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Samira rushes into the bathroom, letting the door slam behind her as she steps into the large corner stall and locks it behind her. She leans against the wall, pressing her hands to her face to muffle the rising sobs and sliding down until she’s sitting on the floor, legs pulled up to her chest.
It hits her like a storm, the shittiness of this entire fucking day. Robby being on her for every little things as if she isn’t nearly done residency, her mom dropping the news about her marriage and the cruise and the house while she's at work, the panic attack that had come out of nowhere, Orlando coming back because maybe she should have done more, finding out her triple A patient died. She inhales and it hurts and her chest is suddenly tight and oh fuck, it’s happening again. She tries again, inhaling on a sob and she can’t breathe and her heart is pounding in her ears and everything feels heavy.
She can faintly hear someone calling her name through the buzzing, can hear the door shut and footsteps get closer until a pair of familiar sneakers is visible under the stall door.
“Samira?” Parker asks. “You okay?”
She can only gasp out a breath, the sound sharp in the quiet of the bathroom. “I’m fine,” she manages eventually. She glances over to make sure Parker leaves but sees her settle against the wall next to her instead, only the stall door separating them.
“Breathe,” Parker says firmly, sliding her hand under the door just within reach of Samira, leaving the ball in her court. “In for four, out for four. Just focus on my voice.”
She blindly grabs for Parker’s hand, warm and strong fingers closing around hers a second later and squeezing with gentle pressure. She pulls a breath in and holds it before pushing it out, letting the steady tone of Parker's voice ground her. Her heart slows to a normal rate, chest loosening as her breath evens out.
“You doing okay?” Parker asks gently.
“I’m fine.”
“Never said you weren’t. But I get the sense something happened.”
Samira laughs sharply, the sound echoing against the bathroom tiles. “Something is an understatement. Today’s been a fucking terrible day.”
“You don’t have to talk about it, but I’m here if you want to.”
“It’s…” Samira groans frustratedly. “It’s just been such a shitty day, between Robby and my mom calling over and over again and I had everything planned out and now it’s all falling apart and it’s too much.” Her voice cracks on the last words, fresh tears sliding down her face before she even realizes.
“I’m sorry,” Parker murmurs, squeezing her hand gently. “I don’t know about the rest, but Robby's way too hard on you. You're an incredible doctor, Samira, and you deserve so much better.”
“He said I should go into geriatrics because I have a ‘predisposition to the pace’,” Samira says, shaking her head even though Parker can’t see her. “Maybe he’s right.”
“Fuck that,” Parker says fiercely, jaw tight as she feels anger wash over her. “That’s a fucked up thing to say to someone, and it’s not true at all. You trust your gut and don’t jump to conclusions and we need more doctors like you. Just because you care about your patients doesn’t make you slow.”
“You say that like it’s obvious.”
“Because it is, Samira. Robby’s a dick who’s too blinded by his own issues to see what’s right in front of him.” Parker forces a deep breath in and out, trying to stay calm for Samira even though her first instinct is still to find Robby and punch him. “Now, what would make you feel better right now?”
Samira rubs her eyes, suddenly exhausted. “I don’t know.” She can see Parker stand up on the other side, sees her step back and lean against the wall.
“How about you open the door for me?” Parker coaxes. “Let’s start there.”
With a final sniffle, Samira stands up, bracing herself against the door when her head spins for a second. She tears off a couple squares of toilet paper and blows her nose, taking a deep breath before she opens the door and comes face to face with Parker.
“Hey,” Parker says lightly, eyes moving over Samira's face in an attempt to figure out what's wrong. “Do you want a hug?” She notices the hesitation in Samira's eyes and the way her hands are clenched into fists at her sides, barely has a second to brace herself before Samira practically flies forward and wraps her arms around Parker’s waist, tucking her tear-streaked face into her shoulder. Parker’s hands move instinctively, cupping the back of her head with one and soothingly sliding along her spine with the other. “You’re okay,” she murmurs into the top of Samira's head. “I got you.”
“I’m sorry,” Samira chokes out, the sound muffled against Parker's shoulder.
“For what?”
“I… I snapped at you during the trauma and I’ve been ignoring you after we kissed and now you’re here and you’re being so nice and you shouldn’t be,” Samira manages to get out, the words rushed as if she doesn't want to hold on to them anymore. “Why aren't you mad?” To her surprise, Parker simply laughs, the sound warm and rough and so incredibly familiar.
“Mira,” she says, the nickname slipping out before either of them can realize. “I could never be mad at you. I figured you needed time to figure things out and would come find me when you were ready. Never doubted you for a second.”
“I was scared,” Samira says quietly, an honest admission released from the comfort of Parker's arms. “Because if this doesn't work out, I'm losing you as a friend, too.”
“I know,” Parker murmurs. “I’m scared, too. But if we don’t try, we’ll always regret what could’ve been. I don’t want to miss out on something with you because we’re too scared of what-ifs.” She feels Samira nod against her, feels her arms tighten where they wrap around her in a silent plea to stay. She tugs Samira's claw clip out of her hair and runs her fingers through the tangled curls, feels her shaky breathing even out against her collarbone.
“I want this,” Samira says eventually, after what could’ve been seconds or minutes. “I want you. You’re worth the fear that this comes with.” She pulls back to meet Parker's eyes, sliding her hands to rest on Parker’s waist.
Samira’s eyes are filled with hesitation when they meet hers, but there’s something gentle mixed in as she waits for her response. “Mira,” Parker finally breathes out, entirely at a loss for functional words. “You’re worth it, too. Always.” She moves her hand to cup the side of Samira’s face, thumb brushing over her cheekbone. “How about dinner on our next day off?”
“Yeah,” Samira says, not even bothering to hold back the grin stretching across her face. “I’d love that.”
“Good.” Parker leans in and presses her lips to Samira's forehead, keeping them there for a second before she steps back. “Ready to get back out there?”
Samira nods, hands moving to her hair and scrunching up in confusion a second later. “What -”
Parker holds up the claw clip. “Here, I’ll fix it for you.” She places both hands on Samira's shoulders, gently nudging her to walk until they’re standing in front of the sink. She hands Samira the claw clip, runs her fingers through Samira's hair to smooth it out, gently pulls it back into a low ponytail and twists it back. She holds a hand out for the claw clip and clips her hair back, tucking in stray strands before straightening and meeting Samira's eyes in the mirror. “Good?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Parker.”
“Anytime, Mira.” She places her hands on Samira's waist to still her as she begins to shift away. “Hey, listen: you are a damn good doctor and no one gets to tell you otherwise, okay? You got this.” She holds Samira's gaze in the mirror and waits for her to nod before dropping her hands and stepping back.
“I know. But thank you for saying that, I think I needed to hear it.”
They start walking towards the door, Parker reaching ahead to hold it open. “Just think of me as your pep talk source,” she teases, shooting Samira a final grin as they part ways.