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The first time that Lucy kisses Carter after their "accident" is on Halloween, and predictably, like the kisses that came before it, the kiss happens at County.
She doesn't star the day with the anticipation that she will kiss Carter. The day stars out the same as any other day in the County psych department, full of the kind of stress that she'd been so afraid that she'd lose, only a year before, when the PT had been so rough, and each step felt like another butcher knife was being plunged into her lungs.
"It's your first Halloween as a psych intern," Dr. Legaspi says sympathetically as the cases begin to mount. "There may be nothing worse."
Valentine's Day as a med student in the ER, Lucy doesn't say, because you can't say that kind of thing to a real psychiatrist. Instead she waves a file at Dr. Legaspi. "The crew up in the ER swear they have it worse."
Legaspi laughs and rolls her eyes. "Of course they do. The only bigger martyrs than emergency medicine are surgeons, Lucy. Do you want to take the case, or should I give it to Stewart?"
Lucy likes Dr. Legaspi, because she never acts like Lucy might fall apart and break just because of the accident. She always gives Lucy the option but never acts like Lucy is a child who needs to be coddled.
That is not the case for every doctor at County, and Lucy is less grateful to see some of them than others. She glances through the file and gives a small smile. "They guy was brought in because he was screaming about pumpkins trying to kill him? I think I can handle that."
"I'm sure you can," Dr. Legaspi tells her.
The department is full of new people she doesn't quite recognize when she arrives; new nursing students, new interns, and new medical students. She forces herself not to scan the department for a a certain familiar face, because every single conversation they've had since the accident has been awkward - especially since he came back from rehab.
Besides, she can't always be surrounded by friends when she visits the department. She has a job to do.
The patient starts off perfectly friendly. He's telling her about his daughter, and how he really needs to get home and take little Leia trick or treating. It's four hours too late for trick-or-treat, and any parent would know that, so Lucy makes a note of that in her chart.
"Do you think I can go home soon, doc?" the patient presses. "There's pumpkins at home, after all."
"I thought you were afraid of pumpkins," Lucy says in confusion.
"Yeah, but just the ones at the supermarket," the patient explains helpfully. "The ones at home, well, those I can just stab their guts out!"
The patient raised his hand up and down in a stabbing gesture, the kind of gesture that possibly could have been helpful to anyone who hadn't been on the receiving end of a butcher knife from another patient a year ago.
She's a psych intern. She knows what a panic attack feels like, but in the moment, all she knows is that she can't breathe. Not in this space, not in this room, not with this patient, not in this department.
She runs.
She's still on the roof, a half hour later, trying to calm her nerves and wondering if she's blown her internship, when she hears Carter's voice.
"First Valentine's Day, now Halloween. The holidays around here really suck, huh?"
She turns around to look at him, and she's relieved that the his face is more somber than his joking tone. Well, that figures. He came away from their accident with an addition; he's well aware how much everything sucks.
"Hey, Carter," she says softly. "They send you to tell me I'm fired?"
He scoffs. "They didn't fire me for shooting up Fentanyl at work, Lucy. I don't think they are going to fire you for having PTSD."
"Diagnosing PTSD is my field," she grumbles. "Not yours."
"Your field is full of quacks," he retorts.
"If you'd seen someone in my field sooner -" she starts, but she bites it back, because what she's about to say is mean, and she doesn't want to be mean. Not to him, not really. It's not his fault she's falling apart on a rooftop instead of doing her job.
"I wouldn't been shooting up Fentanyl at work? Probably not," he finishes for her. There's no real heat to his voice, though, as he comes over to stand beside her. She absolutely does not plan to lean into the arm that he throws around her shoulders. But it feels so familiar, from that a distant, equally shitty night years ago, before either of them had their accident, when she still believed in the power of a good fight.
She leans into the offered arms. "Did someone come take care of my patient?"
"Your boss," Carter says affirmatively. "She believes you have PTSD, you know."
"I can't believe you came up here to argue with me."
"I came up here to make sure you were okay." He squeezes her shoulders tighter than he ever did, those years ago. "Certain other people who are absolutely not qualified have diagnosed me with being obsessed with that particular need."
It's not obsession, she thinks. It's unnecessary guilt. "Who has PTSD now?"
"Both of us."
She laughs into his side and glances up at the precise moment when he happens to be glancing down at her.
She did kiss him the first time, and sometimes, history repeats itself.
But this time, he doesn't stop her.
"Halloween didn't turn out so bad, after all," she says, cheekily, as they get ready to go back to their jobs. "Wonder how Thanksgiving will turn out?"
"You missed a button," he tells her, and he smirks, because ER doctors wear scrubs. "And knowing this place, we'll probably have exploding turkeys or something, but I guess we'll conquer them together, won't we?"
She almost fumbles the button, and she can hear the smirk growing louder. "Yeah, we'll see."