Chapter Text
LATE MARCH, 2012 IN SEATTLE, WASHINGTON
When Maya runs, the rest of the world falls away. She sees nothing but what’s in front of her, hears nothing but her own controlled breathing and music, if she’s listening to it (always instrumental, because her dad insists that lyrics would distract her). No matter where she is, the universe is her own, and nothing can shatter that.
Until she misses a step on the park staircase she’s running up and down on.
Maya’s heart lurches forward in her chest when she falls, hitting the stars roughly as she tumbles down and ends up sprawled on the pavement like a starfish.
The first thing that hits her is the stinging on her skin. Maya’s only wearing a tank top and shorts so she knows that her palms and knees will be scratched up and her limbs will be red. Starting to push herself up, she’s forced to stop when her ankle rolls to the side the moment she puts her foot on the ground. Ow , that really, really hurts. It’s not just a sting but a burn, maybe even a crack.
Her ankle can’t be injured. She’s only running to get in some training for the Olympics, which is in a a few months. The Olympics is what her entire track career and her life, ultimately, has been leading up to! There’s no way she’s going to risk missing out on it because of the stupid park steps.
Panting, Maya manages to roll herself onto her back, sitting up and trying to calm her erratic breathing and racing heart. She needs to stay clear-headed about this, she needs to be rational.
Still, she can’t bring herself to look at her ankle, scared that she might see her bone popping out. Pain keeps echoing in her body, it’s impossible to focus on much of anything else. She’s twisted her ankle before and she knows - feels - that this is worse.
Taking deep breaths now, Maya looks at her palms and sees the scrapes on her knees. Nothing a few bandaids won’t fix. Now she gets the courage up to look at her ankle, slipping the heel of her sneaker off as delicately as she can - even that’s difficult. It’s red, starting to bruise, and Maya tenderly touches the flesh and finds that swelling has begun, too. She generally rotates her ankle in a circle and nearly howls..
Really, really not good.
She knows that Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital isn’t too far away from here. There’s no need to get a cab, she’ll just walk there, practice putting weight on her ankle, and have a doctor quickly check it out. It’s Sunday, not like her doctor’s office will be open, and if it takes too long, she’ll just go home.
Gritting her teeth as she forces her sneaker back on, Maya rises to her feet. The first few steps are hard, she knows she must resemble a skittish deer, but when her body realizes that this is what’s happening, it adjusts. The walk is slow, tedious, and elicits many grunts from her, but Maya eventually makes it to the hospital.
Approaching the doors to the ER, she’s struck with a flash of fear slithering through her body. What if they don’t simply give her an ice pack or wrap it for her? What if they tell her she needs to stay off it? Maya knows that nothing can force her to listen and at the same time, she knows how risky it is to run on a bad foot.
Plus, her dad could find out. Not only is he her emergency contact but he’ll notice the crutches or even the bandaging . . .
Maybe coming here wasn’t a good idea. It was better to tough it out and go home.
Maya drags herself over to a nearby bench, letting out a relieved sigh when the pressure’s off her ankle. She leans forward, propping her elbows on her knees and putting her head in her hands while she tries to think.
“Do you need help?”
Maya looks up, only to see a tall, brunette-haired woman with a long brown suede coat on, black boots, and holding a pretty black handbag looking at her and standing outside the ER, where she presumably just walked out of. She must be a doctor ending her shift.
The handbag’s certainly not the only pretty thing Maya sees.
“I, um . . .” She stutters for a moment, wondering if she should tell the truth.
The woman walks closer and must notice the redness and scrapes adorning Maya. “Did you fall?” She asks, setting her handbag on the empty space next to the athlete.
Well, there’s no avoiding this now. “Yeah, I was running. I fell down some stairs at the park,” she says. “Twisted my ankle.”
“Do you want me to take a look?” The doctor offers.
Maya considers saying no, but she feels weird about rejecting a kind offer like this. It’s also better than sitting in a very bright room and having someone with cold sterile gloves poke and prod and ask a million questions. “Sure,” she agrees.
The woman goes around and sits down next to her. Maya lifts her leg up and bends her knee to rest her foot on the bench. “May I?” The doctor asks, gesturing to her shoe. Maya nods.
Feeling a bit like a reverse Cinderella, Maya sinks her teeth into her bottom lip as her sneaker gets removed. “My name is Doctor Deluca, Carina DeLuca, by the way,” the brunette introduces herself. .
“My name’s Maya,” she says in return, breathing through the pain. Once her sneaker’s fully off, it occurs to her that ‘Carina’ is a rather nice name.
“Well, Maya,” Carina begins. The athlete’s not sure whether she jolts from the feeling of Carina’s warm hands on her ankle or how lovely it is to hear her, with her sweet-like-honey voice, say her name. “It’s definitely swollen, there’s bruising—” she presses down on her bone and Maya holds in a gasp. “—yeah, I don’t specialize in orthopedics, but with you barely able to put any weight on it, I’d suggest going to get an x-ray at the very least.”
At the very least implies that more should be done. Maya’s about to respond when she feels her phone buzz in her pocket. She grabs it and sees a text from her father, reading ‘Your mom wants to move dinner up a bit. Can you come at 6:30?’
Dinner? She thought she was having dinner tomorrow . . . “I-um-are you sure I can’t just wrap it at home? Ice it? Take advil?” She asks, unaccustomed to being flustered like this in public. Even as Carina starts to answer, her gaze drifts to the side, as awful thoughts take hold of her, imagining her father’s reaction to her hurting her ankle.
“Maya, hey . . . Can you keep your eyes on me for a second?” Carina asks, firm and kind, lightly touching her arm.
She’s never heard that before. It’s always been her father’s ‘eyes forward’ mantra.
Her mind slows down as she takes in Carina’s features, the worry in her pretty, dazzling eyes. They take a few deep breaths together.
“You can ice it and wrap it, but I’m worried about it being a fracture. I can go in with you, if you’d like? Might be able to get you seen faster,” Carina offers with a smile, feeling naturally drawn to Maya, and not just because she’s a person in need.
Maya glances down at her phone and Carina’s gaze follows. “Is everything okay?” She asks, trying to be nonchalant about it.
“I just have plans with my family in a little while, don’t want them to worry about me being injured,” Maya says, even if she knows deep down that it’s not entirely true.
“Well, you were supposed to be out running, right? You don’t have to answer immediately. Let’s go into the ER first and take it from there,” Carina suggests.
Maya finds herself nodding. While her heart is still racing and her ankle still hurts like hell, having Carina here to slow things down is a big help. Maybe things won’t be so bad.