Chapter Text
On a clear, remarkably not chaotic morning at Gaffney Medical Center, hospital staff and reporters alike gather outside the brand new emergency department. From where Emma Gardner stands behind her fellow doctors, she knows that perfection can't last forever.
"We owe a great debt of gratitude to one man in particular," Sharon Goodwin says from the podium at the front of the room. "He championed us, supported us, and happily, along the way, befriended us. Without his help, this incredible new emergency department would never have become a reality. Our mayor, Rami Manuel."
Emma takes her fidgety hands from her pockets to join everyone in clapping as the mayor steps up to speak. She'll admit she mostly tunes him out, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Murphy's Law is one she believes in whole-heartedly.
And just like that, everyones' pagers start going off at once. Emma grabs hers and mutters quietly over her colleagues' own gasps, "Merde."
Maggie walks out and announces, "CFD Plan 2, mass cas! Multiple trauma patients minutes away! Let's go!"
Everyone floods into the ED, ready for the patients that come rolling in. Emma helps out where she can, setting one man's broken arm and stapling a woman's temple, among other small treatments. She's much more used to handling sick kids, but you don't become a doctor if you're not ready for a crisis.
"You got off very easy, Bradley," She tells her latest patient, this time a 15-year old, which is much more her speed. "Just a minor concussion and some bumps and bruises. You can go ahead and keep this, I'd like you to ice your head on and off for the next few hours."
She presses an ice-pack into Bradley's hand and looks at his visibly frazzled mother. "If you could monitor him and report back with any concerns, that would be great. But I would say he's ready to head home."
"Are you sure?"
"Well, he might be a little too old for celebratory ice cream, but-"
Emma smiles as Bradley and his mother both laugh. The mother says, "Thank you, Doctor."
"Of course. Head over to the front desk and they'll get you sorted."
Bradley's mother helps him off the bed, and as they leave the room, Emma can hear him say, "Ice cream does sound pretty good."
Emma laughs under her breath, removing her gloves and tossing them in the bin. She's only taken one step toward the door when a voice grabs her attention.
"28-year old male, crush injuries, severed artery, massive blood loss!"
"What-?" Emma reaches the door at lightning speed, leaning over to see a figure on top of a patient on a gurney, performing chest compressions. It's hard to make out his face at first, but as paramedics push the gurney down the hall, that quickly changes.
"Oh, my God," Emma turns and presses herself against the door-frame, one hand to her temple and a fist pressed to her mouth. "Oh, my God. Connor..."
Pressing her lips together, she lightly thwacks herself upside the head. "Focus!"
She swipes another pair of gloves, tugging them on as she goes off in search of somewhere she can help. She ends up passing behind Will just as he says, "Alright, get off the gurney, doc. I'm Senior Resident in this ER."
"Yeah? Well, I'm your new trauma fellow."
Emma forces herself to keep moving even if those words make her brain screech to a halt. She can't help but feel relieved when she sees Doris struggling to calm a young girl with a bloody nose, and she slips into the room. "Doris, need a hand?"
Together, they work to staunch the nosebleed, and Emma treats a few minor cuts on the girl's arms. Only once her mother picks her up and Doris leads the parents to the front desk does Emma dare to face the rest of the ED again.
"Emma?"
Which she promptly regrets.
With a silent prayer, Emma turns to face her ex-husband for the first time in almost a decade. Even disheveled and bloody, he's unmistakable, and she has to shove down the stir of emotions building in her stomach.
"Connor," She says with a nod, joining her hands behind her back. It's almost impersonal, but she doubts she could handle much else right now.
"You - You work here. Here?"
"Yes. Apparently, so do you."
"I'm sorry," Goodwin speaks up from beside Connor. "How do you now each other?"
"Um, we're-"
Connor pauses as paramedics roll in another gurney; Emma recognizes one of Gaffney's frequent fliers right away. Goodwin turns and asks Connor, "All our ER docs are busy. Can you take care of our friend?"
"No problem."
Emma can't help how her shoulders slip with relief as Connor briskly follows the gurney down the hall. Goodwin tells Maggie to page Dr. Charles, then she says, "If it's no trouble, Dr. Gardner, I would like an answer to that question."
"How do I now Connor?" Emma glances over just as the doors of Jamie's room slide shut. "There's no easy way to put this...We're divorced. He's my ex-husband."
She barely has time to register Goodwin's surprise before Ethan shouts, "A little help in here!"
"Excuse me," Emma spins and walks off, knowing it's likely for the best. There's no time for her relationship drama.
///
As soon as Connor is done treating Jamie, he figures it's finally time to put himself first. So he snags a free room and gets to work stitching the cut on his arm.
Of course, he could do this in his sleep, so it's okay to let his mind wander a little. And where it lands, like it always used to and still does sometimes, is with Emma.
When he came back to Chicago, he never expected her to be there. Gaffney is a great hospital, of course they would want a brilliant doctor like her, but-
He snaps back to reality as one stitch pulls a little too hard, and he winces. Maybe he's rusty after all. He's about to correct it when a voice asks from behind him, "Do I want to know how this happened?"
It's said with such familiar exasperation that Connor feels a rush of nostalgia and warmth. He answers as casually as he can, "Must've snagged it on the wreckage."
"So, if patients kept coming in, would you have waited for sepsis to take you out, or...?"
A smile tugs at Connor's lips even if his heart aches just a little. God, he missed this. "You don't want me to answer that."
Emma sighs, and he can almost picture her bowing her head like always when she's annoyed - particularly with him. "Some things never change. Do you want help, or are you also too stubborn for that?"
"Ha-Ha. Come be my other hand?"
"Well, since you asked nicely."
Connor listens to gloves being snagged from the dispenser, and then there she is beside him, tilting her head to see his work. "The Riyadh stitch, hm?"
"I'm surprised you remember," Connor says, hiding his giddiness. It's the closest she's been to him all day, and there's none of the detachment from earlier - not that he's upset about it. He knows how she gets when she's anxious. "Saudis paid me well not to leave unsightly scars."
"It's hard not to remember when you bragged about it so often."
"Fair."
Emma doesn't laugh, but Connor can see her mouth twitch in a small smile. He has to bite back one of his own as he asks, "Could you pinch those two sides together?"
"Yeah." Emma does so, just as gentle as ever. "Tetanus?"
"Current."
"I would hope so."
As he keeps working, Connor tilts his head, reading the embroidered words on Emma's coat. "Chief of Family Medicine."
"That is what they call me."
"Congrats. I-I know that's what you always wanted."
"Thank you."
Even if he's trying to focus, lest he snag another stitch again, Connor spares a few more glances at Emma. She's let her hair down now, dark blonde waves just barely touching her shoulders. It used to be longer.
She's focusing on Connor's hands, making sure he gets this right, if past experience is anything to go by. He always loved her eyes, especially when she's in her element like this; he remembers their stupid little fights over if blue or hazel was better - they argued for each other, usually, and he would let her win just to see her smile.
But that was before. Now, with the weight of their past on his shoulders, he can't help but ask softly, "Why Chicago?"
Emma presses her lips together, and her eyes flicker towards his, then away. "Gaffney was the first to accept my application...and I wanted to feel at home."
"...And my home would do that?"
"It did. Once."
Connor just nods, blinking the mist from his eyes and finishing up his stitches. Emma makes sure he'll be okay, of course - even in his worst moments, she's always cared more than he deserves - then she leaves, and he leans over to put his head in his hands.
Letting out a deep breath, Connor brushes his hair back and stands to go put his scrubs on.
Back to work.
///
As soon as Emma catches word of what happened to Jorge Melendez, she knows what she has to do. Even if part of her is reluctant, she goes looking, until she ends up on the roof.
He always did think better with fresh air.
"There you are," Emma says, joining Connor at the railing.
"Seven years, and you still know how to read me?"
"Like an open book. You're not exactly subtle." Emma props a hand on the railing, drumming her fingers lightly. "I heard about your patient. Tough one."
"Yeah...I just keep wonderin'-"
"If there was anything you could've done?"
"Stop that."
Emma scoffs out a quiet laugh, then she says, "You know what my answer is going to be."
"Mourir est aussi naturel que vivre. Dying is as natural as living."
"You haven't lost your touch, Connor. Still the only American I know who pronounces French correctly."
"Well, I had a great teacher."
They share a small smile, and for a moment, Emma is taken back to seven years ago, before everything changed. Grounding herself by tightening her grip on the railing, she says, "I am still sorry, about Jorge. For - For whatever that's worth."
"Thanks."
After a beat where Emma almost thinks the conversation is over, Connor asks, "Does Goodwin know about us?"
"I told her. I expect an HR meeting in our future."
"They don't have to worry about us getting along, at least."
Connor sounds so sure that Emma has to look away, her free hand drawing calming patterns on her thigh. Connor asks, soft and maybe a little bit hopeful, "Right?"
"...Connor, you know I don't hold everything that happened against you. But we didn't exactly split on the best of terms."
"There's still hard feelings. I get it."
Emma nods softly, as Connor says, "I'm sorry I never reached out."
"...So am I."
Suddenly, both of their pagers beep, grabbing their attention. Emma says, "A doctor's work really never is done."
Connor gives her an understanding smile, which stings that much more. "See you."
"Hm."
The trip downstairs is quiet, and they go their separate ways as soon as they're back inside. Emma joins her hands behind her back and traces x's into her palm, taking one last calming breath just as she reaches the nurse's station. "Maggie, where am I going?"
///
When most of the staff ends up at the bar come nightfall, Connor isn't too surprised that he doesn't see Emma. She never was a social drinker.
Come to think of it, the last time she drank that he can remember was a few glasses of wine at their reception. But he can't afford to go there right now.
He finds Dr. Charles at a booth, and he says, "'Death, vicious death, leave a green branch for love'. You do speak Spanish."
"I don't."
"But you know Lorca."
"Third wife was from Spain. Loved Lorca. Came in handy when we were courting."
Ah, Connor knows how that feels. It might sting a little, but he still chuckles and nods, before he says, "They got the first lung in."
"Halfway there."
Connor nods again, and Dr. Charles pulls out a paper he puts on the table. "Jamie made that for me when he was 8."
Sitting down, Connor unfolds the drawing.
"I was brought in to help with his condition, all the things he wouldn't be able to do. Did not need my help. I mean, this kid did more things than most kids his age ever do. He went for the swim team in high school. A id with CF...taught me how to cope."
The conversation suddenly feels heavy, but that's not surprising. Connor asks as Dr. Charles stands, "Going back to the hospital?"
"Yeah." Dr. Charles takes the drawing back. "Wouldn't mind being there when he wakes up."
"Can I come?"
Dr. Charles looks back just as he's leaving. "Sure."
So Connor grabs his bag, and off they go. Outside, Dr. Charles asks, as casually as ever, "So what's the story with you and Dr. Gardner?"
Connor is starting to think there might be an ulterior motive to this field-trip. He sighs softly and says, "We're divorced. Seven years as of last May."
"Sorry to hear that."
"Yeah..."
"She's good people. Great at what she does."
"I know. Listen," Connor stops walking to look Dr. Charles in the eye. "If I ever hurt her...again...you have full permission to tear me a new one. But this was a shock for me, too."
"I can imagine."
"I just want to do my job, and let Emma do hers, and that's all." Connor raises his hands slightly. "We can still co-exist. I-I hope maybe we could be friends again, but if she's not ready, I'm not pushing it."
Dr. Charles looks him over with that calculating stare, then he nods and keeps walking. "Let's go."
Connor slumps with relief, and before he can think too much about the similar talk Emma's father gave him once, he silently follows.
///
A few days later, in the cafeteria, Emma sits alone at a table reading - that is, until Dr. Charles appears across from her with his to-go coffee. "So the ex-husband is in town."
"You have an interesting way of greeting people, Daniel."
"I try."
"Mm," Emma turns a page in her book. "It has been busy lately, so I can't say I'm surprised it took this long. Still, I would've expected an ambush sooner."
"Don't say 'ambush'. We're all friends here."
"I know, I know."
A beat passes, then Dr. Charles asks, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"I can give you the details. But no, I'd rather not gripe about my divorce in the middle of lunch."
"Fair."
Emma musters a soft laugh, shutting her book. She taps the rim of the cover a few times and says, "Connor and I met when his father brought the whole family to France for a medical conference. He was about to start med school, and you know I've always dreamed of being a doctor, but I didn't have the kinds of opportunities he did...until I met him."
Nursing his coffee, Dr. Charles asks, "He helped you get into medical school?"
"You know him by now. He just has a way." Emma almost smiles as she taps the cover again. "He convinced the school's director to take me on, apparently, and then three weeks later, I had moved to America and we were studying together almost every night. He grew up with nannies, I am the only reason he knows how to cook."
Dr. Charles chuckles, and although she does smile now, it's a little somber. "It was so easy to fall in love with him. We had three years together - some of the best of my life. But then Connor proposed...and his father didn't approve."
"A 'Romeo and Juliet' situation."
"Right. Of course, we were married anyway - it was small, only a few witnesses, but it meant the world. Cornelius - Connor's father - came this close to disowning him," Emma pinches two fingers. "And-...And it wasn't long before Connor started to take that out on me."
She pulls her tea across the table to take a sip, her free hand tracing x's on the book. Gently, Dr. Charles asks, "How long were you married?"
"Just over two months. We were fighting constantly, and we agreed it was for the best." Emma musters another weak smile, hoping he can't see the pain there. "Connor left - until now - and I ended up here. That - That's it."
She gives a one-armed shrug and, before Dr. Charles can speak, opens her book again. "Like I said, I don't want to talk about it. If that changes, I'll let you know."
"Of course..."
It goes quiet again, and Emma knows she should let that happen, wants it to. But she says, because she has to, "He's a good man, Daniel. I know you two didn't have the best start, but please don't turn this on him."
"You have my word."
Emma lifts her head just long enough to look in Dr. Charles' eyes, make sure he means it. Then she nods and goes back to reading, even if ghosts still whisper in the back of her head.
Seven years changes everything and nothing at the same time.