Chapter Text
Samira Mohan was finally at the end of her shift, and she couldn’t be more happy. It had been a long week in the Pitt with both norovirus and influenza going around. It had meant extra shifts as members of staff succumb to the illnesses as well, and things were not slowing down. Samira was exhausted as she sat finishing her charts when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her neck softly pulling her into a hug from behind.
“Hi Kan Maniye,” she said, snuggling back into the hug, inhaling her girlfriend’s scent.
“Hi Sami,” Emery Walsh said, kissing the top of Samira’s head, “Almost done?”
“Yeah,” Samira said, stiffling a yawn, “Sorry. I’m really tired tonight.”
“I’m sorry, babe,” Emery said as she let go of Samira, the R4 turning around to look at her girlfriend, “I cooked before I came in tonight so there’s food for you.”
“Thank you,” Samira said, wanting nothing more than to crawl into their bed, though the fact that she would be alone doing it was slightly disappointing, “You didn’t need to do that.”
“Of course,” Emery said, “You look beat. I know it’s been rough around here lately. Go home, shower, eat, and sleep. And when you wake up tomorrow, I’ll be there with you.”
“I have to work again tomorrow,” Samira said, “McKay is out with the flu, and Dr. Al went home halfway through the day with noro. It’s all hands on deck down here.”
“Don’t work too hard,” Emery said, trying to hide her disappointment at not getting to cuddle her girlfriend all day tomorrow, “You don’t want to be next.”
“I know,” Samira said, glancing back at her last chart, typing one more thing before deciding it was good enough, “I’m going home now.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Emery said, “I’ve got my pager. Hopefully with all of Pittsburg down sick, it will minimize the number of surgical cases. I slept today, but I feel like I could use a nap tonight.”
Emery took Samira’s hand and walked her to her locker, finding Santos, Whitaker, and Javati all there packing there things too.
“You three all surviving?” Walsh asked as Samira opened her locker.
“So far,” Santos said.
“I think so,” Whitaker said, coughing a little bit.
“Oh, hell no,” Santos said, “Are you getting sick?”
“I don’t know,” Whitaker said, “It’s just a cough. Amy texted me today and said she and Theo aren’t feeling great today.”
“We are getting you a workup before we leave,” Santos said, “And if you are fevery or fluy, I’m taking you to the farm.”
“Isn’t that what parents tell their children when they put a dog down but don’t want the kids to know?” Emery said, raising an eyebrow at the R2.
“I wouldn’t know,” Santos said as she pushed Whitaker out of the locker room, “My parents didn’t allow pets.”
Samira just shook her head as the two friends left the room. Javati followed them out, leaving just Samira and Emery in the room.
“I’m so tired,” Samira said, the shift catching up to her as she changed into her street clothes.
“You gonna be ok to drive home?” Emery asked, a little worried about her girlfriend.
“Oh, yeah,” Samira said, “I will be. I just need to sleep. It’s hard sleeping without you sometimes.”
“Aww,” Emery said, pulling Samira in for a kiss, “A few more days and then we have time off together.”
“Unless I have to work extra,” Samira said with a sigh, “I just need this sickness season to end.”
“It will,” Emery said, taking Samira’s hand, “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”
Samira and Emery walked out of the locker room, walking past Santos who was standing at the hub with Whitaker who was sitting in a chair.
“Temp is 101.1,” they overheard Trinity say as they walked past, “Sounds like the flu to me.”
“Another one down,” Samira sighed, rubbing her forehead as they walked out of the ED.
“We will get through it,” Emery said, squeezing her hand, “We always do.”
Samira nodded, just letting herself focus on the feeling of Emery’s hand in hers. They got to her car, Samira putting her things in the car before Emery pulled her into a hug.
“Get some rest, ok Sami?” Emery said, holding her close, “Don’t think too hard about tomorrow.”
“I’ll try,” Samira said, resting her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder, “I hope your night isn’t too hard.”
“It should be fine,” Emery said, moving so she could give her girlfriend another kiss.
Just then, her pager went off.
“And so it begins,” Emery said, pulling the pager off her waistband, “Gotta go. Get home safe. Love you.”
“Love you too, Always,” Samira said, watching her girlfriend start to jog toward the hospital again.
Samira headed to what was formerly just Emery’s place, but she had moved into a few months ago when her lease had ended. It felt like a big step for Samira, but she had been accepted into a geriatrics fellowship at PTMC which extended her time in Pittsburg for another year, and they had been together for almost a year when she had moved in.
It had been the Pittfest shooting that had brought them together, Samira asking Walsh if they could grab coffee to debrief a few things, and that coffee had turned into a full on date before either of them were even aware of what was happening.
After that, things had moved fast, and soon enough, they were girlfriends. It had been a little overwhelming for Samira, but they both were head over heels for each other.
When Emery had floated the idea of Samira moving in instead of signing another year lease at her apartment, she had thought she was joking, but when Emery had mentioned it a second time, she took it more seriouly, and they talked about it and decided it was a good idea.
It had been a little bit of a rough transition because they were both so used to living alone, but they figured it out, and other than their shifts not lining up super well lately with Emery working more night shifts again, things had been great.
Samira walked into the house, immediately hanging up her work bag, placing her keys in the bowl they kept by the door for that purpose. She went into the kitchen, putting her water bottle in the sink before washing her hands.
She then headed straight for the shower, feeling gross from work. As she got into the hot water, she felt a chill running through her body, a little confused because the apartment was warm, but it was pretty chilly outside so she wrote it off as a delayed response to being outside. She showered quickly, washing off the stress of the day.
She was absolutely exhausted, pulling on one of Emery’s sweatshirts and a pair of sweatpants, heading into the kitchen. She went into the fridge, pulling out the lasagna that was there, cutting herself a small piece to put in the microwave.
She hadn’t had much time to eat more than a few granola bars today, but despite that, she wasn’t overly hungry. This was pretty common for her though, the anxiety of work often making eating a struggle. It was something she was working on in therapy, and also something her girlfriend was aware of and helped her with.
She took her food over to the couch, sitting down, feeling absolutely drained all of a sudden. She grabbed her fork, taking a small bite of her food. As the food hit her tongue, she wrinkled her face. Something about the dish didn’t taste right. She chewed her bite and swallowed it, looking at the plate with confusion. Emery was an amazing cook, and lasagna was one of her best dishes. Samira loved it normally so she was confused. She thought maybe it was just the bite she had had, taking another small forkful of the pasta. It still didn’t taste quite right. It wasn’t offensively bad, but it just didn’t taste right and it was making Samira feel a little sick.
Samira sighed, wondering if maybe something had gone wrong in the cooking process. She got up, going into the kitchen and throwing out the piece of lasagna.
She decided to just make herself some toast, throwing two pieces of bread in the toaster. When they were done, she spread some peanut butter over them before going back to the couch. She started eating the toast, again finding that it just didn’t taste right, wondering if maybe the bread had started going bad or something. She managed a little over half a piece of the toast before the bad taste got to be too much. She threw the rest out, hating to waste food but not wanting to save bad food.
She got herself a glass of water before heading to get ready for bed. It was barely 9 pm, but she was exhausted. She got ready for bed, checking her phone once, seeing Emery had texted her goodnight and that she was headed into surgery. Samira smiled, texting her back before crawling into bed.
She pulled the blankets up, feeling another chill run through her. She reached over, grabbing one of her girlfriend’s pillows that smelled like her oat and honey conditioner, falling asleep quickly.
Sometime later, Samira woke up. It took her a minute to realize why she was awake, but then she felt a cramp run through her stomach. She rolled over, checking the time, groaning when she saw it was only 9:30, meaning she hadn’t even been asleep for half an hour.
She curled up a little as her stomach cramped again. She felt her mouth filling with a lot of saliva all of a sudden, trying to swallow, but realizing that was not a great idea as her stomach rolled.
“Shit,” she mumbled, getting out of bed, running toward the bathroom as she gathered her still damp hair into a makeshift ponytail.
She managed to get the toilet lid open just in time for her stomach to fully revolt. She coughed and gagged for a while before her stomach finally settled down some, though it still felt like it was being squeezed by a carwash. She felt terrible, leaning back against the wall trying to figure out what she wanted to do.
She stood up after another minute, going over to the sink. She grabbed a hair tie, pulling her hair into a messy bun so it was out of the way because she was very sure that was not the end of the vomiting for tonight. She then brushed her teeth, trying to get the taste out of her mouth. She opened the cabinet, finding the thermometer and sticking it under her tongue.
“100.9,” she groaned, pulling it out of her mouth.
She knew she had norovirus. Despite how careful she had been, it was almost unavoidable with how it was going around. Her stomach ached, but she didn’t think she was going to be sick again, at least not at the moment, so she headed back into the bedroom, collapsing into the bed. She felt awful. She almost texted Emery and let her know what was going on, but she decided not to bother her while she was working.
The next several hours were a little bit of a blur as Samira ran back and forth from the bed to the bathroom, vomiting at least every hour, but sometimes more often. She also had a few bouts of diarrhea and just overall was miserable. She concidered just sleeping on the bathroom floor, but the bed wasn’t too far from the bathroom, and it was much more comfortable.
She managed to fall into a restless sleep at some point, only to wake up feeling awful again. She darted into the bathroom, dry heaving over the toilet.
As she did so, she vaguely heard footsteps somewhere and then suddenly felt a hand on her back, jumping a little bit as she heaved.
“Oh Sami,” she heard, knowing Emery was the only one who called her that.
“Em?” she said, coughing a little bit as she gagged again.
“Shhh,” Emery said, still rubbing her back, “Just breathe. I’m here.”
It took another minute for Samira’s stomach to accept that it was empty and give her a repreive from heaving, collapsing back, Emery right there to help her.
“What...what are you doing home?” Samira asked, brain exhausted but confused.
It was still dark when she had run into the bathroom meaning Emery should not be home yet.
“It seems you are not the only one who picked up norovirus,” Emery said, swallowing thickly, hoping she wasn’t about to throw up.
“No,” Samira said, frowning as she looked up at her girlfriend, seeing how pale she looked, small beads of sweat around her hairline.
“Unfortunately,” Emery said, realizing her body was not going to cooperate, moving Samira a little bit as she leaned forward to throw up herself.
“Oh Kan Maniye,” Samira said, quickly moving to rub Emery’s back.
“This is not how I wanted to spend time off together,” Emery said as she finished, wiping her mouth before flushing the toilet.
“What happened?” Samira asked, both of them leaning against the wall.
“My stomach wasn’t feeling great,” Emery said as Samira laid her head on her shoulder, “I had a few bouts of the runs, but I figured it was just something I ate not agreeing with me or maybe too much coffee or something. You know how my stomach gets sometimes. It was a slow night so I got to lay down for a nap…”
Emery had all but passed out in the bed in the on call room which was not at all like her. She was normally someone who could run on very little sleep, and she had gotten a good nap in before coming in tonight.
She had woken up to her pager going off. As she was about to reach for it, her stomach had cramped badly, and she leaped out of bed, diving for the trashcan in the corner, knowing there was no way she was making it to the bathroom before she threw up.
“Fuck me,” she said, panting as she finished, just sitting there for a minute to make sure her stomach was calm.
Once she was sure she could move without being sick again, she went back over to the table next to the bed she had been sleeping in, grabbing her pager and cellphone. Her pager let her know she was needed in the ED. She got her shoes back on, calling Yolanda Garcia as she headed out of the room.
“Hello?” a sleepy sounding Garcia said.
“Yola, hey,” Emery said, “I’m sorry to call you at, god, 3 am, but is there any way you can come in and cover for me. I woke up puking, and I feel terrible, and there’s no chance I’m finishing this shift.”
“Fuck,” Yolanda said, already getting up, “Yeah. I’ll be there.”
“Thanks,” Emery said, “I owe you.”
“Yes you do,” Yolanda said, “See you in a few.”
Emery headed down to the pit, going into Trauma 1 as soon as she got there.
“There you are…” Abbott said, stopping short as he saw her walk in, “Walsh, you ok?”
“What’s going on?” she asked, dodging his question.
“MVC, single vehicle vs. telephone pole. Intubated due to low GCS,” Nazely Toomarian presented, “E-Fast negative, obvious scalp lac and compound fracture of the left leg. Possible broken ribs. Pupils sluggish but reactive.”
“Ok, let’s pan-scan and call with the results,” Walsh said, looking briefly at the scalp lac and leg, finding that it was upsetting her stomach more than she cared to admit.
“Toomarian, go with him,” Abbott said, nodding at her.
Emery went to head for the other door of the trauma room only to have Abbott step in front of her, stopping her.
“You ok Dr. Walsh?” he asked, reaching out a hand, placing it on her forehead, “Oh, yeah, that’s a fever.”
“I know,” Emery sighed, “I already called Garcia to come in. She should be here soon. I think I’ve got noro. My stomach is a mess.”
“Yikes,” Abbott said, “Want me to call you in a script for ondansetron?”
“Actually, that would be great,” Emery said, “Thank you.”
“Of course,” he said as the two of them walked out of the room to a computer, “I’ll put it in stat so it should be ready pretty fast. And I’ll double it just in case you share this with Mohan.”
“Fuck,” Emery said, rubbing her temples, “I didn’t even think about that. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Abbott said, “The script is sent to our pharmacy. Should be ready pretty quick. Why don’t you go get ready to go? You look miserable.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, not wanting to let down her tough exterior too much in front of Jack Abbott.
“See you in a few days when your better,” he called as she walked away.
“Try not to miss me too much,” she called back as she headed to the elevators.
She felt pretty terrible by the time she got back up to the surgical floor where the on call room she had her things in was. She gathered her things, throwing out the trash bag she had used earlier, running into the bathroom one more time before Garcia arrived.
Handoff was fast, and done from across the room because Yolanda Garcia refused to get sick with this bug. She did, however, insist that Emery leave her pager with her just in case because no one knew that the older woman was now off shift. Yolanda promised to get it back to her before her next shift.
“If you need anything, just let me know, ok?” Yolanda said as Emery threw her backpack on.
“Thanks,” Emery said, heading out, swinging by the pharmacy on her way out, grabbing the ondansetron that was thankfully ready.
She debated taking some before she even left the hospital, but she decided to wait, not feeling crazy nauseous at the moment. On her drive home, she thought about texting Samira to let her know what was going on but ultimately didn’t, deciding she would just go home and lay down in the guest room so as not to pass this bug on to her girlfriend.
When she got home, she was absolutley exhausted and feeling gross, sitting in her car for a minute before finding the energy to walk into the house. She set down her things, not bothering to put them where they belonged.
She then was about to head into the guest room when she heard what sounded like gagging coming from their bathroom. She walked as quickly as her exhuasted, sick body would let her, finding Samira there sick which is how they ended up in their current position on the bathroom floor.
“Sorry you got sick at work,” Samira said, head still leaning on Emery’s shoulder, “That sucks.”
“I’m ok,” Emery said, “I’m sorry you were sick here by yourself. How long have you been sick for?”
“I fell asleep at 9 and woke up before 9:30 puking,” Samira sighed, “And it’s been every hour or less since then.”
“Oh Sami,” Emery said, “Ok. Abbott wrote me a double script for ondansetron. Do you think you can try to get some of that down? You are going to get dehydrated if you keep throwing up that much. Plus, you need rest and that’s not gonna happen if you keep puking.”
“I can try,” Samira said, taking a deep breath, “You should take some too so you can rest.”
“Ok,” Emery said, kissing the top of Samira’s warm head, “Come on.”
Emery helped Samira stand, the R4 a little shaky as they both walked over to the sink to brush their teeth.
“Shit,” Samira said as she finished, “I need to call out of work.”
“I can do it for you,” Emery said, “I’ll call Abbott. He already knows I’m sick anyway. I’ll go do that and grab the ondansetron. You go get into bed. You look like you’re about to fall over.”
“Thank you Em,” Samira said as she headed into the bedroom while Emery walked back to the entryway where her bag was.
She grabbed the prescription before calling Abbott.
“Walsh?” he said as he answered, “You ok? You just left.”
“Yeah,” she said, going into the kitchen to grab something for both of them to attempt to drink, “I just got home, and Samira is also sick. She’s not gonna make it in tomorrow or the day after.”
“Shit,” he said, “Ok. Let me know if either of you need anything.”
“We’ll be ok,” she said, stopping and pressing her forehead against the cool stainless steel of the fridge, trying to calm the headache that was starting.
“Get some sleep Emery,” he said, hanging up.
She stood there with her head pressed against the cool fridge for another minute before taking the cups of water along with the meds down the hall to their bedroom. Samira was there, curled up in bed looking as awful as she felt.
“Ok, ondansetron all around,” Emery said, opening the bottle, giving Samira two pills before taking two of her own, happy they were the kind that dissolved because she wasn’t sure water would stay down for either of them at the moment.
“As sad as I am that you are sick, I’m happy you are home,” Samira said as they both laid down.
“You could have texted or called me when you started feeling bad and I would have come,” Emery said, “You are more important to me than anything else.”
“I was ok,” Samira said, yawning, “Your patients needed you.”
“My patients were all fine,” Emery said, “Much better then my girlfriend. Or than their doctor.”
Samira laughed a little bit as the two of them snuggled closer together, knowing they were in for a long few days based on what they had seen in the ED, but happy they got to spend it together.