Work Text:
The shift was absolute chaos.
Dana had already put out three metaphorical fires, broken up an argument between triage and orthopedics, and stopped a patient in the middle of a breakdown from ripping out his IV for the second time. The coffee in her hand had been cold for hours, but at this point, she didn’t even notice anymore. Her body was on autopilot, running on three decades of experience and a dangerously high level of adrenaline.
And then there was Cassie Mckay.
Cassie had been on her case since the shift started. First it was about bed assignments in observation, then a test order that had disappeared from the system, plus her insistence on needing a second opinion on a case Dana had already reviewed and approved. But worse than that, a patient who needed an ICU bed, as if Dana could magically create one out of thin air. God forbid a woman gets five seconds of peace.
Now, every time Dana turned a corner, there was Cassie. And every time Dana tried to breathe, there was Cassie’s voice calling her name. “Nurse Evans.” “Dana.” “Charge nurse.” “Just one more thing—”
It felt like she was being haunted by a damn ghost. And Dana knew it wasn’t personal, Cassie was probably just doing her job, especially with how overloaded the shift was and how everyone was at their limit. But she also knew, deep down in whatever remained of her patience, that Cassie had a special talent for finding Dana’s last exposed nerve and stepping on it without mercy.
The fourth time Cassie showed up at the nurses’ station in under an hour, she had yet another request.
“The patient in room 12 needs potassium replacement, but the order disappeared. Can you authorize an emergency dose?”
Dana had her back turned, organizing medication vials on a tray with movements that were a little too sharp to be called professional. She didn’t turn around, her glasses sitting low on her nose, almost slipping off.
“I already authorized it twenty minutes ago. The system’s slow. It’ll show up.”
“It hasn’t.”
“Then wait, damn it. Stop riding me.”
“His potassium is 2.8, Dana. We can’t wait.”
The nurse closed her eyes for a second. She took a deep breath, counted to three, then finally turned around.
“Here’s a tip, McKay,” she said, her voice carrying that same calm tone that always came right before she snapped. “When the charge nurse says something’s handled, it means it’s handled. You don’t need to hover over me like a dog with a bone.”
Cassie raised her eyebrows but didn’t back down. “Jesus. I’m just doing my job. What’s gotten into you today?”
“Your job doesn’t include following me around the entire department, Mckay. The day’s already full enough without me having to give you special treatment.”
Cassie frowned, clearly offended. “I’m not following you, and I’m definitely not asking for special treatment. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you are. Every time I look to the side, you’re there. Asking for this, requesting that. It’s honestly impressive how you manage to turn the simplest thing into torture.”
That’s when McKay got it. This was definitely personal. Things between them had been awful since… well, since they’d ended whatever it was they had. She knew, though, that sometimes it was hard not to let things bleed into work. No wonder they’d barely spoken lately.
“Torture?” Still, the doctor crossed her arms, a flicker of challenge in her dark eyes. “I’m trying to keep a patient alive, Dana. If that’s torture to you, maybe I’m not the problem.”
That hit its mark. Dana felt the anger rise up her neck in that familiar way. She’d told herself during her own time off that she’d be more tolerant, that work wouldn’t bleed into her personal life anymore... but that was impossible. Damn the day she decided to get involved with Cassie Mckay. She needed to shut that doctor up, however it took.
And then she saw it.
Mckay’s scrub top hung slightly loose at the collar, and beneath it, against the pale skin of her neck, a thin gold chain caught the light. A simple, delicate necklace Dana had seen a hundred times before. The memory came uninvited: Cassie’s fingers fastening the tiny clasp, Dana’s hands helping adjust the length, the doctor’s smile when the chain finally settled against her collarbone.
Now, looking at it there against her skin, Dana felt the sudden urge to make Cassie stop. She needed her quiet—needed that mouth to stop talking and stop demanding more than she could give.
She’d never been good at asking. But taking? That she knew how to do.
The movement was so fast Cassie didn’t have time to react. Dana’s hand shot out, fingers finding the gold chain with practiced familiarity. After all, she’d tugged on it plenty of times before, in too many hidden corners of the hospital… She looped the delicate chain once around her index finger and gave it a firm pull.
Cassie stumbled forward, her balance tipping. Her blue eyes went wide, her mouth parting in a surprised breath. The chain went taut against the back of her neck, cool gold pressing lightly into warm skin under the harsh white lights of the nurses’ station. The pull forced her to arch slightly, chest lifting in a way that made Dana swallow hard.
Dana leaned in, close enough to catch the faint trace of her ex-something’s perfume.
“You’re going to stop bothering me now,” Dana said, her voice tightly controlled, every word edged with provocation. “You’re going to stop getting on my nerves. Because if you don’t, Mckay…” She tugged the chain just another inch, just enough to make Cassie hold her breath. “I’ll make you stop. And it won’t be pretty.”
Silence. Cassie didn’t move—couldn’t, not with her breath caught like that. She just stood there, eyes locked on Dana’s, something unreadable in them. The gold chain gleamed between Dana’s fingers, a fragile link holding them in that absurd, completely inappropriate moment in the middle of a hospital corridor mid-shift.
And then, slowly, Dana let go.
Her fingers opened, the chain slipping free, and Cassie stepped back like she’d been burned. Her hand went to her neck, touching the gold still warm from Dana’s grip, her eyes dazed. Dana had already turned away, reorganizing vials that didn’t need reorganizing, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her temples.
“The order will show up in the system in five minutes,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady. “Go back to room 12. Your patient still needs care.”
Mckay stood there for a few seconds, hand still at her neck, face pale. Then, without a word, she walked away.
Her footsteps echoed down the hallway, each one farther than the last. Dana waited until the sound disappeared completely before letting her forehead drop against the medication shelf, eyes closing. Her fingers still burned where the chain had been.
She looked down at her own hand, at the faint red marks the thin links had left on her skin, and felt a shiver run down her spine. This had gone way beyond stress, beyond simple exhaustion. Even if she didn’t want to think about it, she knew it was something she’d been pushing down for weeks. That exact, untouchable thing between them.
Dana took three deep breaths, adjusted her glasses, and straightened her posture. Then she went back to work like nothing had happened.
But forty minutes later, when she passed through corridor D and saw Cassie talking to one of the interns, their eyes met for a split second. The doctor looked away so fast it was like she’d been shocked. The back of her neck was still faintly red.
And Dana—despite everything, despite the anger and frustration and exhaustion—felt the corner of her mouth curl into a smile.
Maybe she wasn’t as in control of the situation as she liked to think. But for now, it worked.