanting an apology, not me.” She teases, and Mia’s face feels warm. “Before I go, there is something I want to talk to you about.”

Mia bats her eyes, her gaze shifting to concern, ”What is it?”

”If we continue our appointments, no one can know.”

“Of course.“ Mia says. It didn’t matter why, even if Mia wasn’t bound by HIPPA, which meant couldn’t say anything identifying about Elizabeth without breaching patient confidentiality, she wouldn’t share anything with anybody here that Elizabeth told her in confidence, whether she was her patient or not — but it confused her the more she let those words tumble over in her head. The last time she had told her this was when she joined the resistance. "Wait, what do you mean no one can know?"

"Veronica." Her name sign is just the letter 'V' shaken twice, little care at all put into it coming up with it. "If she found out..”

Elizabeth's hands are still caught halfway in the air when Mia finishes her sentence, “She’d use it against you.”

Pressing her lower lip up, Elizabeth shakes her head, yes.

The realization sinks heavy in her stomach. She can only imagine a few ways Veronica could weaponise Elizabeth’s carpal tunnel against her, and she knows Veronica could think of a dozen more. Threatening to file an unfit to practice investigation, using it as valid reason to fire her -- she could be a liability to this hospital for performing surgeries with a condition that affected her hands. Mia knew she wasn't, she didn't even realize all this time that Elizabeth was struggling, she was still clearly able to manage at her job. Things hadn't reached that point, she wasn't a danger to herself, or anyone here.

But, Veronica would stoop that low.

She had already threatened to call the medical board during the meeting, told her that she would make sure that Elizabeth would never practice again. One phone call, and Elizabeth's entire life would be gone. One wrong move in a surgery, one complication, even just a complaint, and Elizabeth would be gone.

Mia knew now Veronica only cared about the money, only cared how much it cost to keep them here and how much revenue she could generate from their existence.

Being in the resistance was thrilling, exciting - something brand new and secret and with people who seemed to understand. It was amazing being able to help every person she met, even if her mind ticked with worry every time she billed for the wrong treatment, being apart of something bigger, having an impact on the people who needed it most, it was all she needed to push her to downcode another treatment, skip another lunch break, stay an extra hour or two to help someone who couldn’t afford it.

But, there was also the terrifying way Veronica circled them in the meeting room and that horrible, thick anxiety that bundled up dark and heavy in her body.

And there's the way Elizabeth offered herself up instead, ready to take the fall for everything they had done, for all the rules they broke and every violation of their contracts they made. Even when she thought one of them— even when Elizabeth thought Mia had betrayed them, she still was ready to sacrifice herself if it meant protecting them.

Mia watched her with wide eyes then, sat in her seat and too scared to even talk back to Veronica, not brave enough to say or do anything, and here Elizabeth was now, looking at her, waiting for an answer, asking her if she would help.

Was she in?

And when Mia’s looking at Elizabeth, it’s as easy of a decision to make this time as the last.

"We can meet during your lunchtimes," Mia decides, "that way you won't have to file a request for medical leave for weekly appointments." She says. "Veronica won’t know.”

Elizabeth draws her hand away from her lips gratefully, “Thank you.”

”Always." She says, and the sincerity in her own voice catches her off guard. "Besides, what’s the fun in following rules, right?” Mia jokes, and she’s rewarded with a smile, a small huff of chesty laughter from Elizabeth and even a flash of her teeth and the worry in the back of her mind suddenly quiets.

Ms Yarrow yells a shaky, thickly accented ‘Hello!’ from outside, and Mia blinks, suddenly brought back to her body at the harsh pounding of her fist on the door.

Mia gestures awkwardly past Elizabeth. “I should probably let her in before she breaks my door down.”

Elizabeth smiles. “So, I guess I'll see you on Monday?”

She feels a smile pulling at her lips. “Definitely.”

Notes:

Sorry for the long wait everyone! I got diagnosed with a connective tissue disorder in March and my health really declined around that time so I had to take a break from writing but I’m finally back with our girls.
Thank you so much for all the new people reading and commenting on my fics, it means a lot because I thought I’d be writing this for myself but the fact there’s people out there who care and are invested in them as much as I am makes me want to finish this even more!
I hope you guys enjoy a bit of a closer look into alternative medicine, I really love researching for Mia’s character and holistic medicine is as much her special interest as wildies is mine.
The next chapter will be out NOT in 6 months!
NEXT UP, Elizabeth and Floyd are forced to work together to save a mother and her twin babies. Floyd’s judgement is tested when complications arise.

Chapter 12: “Better Safe, Then Sorry”

Summary:

Elizabeth and Floyd are forced to work together to save a mother and her twin babies. Floyd’s judgement is tested when complications arise.

Notes:

LAST TIME, Mia is visited by Elizabeth, who confides in her about her carpal tunnel syndrome. Using acupuncture, she’s able to help Elizabeth, and they make an appointment to see eachother again

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

When Elizabeth catches a glimpse of movement and Ben’s familiar, slender figure in her periphery, she snaps up.

He’s finally here, hair messy and sticking to his forehead like he’d just taken a shower, which in and of itself was unusual on its own. But, coupled with the fact he was walking in and sliding his backpack off his shoulder casually as if he wasn’t a whopping 23 minutes – as per the little clock in the bottom corner of her laptop reminded – later than she was, Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him.

Pushing her laptop away from herself, she signs with a tilted brow, “You’re late.”

Ben pauses, his backpack left hanging off his shoulder like a deer in the headlights. After a moment, he continues to take his bag off, and answers simply, “Sorry. Alarm didn’t ring this morning.”

Elizabeth’s brows only wrinkle further, “You’re never late to work.”

Ben doesn’t move to answer, he doesn’t even meet her eyes, which is only even more unusual. It was generally considered rude not to look at a deaf person when they were speaking, which meant whatever he was hiding must’ve been really juicy.

He wordlessly slides his backpack into the gap between the backrest of a chair and the table Elizabeth was sitting at, and retrieves his laptop from its sleeve.

Yeah. Elizabeth doesn’t buy it for a second.

This morning when she walked to her office, she actually had to reach into her pocket in her keys. The door was locked, it was never locked by the time she got to work.

Ben left always home earlier than he had when they worked at Walter Reed. Since moving here, the further commute from his apartment in The Bronx to New Amsterdam meant he left extra early in his car (why he even brought it with him to a place like New York, Elizabeth would never understand) to beat the morning traffic.

It was customary for an interpreter to arrive before you had and Ben had always taken that seriously, even when they first met during her fellowship. He was always early, and every morning, she would find him in her office, leisurely flipping through a book or a newspaper with his tiny reading glasses.

Recently, that had been exchanged for him hunched over his phone with a grin on his face.

And here he was, somehow still late, even after she went on a jog this morning, visited the locker room to rinse off, and stopped for a second coffee on the way to her office.

And, he was trying to avoid conversation too. There was only one thing Ben was this tight lipped about.

“You went on a date.”

Ben’s hand glues into place on the chair he had been about to pull out, a blush spreading onto his facelike he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Elizabeth’s jaw drops open, “Oh my god– you had sex with them!”

He finally snaps up to look at her, completely scandalized, undoubtedly only stopping to scold her because her gestures were too ‘explicit’.

She rolls her eyes at him, “You’re such a prude. It’s not like anyone is going to hear us.” Elizabeth signs lazily, unimpressed. Ben’s face turns even more red. Her mouth opens further, “Unless… You’re worried that someone is going to see us.”

Ben turns around sharply, marching over and shutting the door before he snaps around, pushing a finger over his lips. “Be quiet!”

“She works here!” Elizabeth signs rapidly, her eyes shot open in disbelief.

“Yes,” He signs sharply, a huff in his shoulders, “she works here.”

A little smirk toys on Elizabeth’s lips. Now his even more than usually cagey-about-his-love- life behaviour was starting to make sense.

“Now, can we please change the subject?” Ben pleads. Elizabeth chooses to ignore him.

“So… this is why you took 20 minutes to get me a coffee on Monday, you were talking to her.”

A tiny smile creeps onto Ben’s face.

Elizabeth scoffs, “Professional? Bullshit! You’re dating our colleague! That’s why you wouldn’t tell me how you met.”

Ben taps his fingers down defensively, “No, I didn’t tell you because you’d never stop asking me if you knew.”

She shrugs, “Well now I’m just going to assume you’re fucking every woman we talk to.”

“I am not—“ Ben stops, shutting his mouth to take a breath and compose himself. “I am not sleeping with anyone here, okay?” He corrects her explicit choice of sign with an stern look on his face, like someone trying to scold a child. It doesn’t move Elizabeth, who still has a smug grin on her lips, and it’s only getting wider as Ben fumbles to explain, “It was just a date. We were watching movies and I fell asleep at her place because working with you everyday drains all my energy.” He blows his lips, cheeks and shoulders deflating like an exasperated balloon.

Elizabeth just scoffs, “You wouldn’t have moved across the country if you didn’t like working with me.”

“Well maybe I should move back.” He gestures harshly, his brows threateningly high.

“Nah, you like me too much to leave.” Ben’s shoulders drop in a sigh. She smiles, he knows she’s right. “So…” Elizabeth wiggles her brows at him, “How many dates?”

Surprisingly, Ben answers without hesitation, “10.”

Her mouth pops open, “10? Since we moved here?”

Ben nods.

Elizabeth closes her mouth. She hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t been on anywhere near that many dates with anyone since his last breakup. “You really like her.”

Ben takes a breath, nodding, “Yeah,” he smiles, “I do.”

The urge to tease him softens at the expression on his face. Ben almost looks boyish, one of those wistful looks people can’t help when they’re in love. Elizabeth had only seen that expression on his face years ago, and not once since then.

If he really liked this woman, enough that the second date Ben had told her he wanted had turned into ten, it must have been serious. Elizabeth just hoped she, whoever she was, treated him with the respect he deserved.

Ben had a huge heart, but it meant he tended to get himself into trouble with people — and women — who took advantage of that.

“I’m happy for you.” Elizabeth signs sincerely. “Truly.”

Ben smiles, and responds with a simple thank you before he pulls his seat out and sits down opposing her. A sly smile pulls at Elizabeth’s lips as he opens his computer and begins typing away, busying himself.

“You didn’t really fall asleep last night did you?”

“Nope,” His eyes harden on the screen as he taps his fingers down to his thumb, not even looking up, “I’m not answering that.”

“Do I know her?”

“I can’t see you or what you’re saying and I will neither confirm nor deny your questions.”

Elizabeth humphs, slumping in her chair dramatically. Ben just ignores her and all the noise she must be making.

“Ouch.” She tries again for good measure, clutching her heart in mock offense, “I’m hurt.”

Ben’s shoulders drop in an exasperated sigh. Finally, he pulls his hands away from his keyboard and looks up at her, “Okay, fine.”

Elizabeth sits right up, eyes perked.

“One question.” He notices the hopeful look on Elizabeth’s face at his concession. Ben holds a single finger up warning, before tossing his open hands away in strict finality, “One question. No more.”

“Do I know her?”

“You’ve met her before.” Ben says.

She slouches again, disappointed. That was useless information. They had met over a hundred people who worked here, how was she supposed to narrow it down with that tiny amount of information to work with?

“I’m here to interpret, not gossip,” Ben signs firmly, and before Elizabeth can retort, he clarifies, “and, it’s not very appropriate for us to discuss the personal lives of our colleagues.”

“It’s not very appropriate for you to be dating our colleagues either.” She deadpans, letting her hand drop smack onto her lap.

Ben gives her a look.

Elizabeth stares back challengingly, tilting her head to let him know she’s not dropping this any time soon. At least, not without something in exchange she would want more than something interesting to chew on.

He sighs, “I’ll pay for your coffee at lunch. But, you have to give me my privacy. Okay?”

She raises her brow at him.

“For the whole week.” Ben signs, “Happy now?”

Elizabeth grins, “Happy.”

***

As Floyd and Elizabeth step through the glass doors, both the woman in the hospital bed and the one sitting in the chair at her side look up. The woman in the chair tosses the ends of her blazer away, trying to maintain some semblance of tidiness as she straightens up in her seat, but there was only so composed someone could be when you were in the hospital.

Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth sees Floyd pull his tablet to his chest, and his cheek tightens in a shy smile. He must have greeted their patient by her surname, and Elizabeth feels a smile of her own creep onto her face as she realizes – they must be married.

Ben is quick to situate himself by the window to the right of the seated woman, where Elizabeth can see him and everyone else in the room, save for Floyd, who is still standing at her side.

“Mrs Garcia-Lin?” Ben interprets for Floyd a second later, confirming Elizabeth’s suspicion. Ben points to the woman in the chair beside him, “And you must be…”

“Lily. Her wife.” The woman says, smiling politely as she uncrosses her legs. She readjusts herself, straightening her back. Her pin-straight black hair was pulled up into a ponytail, but the ends are fraying now with exhaustion. She looks like she’s just rushed here from work, dressed still in a fitted pantsuit, unbuttoned for comfort. “We double barreled our surnames because she didn’t want to pick.” Lily explains, giving her wife a teasing look. There’s an unspoken weight under the brevity of the interaction that makes Elizabeth tighten her lips.

“I just wanted both of us to carry a part of our families with us. It was very important.” Inez explains, rubbing her hand gently over her round stomach. The baby pink hospital gown she’s wearing is a colour only in the maternity ward, as is the purple blanket tucked up to her waist, soft against her tanned skin and brown curls.

“It’s very cute.” Elizabeth signs, and Inez smiles softly at her.

It was something special that they could even be teasing eachother for double barelling their surnames. It reminded Elizabeth that even in everything that was terrible about the world, they had come far enough that she could marry the person she loved, regardless of gender. She felt pride in that, and in the people who fought so hard to give them those rights.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you both.” Ben interprets for Floyd, who still hasn’t moved from his spot by Elizabeth’s side.

While Elizabeth was appreciative of the fact he never treated her any differently than any of the other doctors, sometimes, he could be completely ignorant of her deafness. And this was one of those times.

“I’m Dr Reynolds, chief of General Surgery here at New Amsterdam, and this….” He gestures to her, and Floyd turns to acknowledge Elizabeth, “—is Dr Wilder.” And then he turns away again. “She’s one of our best surgical specialists here at the hospital.”

Elizabeth gives a polite smile. He was defintely laying it on thick.

“Surgeons?” Inez’s eyes flick open, the hand on her stomach curling protectively as she looks between them, “Did something happen to my babies?”

“No, nothing happened.” Elizabeth clarifies, and Inez’s hand loosens, her shoulders dropping. “Dr Malvo asked us to consult on your ultrasound results.”

A stillness falls over both Inez and her wife, who exchange quiet looks. Inez’s throat bobs, “It’s not good news, is it?”

Elizabeth and Floyd share a glance, quiet and unmoving, unsure who will break the ice first. He looks away, rescinding duty to her.

“No. It isn’t.” Elizabeth answers. “Inez, you have something called polyhydroamnios.” She fingerspells the name slowly, “It’s a rare condition where there is an excess of amniotic fluid in your uterus. This causes swelling in your abdomen, causing your shortness of breath, heartburn and sensations of cramping.”

“And my babies? Why is this happening, is something wrong with them?” Inez asks.

Elizabeth and Floyd share a look, before Floyd solemnly steps closer to Inez, slips the tablet out from under his armpit, and hands it to her.

Inez’s arm drops under the weight of the screen, and she clumsily props the tablet up on her bulging stomach. There are dark circles under Inez’s eyes, and her frizzy brown curls fall into her face as she looks down at the screen. Her eyes narrow, then she blinks twice, and pulls the screen a little closer with her hand, forehead wrinkling like it’s a herculean effort. She looks exhausted and weak, any mother would be in her situation.

It was always cases like this, where children were involved, that Elizabeth found the most emotionally challenging.

She looks carefully at Inez, whose eyes are still studying the screen.

It became instinctual over the years, watchful for every pinch of a brow, the glaze of an eye and the flare of a nostril.

Elizabeth realized early in life that hearing people relied so heavily on their sense of sound, for changes in tone of voice, for announcements, alerts like fire alarms and doorbells and phone calls. When it came to medicine, it was especially important Elizabeth stayed aware of body language. The last thing she wanted to do was to miss something, and make things worse when her patients were already struggling.

It feels like forever that she’s standing there, watching the look of worry on Inez’s face shifting, the inner corners of her brows relaxing, unsure how to react to what she was seeing. Her lips begin to move, and a second later, Ben begins interpreting.

“We froze these eggs years ago.” Elizabeth glances back and forth. She can’t read Inez’s lips from this angle, her head tilted down halfway to where the shapes on her mouth are incomprehensible. She trusted Ben to interpret for her, but sometimes, she felt like she could miss something when she only had his interpretation to go off. “We were worried they’d gone bad.”

Inez looks up at Elizabeth and Floyd, her cheeks pink in embarrassment, “I mean, I know that’s not how it works but.. Everything’s just been so much harder than we thought.” She confesses, turning to share a pensive look with her wife, who leans forward in her chair and wraps one of Inez’s hands in both of hers. “And now there are two surgeons in my room.”

Elizabeth presses her lips together, giving Inez a moment to pause before she begins to explain. “Inez, your twins are underdeveloped at 24 weeks gestation. At their age, they’re expected to be approximately 12 to 13 inches in length. On your most recent scan, your babies measure at around 7 inches long.”

“Those masses you see here—“ Floyd leans over, tracing a circle in the air over the screen, “—and here on the ultrasound are called sacrococcygeal teratomas.” He steps back, “The blood flow meant to help your babies grow is being redirected to these tumors. That’s why they’re so small for their age. Because the tumors are so large, They’re putting strain on your baby's hearts. they’re trying to pump harder to get the blood to vital organs, but most of it is going to the tumors.

“And they both have it?” Inez asks.

Elizabeth nods, “Yes. Identical twins share the same DNA, which means both of your babies carry the same gene for the tumor.”

Inez’s face falls, looking down pensively at her stomach. Her shoulders hollow, lips small in a whisper when she speaks, “I knew I shouldn’t have missed my appointment. We could’ve known earlier, I—“

“Hey.” Lily squeezes her wife’s hand, and the gesture pulls Inez’s eyes to her. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Your wife is right.” Elizabeth signs, “SCTs are extremely rare. It only occurs in 1 of every 40,000 babies, and the odds it would occur in twins is incredibly low. There is no way you could have known.”

Inez takes a breath, eyes turning back to where her hands are connected to her wife’s, then they shoot open, “Oh god… I never even thought–” She looks between Elizabeth and Floyd, panicked, “Is it cancer?”

“We will do a biopsy to confirm, but, in most cases, teratomas are benign.” Elizabeth reassures, the visible sign of relief that comes from Inez makes her hesitate her next words. “However, the tumors your babies have are aggressive. They weren’t visible on your 19 week scan, but have grown rapidly since. The pressure they are placing on their hearts could lead to heart failure if left untreated. If that happens, the risks of intervention will be much higher.”

Inez’s chest hollows, and she wavers in her posture as if she’s been kicked in the gut. She tries to maintain composure, but Lily reaches out, placing a comforting hand over her wife’s thigh, noticing her falter. With that, Inez straightens up, taking a breath, “How do we help them?”

“Now, they're younger than we’d like them to be delivered, but what we can do is something called an EXIT procedure.” Floyd explains, “It stands for Ex-utero Intrapartum Treatment. We would create an incision in your abdomen, a little bit like a C-Section, and through that we would partially deliver the babies, exposing the tumors so we can remove them. Then, we would close them back inside the uterus to continue developing until they’re ready to be delivered.”

Lily cuts in, “Partially delivered? You can remove them from the womb and put them back in?”

Elizabeth shakes her head, “No, not exactly. They will still be attached to the umbilical cord, however, to access the tumors we would have to remove their lower bodies from the uterus, which is why we call it a partial delivery.” She clarifies, and Lily nods, seeming to understand now. “But, this operation is extremely complicated. There is an increased risk of hemmorhage, infection, and premature labour, even if we are able to remove the tumors.”

Inez doesn’t respond, or ask anything. A silence has fallen over her, a familiar glazed, distant look in her eyes. She’s staring past them now, somewhere at the wall across from her.

Concern sprouts up in Elizabeth, worried if this all was too much. She had seen that same look on patient’s faces before, when they just could’t seem to process what they were being told, they seemed to retreat inward.

Lily seems to notice it too, moving her wife’s shoulder. It’s one small motion that seems to say so much, trying to comfort her, to ground her, ask if she were okay. When Inez doesn’t respond, Lily turns to them to ask, “If you do this operation and you get rid of the tumors, that means they’re cured?”

“After they’re born, they would need to be monitored by a pediatric oncologist to keep an eye on their condition and ensure the tumors don’t grow back.” Floyd says, “ It’s likely they would need more surgeries, but many children with SCTs go on to live a normal life after successful treatment in childhood.”

Elizabeth’s eyes soften as she looks at Inez, cautious as she raises her hands to ask, “We understand a difficult decision. There is a lot to think about. Dr Reynolds and I can give you some time to discuss.”

The question seems to bring Inez back into her body. The word is clear on her lips, “No.” She suddenly says. Then, she turns to look down at the tablet on her stomach, stares at the ultrasound, her shoulders rising and falling in a contemplative breath. Inez looks up, and her question is simple. “Is that their only chance?”

“Yes.” Floyd says.

She swallows hard, and picks up the tablet with a shaky hand, holding it out to Floyd at her side. Her eyes suddenly grow glossy with tears, and she looks away, unable to bear to see it any longer. Her gaze locks with Elizabeth’s, quivering and terrified — and she will never get used to the worry of a parent.

“Please.” Inez says, “Save my babies.”

***

The resection of the first baby’s tumor had gone smoothly.

They had staged the tumors at stage 2 on the ultrasound, and when they’d performed the hysterotomy and exposed the lower half of the first baby from the womb, they were glad to find the bulk of the teratoma was located outside of the internal structures. However, as Elizabeth grew closer to the centre of the tumor, it became clear that in accordance with the ultrasound, the margins had extended into the pelvic region.

EXIT procedures weren’t common, especially not in non-specialist institutions. Floyd had only previously assisted in one during his residency years ago. However, during her time at the NIH, Elizabeth had been given the opportunity to assist on a few, and was experienced with both of its uses in surgical oncology, to remove saccrococcygeal teratomas, and tumors that obstruct the airway.

Floyd had carefully observed Elizabeth during the first operation, refamiliarizing himself with the procedure as Elizabeth quietly cut, clamped and cauterized the external portion of the tumor off. As they transitioned to work on baby two, Elizabeth allowed Floyd to remove the tumor while she assisted.

But, Inez’s case was unprecedented.

At 24 weeks old, babies should typically be the size of an eggplant. Inez’s twins were barely longer than Elizabeth’s hand and their tumors nearly half as big as they were. In just a mere 6 weeks, what looked like static on an ultrasound had turned into tumors almost the size of a tennis ball.

Elizabeth could feel the eyes on her, peering from the observatory above. Through the glass panes, tens of people had piled into the viewing room, students staring with wide eyes and surgeons in disbelief.

She wasn’t rattled by her colleagues watching, New Amsterdam was a teaching hospital and she was well accustomed to the academic system at medical institutions. No, it was the reporter snapping photos and his assistant jotting down notes that made her nose twinge.

This was a mother and her children, but to Veronica, they were just another money maker for the hospital, and she had no shame in capitalizing off their suffering.

But Elizabeth wouldn’t argue. Not after the resistance. And this was Inez and her babies’ only chance.

The second baby’s gluteal region had been carefully extracted from the placenta with a suction vacuum. Balfour retractors held the outer layers of the abdominal wall — fascia, muscle and peritoneum — open, granting both surgeons a perfect view of the tumor that was exposed through the almond shaped incision in the uterine wall.

“Forceps.” Elizabeth mouths soundlessly. In the corner of her eye, she sees Ben repeat her verbatim through the clear pane of his surgical mask — ones she, him and Floyd alongside the rest of their surgical team wore. A second later, a pair is placed into her hand.

Floyd steadies himself with a beeath, and presses the blade of the scalpel into the fetus’ skin. He glances up at Elizabeth for approval. She gives him a nod.

They hadn’t worked together since he told Veronica about the resistance. It had been three weeks, and Elizabeth had taken all of that time to put it aside, to stop glaring at him every time she passed him in the hallway or ended up in the same elevator and stop her muscles in her body from tightening when she thought about what happened.

In the operating room, personal vendettas didn’t matter, and Floyd Reynolds was a brilliant surgeon, one of the best she had ever worked with — a fact that made it just slightly easier for Elizabeth to come to terms with what he had done.

His hands were steady, he was confident and self assured in every decision he made, and now, he was flawlessly executing a near perfectly circular incision without drawn margins.

Elizabeth pinched the end of the skin closest to her, pulling it back as Floyd sliced the skin away from the mass. As she peeled back the outer tissue, the tiny vascular structures weaving through the tumor became visible, perfectly magnified through her loupes.

It wasn’t often she wore them — it wasn’t often Elizabeth operated on babies, or fetuses this small. She preferred to operate without them. Her vision was good enough in most cases, but when working on such delicate, tiny structures, there was little choice.

With the vasculature exposed, Elizabeth handed her forceps away.

“Clamp.” She signed, and it was given to her swiftly.

With her left hand, Elizabeth firmly gripped the tumor, gently pulling back to provide traction and expose the resection plane, but something resisted. The uterine muscle looked almost normal, pink and well perfused, but as she quickly pressed her fingers against the myometrium to check, it pressed back. The muscle was tighter, firmer than it had been before, and it was beginning to strangulate the skin around the tumor.

“Uterine tone is increasing.” Elizabeth says.

Floyd looks up, and his brows shrug as if it were a challenge, “Looks like we’ll just have to do this next part fast.”

She nods, and repositions the clamp, Floyd exchanging his scalpel for the cautery tool.

The smell of burning flesh stings her nose for a moment,before the smoke quickly dissipates through the air filters as Floyd carefully begins to swipe the blade across the edge of the clamp in short, feather-light strokes. Each pass cut through the diseased tissue, the tumor slackening in her hand as inch by inch, he separated it from healthy ones. He reached the tip of the clamp, a charred, but bloodless margin left behind where he had cut.

Elizabeth opens the clamp, pausing when she notices a faint pulsating just past the edge of her initial clip. Curiously, she presses her pad of her finger to the vessel, and she feels the soft, but rapid thud, thud, thud.

It’s a foreign thing. Feeling. The slick feeling of her nitrile gloves, the tiny bump along the smooth, but textured internal surface of the tumor.

She had forgotten it after so long — these small sensations she had learnt to work without.

But here it was again, something lost, returned.

Elizabeth places the clamp.

“Damn, didn’t see that from my angle.” Floyd says, leaning in to cauterize the vessel. He glances up to acknowledge her. “Good catch.”

She smiles a little.

Her vision had always been keen, far more than most people she met. Growing up, she would always notice when Adam was trying to sneak up on her, the slight shudder of the floorboards and the long shadow shifting across the ground. In her rotations as a medical student, she would notice small things her classmates would miss in surgery, the slight desaturation of the colour of tissue that they couldn’t seem to see until their patient was actually ischemic.

From the second day of her rotations, it was clear to her that surgery was where she excelled. In the operating room, every second counted and every detail and observation mattered. Noticing one small thing could be the difference between a athpatient surviving and having a real quality of life, or suffering and de. As much as Elizabeth enjoyed being in the clinic, where she liked to be most were places she was needed, places her skills could be used best. And this was exactly where she belonged.

Moving onto the next section, Elizabeth keeps her eyes fixed on Floyd’s movements as the flesh singes off. She was becoming all too aware of the flashing red numbers hanging just below the observatory. It felt like each swipe took minutes off their timer, even though only a mere second ticked by. She wanted to be patient with Floyd, but her thoughts wandered back to the risks of the surgery, and it tugged her eyes back to the uterine wall again.

In her periphery, Floyd’s brows pinch together. He rotates his arm, cautery tool in hand, before turning his head, squinting for a second to try to get a better angle from his side that he just can’t seem to find.

“Need a little more traction.” Ben interprets, his lips out of view at this angle.

Someone rotates the dial of the retractor wider, and the feeling in Elizabeth’s gut tells her something is wrong. Floyd should have had perfectly clear access to cut.

She glances down to the fetal monitors, and before she can even read the vitals, Floyd snaps up and her eyes are yanked back to him. He’s looking around frantically, asking what’s going on. The nurses and techs swarm around them and Ben signs rapidly, the alarms are going off.

“Both babies are stable.” Elizabeth quickly tells the team.

Their eyes lock, realizing at the same, “It's Inez.” Floyd says.

Blood had begun to pool along the edges of the incision. Elizabeth leaps into action, snatching a pile of lap pads from the surgical tray and shoving them into the incision before her words can leave her mouth, “She’s hemorrhaging. We need to find the source of the bleed.”

Lap pads in hand, Floyd dives fingers first into the incision, his face wide as he barks out an order. “Give me all the suction you got!”

The clear plastic of the suction tube chokes with red, but as soon as one spot dries, blood begins to overflow from every other side.

“Transfuse a liter of O negative!” Elizabeth signs rapidly.

Someone throws a bag onto the hook of the IV pole. Floyd is still digging, desperate. Blood is soaking into the lap pads before Elizabeth can even pull them out and replace them. Her eyes dart frantically between looking at the three monitors, the babies are still stable, Inez’s blood pressure is still in the 80’s.

“Retractor. There's got to be a pumper in here somewhere…” The frustration on Floyd’s face only grows deeper as he rummages, ”More traction.” His nostrils flare with irritation, “I can’t get in there. It’s too tight.”

“You have to resect.” Elizabeth says.

Floyd finally stops. He meets her eyes, his own grave with fear. “What if I hit the placenta?”

“Don't.”

Floyd stares, considering her response. Then, he squares his shoulders, placing a hand out for a scalpel with renewed determination. He presses the blade into the myometrium with precision, his eyes tracing the path of dissection. His lips begin to move, but he doesn’t once look up as he cranes his head, scalpel in his right hand, forceps in his left, trying to get the right angle to carve a section of the taut uterus. “How are the babies?”

Elizabeth glances at the monitors. “Stable.”

“Resecting now. Piece.” His hands emerge out of the abdominal cavity, gripping a crescent shaped piece of the uterus in his forceps, and he drops it into a kidney tray. “Found it. Cautery.”

Elizabeth’s face falls as she watches Floyd. Smoke singes the air. She can see the baby’s upper back, none of this is going to plan.

“Sats are 96.” Ben interprets for the anaesthetist, “Heart rate is slowing down. Blood pressure normalizing.”

Floyd finally looks up, breathing a smile of relief, “We did it.” He says.

“The uterus.” She signs, and Floyd’s expression falters. “It’s too small now.”

He turns back, looking into the incision, and he realizes the same thing she did seconds ago. “We won’t be able to close up with both fetuses inside.’ His lips are moving slowly, words stuttered with a reality that’s closing in. “We have to take one of the babies out.”

Frustration sharpens her signs, “No, we need to think.”

“We can’t just make her uterus bigger. We need to deliver one.”

“That could kill the baby.” Elizabeth argues. The firm look on Floyd’s face falters for a split second and in the friction, she wonders if he imagines the same thing she does — the looks on Inez and Lily’s faces when they tell them they had to choose to save only one of their children, and let the other die. “Are you willing to make that call?“

Floyd steels his expression. “We deliver baby number two.”

The decision is medically sound, the second fetus had developed less, and they hadn’t completed the resection of it’s tumor.

Elizabeth opens her mouth, a thought striking her. She shakes her head, pressing her lips back together.

“You had an idea.” Floyd says, “What is it?”

“We could keep one baby in the uterus, and implant the second in the abdominal cavity. It would still be attached to the umbilical cord where it can get oxygen and other nutrients from Inez.”

“We'd purposefully be creating an ectopic pregnancy.”

“Yes.”

“That could kill the mother and both fetuses.”

“Or, it could save all of them.” Elizabeth signs. Floyd is silent, contemplative as he looks down at Inez. “We would monitor the babies and Inez closely and deliver the fetus as soon as it is viable.” She pauses, studying Floyd’s furrowed brows and tightened jaw, conflict written on his face. “It’s your call.”

Floyd carefully looks up over his hooded eyes at the observation room above, where at least a dozen people are still standing watching with their arms folded, notebooks abandoned for complete focus on the surgery below them. He looks back down at the fetuses, back at Inez, his shoulders hunched with the weight of his options.

“No.” He turned his head firmly, “It’s too risky. We have to deliver one of them.”

Elizabeth nods, “Okay.” She raises her hands, getting everyone’s attention. “Prep for delivery.”

Their team members nod. The sterile blue drapes that had been placed around the initial incision are pulled back to widen the surgical field, and Elizabeth is handed a scalpel.

“Extending incision.” She mouths, eyes fixed as she draws her scalpel down another two inches longer. Elizabeth motions for the retractor to be widened, they needed a little more room to work with.

“BP and heart rate is stable.” Ben informs her on behalf of the anaesthesiologist and prenatal care nurse, “Intubation kit is ready to go.”

Elizabeth gestures for Floyd to take over, and he swoops in, scooping his hands under each side of the baby’s backside, gently wiggling side to side and tugging him free, careful not to tear the amniotic sac.

“All right. Okay, there we go.” Floyd pulls the baby’s head out, and the uterus falls shut behind them. Elizabeth is struck by the way he’s holding the fetus, in the palm of his bloodied hands with reverence, as if something so precious, so fragile he might break it. Its skin was an underdeveloped pink instead of a healthy peach, its little arms and little feet, tinier toes and fingers that weren’t even the size of a button. The scrub nurse clamps the umbilical cord, and quickly cuts it

“Intubating. Switching out canisters. We're steady.” Ben interprets, informing her what the neonatal and maternal teams were doing.

“Closing incisions on uterine wall.” Floyd mumbles, his eyes narrowed and focused as he angles his hand to hook the needle under the last open section of the uterus.

Elizabeth watches him carefully. She knew Floyd was competent, his suture technique was even better than her own, but she felt strangely protective over Inez. She was only a few years older than Elizabeth, she was married to a woman, and they had conceived a child through IVF. It was a future Elizabeth could see for herself.

She knew intimately how much fight it took, how many years of work and strength and prejudice you needed to overcome to be true to yourself, to live a life that society even now condemned or thought of a wrong, and Elizabeth wanted to make sure Inez could keep it.

Elizabeth pulls her eyes away from Floyd, “Hows the baby?”

“Sats 93%.” Ben informs her, “Vitals are stable.”

Her shoulders relax as she watches Ben sign the words, tension easing she hadn’t realized she Had been holding.

“Closing abdominal wall.” Pulling the suture through, Floyd makes the last stitch, and his lips curl upward in relief. “Hang tight in there, little man.”

***

“And there he is,” Floyd says, gesturing to the ultrasound image, “right where you left him.”

“And our other baby?” Lily asks.

“He’s in the NICU.” Elizabeth answers, “We had to complete his tumor resection after delivery.”

“Because he is so premature, he will need to be on breathing support and fed through a feeding tube until he is strong enough to breathe and eat on his own.” Floyd explains.

“Oh my god.” Inez’s face is wide, eyes pinpoint with worry, “Will he be okay?”

“That’s what we are hoping.” Elizabeth signs back.

“We’re doing everything that we can.” Floyd reassures.

“When can we see him?” Lily asks, readjusting her grip on her wife’s hand. Inez swallows visibly.

“The nurses can bring you both to see him soon, but for now you should rest. It was a difficult operation, your body was put under a lot of strain. It needs time to recover.” Elizabeth explains.

“Thank you. Both of you. For everything.” Inez says.

“It’s my honor.” Floyd says, “I’m uh.. I’m actually going to be a parent too.”

Elizabeth blinks. Floyd was going to be a father? “I didn't know.”

“Yeah, I gotta get used to saying that out loud.” Floyd’s shoulders shake in a nervous chuckle. He turns back to Inez, “We’ll be keeping a close eye on you and the babies. You’re in good hands.”

Inez takes a deep breath, her anxiety giving way to a flicker of hope. “Thank you. Really, thank you.”

Elizabeth smiles.

Lily shakes her wife’s hand, “We didn’t get to decide a name for him.” She suggests, trying to redirect her wife to something more productive than worrying about their baby.

“Well, we’ll give you two some time alone to discuss, and someone will be here to bring you up to the NICU soon.” Floyd places a hand on the bedside rail, close enough to comfort but far enough to remain his steadfast professionality. “For now, just rest up, okay? The call button is there if you need it, and we’ll be here anything you need”

Inez nods, “Thank you, again.”

“We’ll come to check on you in the morning.” Elizabeth smiles, and with one final nod, Floyd pulls the heavy sliding door open with ease, and they step out into the ward.

“So, when is your baby due?” Elizabeth asks.

He smiles a little, shrugging, “About seven months, but…” Floyd’s shoulders drop in a sigh that looks a mix between relieved and anxious, “Feels like it’s coming fast.”

Elizabeth’s brows raise, “I didn’t know you had a partner.”

“It’s a uh..” His Adam's apple bobs sharply up and down, clearing his throat, “Complicated.”

There’s a slightly strained look on his face accompanying the smile, and Elizabeth decides she won’t press any further.

The details of his romantic life was none of her business. Whatever he meant by ’complicated’, she couldn’t judge him. It was his life, and Elizabeth certainly didn’t enjoy being judged for the way she lived hers.

“Complicated or not… You seem happy.” Elizabeth says, and his lips tick upward again. It’s that same soft look she recognized in so many parents, excitement, anxiety, joy. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

She acknowledges him with a look, “Good work today.” If there was one thing she always did, it was giving credit where credit was due.

“You too.”

Elizabeth gives him a smile, and turns to leave. She makes it a few steps down the hallway when Ben taps her on the shoulder, signing that Floyd had called her name. She turns to face him, and he’s still standing where she left him, nervously looking at the ground with his shoulders nearly to his ears in a breath.

“Look,“ He starts, placing his hands out as if to steady himself. “I wanted to say that, I’m sorry.”

She has an inkling what this is about, but she wants to hear it from him. Elizabeth arches a brow at him, “For?”

“I’m sorry for almost getting you fired. I get you were just trying to help more people and you did.” Floyd squares his stance, “But I’m not sorry for telling Veronica. What you– What we were doing was dangerous. People could’ve gotten hurt if we kept going and maybe the people you helped were fine but who was to say the next person would be?” His shoulders drop, “I don’t regret what I did. But you guys were my friends.. And I went behind your back, and I shouldn't have.”

Elizabeth purses her lips, taking a breath before she admits — “You’re right.” Floyd’s eyes widen, his head pulling back slightly in surprise. “I know why you told Veronica, that’s who you are. You follow the rules, you choose the safe option, always, even if it means you could help more people, you would never take the risk you could do more harm. I admire that. But…” She pauses, her fingers held in the air for a hesitant second, “I didn’t expect it to be you. After everything that Max did for you, for this place.”

His gaze hardens, “Max is gone.” Floyd says, the muscle in his cheek tightening. “And he’s not coming back.”

Elizabeth forces a disagreeing hum out of her throat. “Max might be gone, but that doesn’t mean this hospital has to go back to how it was before he came here.”

Floyd blinks at her, taken aback.

Taking a breath, Elizabeth turns away, looking at the ward around them – the nurses tending to the patients, blue-scrubbed doctors pushing a patient into a room, students in long white coats tapping notes into the system, the receptionist with her phone pressed to her ear, the volunteer pushing a wheelchair out of the ward doors, the janitor with his eyes kept down, swaying the mop across the hallway floor.

Everyone here played a part, even just in this one, small ward in the expanse of the entirety of New Amsterdam, each person, each job, every tiny task that seemed so miniscule on it’s own, meant something.

Even now under Veronica’s thumb, they still did their best, all of them did the best they could in the circumstances they were under.

Their best today meant that Inez and Lily and their babies had a fighting chance.

Yes — none of this was the revolution Elizabeth had wanted — but there was a sense of strength still, a quiet resistance, a hope she felt still beating alive in the heart of this hospital that she had never felt anywhere else.

“This place is special.” Elizabeth tells him, “Not because of Max, but because of everyone who works here. including….“ she raises her hand, and gestures to him — you.

“You don’t build a good hospital with money, you build it with good people, and we have that in spades.” She gestures all around them, and Floyd’s gaze flickers around them. “Max might have given us the tools to help, but it doesn’t mean we need to stop trying now that he’s gone. We don’t have to stop being doctors— we don’t have to stop helping.”

Floyd stares back, wide eyed. The expression on his face softens, as if remembering something, “You know, you sound a lot like him.”

Elizabeth smiles.

His forehead creases suddenly, “Hold up, your suggestion during the surgery— You were testing me, weren’t you?”

She doesn’t stop the coy smile from spreading on her face, rewarding him with a small nod. “You made the right call.”

“So, we’re good right? No hard feelings?” Floyd asks, an awkward tilt to his lip.

She scrunches her nose, “Nah.” Elizabeth signs with a shake of her head, “I appreciate the apology, but, I think you have a friend who needs it more than me. Someone who deserves to have their job back.”

“Yeah.” Floyd says, ”I know.”

“Talk to her.” Elizabeth says.

“I will. Thank you. For understanding.”

Elizabeth hums lightly. Floyd gives her a courteous smile, and she takes a step on her heel to leave, but pauses before turning. She spins back, raising a hand to pause him, “By the way, next time we see a patient together?” His brows perk up as Elizabeth shifts her hands, squinting an eye awkwardly at him, “Maybe stand somewhere I can actually see you.”

Floyd’s eyes widen. “Oh, shoot.” He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, looking a little shameful. “Sorry. I didn’t realize.” Dropping his hand, he nods, “Will do.”

She chuckles. As brilliant of a surgeon Floyd was, he was oblivious sometimes. “Goodnight, Floyd.”

“Goodnight, Elizabeth.”

Notes:

Remember when I said this chapter wouldn’t be out in 6 months?…. I lied 😔
Anyway, who do we think Elizabeth is talking about? And who do we think Ben’s mystery woman is? 👀
This chapter was SO difficult to write, the surgical scene was a monster and it took literal months of on and off research, reading medical journals and anatomy textbooks and watching actual videos of the procedures to figure everything out. That scene alone was a huge reason why this chapter took so long but I finally did it!
Watchers of the show might recognize parts of this case, like the patient Inez, from the show — I decided to do it justice and change things up a little to make it more medically accurate :)
The name of this chapter is a play on the phrase, ‘Better safe than sorry’. The ‘then’ is intentional, referring to the conflict of this chapter; Floyd’s choices in risky situations to always choose the safe option even at the possible detriment of others and instead choosing to apologize for it after when it backfires.
I’m trying a little new thing with recaps at the start of every chapter, I think it might be useful to jog memories considering how long I take between posts 😭
NEXT UP, A familiar face returns to New Amsterdam and causes friction in one of the departments. Mia has a tense reunion with Iggy when they’re both called to work on the same patient.

Notes:

Find me on on Tumblr @daaedoodles!
I post wildies art, edits, fic ideas and chapter updates on Tumblr and my dms are open. I’d love to answer any questions you have or even just to chat about wildies! 🫶

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prentits on Chapter 1 Fri 14 Jul 2023 05:16PM UTC

oh my god.... i am so here for the mia/elizabeth agenda here!!!! when i saw the fic in my email with them in the tags i gasped out loud lol. can't wait to see where this goes!! (also i forgot how much i hated veronica. fuck her honestly)

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1. daaedoodles on Chapter 1 Mon 31 Jul 2023 06:25PM UTC
  
  EEEE! HI HI! the mia/elizabeth agenda is my favourite, it’s been my special interest for the past one and a half years (please save me i’m begging you). we hate veronica in this household and so does mia, she totally gives bad vibes. hopefully i’ll post the next chapter soon!
  
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Writing_gay_stories (Guest) on Chapter 1 Sun 16 Jul 2023 02:15PM UTC

You know how hard I miss wildies and how hard I love your writing. 😭😭

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mysticmoonlight on Chapter 1 Wed 19 Jul 2023 03:28AM UTC

First time I’ve logged into my account in over a year (yikes) and I haven’t even watched new Amsterdam but your writing is amazing and I’m here to show my support! Woooooooooo go wildies!

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WideAwakeAndDreaming on Chapter 1 Sun 30 Jul 2023 02:32AM UTC

i cant believe i msised this! i have missed your writing so much!!!

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1. daaedoodles on Chapter 1 Mon 31 Jul 2023 04:48PM UTC
  
  oh my god HELLO?! you read this? we havent talked in forever i literally swapped fandoms and you still read my work :(( im cryinf thank you so much. HOW ARE YOU? please tell me you have some socials i can talk to you on you're so cool
  
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2. 1. WideAwakeAndDreaming on Chapter 1 Mon 31 Jul 2023 06:19PM UTC
    
    BAHAH i have tumblr @miuanwritesthings lmao, yeah i was already in the fandom when i saw u were writing for it!!!
    
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  2. 1. daaedoodles on Chapter 1 Mon 31 Jul 2023 06:20PM UTC
      
      YOURE IN THE NEW AMSTERDAM FANDOM HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS INFORMATION? i’m following you on tumblr rn 🏃♂️💨
      
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    2. 1. WideAwakeAndDreaming on Chapter 1 Mon 31 Jul 2023 06:40PM UTC
        
        LMFAO im in every medical/type thing ever, you ask and ive probably written private fic for it
        
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      2. daaedoodles on Chapter 1 Mon 31 Jul 2023 07:39PM UTC
        
        in that case, have you written for new amsterdam before 👀
        
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Jennigermany (Jennifer_Catherine_Danvers_Grant) on Chapter 1 Tue 16 Jan 2024 03:38PM UTC

So happy to have found this fic! I'll binge read the chapters

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1. daaedoodles on Chapter 1 Wed 17 Jan 2024 06:00AM UTC
  
  OHMYGOSH! HELLO! a new reader i’m so excited and i’m so glad you found this fic too! don’t be shy to comment and let me know what you think!
  
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Not_sure_what_to_call_myself on Chapter 1 Wed 08 Jan 2025 07:54PM UTC

Guess who’s back… back again… I got the flu over the weekend and started binge watching New Amsterdam because it’s familiar and therefor doesn't require much brainpower. And while I was watching Mia take her first steps into New Amsterdam, your story popped up in my mind. This story was so good that it is now part of my cannon version of NA, even in my flu clouded mind. Anyways, I’m feeling better now, but got hooked on your story again so I’m staying here a little longer. Are you still writing new chapters?

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1. daaedoodles on Chapter 1 Wed 08 Jan 2025 09:08PM UTC
  
  Ohmygosh hi! It’s is a delight to see you again happy new year, I had a crazy second half of last year but funny you ask that because I was just working on chapter 12 yesterday :) This is so uncanny that you’d comment now after me working on chapter 12 for the last two days, I’m taking this as a sign to keep going. It’ll ACTUALLY be out soon, it’s a monster of a chapter so it’s literally taken me months to write. You’ll see why when it comes out. So much research. So so much research.
  It makes me so happy that someone is out there who enjoys this story as much as I do and cares about it enough to comment (twice!) it means a lot to me and honestly sometimes I get confused between actual canon and my fic so you’re so real for that I’ve imagined the scenes in my head so many times that I’ve just blurred the show and my fic 😭
  How are you feeling now, all better? I’m glad you’ve recovered from the flu?
  
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Misato (Guest) on Chapter 1 Fri 04 Jul 2025 04:54AM UTC

The last update was this year, in going to cry if you don't finish this beautiful and outstanding writing you are doing!!! Please continue your work!!

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1. daaedoodles on Chapter 1 Fri 04 Jul 2025 05:33AM UTC
  
  oh my gosh you have no idea how surprised I was to get this comment! i thought this fandom was dead and no one was reading this so thank you so much! i adore these two so dearly.
  i’m currently in a production of little women as beth march and i just moved countries and i’m training for drama school auditions and show auditions too, but i have NOT forgotten about this fic and i’d love to come back to it once my life settles down a little, there’s so much planned🥺
  
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prentits on Chapter 2 Mon 07 Aug 2023 09:06PM UTC

AAAA WILLOW🥺 i forgot how sad it was to see her after everyone... left her. my heart broke a little bit. and the resistance!! dude i love elizabeth so much she's so baby to me. (and don't get me started on how you write mia... it's like i can see everything in my head)
also the way you incorporate asl into your fics is so interesting- i love hearing about the thought process that went into it!!

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1. daaedoodles on Chapter 2 Mon 07 Aug 2023 09:29PM UTC
  
  EEE THANK TOU FOR READING AGAIN! i felt so so sad writing about how everyone died and now max and helen are gone too?! she’s really lost everything, no wonder she’s given up :(
  YES! the resistance is finally here. lizzie is so so baby to me i adore her so much, she’s my comfort character 🥺
  i am SO glad you can see what’s going on in your head with mia. it was SO hard trying to figure her out, especially since we got so little of her, but i feel like i found her voice over time. writing in her perspective is so so different compared to writing liz not only because of them being hearing and deaf, but also because of their differences in beliefs and experiences.
  i’ll definitely add more notes talking about my process with the ASL in the fic! i went through this chapter so many times swapping between glossing and having it in italics before i settled. i still enjoy the glossed version more but this is definitely more straight forward and less time consuming.
  
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prentits on Chapter 3 Fri 25 Aug 2023 05:58PM UTC

“What if I told you I could make you feel better in five minutes?”
His eyes widen, “Look, I'm flattered but I don't get involved with coworkers.”
“Oh, no, not like that.” Mia cringes, “That would be really unprofessional of me.”
i GIGGGLED. girly you are going to get so involved with a coworker and i can't wait to see it happen
(also help bestie i was looking at the relationship tags and who is ben meyers)

Last Edited Fri 25 Aug 2023 05:58PM UTC

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1. daaedoodles on Chapter 3 Fri 25 Aug 2023 06:32PM UTC
  
  OH SHE IS she just doesn’t know it yet 🤭
  i am SO excited too. also a fair warning for the slow burn tag…. something is about to happen that throws their developing friendship for a spin
  BESTIE ben meyers is ben! wilders interpreter.
  
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2. 1. prentits on Chapter 3 Fri 25 Aug 2023 11:31PM UTC
    
    OH THAT BEN. excuse my fish brain it's been quite a few months since i watched the show last LOL
    
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prentits on Chapter 4 Sat 02 Sep 2023 05:20PM UTC

sorry i'm so ridiculously late to this but!!! i loved it!!
i giggled whenever mia and elizabeth interacted... i'm so on this train even if it is moving slowly rn! (cursing my love of slow burns) i also think that willow would notice something going on not now but maybe later and be like ...wtf HAHA
and alice :(( it hurt how her story mirrored elizabeth and her brother's (from what i remember) but im glad her story was semi-resolved! something about characters saving other characters from making the same mistakes they did and then hurting about it is sooo.
anyway. loved this chapter! can't wait for the next one hehe

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1. daaedoodles on Chapter 4 Sun 03 Sep 2023 12:55AM UTC
  
  JOOO I SQUEALED WHEN I SAW YOUR COMMENT 🥹
  oh yes willow would 100 notice. this train is moving slowly but it’s about to get derailed for a wee bit before it sets on course faster and stronger than ever.
  im so glad you caught what i was putting down with alice. it was really fun to get to come up with an original case and see elizabeth outside of just being with cancer patients. things for her are semi resolved but i think she might show up again 😉
  chapter 5 is coming out tonight and 6 and 7 are ready to go too! 🫶
  
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prentits on Chapter 5 Sun 03 Sep 2023 05:11PM UTC

bruh. bruh. so much to unpack here
One of Elizabeth’s brows is quirked at her in that only-Wilder way that Mia had come to love as she and Ben come to a stop on the other side of the table.
She can’t help but notice the shirt Elizabeth is wearing. It brings out the warmth in her golden-yellow aura, the navy blue ribbed top with a V-neckline dipping past her collarbones, a stark contrast to her usual circular ones that came right up to her neck. It looked good on her.
HELLO WHAT IS THIS. GAY SHIT.
lauren being a grumpy little baby <333 i love her so much
“So, what do you know about the so-called resistance?” NO WHAT
and that end note... oh man. helen!!! i can't wait for her hehe she is my all time fav (also whatever relationship her and lauren have going on. i love them together)

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1. daaedoodles on Chapter 5 Sun 03 Sep 2023 05:46PM UTC
  
  GAY SHIT INDEED!! mia thinks elizabeth has a pretty aura (crystal doc rizz) and she thinks all her little brow raises and nose scrunches are cute i sob i had to start adding some gay shit because the next few chapters are a doozy
  veronica has inserted herself into everyone’s business and she is is here to fuck shit up for our girls majorly
  lauren is such a GRUMP i love her and dude YES her and helen?? i shipped them when i first started watching NA and it was right when leyren first started airing imagine my surprise when i was searching up lauren x helen and found out lauren was actually with a woman??? I WAS GAGGED.
  elizabeth has a girl crush on helen she loves her just as much as you do trust 🤝🤝
  
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prentits on Chapter 6 Sat 09 Sep 2023 11:43PM UTC

HELEN!!! AND MAX!!!! IN THE RESISTANCE!!! also fuck veronica. what the fuck.

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sterlingsilver_arrows on Chapter 6 Sat 16 Mar 2024 08:45AM UTC

Veronica reminds me of Umbridge when she finds out about the DA. They both met quite similar a fate 🤔

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prentits on Chapter 7 Sat 16 Sep 2023 11:48PM UTC

ow. ow ow ow. hurts
also are mia and elizabeth having the most sapphic coded breakup in mia's thoughts or WHAT

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1. daaedoodles on Chapter 7 Sat 16 Sep 2023 11:59PM UTC
  
  OH THEY SO ARE 😭😭 she got so attached to the others but elizabeth hurts the most!? we don’t get third act breakup in this fic it’s first act pre dating breakup
  
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prentits on Chapter 8 Sat 14 Oct 2023 03:12PM UTC

so many wildies elizabeth noticing mia/seeing her in a different light 🫶🫶🫶 i love them so much.
and the quiet pain towards the end.... wow. it hurts. i'm kinda in love with it.

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prentits on Chapter 9 Sun 05 Nov 2023 05:57PM UTC

🥹🥹

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sillyfroggremlins on Chapter 9 Sat 23 Dec 2023 03:13AM UTC

dvasbfjwtejt I love this so much and can't wait for it to.continue !!

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1. daaedoodles on Chapter 9 Sat 23 Dec 2023 03:29AM UTC
  
  AGSUHYSUSHS A NEW READER!! hi frog aghhh i’m so excited you started reading! i’ll be posting chapter 10 soon, i’ve just been hesitant to because the later chapters aren’t fully written yet and i don’t want to barrel forward if i’m not ready! thank you sm for your support it means the world to me
  
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marvelisbettererthandc (Guest) on Chapter 9 Tue 30 Jul 2024 02:38PM UTC

OMG THIS IS A WORK OF ART this fic has got me so hooked
i dont pick up my phone for social media anymore.i pick it up for this fic.ahhhhhhhhhHhhHhHh

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sillyfroggremlins on Chapter 10 Wed 03 Jan 2024 08:16PM UTC

ahh you write them so well! I'm so excited to keep reading this and see their interactions!

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1. daaedoodles on Chapter 10 Wed 03 Jan 2024 08:23PM UTC
  
  EEE i’m so glad you enjoy reading! i love their interactions too, their dynamic is about to change VERY soon.. 🤭 the next chapter is just about ready to be uploaded but i’ll save it for when i finish editing chapter 12
  
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Jennigermany (Jennifer_Catherine_Danvers_Grant) on Chapter 10 Wed 17 Jan 2024 12:54PM UTC

this is waaay better than max and her thank you so much!

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1. daaedoodles on Chapter 10 Wed 17 Jan 2024 01:05PM UTC
  
  i’m so glad you liked it! and yes elizabeth and mia are the best, the minute i saw the little shoulder touch with willow and how they were practically beaming at eachother in the hallway to the morgue sold me immediately. i hope you stick around to keep reading! <3
  
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Give Me A Sign

daaedoodles

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Chapter 1: "Blessings And Curses"

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Chapter 2: "A Leap Of Faith"

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Chapter 3: "The Law Of Resistance"

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Chapter 4: “Children Made Of Glass”

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Chapter 5: "Playing Cards"

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Chapter 6: "Talkin' Bout A Revolution"

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Chapter 7: “Do No Harm”

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Chapter 8: "Every Tool In My Toolbox"

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Chapter 9: "An Apple, The Garden"

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Chapter 10: "Finding The Bright Spots"

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Chapter 11: “How Can I Help?”

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Chapter 12: “Better Safe, Then Sorry”

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prentits on Chapter 1 Fri 14 Jul 2023 05:16PM UTC

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