Work Text:
It was a long fucking day. He knew it would be. He pondered it for ten months, unsure of what he’d come back to. His plan was to keep his head down, apologize where needed, and be the doctor he was meant to be, then go home and prepare to do it again the next day.
He somewhat expected the cold shoulder from Robby, definitely expected it from Santos, but was completely ignorant to how the rest of the department would react.
The bright spot in all of it was her. The way she ran up to him without a second thought, like she cared, like she was excited. You never let me down and helping him through Robby’s cruelty and trusting him, singularly, with her sister. It was ten long months with no one on his side, but her assurances almost make it all worth it.
He finds her in the ambulance bay after avoiding going home for two hours, alone in the sickly orange glow of the streetlights. He doesn’t think he was consciously seeking her out, more like his body instinctively searching for her.
He asks about Robby, checks his phone to seem busy, or maybe in the chance that Abby said something, anything to him. (She didn’t, of course.)
“What are you still doing here?” he asks, as if he has any reason to continue to be at work either. He still has a ring sitting coldly on his finger, has two kids at home, probably watching the very same fireworks exploding over his head right now.
He watches her face fall when she mentions her sister, the mix of sadness and anger and something like betrayal cross her features. He tries to offer comforting words but he senses they just fall flat, so he pivots.
“How was your day?” He hopes it was better than his own.
They’re fifteen hours into a twelve hour day, both frazzled and sweaty and exhausted, but he can barely take his eyes off of her. The warm light of the ambulance bay turns her golden. Her golden skin now matches her golden hair. The wisps of baby hair at her hairline frame her face like a halo.
There’s a floatiness in his stomach. The same one from earlier during rounds when she grasped his arm, warm and soft. The same one from ten months ago in the break room, her excitement at debreeding gravel making him giggle like a teenager with a crush.
When he tells her about the cervical reduction, he shows her his shaking hands. He doesn’t tell her that his hands stopped shaking from the procedure twenty minutes ago, that there’s a new reason they’re doing it now.
She looks back to the sky after accepting his apology. His gaze lingers for a moment longer, unable to look away. He doesn’t want to leave this moment, wants to stay and count the freckles on her cheeks.
At least this time, he’ll be back tomorrow.