Chapter Text
It shouldn't have affected her as much as it did, but if Samira's stability was hanging on by a thread, Cassie took a scalpel and hacked the last poor sucker away. "This job can't be your life Samira." A syntactic slap in the face that left her stunned, desperate to defend herself. To make it known that she has a life, albeit different to the rest of her colleagues. A bold-faced lie she kept telling herself to keep her fantasy of a normal life in check. The mantra she kept at bay for breaking points, repeating like a broken record that all she dreamed of, all she craved and needed so badly, could wait. Until she finally stabilizes her career and can be a doctor people respect, regardless of the length of her patient assessment. Getting paid a livable amount of money, to be able to spend on herself, actually live life. Not now, while she's counting every dollar that she makes. Not now, when fresh fruit is still a luxury to her. She never expected Cassie to be the one to ruin it all for her, in a single, sympathetic sentence that came from a place of worry and experience. It was all too much.
She found herself sobbing in the restroom. Feet too slow and tears too swift to get her to her usual breakdown spot, Beto's old supply closet. Unfortunately, she had to settle for a bathroom stall, nowhere near as private and secluded like the closet. Filled with rolls of paper towels, old mops, dustpans and cleaning detergents. To calm her nerves, she usually read the ingredients. This time, she counted the paint-chips on the ceiling, losing her place after reaching 30 and ultimately giving up. At a certain point as a public crier, she stopped caring. No stranger to crying on the bus, she would let her tears go, relinquishing the little control she had over them. Not caring about people staring at her, in fact sometimes staring someone down while violently crying made people be so uncomfortable they would turn their gaze away with their eyes wide like she was a rabid animal. Quietly pulling herself together, although almost falling apart all over again listening to Robby's speech, she grabs her things and meets with Victoria and Mateo on her way out.
Cassie's words still lingering like a rainy cloud above her head, she told herself fuck it. Now she's on a park bench drinking beer with her coworkers. Taking her claw clip and clipping it onto the hem of her scrub top, she lets her sweaty hair fall to her neck with a sweet feeling of release. One by one, the park posse thins out. Leaving her with Dr. Abbot, a man she knows virtually nothing about, except for the fact that he is incredibly charming, eerily stoic and viciously handsome. What she doesn't know is that one Jack Eamon Abbot, is head over heels in love with her. In that sense, she's clueless.
"Looks like it's just you and me Dr. Mohan." he says, turning to look at her profile. Taking in the short slope of her nose and the length of her eyelashes. Her raven curls framing the side of her face, obstructing the view of her dark irises.
"I feel as if I got ran over… by a tank." Samira sluggishly says, zoning out on the cars that drive by the park.
Laughing over her words, but not breaking his gaze. "Where in Pittsburgh would you even find a tank to run you over?"
"I have no idea. But that's the heaviest vehicle that came to my mind." she giggles, realizing the absurdity of her words, when she suddenly whines. "Oh god no."
"What's the matter?" She hears the shift in his voice but doesn't see the sudden change in his expression. His lopsided smirk replaced with a worried frown and his eyebrows furrowed.
She turns to look at him, with fatigue in her eyes. "I just realized I have to catch the damn bus now."
"Oh hell no. I'm driving you home."
"Oh. No." Samira laughs nervously, stunned by his determination. "I'm just being dramatic. I don't want to impose on you."
In a second, his eyes burn into her skin. He has a confident, determined smile that is desperately trying to hide his desires. "Samira. To impose would mean you would be forcing something unwanted upon me, which when it comes to you, I believe is impossible."
Samira, clueless to the weight of Jack's sentence, shrugs with a goofy smirk. "Only if you insi-"
"I do. C'mon." Taking her hand, he pulls her off of the bench. "You got everything?"
"Yup. Lead the way."
Typing in her address, she hoped it wouldn't be too much of a detour for him. Judging by his smirk, it wasn't. "Well would you look at that? You're not very far from me actually. Seems like kismet." Samira didn't really know what to say to that so she just thanked him again. "Do you want to play some music? The aux cord is right down there, cause I wouldn't count on the radio really having some tunes."
"Sure! Any special requests?"
"Not really, I listen to anything." He says with that silly smirk of his. Samira took notice of his meticulous driving. Not only did he impress her deeply as a doctor today, she's in awe of his driving as well. She never got the chance to get her driver's license. Her father would've been to teach her like he did her sister and after his passing, her mind was occupied with bigger worries. Besides, she had a certain niche interest in public transit. One would think living in New York, taking the subway every day would bulldoze that curiosity quickly, but it seemed to have an opposite effect on Samira. She enjoyed riding the subway, especially as she had a new anecdote a day.
"I find that hard to believe. You're saying that if I played you some Christian contemporary you would love that?" Her teasing resulted in his smirk turning into a full teethy smile, laughing at her words inside.
"Well I wouldn't complain out loud, but there's no way you'd get the aux cord next time." He teased her right back. "Although, nothing could be worse than when Robby played his Viking metal music. That had to be some of the corniest shit I've ever heard." Jack grimaces, visibly cringing at the memory.
"That sounds… interesting. To keep it cute. After the day that we just had, don't know about you, but I could use a dose of dopamine", Jack's eyebrows furrow and a smirk returns to his lips as he listens to her with an intense focus and amusement, "and there is no greater feeling of rapture than the one this song gives me." Soon enough, an intense saxophone sound bursts through the car as Carly Rae Jepsen's Run Away With Me starts playing.
Jack's smile widens cunningly, he starts to nod his head along. He furtively turns to look at Samira, who is deep in song. Singing her heart out "Baby, take me to the feeling! I'll be your sinner in secret when the lights go out. Run away with me, run away with me!" He allows himself to enjoy this moment. To see her spirit reassembled, after being crushed by the weight of the day. He relishes in it. In her happiness, in her perseverance. As the song creeps towards the final, explosive chorus, her favourite part of the song, she loses herself in it.
Out of nowhere, Jack joins her, screaming the words. "Oh my baby! Take me! To the! Feeling! I'll be your sinner in secret! When the lights go out… Just run away with me!" It would be the understatement of the millennium to say that Samira was shocked. Jack knew every single word of the song, ad-libs included. As if he was Carly herself.
"Every single minute, I'll be your hero and win it! When the lights go out… run away with me!" They scream the words together. The song fizzles out and Samira's jaw is left unhinged, while Jack just smiles. Looking towards the road, focusing ahead. That confident smirk never leaving his face.
"Never. In a million years… would I have guessed… that you would know the words to Carly Rae Jepsen. How? Where? Who? Who showed you this song?" She was flabbergasted. Jack Abbot. The mysterious, hardbound book of a man with locked pages, was a big pile of mush inside.
"Do you know how many times I drove my niece and her friends to places. Mostly picking her after school before my shifts, dropping her and her friends off like a taxi. She has this little gay friend. He is obsessed with Carly Rae Jepsen and all the other pop divas. Not to toot my own horn, but thanks to him, I'm pretty knowledgeable of them." The laugh that leaves his mouth is genuine, reminiscing on the memories. It reminded him to take his niece to the cinema again, granted if she hadn't outgrown the phase where she thought he was the coolest man on earth. "I can't tell you the number of times I listened to them sing off-key to Mariah Carey. Have you ever had to sit through 3 teenagers going through puberty and their voice changing, attempting to sing the high notes in Emotions?"
"I can't say I have." Her voice warm with giggles rippling through her vocal cords.
"Well I have, and let me tell you… it is not a pleasant sound."
The rest of the short drive turns into a karaoke session with Samira playing Emotions to mess with Jack. However, it ended up with them singing their hearts out and sounding like birthing cats. Pulling up to Samira's apartment building, Jack being the gentleman he is, escorts her to her door. Selfishly to ease his mind and to know she got home safely.
"Thank you again, truly."
"No, thank you. You've somehow managed to make me laugh after the horror of today. Get some sleep Samira and I'll see you tomorrow."
"See you and… good night Jack." She quirks back at him over her shoulder and enters inside.
"Good night Samira." He catches his breath for a second, watching her leave, before getting into his car and leaving. His crooked smile remaining on his lips as he drove off.
After all the noise throughout the day, her conversations in the park, the joyful and surprising ending to the evening, Samira finally made it home. If you could call it that. Scarcely decorated with a few dead plants, Furniture she had been deceived into believing was vintage, though decrepit would be a better word to describe it. The single dash of hominess shined in the used books she found in antique shops and posters of her favourite films and singers on the wall. Things she got before her education beat her down. Before she barely had the energy to leave bed and the only thing that brought her joy was helping people. Working hard is the only thing she knew now. It was the only thing she thought she deserved. There was no one close to her to call her out on her self-destructive hypocrisy. Believing she had to earn her free time, to earn her right to enjoy herself, to earn her right to socialize and to have hobbies. How could she rest, when all that she worked towards was still out of reach. Running towards the carrot on a stick and watch it being pulled back just as she felt it on her fingertips.
She could never give herself grace, never believed she would be good enough. That state of mind spread in her mind like a virus, affecting every part of her brain. It all began when she realized the mistake in her identity, in regards to her body. The day she learned the meaning of the word thirunangai in her native tongue of Tamil. At the age of eleven, seeing a trans woman for the first time in Queens, New York was life-changing for her. Her mother gave her an explanation, filled with vague, respectful words and definitions as she was a psychiatrist, somewhat scaring her with stories of how they face violence and rejection, along with other adversities in their lives. Samira had a revelation that day, one that she kept to herself, in part due to her mother's stories. She was one of them. Silently crying in her bed, a feeling she felt for over seven years, frustrated with not knowing how to explain it or whether anyone would even listen, finally had a name. It had a shape, no longer a lingering presence looming over her while being forced to play football with the boys. She was terrified of it.
Sitting in her bed, in her shitty, overpriced one-bedroom apartment. The weight of today plummeted over her body, after Jack had unknowingly lifted it off her shoulders. At least for a little while. She should've enjoyed it more, she thought to herself. It was foolish of her to forget, that at the end of the day, it was an empty space she was coming home to. Empty of life, empty of joy, empty of warmth. Nobody was waiting for her. She is all alone. When they got the news of there being a mass casualty incident, and when Robby told them to call their loved ones now, she glanced over the room. People scrambling to get to their phones, desperate for their calls to go through, she stood still. Her mother and sister, the only people she could really call, were back in Queens, leaving her alone to gather her thoughts and prepare for the mayhem.
So, she finds herself frustrated, that she let herself fall into this routine. A routine that is decimating her from within. She wows to herself, to actually change something tomorrow. Falling asleep, wondering if this surge of confidence will be with her in the morning.
It was not.
Quickly, she had fallen back into the same miserable cycle she was so desperate to climb out of. Realizing that it's easier said than done. She had bitten much more than she could chew and it ended up biting her in the ass. However, with a little push from her sister, Samira begrudgingly created a dating profile on Hinge. She was incredibly nervous, living stealthily as a trans woman, that a member of staff would come across her profile and see the trans flag as it stood at the very beginning of her bio and spread the gossip around like a forest fire. It's not that she's ashamed of being trans, but after only matching in Pittsburgh and leaving her life in New York she decided to try and see how she would be perceived and treated as a cis-presenting woman in the medical field. The difference gave her whiplash. She was still being disrespected by racist misogynists every other day, but it's better to have people call you Slo-mo than a tranny. At least that's how she comforted herself. In reality, she still had her education, speed and efficiency undermined. In exchange, to not have her gender questioned, all she got was a cage of isolation. It was ironic, she thought not disclosing her identity to people she didn't believe had the right of knowing would bring her stability, instead she got the opposite matched with a new sense of loneliness and paranoia she never experienced back home.
Back at work, she chatted with Cassie and a few other staff members. "My sister kinda pressured me into downloading a dating app, so I'm officially out back out there." Casually dropping the info into the conversation, subtly letting Cassie know she decided to do something in her personal life, without letting her know directly that she was right and that Samira truly had no life outside of work.
"Really? How's that going? Which one are you on? Cause I'm on Tinder and let me tell you there's not a wide selection in this city to keep it cute." Princess added, her face showing a slight hint of pleasant shock hearing the words Samira and dating in the same sentence. She tried her to mask it.
"Hinge, and let me tell you. Truer words have never been spoken before." Samira rebutted. "I've had it for only a couple of days and it has made me question my future like never before. I'm getting accustomed to the idea of becoming a crazy cat lady more and more each time I open the damn app. I don't know how women put up with this." The few interactions she had in the three days she had the profile, were idiotic at best, and downright revolting at worst. From fetishizing doll-chasers, to men who were to stupid to read profiles and just sending out likes later messaging her slurs when she told them she was trans, she had seen it all and her spirit was battered down already.
"Don't give up just yet, if anything those dumb apps can be used to at least have some fun every now and then, you gotta use these men for the one thing they're good for." Princess had such a way with words. Samira always admired her wit. She was by far the funniest staff member of the department. What she lacked in filter, she made up with silence and sideways glances.
I've always said it's best to try and meet someone in real life. Then again, that didn't work out the best for me so. Girl, it's hard out here." Cassie was the realest of the bunch. She had the wisdom that only came with actual life experiences, not just shallow ones Samira had.
"What's everybody talking about?" Trinity walked over, huffing from fatigue as she sat down to start charting.
"Dating apps. Samira made a Hinge profile so we're just bitchin' around."
"Oh, girl. The struggle is real. Trust me, I know." Trinity rolled her eyes out of frustration. "People always tell me to go to a bar, and there's like two good lesbian ones in this city."
Their confab is interrupted as Samira and Princess are pulled into a incoming trauma, but that doesn't stop Princess from giving her advice in front of all her colleagues.
"I'm serious though girl. Don't give up just yet. At least you won't be so lost in your work all the time. It'll give you a valve to release some of that pressure off those shoulders."
Samira playfully faked offense to that statement, scoffing. "I don't have tense shoulders." Suddenly everyone in the room looked at her for just a second, with Princess and Heather looking at her, then each other before chuckling. "Okay you two are just being mean now." She sounded so whiny, but she was kinda over the conversation.
"Samira, trust when we tell you. You need some sort of release. And fast." Heather weighed each word, to somewhat slap Samira with each one, before her and Princess started laughing again.
She couldn't even be mad at them, cause it was just a pleasant sight to see Heather laughing again. If she was the reason for her finding some sort of comfort, regardless if the joke was at her expense, she wouldn't protest to that. Besides Dana and Robby, the rest of the staff wasn't aware just how awful the day of PittFest was for Heather. What nobody knew was that when she arrived at her apartment that day, she took a bath. For the first time since she was a med student, Heather made herself a bath and just broke down. There were no fancy candles, no 20th Century Fox score playing in the bathtub. She sat down in her bath in the gray lit room, and closed her eyes as she cried for an hour. There was no screaming, no sobbing, she was far too drained for that. She could barely produce a sound out of her mouth. After sitting in the bath for far too long, she went into her living room. Each time she was pregnant, she planted a flower. The plan was for the flower to blossom near her due date. None of the flowers ever met their companion. This time she took the pot with the seed she planted, stepped outside onto her patio, and tossed the flower pot onto the ground. Watching it shatter across the stone pathway she had in her backyard. She went back inside, and took each of her past flowers, some of them already withered half to dust, and broke them until her entire walkway was covered in soil. Too tired to clean it up, she turned and walked calmly to her room, shut all the blinds until she was alone in the dark, and cried herself to sleep.
For a second, Samira truly thought everything would magically be better. How naive of her to think so. Robby wasn't always like this. In fact, in the beginning he encouraged her, and alongside Dr. Adamson, was a true paternal figure in her life. It would make her day, just to see a glimmer of pride in him. It slowly turned sour, after the passing of his mentor. It's as his worldview of medicine flipped over 180 degrees. The things he used to commend her for, now he despised in her. He became increasingly rigid in his scoldings, and they became a more common occurrence. Methods and ways of thinking he taught her himself, now became his boiling point with her. She noticed that every time she exhumed a characteristic that reminded him of his late mentor, he would publicly scold her. It frustrated her to the point where she developed anxiety to even work with him. However, due to her high patient satisfaction scores, Gloria personally vouched for her request to switch to the night shift be rejected. She loved PTMC and didn't have any other place really to go. She didn't want to go back to New York. That would mean living with her mother and step-father and that would only send her over the edge.
So she found herself being scolded again, unable to fight back. To tired to fight with this stubborn man she no longer even recognized. Post-PittFest, Robby was even worse mentally. His mental health took a nosedive. He became increasingly cruel, while Samira became increasingly numb.
"Is there something that you don't understand in my words. I truly feel as if we keep spinning in the same place like a broken record Samira. How many times do I have to repeat myself to you until something sticks?" The tone of his voice was revolting to her. Oh so familiar to her, disappointment mixed with frustration and deeply hidden sadness. Deep down he was aware of his hypocrisy, but he was to hurt and self-hating to realize he was hurting her with his words. Although, she loved Robby, she felt like a punching bag to him. She started to act like one too. "Hello? Samira are you even listening to me?" He bent his knees a little to meet her eyeline. She fixated her gaze to the floor, too sad and proud to look him in the eyes.
"Yes, Doctor Robinavitch." She answered curtly, not to piss him off per se, but it doesn't make her too sad that it does. She could practically see him try to keep his head from exploding.
"Robby, incoming trauma. Blunt force trauma to the spine. ETA 5 minutes." Dana called over, emancipating Samira from Robby's temper.
Taking the opportunity, she ducks and dashes towards the supply closet. She tries so desperately to not take it personally. Easier said than done as she knows almost everyone has called her that idiotic nickname at least once. The thing she hates the most, is the ingenuity of the insulting nickname. That pisses her off the most, the fact that it's a clever insult. She has no idea who came up with it, she has suspicions of it being Langdon but has no proof to back it up. He just seems enough of an asshole to come up with it. Out of all people in the ED, she's not proud to admit she's most envious of him. Studying under Adamson and Robby, she thought she meant more to Robby than she actually does. When Langdon came around, she realized just how foolish she was. She had never felt more discarded in her life. As if all the shine and beauty of her skills had vanished and she was thrown to the side. For a new, shiny, cocky and pompous ass she had no way of competing with. They never clashed, Samira and Langdon, to the contrary they worked pretty well together. But that was due to her being cordial and being able to flow professionally with anybody. He wasn't the only one she was somewhat jealous of, and he certainly wasn't the only one making fun of her. Collins, Princess and Perlah definitely ridiculed her in Tagalog, Donnie and the rest of the male nurses. In addition to being Robby's punching bag, she was also the ED's laughingstock. What they didn't know is that she was reaching her breaking point, and she didn't know if she would quit once she reached it, or become stronger. That uncertainty terrified her.
For the rest of the shift she avoided Robby as much as she could. Only ending up on a MVA victim together, he acted the complete opposite towards her, which just pissed her off even more. Robby had a tendency of playing hot and cold. At his age of 52, he had the emotional control of a 13-year-old. She wanted to shove his head up his ass. However, one compliment on her quick thinking and he was a born-again man to her. Ashamed at how desperate she was for his approval.
The shift finally coming to an end, she handed her patients over and got the fuck out of the hospital. On day like these, she tries so hard not to resent medicine. People have this idea of her as a happy-go-lucky girl, who takes criticism on the chin and never complains. While that may be somewhat true, nobody knows the side-effect of keeping everything bottled up inside. She was losing her touch with reality. The world seemed to be playing a cruel joke on her, as her bus line was discontinued today due to road work. So she walked. It was a 50-minute walk to her apartment. On her way, she stumbled across a small diner. Her stomach screaming at her as she pondered whether to enter or not.
She ended up sitting in a corner-window seat and ordering a simple, inexpensive meal. Listening to music while eating, she completely disassociated, feeling relaxed for the first time today. Not listening to the sounds around her, she watched people through the window commuting. Noticing their clothes, if they weren't alone, who were they with, who were they talking to on the phone, what did their face convey. She barely noticed a pair of sneakers as she glanced down mid-bite, only to come face to face with none other than Robby.