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You'd long since taken up the mantle of the "night shift first year resident" interning under the resident doctor, Jack Abbot, and quickly developing a comfortable relationship amongst the others at the Pitt. Being one of the only "newbie" residents on the night shift, you saw a lot, learned a lot, and found yourself growing close to those around you, finding a decent groove that kept things lively, if not bearable for the most part.
But sometimes, much like tonight, the ER became a nightmare. A nightmare for you, the others, and anyone who decided to call for an ambulance any time the night rolled around. Patient after patient, disastrous results that sent any with a conscious spiraling at times (none of which was anyone's fault—it was just the way of the world, the way in which the patients found themselves at the end of the night, looming Death just in the corner and waiting to pounce).
It fucking sucked.
You'd changed your scrubs once already, hadn't a second to even attempt to rest, and you'd hardly said a word to the other doctors around you, knowing that many patients needed attention ASAP.
By the time the end of your shift rolled around, you could hardly catch your breath. You gave your caseload to Dr. Santos and Dr. Whitaker, and between the two, you knew those who were still conscious and not in the hospital morgue would be in excellent care. Abbot had mentioned them a handful of times, through Dr. Robby's generous exemplars, and after you'd worked with them during the PittFest disaster, you knew it yourself. They were perfectly capable.
Were you?
You'd lost nearly four different patients just in the last few hours. Their blood washed from your hands but still overwhelmingly present, the warmth haunting your skin. You had scrubbed and scrubbed and it didn't feel any different. You still felt the dripping crimson, the way it stained your skin, the way it got under your already cut-short nails. The smell of iron and the sinewness of the ER. It didn't leave you.
You were nervous it never would.
The cool air outside the ambulance bay did little to calm your nerves. It never did after a night like you'd had. Like you'd all had.
Maybe it had something to do with the moon—a full moon was never a good sign, especially so close to the weekend anymore. Risk takers, smokers, anyone who'd drank once or twice before decided to sit behind the wheel.
Chen had four more coffees than usual. Ellis had become a bit frazzled, nearly snapping at you (but apologizing later on, after the chaos had slowed for a mere blip in time). Even Abbot had seemingly been swayed by the chaos.
A suffocating feeling came over you, the cool air practically drawing your breath from your lungs. You leaned your back against the wall of the hospital, just a bit away from the ambulance bay (no one would see you—not here, unless someone sought you out). Head tilting back, eyes locked on the sky still showing remnants of the sunrise. Blues and soft pinks filtered through the clouds, a soft reminder that though several patients have lost their lives that night, you were still alive.
You were alive, and your skin was far too tight, and the scrubs you wore had started to fray under their seams, and your shoes, god, your shoes, they had rubbed another blister on your ankle (something you'd thought a bandage would help with nearly four hours into your shift). Chapped lips desperate for moisture remained positively dried, your throat just as parched. You wished you had lotion so your hands wouldn't feel as dry as a desert, a reminder that you had lost so many just that night. A reminder that even though you were only a first year resident, death hung over you like a cruel joke, clinging to everything you would ever do.
The stench of the ER had long since clung to your person, blood and hand sanitizer and some kind of cleaner you couldn't quite name. It wouldn't leave you.
Tears stopped as quickly as they had started when you heard Dr. Abbot's voice call out your name.
You quickly stood up straight, wiping a few stray tears away, and looked in his direction. Your attending doctor had caught your attention the moment he first said your name so many months ago. You had sworn to yourself that you would never feel so strongly for someone you worked with. You knew it deep within that it was wrong, that you should not feel such a way, but seeing him and how he thought you were so capable made you warm inside, the same warmth you found when you did well at your job, when you saved a life.
What happened to you? Your capability? Where was your smugness, the warmth you felt?
Where were you?
He stood just a few feet away, backpack slung over his shoulder, his tired eyes watching yours.
It'd been a hard night for him, as well. He'd lost a patient, nearly lost another, and he knew, knew, knew that the night had been hell for all of his people. He knew better than anyone what you were thinking, even if he wouldn't say it out loud.
"Wondered where you went," he softly said.
You gave a weak smile, not truly trusting your voice. Your words seemed so loose, like they carried no weight. Like you were simply floating through the ambulance bay, a figment of his imagination (perhaps even yours).
"Just needed a breather before I left."
It was so simple, your answer. Why wasn't it simple enough to save them? Why had they died?
You let them die, didn't you? You were the reason their life slipped from them, their souls reaped the moment they were under your care.
God, you hadn't felt this much panic in so long. You knew it was typical—you weren't going to save every patient. But one after the other, tonight just... it was too much. It was all too much.
You hardly heard him as he came up beside of you, your tears starting once more. You heard his voice, but you couldn't make out what he was saying.
"Hey," Abbot said, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. "Doctor. Look at me."
You tore your gaze from the void you'd been staring into, bottom lip chapped and trembling and catching between your teeth as you fought back a soft sob. The skin threatened to break but it did not stop you.
"You did great today," he said, tilting his head the same way he always did when he talked to you. Ever-so-slightly, ever so attentive.
Any other day, you may have felt the need to jump him, to confess how deeply you felt for the doctor. Not today.
"You know this already, but you can't save them all," he continued, gently nudging your arm with his elbow as he dropped his hand. "You got the short end of the stick today, but it's not going to always be like this."
Your smile, that weak little thing you gave him only moments earlier, found your lips again.
"I know, Dr. Abbot," you softly whispered, words trembling with your need to break in front of him. Still, you stayed strong.
At this moment, you were anything but.
"Do you?" he asked, a smile playing at his lips. "Seems like you've got a lot of thoughts in that pretty mind of yours."
You brought up a trembling hand, rubbing your eyes. You sniffled softly. Pretty. God, he didn't know what he was doing to you. He didn't know.
"I do," you said. "It's just... tonight, it was a lot. I just..."
"You did your best," he said. "You know what you're doing. Probably one of the best interns I've had in years, and I've never had any doubt in your abilities in the ER."
"I appreciate that, Abbot, but..."
"There are no buts," he said, cutting you off and shifting his weight to his other side as he watched you. "You're gonna run into some shitty nights. It's just a part of the job."
You frowned at him. He wasn't being harsh. Just blatantly honest.
"I've lost patients before," he reminded you. "So has Chen. So has Walsh, so has Ellis. You can't be beating yourself up like this after a bad night or else you're never going to stop."
Shit. He was right.
You sucked in a deep breath, turning your gaze away from him. The sounds of Pittsburgh filtered through the air. Honking cars, shouts from passersby, the chilly wind finding you and your scrubs and everything you'd splayed out for the ER to see.
Abbot didn't stop there. "I saw you in there. You were incredible tonight. You did everything you could, and you didn't stop. There's nothing that you could have done for some of them."
"That's not true," you muttered, attempting to find reason with your despair.
"Aht," he huffed softly, shaking his head. "You're gonna keep this up and it's gonna eat you alive, doctor."
He paused, looking over his shoulder.
The day shift had all arrived. You were most likely the only two from the night shift still lingering, and while he was utterly exhausted from the hellish night that they'd all had, he didn't want you to be all alone. Not yet. Not when he knew you needed something—anything.
"Why don't we—" he began, stepping in front of you so you were forced to look at him. "Come with me. Let's go get breakfast."
You stared at your attending, blinking slowly. Was he serious?
"What?" you asked, unable to hide your surprise.
He broke out in a smile. He'd gotten somewhere, it seemed. "You heard me. Let's go get breakfast."
"I'm not..."
"Don't bullshit me. I know you haven't ate a thing since the heart attack came in. Hell, you haven't sat down since then. Let's go and we can talk."
"I don't need to talk."
He fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Come on. You need to eat, and I want to sit down."
You looked down at your scrubs, at your shoes. You could see a drop of blood on the edge of your sneaker, something you knew would be hell to get out of the fabric.
Abbot called your name—your first name, not doctor, not your official title. Your name. It sounded so sweet coming from his lips.
Your eyes flickered up to his, the man before you having all of your attention.
"Come on. I know a pretty good breakfast joint with great coffee."
You took him up on his offer. Not that he truly seemed to give you one, but you knew that if you had said no, he would have respected your wishes. Abbot wasn't an asshole. He'd never been a prick, he'd never been anything to you other than positively encouraging.
He was, at the end of the day, everything you knew you wanted to be as a doctor. Someone who didn't let it get to him, someone who knew what he was doing and did it without question.
That would come with time (you hoped) and you had many years before you before anything like that would ever happen. Abbot was an enigma, through and through, and though he did have his bad days, he always seemed so... well, nonchalant isn't really a word you'd use to describe him. Maybe cool, calm, and collected? Could you even refer to your attending in a way that wasn't inherently odd?
Probably.
You sat in front of Abbot, staring down at your plate of food. You'd had a few bites at Abbot's discretion, your warm drink remaining untouched. He'd ate a bit, himself, but he'd had his fork sat down for the last five minutes. He was staring at you, for lack of better words.
The restaurant he'd "forced" you to go to only had a few others filtering in and out. Mostly locals who trusted the establishment of mismatched furniture, odd posters on the wall, and an old timey-feeling diner. The smell of fried meats and sugary goodness stayed ever-present in the air, almost overwhelming at times.
It was a nice change from the ER you'd left behind for the day.
Your eyes flickered up from your plate of food, meeting with his.
God, you could melt under his gaze.
You gave him a weak smile.
"What?" you softly asked, knowing that if you left it unsaid, he'd continue to just simply... observe. Not that you would mind.
"I'm thinking," he answered. He leaned forward, elbow digging into the table while he rested his chin on the meat of his palm. His fingers gently tapped against his cheekbone, his eyes hovering over yours. He truly seemed to be admiring you for a moment, as if he was seeing you fully for the first time.
You'd never felt so naked in such modest scrubs, but there was a first time for everything.
"I've lost a lot of men," Abbot suddenly said, eyes quickly locking with yours as he brought up the conversation from earlier—it'd gotten a bit too quiet for his liking after you stopped talking to him once the food arrived. "A lot of men. A lot of patients. It's... overwhelming, at times. You think you've finally caught up with your feelings, with your grief, and then something else happens. Things like last night happen. You see it again, front and center, and you wonder if you're the reason. You wonder if you're the cause."
Your eyes stayed on his, wide but as present as you'd ever been. You saw him, for everything he was. An incredible doctor, an outstanding attending, but at the end of the day, a man just as human as you were. Just as human as your patients, as those you have lost, as those you have saved.
You may have lost people, and sadly, you always would. But the flip side of it was that you also saved. How many have you saved?
You knew it deep within your heart that you'd remember all those you have lost. You'd grieve for those unable to be saved. Perhaps you always would. But...
"I've not forgotten one of them," Abbot found his voice again. "I don't think I ever will. There's not a day that goes by where it isn't something I forget about. It... comes with the territory. The grief comes with the job, but it is exactly why I come back. Each and every time. I come back because I can do far more good than I will ever do bad. I can save hundreds of lives, and while I do lose, I never give up without a fight. I fight for each of them. And I see that in you. You do it, too. It's one of the things that I admire in many well-seasoned doctors. They fight until they can't. You are right there with them."
Your hands remain frozen on your thighs, nails slightly digging into the fabric of your scrubs. Your breath long since caught in the back of your throat.
"It's this, your willingness to save lives that make it worth it."
A bashful smile appeared on your tired lips. While you couldn't wait to get home, to take a long, hot shower before you slept the morning away, you appreciated Dr. Abbot for everything—absolutely everything about him. He was, if not always will be, a dignitary worth every bit of goodness in this world.
"Yeah," you said, voice quiet and a bit scratchy after your earlier tears and lack of disuse (he'd done most of the talking since you got to the breakfast joint). "I, uh... thank you, Dr. Abbot. I appreciate it."
He returned your smile. He'd gotten to you, it seemed like. He hoped you'd stick with it, though—it was so easy to slip into the mindset that when you lose a few, you aren't a good doctor. You aren't a good professional. As he'd said, though, there were many times that you just couldn't.
It wasn't anything that you did. It simply was.
"You should probably eat before it gets cold," Abbot said, picking up his fork and motioning to your plate with the pointed prongs. "Can't say I'm fond of a cold breakfast."
"Cold breakfast?" you echoed, taking a sip of your cooling drink. It tasted much better than what you'd anticipated (the restaurant surrounding you was much better than you'd thought, given the fact it was a little hole-in-the-wall not too far from the hospital).
"I'm pretty big on warm things for breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, bacon."
"Do you hate cereal? That's, like, a staple."
He scrunched his nose, stabbing a bit of egg with his fork. "I'll pass."
You grinned, leaning back against the booth cushions. Admiring him was an easy task. He seemed so confident, so sure of himself, and the simple fact that you knew this man was as intelligent as he was beautiful was something that had long since engrained itself in the back of your mind.
"Do you get breakfast here often?" you asked him, moving to pick up your own fork.
He shrugged, swallowing his bite. "Not really. Don't have anyone to bring." He glanced at you, a playful smile finding its way to his entire demeanor.
"If you promise to give me a pep-talk after a night like what we just had, I'll be a regular."
"You will?" he asked, smiling all the while. He picked up the crust of his toast, brows cinched together as he tore off a piece. "You'd want to spend your morning with your attending physician?"
"If he'll have me," you said, leaning against your hand as you watched him. "He seems pretty cool as far as I can tell."
He snorted softly at that, popping the crust in his mouth. He said nothing to it, though the comment alone seemed to fluster him. Cool. You thought he was cool.
He leaned back, freckled arms crossing over his chest. "Maybe I'll hold you to that."
He'd been dying to bring anyone to this damned place, Robby included (though maybe now he'd dragged you out this way, he could convince him it was even better—Robby was a stickler about it, since, well, you'd been under the same impression that the restaurant must have been downright terrible with a name like Eggsquisite Eats, but who were either of you to judge?).
Abbot watched you for a moment longer, keeping an eye on your for maybe far too long. You could feel his stare, and you returned it after a few minutes. The comfortable silence hovering over your booth was just what the two of you needed. The night from hell may have kept the two of you on edge, but there was only so much that the long hours could take from either of you. At some point, you had to start giving back, or you'd lose every piece of your sanity in the process. Taking care of yourself, eating something good, it was definitely a start.
Perhaps he'd make this a tradition with the interns he kept.
Perhaps he'd make this a tradition with you.