Work Text:
The ER is bustling with patients this evening. A massive trauma has just come in bringing in bus accident victims ranging from young children to elderly couples. Adams is on a high, skipping around with scalpel in hand between fasciotomies, debridements, incisions and abscesses. The past few minutes have been the most cutting he has done all month and he is hungry for more. Beltran is paged down to the pitt for a peds consult and immediately detects his childlike giddiness, the type where predictably something dangerous would happen at any moment.
"Careful with that scalpel, Adams! You're going to impale someone!"
"Got it, Beltran!"
"Hey, is that your patient?!" Griffith asks.
"Where?!?"
Lucas jerks around instinctively just as Beltran walks up behind him. He cuts her face clean right above the eyebrow.
Adrenaline rushes through his veins as his eyes widen. His brain runs on superspeed. Adams can still feel the residual pressure under his fingers gripping the handle, replaying just how much force he had applied and calculating the damage it would cause to that exact part of the body. The consistent opposing force against the blade meant bone was still intact, but the location of the cut had facial blood vessels, an area that bleeds more profusely than other parts of the body. His stomach drops understanding what he had just done, and exactly as he expected blood quickly comes rushing out the deep incision.
She holds her forehead, blood dripping down her hands and face.
"Goshdammit Adams!"
"Oh my God! I'm so sorry, Dr. Beltran."
Dropping the scalpel on the metal tray he is scanning the Peds surgeon with panic in his eyes. Not sure whether or not to do something, his hands are just hovering over her.
"Well why are you standing there? Get me some gauze!"
"Right! Right, right, here. I'm so sorry again. I can go get plastics for you."
Trying to escape her wrath, the Peds surgeon wasn't that easily fooled. She’s seen this escape tactic before with her young patients. Beltran grabs him by the collar and pulls him back to his original place.
"You're not getting out of this, Adams. Page Dr. Shepherd."
"No. Please. Dr. Beltran. Please don't bring her into this."
"Page her. Now."
***
Amelia walks into the trauma bay, under the assumption it was for a Peds consult. Pulling open the curtains and closing them behind her she asks,
"You paged me?"
"Yeah. It's for Dr. Beltran." Lucas responds.
She notices how nervous her nephew is standing awkwardly avoiding eye contact and walks over to catch a glimpse of the young patient on the gurney. Instead she finds Monica still in full white coat and scrubs holding an ice pack wrapped in bloodied gauze over her forehead.
When their eyes meet, Monica drops her hand to show her the deep gash above her brow with her lips pursed.
Amelia's eyes widened in worry, immediately sitting beside her on the gurney, placing a gentle hand along the wound to examine it. Lucas noticed his aunt’s guttural reaction.
“Oh my God! What happened?!”
Monica moves her eyes to the other person in the room.
“Adams? Wanna explain to Dr. Shepherd what happened?”
“I got distracted with a scalpel in hand and I accidentally clocked Dr. Beltran with it.”
“Excuse me? You did what?”
“I–”
Before he could repeat himself Amelia had already taken the cushion from the gurney, got up walking over to him and started whacking him relentlessly.
“Ah! Okay okay! I know! I'm sorry. It won't happen again.”
“Do no harm, Lucas. Do. no. harm. That was your one job.”
“I know. Trust me, with Beltran's terrifying glares for the past half hour and your physical abuse I won't ever forget it.”
“Are we satisfied with his disciplining?”
Monica huffs a laugh, “I am fully entertained. Are you satisfied?”
Still furious, “Not even close. But I'm too busy, so I'll let it go for now. Do you need anything else from me?”
“Yeah. I need you to sow me up.”
Lucas suddenly feels an uncomfortable tension in the room.
“Is this why you paged me?”
“Hey, your nephew did this to me. So his aunt is going to fix it.”
“Monica, I’m supposed to be in a meeting with the Chief right now. Plastics are much better equipped to handle this. Better yet, Adams! You did this, you fix it.’
“Oh no. He is not going anywhere near my face. Residents don't get to sow my face. But your hands…”
“Oh I see now. This was just because you like my hands.”
Monica blushes looking down at her fingers nervously.
“Wait. The Chief paged you and you answered my page instead?”
Amelia's mouth is open trying to formulate a justification. Her cheeks burn red.
“Lay down. Get comfortable.”
She starts putting on sterile gloves, stopping the conversation any further, caught in a corner.
“Adams.” Monica commands.
“Yes.”
“Leave.”
The sound of sterilization packs being ripped open and suture trays being prepared fill the quiet room. The crinkle of the plastic pack, the snipping of the suture scissors.
Turning to face the Peds surgeon, Amelia gently dabs an alcohol swab over the deep cut. Monica winces as it sends sharp stings through her nerves.
“Sorry,” Monica says.
“Don't be.” Amelia smiles.
Efficiently and with practiced precision Amelia threads the hook through the pink tender flesh, twisting, tying, tightening the thread into perfect sutures, evenly spaced, clean and precise. Her hands move swiftly, without any faltering or pausing, like one complex intricate motion repeated identically again and again.
Amelia is calm, stable, focused. In her zone, in her happy place. In the back of her mind she is trying her best to ignore the big brown eyes watching her every movement with deep interest.
Monica can't help but admire the neurosurgeon. Gosh her hands were so skilled, so precise, so elegant. Her chest warms, her thighs squeeze tight feeling a pressure between her legs. Her eyes follow intensely and instinctively her head tilts to get a better view.
“Don't move.” Amelia warns her, pushing her head back in place. “Or I'll mess up your pretty face.”
“You think my face is pretty?” Monica flirts tilting her head again. Amelia positions it back again.
Amelia shakes her head in disbelief grinning wide like a kid, continuing the threading and knotting to a rhythmic flow of her hands.
Tying off the final suture, she snips off the string. She grabs an adhesive bandage and carefully lays it over the fresh sutures.
“You'll probably have a faint scar. It'll be barely noticeable.”
Pressing down the sides and corners, she does a final rub over the edges of the bandage and a rub over Monica’s soft cheek with her thumb.
“You're all done. Wait, one more thing.”
Amelia tucks a strand of hair that has fallen over Monica’s wound behind her ear and leans in to give a soft peck over the bandage. Closing her eyes hovering over her, Monica feels her warm breath on her skin and smells her sweet perfume. Once Amelia is satisfied, she pulls back.
“Okay. We're finished.”
Their eyes are locked together with a mix of admiration and care.
Monica hasn't had enough and pulls Amelia into her by her collar, giving her a delicate kiss on the lips. Their foreheads rest on each other.
“Thank you,” she whispers with a smile.
Amelia huffs a quiet laugh.
“I have to go now.”
“Go," she smiles, letting go of her grasp on her scrubs, playfully pushing her away.
"I'll see you later, Shepherd.”