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She’s walking back from triage when she hears it. A man’s angry voice, practically shouting in West 14. She looks around briefly, there’s no one else around.
“What the fuck, girl. I’ve already answered these stupid questions three times. I’ve been here for hours and I still haven’t seen a doctor. This is bullshit.” Another shout comes from the bay.
“I’m very sorry for the wait sir, we’ve been busy—” poor Emma, the guy sounds like an asshole.
She hovers nearby, listening. She doesn’t want to overstep. Emma is very capable. But she’s not just gonna leave her by herself. Just in case.
She can hear Emma’s gentle voice but can’t make out her words.
“Fuck off with your bullshit, if I don’t see to see a doctor right fucking now-“
Ok fuck that noise, this guy sounds one wrong word away from violence. He’s escalating. Before she can properly consider her options she’s pushing through the curtain.
“Hello sir, I’m Dr Santos, how can I help?”
“Jesus Christ, another child. Are there any adults here?” The 50-something man’s face is an impressive shade of red, his entire body coiled tight on the bed.
She tracks Emma standing in the corner, clutching a blood pressure cuff tightly in her hands. The bed is currently between the nurse and the door. That needs fixing. Emma, Bambi eyes wide, looks at her in relief.
So Santos takes control of the room. Like she was born knowing where to stand, between danger and everyone else.
“I assure you sir, I’m a real doctor, MD and everything.” She says calmly, shooting Emma a reassuring look. “How can we help you today?”
He looks incredulously at her, eyes evaluating. “You’re a real doctor? Not a student or nurse or whatever—“
“Yes, I am a fully qualified doctor.” She says firmly, no room for further questioning.
“Can you tell me what’s brought you in today?” She adds when he seems to relax just a bit.
“I think I’m having a heart attack. I have pain in my chest.” He’s anxious and aggressive in his delivery.
“I see, I can imagine that is very scary. There are many causes for chest pain outside of a heart attack, so we will check everything out for you—”
“—I’m telling you it’s a heart attack.” He growls, not an escalation exactly. But a warning sign.
“Right. Well, I will need to ask you some questions and we’ll need to do some tests to investigate your pain…Okay?” She’s calm and clinical. Doesn’t let his anger impact her.
He nods and huffs on the bed.
Emma takes a step forward indicating to his arm. “I need to check your blood pressure.”
Another nod.
“While Emma checks your vitals and does an EKG I have some questions about your pain.”
“I’ve already had an EKG hours ago. Jesus Christ. Is anyone here competent?” He spits out.
She takes a calm breath, schooling her features. “I understand. We need to do another one. It’s part of the chest pain pathway, to repeat them again after a few hours.” Patient, placating.
He just looks at her.
“Well what are you waiting for? An invitation?”
She nods and just barely restrains herself from rolling her eyes.
Then she begins her assessment. Asks about the pain. Location. Severity. Does it move anywhere?
Emma works diligently around her as she performs the tests, handing over the EKG for her review.
“Good news is your EKG is normal. Generally in a heart attack we’d see changes in this area—” she explains, pointing out the waveforms.
He inhales sharply but she continues before he can speak.
“—But, we’ll still do a blood test to check your troponin again, which will tell us if there's any damage to your heart muscle.” She meets his eyes calmly. “Okay?”
“Yeah. Fine”
“We will also need to rule out a few other possibilities. GERD, Pancreatitis, Gallbladder could all—”
“—It’s not my fucking gallstones.” He snarls, back to dismissive in his demeanour.
She pauses, “Ok, I hear you. We’re going to start with the blood tests. Depending on the results, we might need to do an ultrasound or chest X-ray”
“Nurse Emma will do your bloods and we'll go from there,” Emma nodded and put the prepared tray on the bed.
“I’m going to go order the tests, and I’ll be back soon.”
“Wait, no, what the fuck,” he starts rising from the bed, irate. “You’ve been here 2 seconds.”
“The blood tests are the first step in the doctors figuring out what’s causing your pain,” Emma says gently as she preps tubes.
As she’s talking Santos sees it. Sees the emotion on his face, the way his body has gone rigid. He’s done.
And Emma is his target. No.
He surges off the bed toward Emma. Santos steps between them on instinct.
His fist catches her across the cheek before anyone can move.
Then nothing.
“Hula hoop! Hula hoop!”
Dana hears Emma’s voice shouting the code word and can’t get there fast enough.
But the scene she was preparing for is entirely different from the reality.
Emma is crouched next to Santos, who is crumpled on the ground, redness and swelling already appearing on her cheek.
The patient is sitting back in the bed still as a statue, eyes wide, realising his actions in real time.
“Jesus, you with us Santos?” She asks, kneeling next to her.
Santos doesn’t speak, but raises her head slightly and gives a thumbs up.
“We need a gurney in here,” Dana calls.
Santos groans, “sss’fine.”
“Uh huh, that’s convincing. You can’t even get the words out.” Dana counters.
“Nope,” Emma says, voice shaking but firm. She takes Santos’s hand the way Santos had taken charge of the room. “C’mon, Elphaba. Let’s take a look at you.”
Santos gives a long exhale but doesn’t argue. Or drop Emma’s hand.
The gurney is wheeled to a new bay, Dr McKay appearing at the end of the bed.
“Jeez, what happened here?” she asks, visibly assessing the young doctor on the bed.
“Patient clocked her.” Dana replies dryly.
At the same time Emma says, “she was protecting me.”
The older women share a look before turning back to the bed. Of course she was.
“How are you feeling Santos?" McKay asks.
“Eh, been better… been worse. I’ll live,” she jokes lightly.
McKay raises an unimpressed eyebrow. Dana snorts. Emma squeezes her hand.
“Headache? Nausea? Lights bothering you?” McKay prods.
“Hmm yeah.”
“Did you hit your head?”
She shrugs.
“—she did. I heard it when she fell.” Emma cuts in.
“I didn't fall.” Santos argues, mock offended. “My gravity was temporarily rearranged—totally not the same thing.”
McKay rolls her eyes and snorts. Dana pats her arm with a look that very obviously reads ‘sure kid’. Emma just holds her hand, not entertaining her deflections.
“You know,” McKay says, checking Santos’s pupils, “usually you have to actually have a kid before you go full mother bear.”
Santos winces at the light. “I’ve got Huckleberry.”
McKay and Dana laugh. Emma shakes her head fondly.
“That is not reassuring.”
McKay straightens, hands lightly gripping her stethoscope around her neck.
“So, you’ve obviously got a concussion. I’m not feeling any obvious skull fractures. But we’ll do an xray, and a head CT to check for bleeding.”
“Good thing I’ve got a thick skull, am I right?”
McKay scoffs.
“Alright kid, no more one liners for a bit. You need to rest that brain.” Dana jokes, warmth lacing her words as she pats Santos on the arm.
Dana nods to Emma, “Keep her compliant while we organise her scans.”
Santos grins. Then winces as she aggravates her bruised cheek.
“Of course.” The young nurse says, taking Santos' hand again.
“Thankyou for protecting me.” Emma whispers into the silence, big brown eyes seeking guarded green ones on the bed. “But you really didn’t need to, I can look after myself.”
“Course I did Dorothy. We need you and your optimism. Can’t have you broken down by angry men,” comes Santos’ clipped reply.
“It shouldn’t mean you have to take it instead.” Emma continues emphatically. “This is the second time you’ve protected me and been hurt.”
“Been taking hits from angry men for a long time. ‘Least this one was useful.”
Emma goes very still.
“That’s not a good reason.”
Santos looks away. “It’s the reason I’ve got.”
Emma opens and closes her mouth, unable to come up with words in response.
Santos just waves her hand, “don’t worry, I don’t need platitudes or sympathy. It is what it is.”
Emma nods thoughtfully, “I kinda get it. Like not really. But my ex boyfriend back home was… not great.”
Santos frowns “That’s shit, I’m sorry. Men really suck sometimes.”
“Yeah, they do… Lucky you're a lesbian then.” Emma jokes, and Santos can’t help laughing too.
“What makes you say that?” Santos asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh—um. Sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed—“ Emma starts to reply.
Santos’ face cracks, and she winces at the movement. “Oh fuck. You’re so easy. I was just messing with you. I am a lesbian, or I am in the way that, like, does anyone really know.
Emma gets an intrigued look on her face. Opens her mouth—then snaps it closed.
Shit. Of course Emma had to provoke that bruise.
She really cannot start unpacking whether she only likes women, or whether men just ruined the alternative.
Say something normal.
“Anyway. If anything, lesbians are worse. It’s just more emotional manipulation than physical.”
They share a smile, Emma still holding her hand as she awkwardly lays on the gurney.
Dana sighs as they head back to the hub. Turns to McKay with concern on her face.
“She does this. Throws herself in front of things.”
McKay nods in understanding. “People like that don’t think they’re being brave. They think they’re being useful.”
“That’s worse.”
“Yeah.”
They pause, just for a moment. Then—
“I’ll call radiology. See if we can get her bumped up the list.”
McKay nods and goes to check on another patient.
They’re wheeling her back from CT when she sees him, watching her. Langdon. He lowers the tablet in his hands and heads over.
Great, just what she needs right now. She clenches her hand around the icepack in her lap.
“Pretty sure that thing is for your face.” He jokes, nodding to the icepack.
She rolls her eyes.
“Heard you tried to stop a fist with your face.”
“Worked, didn’t it?”
He snorts. “Objectively, no.”
Then a pause.
His gaze lingers—taking in the swelling, the bruising, the exhaustion. She looks softer than he’s used to. Something uncomfortable coils in his gut.
“You don't always have to take the hit, Santos.” He says finally.
She snorts. “Bit on the nose, isn't it?”
He lets out a short laugh. “Yeah, that's fair.” A pause. “Still true though.”
Then he nods, and leaves—before it gets too sincere.
“Got your scans back.” McKay says, tablet in hand.
“Let me guess, I’m the picture of health?”
McKay shakes her head, wry smile in place. “Still got your sense of humor. At least we know you don’t have brain damage.”
Santos laughs then grabs her cheek, “Owww. That was mean.”
She shakes her head. “Your scans were clean. No bleeds. No fractures. You’re gonna have a heck of a shiner though.”
“Sweet. I’ll look like a badass. Bet I can get some serious pussy with this.”
McKay rolls her eyes, more than used to Santos’s sense of humour—and secretly amused by it.
She pauses for a minute. Lets the energy settle.
“Seriously Santos. You’re reporting this.”
“McKay—“
“Not a question. Staff assault, concussion, CT. This is not a vibe-based workplace incident.”
“But—“
McKay doesn’t reply, just looks at her.
“Ohh the mother stare. Well played.” Drawn out sigh. “Fine.”
“Good. I'll let you get some rest.”
She heads to leave, but turns and gives her a soft smile.
“And hey.” She waits for Santos to meet her eyes.
“Next time, you hit the alarm before you become the alarm.”
“You gotta stop protecting me like I’m breakable,” Emma says.
Santos gives her a tired look. “You’re not breakable.”
“Then stop acting like it. You know you're not actually Elphaba right?”
She laughs gently. “I’m not?”
Emma squeezes her hand and shakes her head. “You’re in my spot, Elphaba.”
Santos blinks. “What?”
Emma nods toward the gurney, where Santos’s hand is curled too tightly around the rail.
“The self-sacrificing protector spot. Move over, it's my turn.”
Santos huffs a laugh, then winces.
“Fine. But I’m not sharing the broom.”