Chapter Text
By ten in the morning, the day shift was already in a smooth working rhythm in the PTMC. It had been a hectic morning, typical for a Saturday, but now things seemed to be getting quieter.
“Central 9 still needs discharge paperwork,” Dana called without looking up from the board. “And whoever stole my decent pen, I hope your coffee tastes like motor oil.”
“I might have seen that pen,” Dr. Cassie McKay murmured with a not-so-sneaky side-eye toward Dr. Trinity Santos.
“Very subtle,” Santos snapped from across the desk.
“It was not meant to be subtle.”
Dr. Robby smirked into his coffee as he approached the central station. “Beautiful teamwork. Inspirational.”
With a big sigh, Santos placed the pen into Danas outstretched hand, whose face was full of motherly disapproval.
Dr. Samira Mohan did not notice any of the shenanigans, she stood at the central desk staring at a chart completely absent minded.
Robby took a second to take a look around at his team: Santos and McKay charting, Whitaker hurrying to South 17, Dana doing managerial wonders, and then at Mohan, standing very still. Strikingly still.
“Earth to Mohan,” Dana called while shoving a chart into her hand. “You planning on treating bed Four or entering a deep meditative state?”
Mohan blinked hard.
“What?”
“The abdominal pain?”
“Right. Yeah.”
She took the chart, but nearly dropped it. Dana looked at her.
“You okay, doc?”
“Fine,” Mohan answered, but a little too fast, too defiant.
With no further comment, she hurried away.
Robby watched her walk away toward the patient rooms. Something felt off. She looked unusually exhausted in a way that sleep or stress did not explain.
A little while later, while walking back to the nurses’ station, Mohan ran into an IV pole. The pole shook but even though it did not fall over or make a mess, she flinched so violently and looked so scared, as if she had run into the FBIs most wanted serial killer. She noticed Robby and Dana looking at her, half worried half amused, and tried to laugh it off awkwardly. “Sorry…didn’t look.”
“Jesus,” Dana muttered. “Somebody spike your coffee?”
Mohan forced a thin smile.
“Didn’t sleep. That obvious?”
“A little,” Dana said.
Robby leaned against the desk, arms folded.
“You look like you got hit by a truck.”
Mohan’s expression flickered strangely at that.
“Thanks,” she muttered.
After Mohan literally jumped in surprise from a suddenly beeping monitor, McKay tried to casually approach Robby. “Does Mohan seem off to you today?”, she asked him, trying to sound conversational. He looked up at her, putting down his glasses. “Why? Does she seem off to you?”, he carefully retorted. He was not surprised that McKay has noticed; she was one of the most empathetic doctors he had ever met.
McKay continued, “It was kind of funny in the beginning, but she just jumped so hard I thought she’d seen a ghost. That doesn’t seem like her at all.”
“I’ll talk to her”, Robby said as he was pulled away from the conversation by an incoming new trauma patient.
An hour later, Robby found Mohan standing frozen in a supply room, doing nothing. Just staring at a box of saline flushes like she had forgotten why she came in.
“Mohan.”
She startled violently. Actually startled, one hand flying up in defense.
“Jesus,” Robby said. “Relax.”
“I am relaxed.”
“You look like you’re about to crawl out of your skin.”
“I’m fine.”
Again: too fast.
Robby studied her more carefully now. There were shadows under her eyes, her ponytail was sloppy. And there was something deeply wrong in the way she held herself: shoulders tight, arms tucked inward protectively.
“You sick?” he asked.
“No.”
“You on something?”
She stared at him flatly.
“Caffeine and self-loathing.”
That at least sounded more like her. Robby snorted softly.
“There she is.”
But when he stepped around her to grab supplies, she recoiled instinctively before catching herself. It was just a tiny movement, very easy to miss, but he did not miss it.
Neither of them acknowledged it.
By the early afternoon, the jokes had stopped being funny.
Mohan nearly forgot an antibiotic order. Asked the same question twice during a trauma assessment. Dropped a syringe because someone brushed unexpectedly past her shoulder.
Dana frowned as Mohan crouched to pick it up with visibly shaking hands.
“Okay,” Dana said quietly once the patient was stable. “Seriously. What’s going on with you, hon?”
“Nothing.”
“Mohan.”
“I said I’m fine.” Her voice came out sharper than intended.
Dana held up both hands immediately.
“Alright.”
Mohan instantly looked guilty.
Mohan noticed that Robby had started watching her, which made her incredibly nervous. He already had been riding her for months, picking at her speed and her efficiency, even suggesting going into psychiatry or geriatrics because it might be more her pace. So she constantly felt on edge, like she had to prove herself. He had not been exactly unkind to her – yet – but he definitely scolded her more often than others. But she would not be able to avoid him much longer.
Robby cornered her in the hall in front of pedes twenty minutes later.
“You need to tell me what’s going on.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re distracted, shaky, and acting like every person in this building is about to hit you.”
Mohan went completely still. She looked incredibly panicky.
Robby noticed immediately.
“…Mohan?”
“I’m just tired, I’m sorry.”
“You are unsafe.”
That stung. He saw it, but he meant it.
“You can’t function like this in the Pitt.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” he said more firmly now. “So either tell me what’s going on or pull yourself together.”
Mohan looked at him for a long second. Something wounded flickered across her face.
“I’ll do better,” she said, voice cold, then turned around and walked away.
Robby exhaled sharply.
“Great,” McKay muttered from behind him. “Very nurturing. Ten outta ten leadership.”
She had not been able to resist overhearing the conversation around the corner.
“I just told her how it was.”
“You basically told a sleep-deprived resident to ‘try harder.’”
“She almost missed a med order.”
“I know,” McKay said more quietly. “I’m saying maybe something bigger’s happening.”
Robby looked back toward the hallway where Mohan had disappeared. Unease settled heavier in his chest now. He felt conflicted: he could not let an unsafe doctor risk the health of their patients, but he also felt a deep responsibility for every single one of his team members. And it was obvious that something was going on with Mohan, something more than sleep deprivation. But he could not figure out what.
The collapse happened less than fifteen minutes later.
Mohan was discussing imaging results with Dana when she suddenly stopped mid-sentence.
Blank stare. Hand braced against the counter.
Dana frowned immediately.
“Mohan?”
No response.
Then Mohan crumpled.
Everything exploded into motion.
“Hey—!”
Dana caught her shoulder before she hit the floor fully. McKay was there instantly.
“Mohan!”
Her eyes fluttered unfocused. Only brief loss of consciousness, maybe five seconds.
“Get her into Treatment Six,” Dana shouted and ran to get Robby.
McKay helped Mohan up and guided her swaying colleague onto a stretcher in Central Six. Immediately after lying down on the stretcher, Mohan tried to sit up again.
“No, I’m working.”
“No, you’re not,” Robby said firmly, as he entered the room, Dana right behind him.
“I’m fine.”
“You fainted.”
“Vasovagal.”
“Mohan.”
“I said—”
“Stop.” His tone sharpened hard enough to cut through the panic rising in her voice. “You are now the patient. Sit back.”
That finally got through. There was a moment of silence.
Robby was looking at Mohan, who was pale, sweaty and looked very, very scared. He considered his approach for a second, then turned to McKay: “Thank you Cassie, could you please take over Dr. Mohan’s patients for now?” McKay understood the hint and left the room with one last gentle smile toward Mohan.
After McKay closed the door behind her, Robby spoke again:
“Okay. So. Did you hit your head?”
“I…I don’t think so.”
“No, I caught her,” Dana said quietly, putting the pulse oximeter on Mohan’s finger. Her heart rate was tachy at 119.
“Any chest pain?”
“No.”
“Shortness of breath?”
“No.”
“Have you eaten today?”
“…Coffee.”
“Any chance you’re pregnant?”
“…No.” Her voice got smaller and smaller.
“Do you have any pain anywhere?”
Mohan hesitated, then shook her head. Robby noticed the hesitation but did not pressure her at this point.
Dana took her blood pressure. “A little low, but not exactly worrisome. Tachycardic.”
Robby nodded once, then got his penlight out, sat on a stool, and rolled toward Mohan. She stiffened as he came closer.
“Look up at my finger,” he said while testing the reaction of her pupils. “Equal and reactive.” The glucometer reading also came back as normal.
“Look, I’m clearly okay, I just got a little hot. I need to get back to my patients,” Mohan tried to argue.
“Oh no, you are not leaving until we know what is going on.” Even though he did not say it in a harsh tone, it almost felt like a threat to Mohan.
Dana prepared equipment to take some blood while Robby kept questioning.
“When did you sleep last night?”
No answer.
As Dana pulled up Mohan’s sleeve – she wore a dark long-sleeve underneath her scrubs today – Dana’s eyes fell on Mohan’s wrist. There were bruises, fresh bruises, some even traveling up the arm. Dana stalled for a second, trying to catch Robby’s eyes. He followed Dana’s gaze to Mohan’s arm, who was not taking notice of this silent exchange because she was vehemently staring into her own lap. Robby’s breath stopped for a second. Those were not bruises by bumping into something or falling down, bruises like this were made by the hands of another human.
Dana continued to take blood from Mohan’s arm, as if nothing had happened, as if they had not noticed anything. Robby’s thoughts were racing; he was thinking rapidly about how to move forward without making Mohan shut down completely. But there was no way around asking.
“Samira,” he said more carefully now, “did something happen to you?”
She immediately clocked the change of tone and saw him looking at her bruised wrist. Her face was terrified.
“No!”
“Can you roll up your other sleeve for me, please?”
“What? No!”
Robby knew he had no way to force or trick her arm to be shown, not now, not after the cat was out of the bag.
“How did you get these bruises?”
“I bumped into something,” Mohan said, instinctively pulling her sleeve down again now that Dana was finished taking her blood.
“Something with fingers?” Dana said before she could stop herself.
“Dana,” Robby said quietly. Dana nodded once and stepped back.
Mohan started shivering slightly, not because she was cold but because the adrenaline was pumping through her veins. Having them, especially Robby, seeing her like this filled her with humiliation, and she knew that this was not the end of it.
“Samira,” Robby said now in a gentle tone, “look at me.”
She would not.
Her breathing had gone shallow and uneven. Dana glanced between them. Robby made a decision.
“Dana, give us a minute.”
Dana hesitated briefly before nodding.
“Yell if you need me.”
Then she stepped out, pulling the curtain and door closed behind her.
Robby took a deep breath.
“How did you get these grip marks on your arm?” He intentionally did not call them bruises this time, did not give her a chance for another fake answer.
Mohan gave no response. She had folded inward now, shoulders hunched, eyes fixed on her hands in her lap.
Robby watched her carefully, gave her some time to answer, but nothing. His stomach tightened.
“Samira.”
Still nothing.
His voice gentled even more.
“You fainted. You’re bruised. You’re terrified. And whatever happened, you’ve been trying to work through it for hours instead of letting anyone help you.”
Her jaw tightened.
“I’m embarrassed.” Her voice was tiny. She then looked up to meet his gaze for the first time since being in this room together, and her eyes were full of fear, defiance and…shame.
Everything clicked at once for Robby.
The bruises. The hypervigilance. The flinching. The shame.
His expression changed immediately.
“Samira,” he said very carefully, “did somebody hurt you last night?”
Her breathing hitched and she averted her eyes back down again. That was answer enough. Robby felt cold. He closed his eyes for a few seconds to get his composure back because he knew that it was extremely important now to keep his professional façade.
“Okay,” he said softly. “Okay. Was it a sexual assault?” He purposefully phrased that passively.
The smallest nod imaginable. Exhausted from pretending, she was starting to surrender.
“I said no.” A small pause. “I should’ve fought back harder, but I froze…I should-”
“Stop that. This is not your fault,” he said, emphasizing every word. “Freezing is a normal, a very common, reaction. You know that.”
The room seemed to narrow around the words. It was one thing to know something, and quite another to feel it.
“I…I can still feel him on me, I feel disgusting.” Her eyes welled up after that rash admission, but she was able to fight the tears back.
Robby’s expression softened painfully.
“What happened to you was disgusting. You are not.”
“I should’ve just stayed home today,” she whispered.
“No,” he said gently. “You should’ve gotten help today.”
“But I don’t want people knowing.”
“They don’t.”
After a small pause, Robby continued carefully.
“I need to examine you. In order to do that to the best of my abilities, I need to know more about what happened. You don’t have to give me details.” His voice remained level, grounding. “But I need enough to help you medically. Okay?”
Immediate panic again.
“No.”
“You passed out.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are clearly not fine.”
“I don’t want—”
He interrupted softly. “You stay in control. We stop anytime you say stop.”
Mohan’s breathing shook, her whole body was trembling. But she knew that he was right, that she had to get checked out. She had to admit to herself that she was, in fact, not doing fine and had been in worsening pain the whole day. Robby waited.
“…Okay.” She finally surrendered and brazed herself into stoicism.
He nodded once.
“Okay. Let’s start where we left off. Can you pull up your sleeves for me?”
Both of her arms were full of bruises, the wrists marked with the typical pattern when someone was violently held down. Robby pulled gloves on and slowly rolled closer to her on his stool. He only looked the arms over, not touching yet, as he wanted to keep that to an absolute minimum.
“Okay. Was there any violence to your head? Did he hit you, or did your head hit a surface?”
“Only a little push against the ground at the back of my head. I have a little bump, but it’s fine.” She kept her voice conversational, as if she was speaking about a random patient. Typical coping mechanism.
“But…” she suddenly added. “He uhm…also kind of strangled me for a moment?” She knew that strangulation could get serious later on even if everything feels fine at first.
Robby’s gaze turned sharp as he moved closer to look at her neck.
“I put makeup on this morning, it was starting to show…,” she said almost apologetically.
“Did you lose consciousness?”
“I…I’m not sure. I don’t think so? Black spots started to appear in my vision but then he…it stopped.”
“Any difficulty swallowing?”
“No.”
“Voice changes?”
“It feels a little sore.”
“Did you vomit or feel sick afterwards?”
“I mean, I feel nauseous but that’s not from the uh…strangulation.”
“Okay. I’m going check your head and neck now. I’m starting with your head, palpating your skull. Okay?”
Mohan nodded stiffly. He moved slowly closer and kept narrating every step.
“I’m touching your jaw.”
Mohan flinched anyway.
“Sorry,” she whispered automatically.
Robby’s eyes flicked to hers immediately. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
He moved on first to the sides and then the back of her head. He found the little bump and pressed slightly. She flinched but did not say anything.
“Do you have a headache? Any changes in vision?”
“No vision changes. Yes, a slight headache, but…you know, could also be the sleep deprivation”.
“Hmm. Alright. I going to move on to your neck now, okay? I’m just going to feel for swelling.”
She nodded and took a deep breath. Robby palpated carefully along the sides of her neck. All the makeup was sweated off by now, so he could see the forming bruises. It took a lot of strength for him to keep his face neutral.
It felt weirdly intrusive to her to feel his hands on her neck, even though they were gentle. Her breathing got faster, and she clearly struggled to keep calm. Robby noticed her getting panicky and reassured her.
“Almost done. Moving to the cervical spine now…okay…done with the neck. You need imaging, just to be safe”.
She nodded weakly, no argument left.
“Okay,” he said as he rolled back a little to give her some space again “What else is hurting?”
“My left side hurts a little…I don’t think any ribs are broken but…” Mohan didn’t finish her thought.
“Okay. How was your side hurt?”
“When he was…well, he was heavy…and then on top of me…he kind of…crushed me…” she stumbled over her words, flushing slightly.
Robby looked down briefly, jaw tightening hard. When he looked back up his expression was controlled again.
“Can you lift your shirt a little, so I can take a look?”
Mohan’s hands were shaking as she grabbed the fabric to pull it up just enough for Robby to see her ribs. There were such a big cluster of bruises on her left rib cage down to her hip that Robby stared motionless for half a second too long before catching himself. At seeing his reaction, her face got hard she and blurted out, “I know it doesn’t look good.”
“It looks like you were assaulted,” he said quietly.
“But it’s not too bad.” She added quickly, still downplaying every single injury.
Robby continued the exam carefully. Every movement telegraphed first.
“I’m going to touch your ribs now.”
A nod.
He palpated gently along her sides. She sucked in a breath sharply near the left lower ribs. Robby immediately backed off.
“Pain there?”
“Yes.”
“Any trouble taking deep breaths?”
“A little.”
“Okay.” He listened to her lungs next. Normal. “You need an X-ray for the ribs. I don’t think they’re broken, but again, better be safe.”
She just nodded again.
Robby now sat back slightly. “Any other pain or injuries?”
Mohan stiffened and could not prevent blood rushing to her cheeks.
“Any abdominal pain?”
“…No.”
“Any bleeding?” His voice stayed steady, professional.
Mohan turned even redder and a tiny “A little,” escaped her.
“There might be lacerations that need sutures,” Robby said in an even voice.
Up until this point, Mohan had been rather stoic throughout the exam, almost detached from what was happening. But something shifted, the strain of it caught up with her. She pressed her lips together, trying to steady herself, but a sob escaped before she could stop it. Tears blurred her vision. After a moment, she stopped trying to hold them back and simply let herself cry.
Robby did not move to comfort her. Instead, he gave her the space she seemed to need. He remained where he was, silent and patient, knowing better than to fill the silence with empty reassurances. Over the years, he had dealt with more difficult situations as a team leader than he cared to remember, yet he had never quite felt so powerless.
Eventually, Mohan’s sobs subsided, and little by little she regained her composure.
“What now?” she asked shakingly, and that question carried so many meanings with it that Robby hesitated for a second before answering.
He knew that, as a doctor, there were a lot more questions to ask, steps to take. But as her mentor and attending this examination had reached its end-point.
“Here is what we are going to do: I’m going to call my trusted colleague Dr. Jones at Presbyterian. She is a wonderful doctor, a gynecologist. They also have great SANE nurses on hand – if that is what you decide to do – and she will take care of you there. You will get medical care and no one here will know what happened. Deal?”
“Yeah, okay that sounds…okay,” she hesitated “Uhm…before I leave…I…I did something…I nicked some emergency contraception earlier, you know how it is, every hour counts…” She was blushing again.
“I will take care of it,” he said as he got up and turned to the door. “I’m going to give Dr. Jones a call now, be right back.”
But before opening the curtain, he stopped and turned back to her.
“You know what worries me most?”
That got her attention.
“You came to work like this.”
Mohan looked ashamed again immediately.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” she confessed, her voice almost cracking.
Robby sighed deeply. “I am very sorry that you did not feel safe enough with me to bring this up or to call in sick.” After a pause he continued “And I want you to know that you are more than what happened to you, Samira. This will not define you.”
At that she looked up, catching his eyes. Her face showed doubt.
“I know you have said that to patients yourself dozens of times. And I know that it doesn’t feel that way right now.” He smiled sadly. “It will take time, and it won’t be easy. But you will get there.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, and she meant it.
Unexpectedly, she felt relieved that he had been there today. He nodded and left the room to prepare the next steps.