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The fireworks overhead are loud, cracking and fizzling as they open and spill their guts over the city. Her drink clutched tightly in her hand, Samira thinks of Jack downstairs right now, probably working on some awful trauma that she should be glad to not be around for. She wonders if he can hear the noise- if it reminds him of gunshots, of the sting that must have run through him when the bullet hit earlier. In a similar vein, she wonders if he thinks of her.
Pittsburgh isn’t dark by any means, even now when it’s almost 10pm. Street lights and cars illuminate the road below, and if she were to turn her head she’d see the sliver of gold that means the sun is still just out of sight, hiding, but watching, stretching the day on as long as it can. She wishes it wouldn’t. Doesn’t it know how awful today has been? How many mistakes she’s made, how many lives she’s changed- ruined? There must be somebody selfish out there, wishing for it to stay up a little longer so they can gaze upon whatever beautiful shit they made today. Maybe it’s Robby. He’s certainly been trying to drag today on, finding any excuse to leave. Samira had overheard his little rant to Dana earlier, about the people he cared about. It had been hard to ignore the fact that she wasn’t anywhere on the list. That shouldn’t have been a surprise, but still.
Another firework explodes, blue and white sparks littering the sky. McKay’s arm tightens around Victoria for a split second as the sound echoes around them, and Dana is hugging Perlah now. Samira’s eyes lock on them. She can’t look away from the tears sliding down Perlah’s face, the reflections glittering in them. Samira should go over to her, say something, Perlah’s clearly feeling as crappy about this day as she is. And hell, maybe everyone is, because Robby’s not here and no one is talking. Samira’s not even sure she can hear breathing. She definitely can’t hear her own, and the rising ache in her chest tells her that maybe she forgot how to do that.
Another firework goes off and it forces an exhale from her mouth, her hand coming up to push on her heart that suddenly feels like it’s beating too fast again. Her face flushes at the memory of Robby laughing at her. A fucking panic attack. She’d never had one of those before. Langdon had tried to comfort her, but nothing he said was able to smooth over the gaping hole Robby had stomped into her self esteem. No, not stomped- he’d been slowly, slowly picking at it for years now, like carving, and today he’d just taken a chainsaw to the whole sculpture in the name of starting fresh. Starting fresh, just like her mother. Her mother, who was probably halfway to the port of some fucking cruise right now, talking to her fiance about adopting a newborn and starting all over again. Samira wouldn’t blame her. When you fail, you’re supposed to try again. And Samira was definitely a failure.
Orlando would probably never walk again. Hell, he’d probably never even wake up again, and that was all her fault. Jack had even offered to uber the supplies to his house, but she’d taken too long, like she always took too long, and now it was too late and his wife and daughter were probably sitting silently with his motionless form in the ICU. Robby’s words come back to her along with a fierce wave of nausea. He should’ve picked a higher place to jump from. Samira’s can drops from her hand, bursting and spilling fizzy liquid on the concrete of the roof. It looks like a firework. McKay looks over when she drops it and, apparently sensing that Samira’s spiralling, places a hand on her shoulder.
“Hey, you okay?”
Samira forces herself to look back up at the sky, hoping Cassie can’t see the tears in her eyes but knowing that she can. “Fine.” She chokes out, even though her throat is closing up.
Cassie squeezes her shoulder, but says nothing else. The weight of her hand is comforting at first, but it reminds Samira of her mother and suddenly it feels like a tremendous weight searing through her bones and threatening to push her all the way down to the bottom floor of the hospital and possibly the Earth’s core. Samira tries to wait an acceptable amount of time before taking a half step forward to get out from her grip. That step brings the sky closer, and puts her coworkers further away, and she can breathe.
The fireworks really are pretty, now that she’s not being crushed by every mistake she made today and every day. They’re certainly a welcome break from the stiff, white LEDs in the pitt. Samira thinks that maybe they need to build another floor of the hospital up here with a glass roof, so that patients could see the sky. It would certainly be a nicer view to die to, although that would mean they’d have to know which patients were going to die with enough time to give them an elevator ride up here. Maybe Roxy would have preferred it. Samira doesn’t want to die in a hospital, she decides. Not when she’s spent what feels like her entire life in one. She’ll die somewhere nice, with colours and sounds and dimensions. No white walls, no boxy rooms, no waiting hours for test results that just say what everyone expects anyway.
The next firework is golden, and it shoots up like a fountain and then stays there, alone, stark against the rapidly darkening sky.
Fuck, Samira is so alone.
And suddenly she’s not looking up. She’s looking out- at the horizon, at the city, at the way people are going about their lives as if this wasn’t the shittiest day in a long time. They’re going home from their jobs to a loving family, and a warm meal, and they’ll wake up the next morning feeling refreshed. Samira thinks there might be half of an old pizza in her fridge.
And then she’s looking down, and everything is quiet.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Firework.
Inhale.
…inhale some more.
The firework is red, and it is beautiful. It is colourful and loud.
If she wakes up tomorrow, it’s back to bright lights and white walls and sharp corners. She closes her eyes.
It only takes three steps.