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“hHh’ATTshhiew!” Baran bent forwards as she curled into her elbow with a damp, throat-scraping sneeze.
She looked up just in time to see several pairs of eyes on her before they quickly darted away upon being noticed. Great. Just what she needed. Another reason to be the talking point of the ER.
Only two weeks had passed since Robby had left to go on his sabbatical and Baran was still going full-force. Everyone had expected it in the first few days, the high-impact energy, but that drive hadn’t let up. The attending wanted to make the transition as smooth as possible, to make the best impression possible on the higher-ups. Especially after she suggested the idea of two attendings being on shift upon Robby’s return. She’d been going above and beyond, often not leaving until the late evening despite her shift finishing at 7.
“Doctor Al-Hashimi?” A familiar voice called from somewhere behind her, the doctor turned around to see a worried frown pulling at the charge nurses' lips from across the ER.
“G’bless you doc’. Hell of a sneeze you got there. Didn’t think you were capable of such a thing.” Dana’s voice carried with ease, handing over a file of lab results.
The attending felt her cheeks burn, her eyes darting to the floor as she fought the sudden embarrassment as she tried to decide what to say, “They’re a nuisance.”
“Better out than in,” Dana chimed, waving her off with a chuckle, “You should hear McKay, Christ Almighty she could blow your socks off with one of those. Scared us half to death the first time she caught a cold.”
Baran gave a faint, breathy huff that might have passed for a laugh on a better day, it snagged halfway through her throat and dissolved into a rough, dry cough. She turned her face slightly away as it lingered, pressing her knuckles briefly to her lips, as if she could muffle the irritation scratching up from her chest.
Dana leaned down, trying to meet her gaze as her earlier amusement softening into something more observant. “Speaking of, are you feeling alright yourself? You’re looking a bit peaky there.”
The doctor nodded as she straightened her posture and pretended to busy herself with looking over a chart. She cleared her throat, “I’m just fine.” She said simply, choosing to ignore the slight rasp at the edge of her words.
If the nurse didn’t believe her, she said nothing. Baran sniffed, quick and reflexive, only to wince faintly at the way it seemed to do absolutely nothing. If anything, it made the congestion more apparent, a dull, heaviness having settled in her sinuses. She dragged in a careful breath through her mouth instead, but that only stirred the dryness in her throat, coaxing another faint cough that she muffled against her sleeve.
Get it together.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the pen she’d been fidgeting with, knuckles paling for just a moment before she forced them to relax. She could feel it now, the subtle tremor running beneath her composure, the kind that came from pushing just a little too hard, for just a little too long. She’d been too distracted to notice Dana slipping away quietly, pulling out her phone and walking away as she spoke into it.
The doctor somehow managed to finish typing up a couple of charts, granted it took twice her usual time. Somewhere to her left there was a growing volume of hushed murmurs. Baran didn’t consciously register it at first. Her instincts prickled with that subtle, creeping awareness of being watched again.
Her shoulders stiffened slightly, and she stepped away from the desk just in time to make direct eye-contact. Baran’s heart dropped a little as she recognised the figure standing next to Dana. The chief medical director, and more importantly her boss.
Gloria stood with the kind of stillness that commanded attention without asking for it, arms folded neatly across her chest, her expression unreadable but unmistakably firm. Dana muttered something to her, just out of earshot, and Gloria gave a small, decisive nod.
“Dr Al-Hashimi,” She called out suddenly in a no-nonsense tone, “A moment of your time please.”
Shit.
***
“Not well enough to work.” That was such… such- absolute bullshit. The doctor was still grumbling to herself about it as she fumbled with the lock of her front door.
Sent home? What was she, a child? Such an utter embarrassment. She opened the door with a little more force than necessary, making herself jump as the door handle thudded against the wall.
“Baran?” A confused voice came from somewhere down the hall as the doctor let her bags fall to the floor, not bothering to neatly hang it up like usual. She rubbed her eyes, trying to find the strength to act like her usual self.
“It’s me.” She called back after a beat. The doctor had been taking off her shoes when the scuttle of little paws approached. The two of you had recently taken in a small, black cat and the little guy never failed to make her smile.
The doctor exhaled slowly and crouched, one hand bracing briefly against her knee for balance as she gently stroked the top of his head as he meowed at her. The little thing pressed into her touch, purring faintly, completely unaware of the way her fingers trembled just slightly against his head.
“Is everything okay? I thought you had work today?”
It had only just turned noon. You were often lucky if Baran was ever home for the time her shift actually finished. She never got off early, especially this early. Something had to be up.
You’d just been getting up from the spot on the sofa where you’d been curled up with a book when the sound of sudden, desperate sneeze came from down the hall.
Ah.
The kitten came skittering back into the living room, clearly spooked from the sudden sound. Close behind, Baran followed in a slow shuffle, pinching the bridge of her nose with a small groan. She gave you a look, somewhere between exhaustion and defeat. It looked like she had been about to say something, but a thick, chesty cough rippled up her throat, leaving her a little dizzy afterwards.
Things were starting to make more sense now. She hadn’t been feeling her best the previous night. But Baran being Baran, she had insisted that it wasn’t that bad. She very rarely got sick, and truthfully you had no reason not to believe her when she claimed she felt well enough to work. But even if she wasn’t, she never would have admitted it. You recalled the conversation the pair of you had the night before she had officially taken over.
“Nothing can go wrong; this will reflect completely on my abilities.”
A little bit of guilt began to pool in your stomach. You should’ve seen the warning signs of this happening. The late nights, the growing exhaustion in her eyes. It was inevitable that her body would give in eventually.
“Oh, my love.” You were at her side in an instant, a soft pout playing on your lips. She looked absolutely spent, her usually neat curls sticking out whilst her baby hairs stuck to her clammy forehead, “Let’s get you sat down.”
The Persian made a half dismissive sound, but she didn’t resist when you gently guided her toward the sofa. That alone told you everything you needed to know.
She let her head fall back against the sofa; eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if even keeping them open was too much effort. You quickly went to retrieve a bottle of water and tissue box before taking the empty spot beside her, wrapping a hand over her shoulder when she shuffled up close.
You pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, lips lingering just a second longer than necessary, “I’m surprised you actually came back.” You said after trying to silently gauge her temperature. In the meantime, your kitten had returned and had jumped up onto the sofa, settling into her lap.
Baran’s head was nestled against your side, her spare hand rhythmically stroking the purring animal, "Dana had me sent home," She mumbled against your shirt, her voice thick and frustrated. "I told her I was fine, that I could finish my shift, but it didn’t change her mind.”
You pulled back just enough to look at her; your brow furrowed in genuine surprise. Baran was the type of doctor who had to be dragged away from her charts; the idea of her being dismissed mid-shift by anyone else but herself was unheard of.
You tilted your head as you tried to wrap your mind around the situation, “I didn’t think Dana was your boss though? How would she-“
“Dana told Gloria, and then Gloria came down and said she agreed that I needed to leave. Didn’t leave me much room to argue.” Baran clarified noticing your confusion. She sniffled softly, unconsciously rubbing the back of her knuckle against the underside of her nose as she tried to quell whatever itch was creeping down her sinuses.
It didn’t work, and she’d barely pulled her head out of your shoulder enough to clasp a hand in front of her face as her body went rigid with a barely stifled sneeze. The cat on her lap seemed to sense her discomfort, meowing as he nudged further into her side.
She barely had time to recover, her breath falling into a desperate hitch before another followed. It was louder this time, breaking cleanly through whatever composure she’d been clinging to.
The sound was muffled into her hand, but the force of it made her shoulders tense beneath your arm. A quiet whine slipped from her afterward, her head dropping back against you as if even that small exertion had drained what little energy she had left. Her cheeks flushed a little deeper as she sniffled damply.
“Bless you.” You murmured softly, brushing your fingers back through her hair, trying to smooth the curls that had long since lost their usual order. It felt strange seeing her like this, so tired and out of it.
She mumbled what you assumed was meant to be a thank you but was interrupted by a wide yawn halfway through.
“How about we take a nap?” You suggested as she blinked slowly, clearly struggling to keep herself awake. She had to be exhausted, just workload by itself was enough to make anyone tired, never mind adding being sick on top of it.
The doctor shifted slightly, as if trying and failing to think of an excuse to stay awake. “Maybe…” She muttered after a moment, her mind too foggy to make something up.
“Definitely.” You corrected her lightly
You didn’t give her much room to negotiate, and frankly, she didn’t have the stamina to try. With a gentle squeeze of her shoulder, you stood up, offering out a hand to help her up.
The kitten, sensing the shift in gravity, let out a disgruntled chirp before hopping down to follow at your heels like a tiny, fuzzy shadow. The walk to the bedroom was slow. Baran leaned heavily into your side, her steps sluggish and slightly uncoordinated. When you finally reached the edge of the bed, she didn't collapse immediately. Instead, she paused, her fingers fumbling clumsily with the hem of her scrub shirt.
“Do you want one of my t-shirts?” You asked. She usually liked to sleep in something baggy. But this time she shook her head, taking off her shirt, then tugging on yours. So that was what she wanted, you nodded, “Okay then, you lay down. I’ll be back in a moment.”
Whilst Baran got herself into bed, you grabbed a few supplies that you thought would be useful. Water, tissues, thermometer. You debated bringing her a snack, but she never seemed to have an appetite when she was ill – instead you settled on the idea of making her something warm for dinner later.
You made quick work of placing everything on her bedside. The curtains had already been drawn closed, making the room notably darker. Baran’s head was already against the pillow, waiting for you to return with sleepy eyes. You’d been about to get into bed beside her when you remembered her unspoken request and took your shirt off.
Baran had already done the same. Skin to skin was something she loved whenever she wasn’t feeling her best. Once you were laying down, she let her head fall on your chest as she nestled into your side. Despite how warm she felt, you could feel the goosebumps running down her arms.
A heavy, congested sniffle escaped her, her face pressing firmer into your chest. "I hate this." She mumbled, her voice sounding small and far away, stripped of the professional authority she carried at the hospital.
"I've got you," You whispered, your voice low and grounding. "Just close your eyes, love. You’ll feel better after some rest."
She didn't need to be told twice. She gave a small, congested hum of agreement, her forehead burning against your skin as she tried to find a comfortable spot. Her hand, still slightly clumsy, curled into the mattress beside your hip, while her legs tangled with yours under the covers.
The kitten, unwilling to be left out of the huddle, managed to find a gap near her feet and burrowed into the duvet, forming a small, purring lump. This wasn’t exactly how you’d planned to spend your day off, and it wasn’t to say you were glad Baran was sick. But right here, right now, you had everything you could want and more.