Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

first-day jitters were always going to be a thing.

it didn’t matter whether it was the first day of college, the first real shift as a nurse, or—like today—the first morning reporting to the emergency department as an ms4. somehow, every new beginning came with the same routine: waking up far earlier than necessary, eating a breakfast far too heavy out of fear she’d be starving by lunchtime, and catching herself cracking her knuckles before realizing she’d already checked her reflection in the mirror for what had to be the nth time.

y/n let out a slow breath and studied herself one last time. nothing was out of place. she gave herself a small nod, more to settle her nerves than anything else, before reaching for her bag. the snoopy keychain hanging from the zipper knocked lightly against the fabric as she slung it over her shoulder.

“alright,” she muttered under her breath, locking the apartment door behind her. “let’s try not to embarrass ourselves.”

the hallway was quiet when she stepped out, save for the muffled sound of someone’s television bleeding through the walls. by the time she reached the street, the city was only just beginning to wake. a cyclist sped past with a coffee balanced precariously in one hand, buses groaned to a stop every few minutes, and the corner bakery she’d walked by more times than she could count was already sending the smell of fresh bread drifting onto the sidewalk.

she glanced at the time on her phone, the screen lighting her face in the dim morning air. early. earlier than she needed to be, if she was being honest, but old habits died hard; years of nursing had taught her that being ten minutes early was really just being on time, and somehow that mindset had followed her into medical school without asking for permission.

the walk to the bus station wasn’t particularly long, but she welcomed it anyway. it gave her something to do besides think.
besides, thinking too much before a shift had never done anyone any favors.

by the time the bus rumbled into view, she had already convinced herself she was underprepared, overprepared, and somehow both at the same time.

she hummed quietly to herself as she climbed aboard the bus, offering the driver a polite smile before making her way toward an empty spot near the middle. the morning crowd was sparse at this hour, most passengers either staring blankly out the window or nodding off with their headphones still in. she wrapped one hand around the metal railing as the bus lurched forward, her gaze drifting outside. the city rolled by at an unhurried pace, storefronts were only beginning to unlock their doors, traffic was still forgiving, and every now and then she’d catch someone briskly walking to work with a paper coffee cup clutched in one hand. it was only half past six, and most of pittsburgh was still rubbing the sleep from its eyes.

the familiar rattle of the bus was oddly comforting, almost enough to distract her. almost. curious more than anything, she unzipped her bag just enough to peek inside, mentally checking that she’d packed everything she needed: wallet, phone charger, packed lunch, stethoscope, extra pens. she paused. “…oh.” her shoulders sank ever so slightly. she’d forgotten her diet coke. 

a quiet sigh escaped her as she zipped the bag shut again. it wasn’t exactly the end of the world. there had to be a vending machine somewhere around pittsburgh hospital medical center, if not a café or convenience store nearby. she’d survive the morning. probably. her thoughts drifted back to the embarrassingly long amount of time she’d spent researching the hospital the week before. the reviews had been… interesting, to say the least. 

some were reassuring: 

“fast staff. they saved my husband’s life.”, 

“the nurses were incredible.”,

 “dr. robby stayed long after his shift to explain everything to us.” 

others, well…  

“waited six hours for a sprained ankle. by the time it was my turn, my ankle felt better. one star because the channels on the tv are terrible.” 

“asked a nurse where i can get more help, they said the psych department was upstairs. i don’t know if this was a joke or not but.. not funny.. :(” 

“i’ve never been to this hospital but the negative reviews made me feel negative too so fuck it lol sorry”

the bus slowed as it approached another stop, gently pulling her back to the present. she adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and glanced out the window once more. mixed reviews or not… it was a little too late to back out now.

a few minutes later, the bus eased to a stop with a familiar hiss of its brakes. y/n slung her bag over her shoulder before stepping off, offering the driver a quiet, “thank you,” that was met with a friendly wave as the doors folded shut behind her. she took a few steps forward before finally looking up.

there it was, pittsburgh trauma medical center.

the building towered above the street, its glass windows catching the early morning light as it stretched into the hillside. even from where she stood, she could already make out ambulances parked near the emergency entrance and hospital staff filtering in through the automatic doors, some carrying paper coffee cups while others briskly walked in with id badges swinging against their scrub tops. she let out a slow breath, adjusting the strap of her bag before taking a few determined steps toward the entrance.

then she stopped.  “…right.” she lightly tapped her forehead with the heel of her hand, an awkward smile tugging at her lips. “i need a drink.” the comment was directed to nobody in particular as she glanced around the entrance until a vending machine tucked off to the side caught her eye, “bingo.”

she made her way over, pulling her worn leather wallet from her bag before dropping a few coins into the machine. her finger hovered over the buttons for only a second before pressing the one she’d memorized without even thinking; a diet coke. 

the machine hummed to life, followed by a hollow thunk. then another. y/n frowned slightly before crouching to retrieve her drink. 
“…huh.” she raised her brow and there were two cans sitting in the collection tray.

most people probably would’ve grinned at the unexpected freebie or considered it a lucky start to the day. y/n, however, only stared at them for a second before quietly scratching the back of her neck. “…aw…” she mumbled to herself. “i used up my luck today on this…?”

the thought sounded ridiculous the second it left her mouth. she huffed a small laugh at herself before slipping both cans into her bag, deciding one could stay cold for later. knowing emergency departments, she’d probably end up needing it.

she finally stepped through the hospital’s front doors, only to be met with a waiting room far busier than she’d expected. it was barely six-forty in the morning, yet nearly every seat was occupied. a little boy slept with his head in his mother’s lap, someone across the room was pressing an ice pack against their wrist, and the receptionist was already juggling two phone calls at once. y/n found herself weaving apologetically through the crowd before pushing open the doors marked emergency department.

the familiar rush hit her almost instantly. the fluorescent lights overhead. the faint scent of antiseptic that never quite left the air. monitors chiming from somewhere down the hall, phones ringing at the nurses’ station, the squeak of stretcher wheels against polished floors. different hospitals. same rhythm.

she took a quiet breath before her eyes landed on the nurses’ station.

a woman with pearlescent blonde hair clipped back in a claw clip was already sorting through a stack of charts while answering a question from another nurse. y/n waited just long enough for her to finish before stepping closer.

“excuse me?” she began politely. the woman looked up almost immediately.

“good morning. i’m… one of the medical students who’s supposed to start today?” y/n said, the sentence sounding more like a question than she’d intended.

the nurse smiled knowingly. “morning, kid.” her pittsburgh accent rounded off the words as she tucked a chart beneath one arm. “you’re lookin’ for mckay.” she glanced over y/n’s shoulder before tilting her head toward a small group gathered farther down the department. “over there.”

y/n followed her gaze. a woman with copper-red hair pulled into a ponytail stood with three other people around her, all dressed in fresh black scrubs that screamed first day almost as loudly as the nervous expressions on their faces.

“oh.” she smiled, relieved she’d found the right place. “thank you so much, uh…”

her eyes instinctively dipped toward the nurse’s id badge. the woman laughed before she had the chance, “dana.”

“right.” y/n returned the smile. “i’m y/n l/n. it’s nice to meet you—i hope we get to work together.”

dana’s grin widened just enough to soften the lines around her eyes, “oh, we will.”

with that, y/n offered one last polite nod before making her way toward the group dana had pointed out, her bag shifting lightly against her shoulder with every step.

first impressions… so far, so good.

by the time y/n caught up to the small group, the tour had already begun. mckay turned slightly at the sound of approaching footsteps, offering her a welcoming smile. “hey, you must be l/n.”

y/n nodded. “sorry, i wanted to make sure i was in the right place.”

“you made it.” mckay gestured for her to fall in beside the others as she continued walking. “we’re just doing a quick tour of the pitt for now.”

“the pitt…?” y/n echoed, the nickname catching her off guard. “it’s just what everyone calls the ed,” the petite girl beside her explained with an easy smile. she had warm brown skin, wide doe eyes, and a voice gentle enough that y/n almost missed it beneath the noise of the department. “at least… that’s what i’ve been told.”

“oh.” y/n nodded in understanding. “that’s new.” she’d heard every variation of er, ed, emergency, even trauma back at her old hospital. “the pitt” was a first. plus points for creativity though. 

mckay led the four of them back toward the waiting room. “patients check in here through registration,” she began, motioning toward the front desk where two clerks were already juggling ringing phones, insurance cards, and a line that only seemed to grow longer. nearly every chair was occupied. a teenager sat with an ankle wrapped in an ice pack while an older man leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his foot tapping impatiently against the floor. in one corner, a tired mother quietly bounced a toddler on her hip, murmuring soft reassurances every time the child whimpered.

“…then a nurse usually eyeballs them to make sure they’re not actively dying,” mckay continued without missing a beat. “if they’re stable, they move into one of the triage rooms for vitals and a brief chair exam. that’s where you’ll usually order labs, imaging, whatever gets the ball rolling.”

“and then they go back to…” the girl with sharp eyes and a half-up ponytail asked, trailing off as if hoping there was another answer.

“the waiting room,” mckay finished. “until a bed opens.”

“for how long?” the doe-eyed girl asked quietly. mckay reached for the emergency department doors, holding one open as the four students filed through. “eight hours if they’re lucky.” she shrugged. “sometimes twelve.”

a beat of silence settled over the group. the boy with tired, scruffy features finally spoke, his brows knitting together as he glanced around the department. “is it always this busy?”

mckay let out a short laugh, one that carried far more experience than amusement. “no.” she pushed the doors open the rest of the way. “it gets busier.”

that earned four different expressions: the girl with the ponytail frowned thoughtfully, the doe-eyed girl blinked, y/n simply took another look around the department, quietly committing the layout to memory, and the boy, however, looked equal parts fascinated and horrified.

mckay caught it immediately. “they don’t call it the pitt for nothing,” she said with the ghost of a smile before continuing down the hallway, the four of them trailing after her like ducklings trying their best not to get lost. 

mckay pushed open the door to triage one without breaking stride, the four students trailing closely behind her. the room was already occupied.

a nurse with a smile bright enough to rival the fluorescent lights looked up from the computer at the sound of the door opening. his navy scrubs were as neatly pressed as anyone’s could reasonably be this early in the morning, and despite the steady stream of patients outside, he looked almost suspiciously awake.

“hey, mateo,” mckay greeted with an easy smile. she gave him a quick nod as she stepped farther into the room. 

“morning, doc,” mateo returned, his fingers still dancing across the keyboard before he turned his attention to the newcomers with an amused glance. he straightened slightly in his chair, still looking far too alert for this hour.

y/n’s attention drifted past him to the patient sitting quietly on the exam bed. a woman with dark hair sat bundled beneath a cream-colored blanket, her right hand wrapped carefully in a washcloth while two children, who couldn’t have been older than ten, leaned sleepily against either side of her. one was already fighting to keep their eyes open while the other had long since given up, resting their head against their mother’s shoulder.

mckay stepped closer, “i’m dr. mckay,” she introduced, gesturing toward the group gathered behind her. “these are some student doctors. would you mind if they observed?” she kept her tone warm as she indicated the students.

the woman shook her head, “no, not at all.” she tightened the blanket around herself, though her expression stayed calm.

“what’s your name?” mckay asked, leaning in just enough to keep her voice gentle.

“sherry.” the woman shifted carefully on the exam bed, her injured hand still tucked beneath the washcloth.

“so, what’s going on, sherry?” mckay asked, already reaching for the cloth.

“i burned my hand pretty good.” sherry lifted her uninjured hand in a helpless little shrug.

mckay nodded before gently peeling back the washcloth. even from where she stood, y/n could make out several large blisters spanning the woman’s palm, the skin beneath an angry shade of red.

'partial-thickness burn.' the thought came almost automatically, the assessment settling into place before she could stop it.

“how’d you manage to do this?” mckay asked, carefully covering the hand again.

“i accidentally tipped over a sterno i was using.” sherry winced as she spoke, glancing down at the wrapped hand.

“ouch.” mckay’s brows lifted sympathetically. “what were you using the sterno for?” she kept her tone light, like she was trying to make the question easier to answer.

“cooking.” sherry let out a small, embarrassed breath.

“you’re cooking with a sterno?” mckay asked, her mouth twitching with disbelief.

“we were making s’mores.” sherry glanced toward the kids as if that explained everything.

“that’s fun.” mckay smiled before glancing toward the two children beside her. “my son loves s’mores.” she softened her voice even more as she looked at them.

only then did she seem to properly take in the kids. “how are you guys doing?” mckay asked, crouching slightly so she was closer to their eye level. neither answered. one child blinked slowly, while the other leaned heavier into their mother’s side.

“they’re tired,” sherry explained with an apologetic smile. “we’ve been here for hours, and i have to get them to school. any idea how much longer this will take?” she looked between mckay and the door with obvious worry.

“well,” mckay began as she turned toward the computer, “we need to numb up your palm, remove the dead skin, clean it, then put on a sterile dressing with antibiotic ointment.” her fingers moved confidently across the keyboard. “did you take anything for the pain?” she glanced back at sherry as she finished the question.

“not yet.” sherry shook her head, her expression tightening at the reminder.

“let’s start with a 1,000 milligrams of tylenol, 400 of ibuprofen, and a saline dressing.” mckay entered the orders without missing a beat.

“you got it,” mateo replied, already acknowledging the orders. he tapped the screen once more and moved on to the next task.

y/n remained quietly toward the back of the room, watching more than listening now. she took in the way mckay kept her voice steady, the way she never rushed the mother, and the way she made room for the children without making a show of it.

just then, another voice drifted in from the doorway, “mckay, we’re gonna round.” the man’s voice carried from the hall as he leaned into the room, dark hair falling slightly over striking blue eyes before he disappeared just as quickly as he’d appeared.

y/n turned just in time to catch sight of him, and mckay gave a small nod in acknowledgment before he was gone. mckay smiled to herself. “and the fun begins.” her tone was dry, but the corner of her mouth still lifted with amusement.

she turned back toward sherry, her expression softening. “we’ll get your hand patched up and have you out of here as soon as we can. i’ll be back.” her voice was calm and reassuring as she spoke to the patient.

the four students instinctively followed as she headed for the door, but y/n found herself pausing for just a second. she glanced back toward the two sleepy children curled up beside their mother. “…hey, mateo?” she called quietly, her voice careful not to disturb them.

the nurse looked up from the computer. “yeah?” he lifted his gaze from the chart and gave her his attention.

y/n rubbed the back of her neck, almost sheepish for asking. “would it be okay if the kids got a couple of blankets?” she asked, nodding subtly toward them. “they look like they’re freezing… and maybe some water for sherry, too, if she’s allowed to have it. she’s probably been waiting here a while.” her tone was gentle, practical, and a little apologetic.

mateo followed her gaze before looking back at her. “…yeah.” he answered without hesitation, his expression softening as he glanced toward the family.

a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “i can do that.” his voice carried a quiet note of approval as he reached for the warmer.

“thank you.” y/n’s smile was brief but sincere before hurrying out of the room, nearly jogging to catch up with the rest of the group.
mateo watched the door swing shut behind her. 

“…huh.” he let the sound out under his breath, more amused than anything else. it wasn’t every day a brand-new medical student noticed the people sitting next to the patient before anyone had pointed them out. with a quiet shake of his head, he grabbed two warm blankets from the warmer before pouring a cup of water.

———

by the time y/n caught up, the group had gathered around the central work area. doctors and nurses drifted in and out of conversations, someone answered a ringing phone across the station, monitors chimed somewhere deeper in the department, and despite the constant movement, everyone somehow seemed to know exactly where they needed to be.

at the center stood a tall man with a weathered face, a scruffy beard, and the unmistakable presence of someone who’d spent years running an emergency department. ‘definitely the attending’ y/n thought, her attention settling on him immediately.

“alright, folks.” his voice cut cleanly through the noise, and the conversations around them quieted almost instantly.

“as you can see, we’ve got some new faces this morning.” he motioned toward a blonde woman with neatly braided hair and rectangular glasses standing nearby. “starting with second-year resident dr. melissa king, fresh from the v.a.”

“everybody calls me mel.” she smiled warmly as she introduced herself. “happy to be here.” her tone was friendly and easy, even with all the eyes on her.

he nodded once before turning his attention toward the four newcomers, “and one new intern, three medical students.” his gaze moved over them with the practiced efficiency of someone used to sizing people up quickly.

a brief silence settled over the group. y/n glanced sideways. nobody else seemed eager to go first. so, she cleared her throat. “good morning, everyone.” she offered a polite smile as she stepped into the silence. “y/n l/n. ms4.” her voice was steady, even if she could feel the weight of the room on her shoulders.

beside her, the sharp-eyed woman with the half-up ponytail spoke next. “trinity santos. intern.” her introduction was crisp and confident, her posture just as sharp as her expression.

then came the petite girl. “victoria javadi. ms3.” her voice was quieter, but she still held herself with a kind of composed determination. from somewhere off to y/n’s left, the dark-haired doctor from earlier leaned just enough toward mckay to murmur, “she doesn’t look old enough to drive.” his comment was low and dry, meant for mckay alone, though not quite low enough to escape y/n’s ears.

y/n caught it anyway. she bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from smiling.

finally, the sad-looking boy she’d met during the tour. “dennis whitaker. ms4.” his tone a little nervous.

the attending’s eyes swept across the four of them. “welcome to the pitt.” his voice was measured, carrying the weight of experience beneath the words. the smile that followed was welcoming enough. the look in his eyes, however, suggested that whatever came next would have to be earned.

“my name’s dr. michael robinavitch,” the attending introduced, his voice carrying easily over the bustle of the department. “but everyone calls me robby.”

as if on cue, dana wandered over from the nurses’ station with a chart tucked beneath one arm. y/n caught her eye for a brief moment, and the charge nurse offered the same easy smile from earlier. y/n returned it instinctively before turning her attention back to robby. “for you new people,” he continued, gesturing toward dana, “this is the most important person you’re going to meet today. dana’s our charge nurse. she’s the ring leader of this circus.” a few knowing smiles flickered around the group. “do what she says, when she says it.”

before he could continue, another voice drifted over. “the er’s the gift that keeps on giving.” y/n turned toward the speaker. it was another physician with silver hair and an easy, weathered smile had wandered over, a paper coffee cup in one hand as though he’d been listening from the sidelines the entire time. 

robby chuckled quietly. “that it is.” before he turned back toward the group.

“as you can see, the house is always packed. most of our department is clogged up with boarders.” he motioned toward a hallway lined with occupied stretchers. “those are admitted patients waiting for rooms upstairs. sometimes for days. beds are a precious commodity, so be quick and efficient with your workups. half your cases’ll be discharged from chairs.” his gaze briefly shifted toward the waiting room. “while we’re treating the sickest patients back here, keep an eye on the lobby. make sure nobody decides to die while they’re waiting.”

y/n found herself following his line of sight almost automatically before looking back. “you ready to rock ’n roll?” robby asked, turning toward dana.

dana barely hesitated. “to quote wu-tang…” a grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. “‘bring the motherfuckin’ ruckus.’” 

a couple of people laughed under their breath. robby only shook his head with the faintest smile before turning to address two physicians waiting nearby.

as the conversation shifted, y/n unconsciously tugged at the cuff of the white sleeve peeking out beneath her black scrub top before glancing down at the watch strapped around her wrist.

7:14 a.m.

she’d been in the department for barely fifteen minutes. it already felt like the place had been moving for hours. ‘…this was going to be a long day’. she lowered her hand and quietly fell back into step as the group started moving again.

as the group followed robby farther into the department, y/n found herself absentmindedly cracking her knuckles one by one. it was an old habit, a nervous one. she drew in a slow breath through her nose, letting the familiar rhythm of the emergency department settle over her.

phones rang somewhere behind the nurses’ station, monitors chimed from nearby rooms, and stretchers rolled past often enough that everyone instinctively shifted out of the way without thinking. different hospital. different role. same controlled chaos.

she had barely reached the doorway of the next room when something caught the corner of her eye: a woman in a wheelchair, blonde hair sticking out in every direction, hospital gown half-tucked beneath a blanket, and—more importantly—rolling herself toward the ambulance bay exit with surprising determination.

y/n blinked. ‘…there goes one.’

she’d worked in enough emergency departments to recognize that look; patients usually wheeled themselves somewhere for one of two reasons: the bathroom or freedom. she glanced toward the rest of the group, already filing into the room ahead, then back at the woman. “…sorry,” she mumbled under her breath, mostly to herself, before pivoting on her heel and catching up just before the automatic doors could slide open.

“whoa there…” she said gently, resting her hands on the wheelchair handles before bringing it to a stop. the woman craned her head back without the slightest hint of guilt. “going somewhere?” y/n asked, keeping her tone light. “i was.” a laugh escaped y/n despite herself. “i figured.” she carefully turned the wheelchair around and began steering her back toward the nurses’ station.

by the time they returned, dana had already spotted them and let out the kind of long-suffering sigh that suggested this wasn’t the first time. “…myrna.”

myrna waved a dismissive hand as she settled back in. “yeah, yeah,” she said. “i know. i’ll behave.” she jerked a thumb toward y/n.
“this kid ruined my great escape.” y/n smiled sheepishly.

“sorry.” dana waved it off as she stepped over and took hold of the wheelchair with practiced ease.

“don’t be.” she tapped the handcuff secured to one side of the chair. “myrna’s harmless.” myrna lifted her wrist just enough for the cuff to rattle, then grinned. “…mostly.”

“this,” she announced proudly, “is what makes me harmless, babycakes.” y/n couldn’t help laughing.

“i’ll remember that.” as dana started wheeling myrna back toward her room, y/n’s eyes wandered across the bedside table and landed on an untouched egg sandwich sitting neatly on the meal tray.

“…hang on.” both women looked at her. “i think someone’s breakfast is being neglected.” myrna’s eyes immediately lit up. “well, don’t just stand there.” dana laughed under her breath. “she’s allowed to eat.” y/n nodded. “perfect.” she picked up the sandwich and placed it on the overbed table within easy reach before making sure the call bell wasn’t trapped beneath the blanket.

“there you go.” myrna looked between the sandwich and y/n before giving a satisfied nod. “…you’re alright, kid.” a faint warmth crept into y/n’s cheeks. “thank you.” 

only then did she glance back down the hallway and realize the rest of the group had completely disappeared. “…oh.” she looked back at dana with an apologetic smile. “i should probably catch up.”

dana gave a small, amused smile. “you probably should,” she agreed, though the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth made it clear she wasn’t upset.

y/n adjusted the her sleeves before briskly heading down the hallway, weaving around a passing stretcher as she searched for the familiar cluster of black scrubs. orientation had lasted all of twenty minutes. she was already behind.

y/n slipped quietly back into the group, more than a little relieved that nobody seemed to have noticed she’d briefly disappeared. or, if they had, they were kind enough not to mention it.

the tour continued down the hall before coming to a stop beside a patient who looked far too cheerful for someone sitting in an emergency department.
a middle-aged man grinned the moment he spotted robby. “hey, doc robby,” he greeted with an enthusiastic wave, his grin stretching wider as he leaned forward in the bed.

“how ya’ doin’?” he added, still waving like he was greeting someone at a barbecue instead of in the ed. “louie cloverfield,” langdon began without looking up from the chart in his hand, his eyes still on the page. “blood alcohol of 420 at eleven p.m.,” he added, flipping the chart slightly as if the number might change if he stared at it long enough.

mckay blinked, glancing from the chart to louie’s steady, cheerful face. “how’s he still breathing?” she asked, her brows lifting as the monitor beeped softly behind them. robby smiled faintly, nodding toward louie.

“for you and me, that’s lethal,” he said, dry enough that dana’s mouth twitched. “for him, it’s happy hour,” he finished, looking back at the chart with the kind of expression that said he’d seen this exact patient a hundred times before. “sobered up after 2 rounds of ativan,” langdon added, tapping the medication list with his pen.

robby stepped closer, folding his hands loosely in front of him. “hold your hands out, louie,” he said, lifting his own hands as if demonstrating. louie obediently stretched out both hands, and a fine tremor ran through his fingers. “another 2 of ativan,” robby said, watching the tremor settle and then flare again.

“i’m on it,” langdon replied, already making a note on the chart. “and a script for librium,” he added, turning the page with one hand while the other kept hold of his pen. “good to see you, louie,” robby said, giving him a quick nod.

“always a pleasure, doc,” louie answered, still smiling to himself as if this were a regular stop on his social calendar.

mel tilted her head as louie kept grinning at the ceiling, “does he get referrals for alcohol treatment?” she asked, folding her arms as she looked at dana. dana let out a quiet breath through her nose, glancing back down the hall, “already have,” she said, shrugging one shoulder as if the answer was obvious. “about a hundred of ’em,” she added, dry as anything.

y/n watched the exchange unfold in silence. somewhere in the back of her mind, she found herself automatically piecing together the discharge teaching she’d have given years ago as a nurse—medication reminders, withdrawal precautions, community resources, when to come back to the hospital. the thoughts came as naturally as breathing. then she caught herself. 

‘doctor first’. she gently folded her arms instead, forcing herself to focus on how robby approached the case rather than how she’d once discharged one. they hadn’t made it more than a few steps before langdon stopped again outside another room.

“this one’s charlie,” he said, gesturing toward a young man whose face was bruised in all the places one would expect after losing a fight. “bar fight with complete avulsion of tooth number eight,” he added, glancing toward robby for the reaction he knew was coming.
robby glanced around the group, one hand already half-raised as if he were about to turn the moment into a teaching point.

“who can tell me what tooth number—” he started, but santos answered without hesitation.

“right upper central incisor,” santos said, straightening a little as if she’d just been called on in class. robby nodded once, satisfied. “correct,” he said, and kept moving.

“smile for us, charlie,” langdon said, leaning in just enough to make the request sound almost cheerful. charlie obliged, revealing the unmistakable gap where the tooth had once been.

“ready to discharge on pen vk with a dentistry referral,” langdon said, already half-turning toward the chart. robby didn’t answer right away. instead, he looked directly at charlie. “where’s your tooth?” he asked, his tone flat enough to make the question land.
charlie shrugged, wincing a little at the movement.

“fuck if i know,” he said, lifting one shoulder and immediately regretting it. robby turned toward langdon, his expression sharpening. “did he bring the tooth in?” he asked, already sounding suspicious. “not according to the chart,” langdon said, flipping through another page. “maybe it’s still on the barroom floor,” he added, dry as dust.

robby shook his head, already moving on. “cancel the discharge,” he said, and langdon looked up immediately. “and order a chest x-ray,” he added, catching up without missing a beat.

“gotta rule out aspiration,” robby finished before continuing down the hallway, the rest of the group quickly falling in behind him.
y/n found herself glancing back toward charlie for only a second. of course. if the tooth wasn’t on the floor… there was always the chance it had ended up somewhere far less convenient.

before they could make it to the next room, the ambulance bay doors flew open, "incoming trauma!" the call cut through the department almost instantly. conversations around the nurses' station dissolved as staff stepped aside to clear a path while two paramedics pushed a stretcher straight toward the trauma rooms.

y/n moved without thinking, falling in beside the rest of the team as robby met the gurney halfway. the patient, a man in his forties, lay motionless against a rigid backboard with a cervical collar holding his neck in place. a bulky blood-soaked dressing was wrapped around his head, and a paramedic squeezed a bag-valve mask attached to an lma with steady, practiced compressions, each breath lifting the man's chest just enough before it fell again.

"forty-two-year-old male, sam wallace," one of the paramedics reported without breaking stride. "blunt head trauma with agonal respirations. dropped onto the t-tracks. couldn't tube him—lma's in place."

"suicide attempt?" robby asked, already walking alongside the stretcher. the paramedic shook his head, "rescue. good samaritan. took a spill helping an elderly woman who fell off the platform." he nodded toward the ambulance entrance behind them. "she's right behind us."

almost on cue, another stretcher came barreling through the doors. an elderly asian woman cried out in pain, her words lost beneath a language nobody around them seemed to understand. her right lower leg disappeared beneath a bulky trauma dressing stained through in several places.

"elderly female," the second paramedic called out. "fall from the t-platform. vitals are stable. no apparent head injury. degloving injury to the right lower leg with an open fracture-dislocation of the ankle."

robby lifted one corner of the abdominal pad just enough to inspect the injury. y/n caught only a brief glimpse before he covered it again. the skin had been stripped away almost entirely and the ankle sat at an angle no ankle should ever sit. even after years in emergency medicine, it was the kind of injury that made people instinctively look twice.

"trauma two," robby said without hesitation, already stepping toward the room. "let's go."

the department seemed to shift gears around them. someone was pulling on sterile gloves while another nurse wheeled over the airway cart. a monitor was already being powered on, and somewhere behind y/n, she heard dana directing staff toward the incoming rooms before anyone had to ask.

orientation, it seemed, was over.

like clockwork, y/n slipped into the controlled chaos of trauma two. the moment the patient was transferred onto the hospital stretcher, muscle memory took over before her brain could catch up. “one, two, three,” one of the trauma nurses called, bracing for the transfer as the team moved in unison.

as the team lifted the patient, she instinctively reached to steady his shoulder and help keep him aligned on the backboard. once he was settled, her hands were already adjusting the pulse oximeter that had slipped sideways during the transfer. there, good.

she stepped back just as one of the trauma nurses reached for the same lead.“…sorry,” she murmured, pulling her hands away with an apologetic smile. “no worries,” the nurse said easily, taking over the adjustment without missing a beat.

y/n gave a small nod and shifted toward the foot of the bed instead, careful not to crowd the airway team. the paramedic continued his report over the organized commotion. “apparently he jumped down to save the lady. when he climbed back up, he slipped and landed on the back of his head,” he said, finishing with a grim look toward the patient.

dr. mohan, already positioned at the head of the bed, listened to both lungs before nodding once, “good breath sounds bilaterally, but we need to protect his airway. set up the c-mac. eight-oh et tube,” she ordered, her voice clipped and steady.

“can i take the intubation?” santos asked immediately, leaning forward with obvious eagerness.

“that’s more of an r-2 procedure,” mel replied as she accepted the laryngoscope from respiratory.

“mel,” mohan continued, “i need you on the e-fast.”

“on it,” mel answered, moving toward the ultrasound machine as it was wheeled into place.

y/n stayed just outside the airway team’s workspace, watching for an opening before stepping in with her penlight, “pupils are four millimeters,” she reported after a quick assessment, angling the light carefully. “equal and reactive,” she added, lowering the penlight once she was satisfied.

“that’s encouraging,” robby replied, his eyes still on the patient as he assessed the rest of the trauma. “what do you want for meds?” princess asked, already preparing syringes with practiced speed.

“120 ketamine. 80 of roc,” robby said, not looking away from the bed. as mel swept the ultrasound probe across the patient’s abdomen, y/n’s eyes drifted briefly to the head dressing. fresh blood had already begun seeping through the gauze. without thinking, she reached for a stack of folded 4x4s sitting nearby.

then she caught herself. princess was already beside the bed with fresh dressings in hand. y/n froze for half a beat, then quietly set the gauze back onto the tray. “…sorry,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

she folded her gloved hands together instead, keeping her attention on the assessment.

“no blood in morrison’s pouch,” mel announced, glancing up from the screen. “a-fib on the monitor,” princess called out, her eyes flicking to the rhythm strip. robby frowned toward the steadily bleeding scalp wound. “and he’s bleeding much more than expected,” he said, concern sharpening his voice.

there was a brief beat before mohan’s expression shifted. “he’s probably anticoagulated for the a-fib. check his medical record and see if he’s on a doac. stand by with four-factor pcc if there’s a brain bleed,” she said, already thinking several steps ahead.

robby glanced toward mel. “what’s in the pcc?” he asked, testing the room as much as the student.

“clotting factors two, seven, nine, and ten,” mel answered without hesitation. “they reverse anticoagulation if he’s bleeding into his brain,” she added, keeping her eyes on robby.

robby nodded, satisfied. “be right back,” he said, already moving for the charting station.

the doors swung shut behind him. mel let out the tiniest fist pump at her side. “…yes,” she breathed, pleased with herself.

princess’s gaze flicked to y/n for the briefest second, then away again. it was nothing anyone else would have noticed. but the look lingered just long enough for princess to file it away with quiet certainty—this girl was definitely a nurse back then.

y/n looked down at the pair of gauze pads she’d unconsciously picked up again somewhere in the last thirty seconds. she set them back down before anyone could hand them to her. “…huh,” she said softly, still adjusting to how easily the habit had slipped out.

the video laryngoscope came into view as santos leaned over the patient, her shoulders tensing with concentration while respiratory stood ready beside her. “huy…” princess muttered under her breath as she reached for another syringe, her eyes flicking toward the airway setup.

perlah had just stepped into the room to help finish setting up the pressure bag and blood tubing, and she barely looked up as she worked. “ano nanaman? / what is it this time?” she asked, hanging another bag on the iv pole before glancing sideways at princess.

princess subtly pointed with her lips toward y/n, her expression turning sly, “kilala mo ’yan? / do you know her?” perlah followed her gaze and studied y/n for a moment. y/n stood just outside the airway team’s space, her eyes fixed on the monitor one second before they drifted toward the patient’s exposed arm. without thinking, she reached over to straighten the blood pressure cuff that had twisted during the transfer, then immediately stepped back once the trauma nurse moved in beside her.

“…bakit? / why?” perlah asked quietly, her brows knitting together. “diba siya ’yung bagong student doc? / isn't she the new student doc?” princess let out the faintest chuckle, clearly pleased with herself, “feel ko nurse siya dati bago naging doktor. / i have a feeling she was a nurse before becoming a doctor”

“ha? weh? / wait, really?” perlah frowned, still watching y/n carefully. princess didn’t answer right away, instead accepting another flush from perlah before nodding almost imperceptibly toward y/n. “tingnan mo lang / just wait and see.” princess hummed amusingly.

perlah did, her attention sharpening as she watched y/n unconsciously drift toward the side of the bed where bedside nurses naturally gravitated. she caught herself reaching for supplies before remembering someone else already had them. even the way she waited—eyes constantly scanning the monitor, the iv pumps, the dressing, the patient before the physicians—felt familiar.

not like a medical student. like someone who’d spent years working beside one, “…ay / ah,” perlah breathed, her expression shifting with recognition. princess only smiled to herself, her satisfaction obvious. “told you.”

“i’m in,” santos announced, exhaling as the endotracheal tube slid into place.

“well done,” robby said, stepping back into the room after checking on the elderly woman next door, his tone clipped but approving.

samira advanced the tube over the bougie while respiratory connected the bag-valve device and confirmed chest rise with each ventilation. garcia entered a beat later, already pulling on gloves as he moved toward the bed, “bring me up to speed.”

“intubated for agonal respirations,” samira answered, keeping her focus on the patient. “gcs five. probably anticoagulated.” 

“with what?” garcia asked, his attention snapping to the team. mel glanced at the computer, her fingers still moving over the keyboard, “first time here. there’s nothing in the medical record.”

“call for ffp?” garcia asked, already thinking ahead.

“we’ve got four-factor pcc.”princess shook her head, her voice steady.

“80 of mannitol,” garcia replied, his gaze shifting toward the patient’s head. “let’s reduce the brain swelling, then straight to ct.”

as the room shifted into motion once more, perlah caught y/n quietly reaching to make sure the foley drainage tubing wasn’t caught beneath one of the stretcher rails before immediately pulling her hand back as the primary nurse adjusted it instead. princess noticed the tiny exchange too, her mouth twitching with amusement. neither of them said another word. they didn’t need to. “bingo,” princess smirked toward perlah, her expression smug with certainty.

with the trauma patient headed for ct and the room settling into a temporary lull, y/n peeled off her gloves and dropped them into the nearest bin before rubbing the backs of her hands together out of habit. she scanned the department until she spotted mckay walking toward another curtained bay, chart balanced against one hip.

y/n caught up beside her. “good morning, dr. mckay.” she offered a polite smile as she fell into step beside her. “would it be alright if i observed you for a bit?” she asked, keeping her tone careful and professional.

mckay glanced over with an easy nod. “yeah, of course.” mckay answered without slowing her pace. she hooked a thumb toward the next room as she started walking again. “come on. we’ve got a peds case.”

the curtain slid open to reveal a young mother sitting anxiously on the stretcher with a little boy perched on her lap. he couldn’t have been older than three. y/n’s brows lifted ever so slightly as she took in the scene.

a dinner fork protruded through both nostrils, the tines piercing the bridge of his nose. …well, that was certainly one way to start the morning.

the little boy looked far more offended than frightened, his tiny face scrunched in a way that suggested he was mostly annoyed by the inconvenience. mckay didn’t so much as blink as she stepped in and donned her gloves.

“good morning,” she greeted, her voice calm and practiced. she kept her posture open as she addressed the mother and child. “i’m dr. mckay, and this is student doctor l/n.” she gestured lightly toward y/n as she introduced her.

she crouched until she was nearly eye level with the child, keeping her expression gentle. “so… what happened?” she asked, directing the question toward the mother while still making herself approachable to the little boy.

the boy buried his face against his mother’s shoulder while she answered instead. “he was running through the kitchen holding a fork. i told him to slow down…” the mother sighed, already sounding exhausted. “…he tripped.”

mckay nodded once, absorbing the information without judgment. “any loss of consciousness?” she asked, her tone even.

the mother shook her head. “no.” she answered immediately, still holding her son close.

“any vomiting afterward?” mckay continued, watching the child’s face as she spoke.

“no.” the mother replied, her voice tight with worry.

“has he complained that he can’t see?” she asked next, checking for any signs of more serious injury.

“he just keeps saying it hurts.” the mother glanced down at her son, who whimpered softly against her shoulder.

mckay gave an understanding hum before glancing briefly toward y/n, a subtle invitation to join in. y/n stepped forward just enough to enter the conversation without crowding the room. “has he had anything to eat or drink since it happened?” she asked gently, keeping her voice soft for the child’s sake.

the mother thought for a second before answering. “just a few sips of water.” she said, shifting the boy higher on her lap.

“any medical conditions? allergies to medications?” y/n asked, continuing the history in the same calm tone.

“no.” the mother shook her head.

"and are his vaccines up to date?” she added, making sure nothing important was missed.

“they are.” the mother nodded, relieved to have something easy to answer.

y/n nodded, satisfied, before stepping back to let mckay continue. “we’re going to numb the area first with some let gel,” mckay explained as she gathered supplies. she kept her tone reassuring as she reached for the medication. “that’ll make removing the fork much more comfortable for him.”

the little boy eyed the syringe suspiciously, his expression instantly wary. “…no pokes?” he asked, clutching his mother a little tighter. mckay smiled, keeping her voice light. “no pokes.” she promised, holding the child’s gaze.

“it’s medicine that goes on your skin,” y/n added with a reassuring smile, crouching slightly so she was closer to his eye level. she tilted her head as if offering the boy a secret. “think of it like a really weird sticker.” the little boy considered that for a moment before giving a tiny, reluctant nod.

a few minutes later, after the let had been carefully applied and the mother reassured about the next steps, mckay stepped over to the workstation just outside the room and began documenting the encounter. “you asked good questions,” she said as she typed, her eyes on the screen. she finished the note with a small approving nod. “you covered what i would’ve wanted to know without interrupting the flow.”

y/n couldn’t help smiling at the praise, “thank you,” she said, her voice warm with quiet appreciation. mckay finished entering the orders before locking the computer. “we’ll give the anesthetic a few minutes to work, then we’ll remove the fork and make sure there’s no underlying fracture or septal injury,” she said, slipping the workstation aside and looking back toward the room. 

she motioned for y/n to follow as they headed back into the organized chaos of the pitt. “come on. we’ve still got plenty of department left to see.” they both headed back toward triage one, where sherry—the mother with the burn—had been waiting, or so y/n remembered. but the moment mckay pushed the door open, her expression shifted.

the room was empty, the chair by the wall still slightly askew, the paper on the exam table untouched.

"mateo," she called, glancing around before looking over at him. "where's the mom with the burn?"

mateo leaned into the room, checking for himself before giving a small shrug. "i don't know. she was just in here."

mckay let out a quiet sigh, already turning as something caught the corner of her eye farther down the hall. she looked back at y/n, who was still staring at the empty chair where sherry had been sitting moments ago.

"hey, l/n." mckay gave her shoulder a light pat as she started backing toward the hallway. "could you grab another case for now? i'll find you in a bit."

"right." y/n nodded, biting the inside of her cheek before stepping back into the organized chaos of the emergency department.

the tracking board glowed from the central workstation, rows of names, room numbers, chief complaints, and colored status markers shifting as patients were admitted, discharged, and reassigned. a paramedic wheeled a stretcher past behind her, the wheels rattling softly over the floor, while someone at the nurses' station called out for an ekg over the steady hum of voices and monitors.

she scanned the board, looking for a patient who hadn't yet been claimed by another student or resident—something appropriate for an ms4 to pick up. "case... case... case..." y/n muttered under her breath as her eyes swept across the tracking board. her fingers tapped a quiet rhythm against the edge of the nurses' station while she skimmed through the list.

room 2 — ankle injury after a basketball game.
room 5 — abdominal pain, pending labs.
room 7 — elderly male with dizziness.
room 9 — finger laceration from a table saw.
room 4 — twenty-six-year-old female, persistent headache with intermittent blurred vision.

she weighed her options for a moment. the ankle injury would be straightforward. the finger laceration would probably need sutures, but someone was already assigned to it. abdominal pain could turn into anything from constipation to an or consult.

her gaze drifted back to room 4. "hm." she reached for one of the department ipads docked beside the station. "okay... room 4. persistent headache. i guess you and i are getting acquainted."

tucking the ipad under one arm, she pulled up the patient's chart as she made her way down the hallway, already sorting through the differential in her head before she'd even reached the door. y/n nodded as she set the ipad on the counter beneath the computer.

y/n tucked the ipad beneath her arm and made her way through the department, weaving around a transport stretcher as an orderly hurried past toward radiology. phones rang from the nurses' station behind her, monitors chimed from somewhere deeper in the ed, and the familiar murmur of conversations blended with the occasional overhead page.

she passed the row of treatment bays, her eyes briefly catching bay 3.

the woman with the degloving injury was still there. a cluster of medical students and interns stood around the bedside while one of the residents walked them through the injury, the patient's heavily bandaged leg resting carefully on a pillow. even from the hallway, y/n could hear snippets of discussion about irrigation and surgery.

she slowed for only a second before continuing on, onto room 4. balancing the ipad against her hip, she knocked twice against the partially closed door before easing it open, "hello, good morning." she stepped inside with a polite smile. "my name is student doctor y/n l/n."

the woman sitting on the stretcher looked up, squinting against the fluorescent lights. one hand was pressed to her temple, her expression pinched with discomfort.

y/n's eyes swept around the room out of habit. she reached over to dim the overhead lights before walking to the bedside, raising both side rails and giving the bed a small nudge to make sure the wheels were locked. satisfied, she pulled the stool closer and sat down at eye level with the patient.

"mrs. cho, right?" she asked, glancing briefly at the chart before meeting the woman's eyes again. "can you tell me what's been going on today?"

mrs. cho let out a slow breath before nodding. "i've had this headache for... maybe three days now." she shifted carefully against the pillow, wincing as she did. "i thought it'd go away on its own, but it just keeps getting worse."

y/n nodded once, listening without interrupting as her fingers rested lightly against the edge of the ipad, "where does it hurt the most?" she asked, her voice calm.

mrs. cho lifted a hand to the right side of her forehead. "mostly here. sometimes it spreads behind my eye."

"on a scale of zero to ten," y/n continued as she opened the chart to the history section, "with zero being no pain and ten being the worst pain you've ever felt, where would you put it?"

mrs. cho gave a humorless laugh before immediately regretting it, squeezing her eyes shut. "probably... an eight."

y/n gave a small, understanding nod as she entered the number into the chart, "have you noticed anything else besides the headache?" she asked. "nausea, vomiting, sensitivity to light or sound, any vision changes?"

mrs. cho nodded almost immediately. "the lights have been bothering me since yesterday." she glanced toward the ceiling with another wince. "and every now and then my vision gets blurry for a few seconds."

y/n hummed thoughtfully, making another note before looking back up, "any fever, neck stiffness, recent falls, or injuries to your head?" she asked, keeping her tone conversational as she continued the history.

mrs. cho shook her head. "none of those."

y/n nodded as she set the ipad on the counter beneath the computer, "i'm just going to take a quick look at your eyes, if that's alright," she said, waiting until mrs. cho gave a small nod before slipping a penlight from her coat pocket. she swept the beam across the patient's face before checking each pupil in turn. the left constricted briskly. the right reacted sluggishly, the eye noticeably more injected than the other.

"hm." y/n frowned almost imperceptibly as she clicked the penlight off. "does it hurt when you look toward the light?"

mrs. cho winced before the light even reached her eye. "yes." she squeezed her eyelids shut for a moment. "it feels like... pressure. right behind my eye."

y/n nodded thoughtfully before reaching for the visual acuity card mounted inside the room, "can you cover your left eye for me?" she asked, offering the occluder.

mrs. cho did as instructed, blinking several times as she tried to focus on the letters, "they're... blurrier than they should be." 

y/n made another note before performing a brief extraocular movement exam and comparing both eyes again. the right pupil remained slightly dilated compared to the left, and the conjunctiva was noticeably red. she turned back to the workstation inside the room, typing her findings into the chart while mentally organizing everything she'd gathered so far: three-day unilateral headache, right eye pain, photophobia, intermittent blurred vision, conjunctival injection, sluggish, and mid-dilated pupil. 

the soft knock against the doorframe pulled her from the screen, "you holding up okay in here, l/n?" robby asked as he stepped into the room, one shoulder resting against the doorway while his arms folded loosely across his chest. his gaze flicked from y/n to the patient before settling expectantly on the chart.

"yes." y/n stepped aside from the computer to give him a better view. "this is mrs. cho. she's been having a progressively worsening right-sided headache for about three days with associated eye pain, photophobia, intermittent blurred vision, and some nausea. her vitals are stable, and on exam her right eye is injected with a sluggish, slightly mid-dilated pupil."

she glanced briefly back at the screen, almost instinctively continuing, "i dimmed the lights for comfort, kept her bed secured, and—" the words caught in her throat. she cleared it quietly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she realized she'd slipped. "sorry." she shifted her weight. "assessment-wise, i'm concerned about acute angle-closure glaucoma."

robby's eyebrows lifted slightly, though he didn't interrupt. "what makes you think glaucoma over a migraine?" he asked, pushing himself off the doorframe as he stepped farther into the room.

"the eye findings." y/n met his gaze without hesitation. "the headache seems secondary to the eye pain rather than the other way around. she's got unilateral conjunctival injection, a sluggish mid-dilated pupil, blurred vision, photophobia, and she describes a pressure-like pain behind the eye. altogether, it fits better than a primary headache disorder."

robby gave a slow nod, clearly following her reasoning. "what do you want to do next?" he asked, slipping one hand into his pocket as he waited.

"i'd like to check her intraocular pressure with the tonometer, get ophthalmology involved early if the pressure's elevated, and start pressure-lowering therapy if we're confirming angle-closure." y/n glanced briefly toward mrs. cho before looking back at him. "i'd also treat her pain and nausea while we're working her up."

another nod. "sounds reasonable." robby gestured toward the hallway with an approving tilt of his head. "grab the tonometer, confirm what you've got, and let me know the pressure before you put in the orders. we'll go from there."

"got it." y/n nodded once, already reaching for the door as she mentally reviewed the steps ahead.

y/n stepped back into the hallway, her attention already back on mrs. cho's chart as she skimmed through the notes she'd entered—acute unilateral headache, photophobia, blurred vision, and right eye pain...

she was so focused on mentally running through the differential that she barely registered the footsteps coming the other way. thunk! and she just walked straight into someone. the ipad shifted against her arm as she instinctively reached out to steady herself, while the person in front of her jerked his hand back with a sharp hiss.

"ah!—ow... ow, ow." he cradled one hand against his chest, his face twisting as he sucked in a breath through his teeth. y/n blinked before finally looking up. sad eyes, slightly messy hair, and nervous posture—it was whitaker. "oh my gosh, whitaker." her eyes immediately dropped to the hand he was protecting. "i'm so sorry..!"

his pinky was already beginning to swell around the middle joint, the skin flushed an angry shade of red with hints of purple creeping beneath it. the nail had started to darken near the base, and he held the finger stiffly away from the rest of his hand, wincing whenever it moved even slightly.

whitaker shook his head so quickly it was almost comical. "i'm fine," he said, though another grimace betrayed him as his finger throbbed. "i—i’m sorry too."

"no, it's fine." y/n gave him a sympathetic look before gesturing gently toward his hand. "you definitely need to ice that."

whitaker glanced down at his pinky as if he'd somehow forgotten it was attached to him. "it got caught under the lucas machine while we were transferring a patient," he admitted sheepishly, flexing the other fingers but leaving the injured one perfectly still. "didn't realize it'd hurt this much."

"i'm not surprised." y/n's brows knitted together as she gave the finger one more quick look. "i'd get some ice on it now before it swells any more."

she pointed down the hallway toward the staff area. "as far as i know, the break room's that way." she offered him a small, reassuring smile. "there should be ice in there."

whitaker followed the direction of her hand before looking back at her. "okay." he nodded once, still cradling his hand. "thanks."

"of course." y/n adjusted the ipad against her side before glancing once more at his finger. "i have to check on my patient first, but once i'm done, come find me. i'll take a look at it."

whitaker's eyes widened slightly, and he shook his head almost immediately, "oh, no." he offered an apologetic smile despite the obvious pain in his hand. "it's okay. you're probably busy."

"i am," y/n admitted with a small nod, "but that'll only take a few minutes." she gestured lightly toward his injured hand. "we should deal with it sooner rather than later so you can get back on your feet.." she paused, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she corrected herself. "...or hands, rather."

whitaker let out a small, surprised laugh before another throb from his pinky made him wince.

"okay." he nodded, looking a little less hesitant this time. "i'll come find you."

"good." y/n returned the smile with a satisfied nod. "now go get some ice before that finger decides to double in size."

whitaker glanced down at his hand as if considering the possibility.

"right." he smiled sheepishly. "i'll do that."

y/n gave him one last nod before heading toward the supply room, already shifting her focus back to mrs. cho and the tonometer she needed. behind her, she heard whitaker mutter a quiet, "ow," as he carefully made his way toward the break room.

“tonometer… tonometer…” y/n murmured under her breath, scanning the equipment cabinet with a quick, practiced sweep. a second later, her eyes brightened. “there you are.” she lifted the handheld tonometer from its charging dock, grabbed a disposable probe cover, and headed back toward room 4.

she knocked lightly against the open door before stepping inside, “i’m back, mrs. cho.” y/n smiled as she sanitized her hands at the sink. “sorry to keep you waiting.”

mrs. cho looked up from the stretcher and managed a tired smile of her own.

“i just want to do one more quick test, if that’s alright with you,” y/n said as she wheeled the stool closer, keeping her tone light. she held up the device so mrs. cho could see it. “this is called a tonometer,” she explained, angling it toward the light. “it measures the pressure inside your eye, and it’ll help us figure out what’s causing all of this.”

mrs. cho glanced at the device, uncertain. “is it going to hurt?”

“it shouldn’t.” y/n shook her head gently. “i’ll put some numbing drops in your eyes first, so all you should feel is a tiny tap. if anything feels uncomfortable, just let me know, okay?”

“okay.” mrs. cho nodded, her shoulders relaxing a little.

“perfect,” y/n said, uncapping the eyedrops. “you might feel these sting for just a second,” she warned, holding the bottle steady.

she instilled a drop into each eye before handing mrs. cho a tissue. “go ahead and blink a few times for me,” y/n instructed, waiting patiently while the medication took effect before moving the stool closer again. “how are they feeling now?”

“better,” mrs. cho answered, blinking once more. “good,” y/n said with a soft smile. “i’m going to have you look right at my forehead,” she instructed, leaning in slightly. “nice and still if you can. don’t worry if you blink—we can always try again.”

mrs. cho fixed her gaze where y/n indicated. “that’s perfect,” y/n said quietly. the tonometer gave a series of gentle taps against the left cornea. she glanced at the display—16 mmhg—it was normal. “alright,” y/n said, lowering the device briefly. “one more eye, then i’ll be out of your hair.”

mrs. cho gave a faint chuckle. y/n repeated the measurement on the right. the device chirped—48 mmhg. her expression stayed even before she repeated the reading—47 mmhg.

setting the tonometer aside, she offered mrs. cho another reassuring smile. “all done,” y/n said as she reached over to switch off the device. “you did wonderfully. thank you.”

mrs. cho searched her face, the smile fading. “is… everything okay?”

y/n pulled the stool back over so they were sitting at eye level again instead of talking across the room. “the pressure in your right eye is much higher than we’d normally expect,” she said gently, giving mrs. cho time to absorb each sentence. “putting that together with your symptoms, i’m concerned you have something called acute angle-closure glaucoma.”

mrs. cho’s fingers tightened around the blanket. “…is it serious?”

“it can become serious if we don’t treat it,” y/n admitted honestly. she offered a small, reassuring smile. “but you’ve come in, we’ve found what’s causing it, and we’re going to start bringing that pressure down right away. i’ll also have our eye specialists come see you as soon as possible.”

mrs. cho let out a breath she seemed to have been holding. “okay.”

“i know this is a lot to hear,” y/n said, resting a hand lightly against the bed rail. “we’ll walk you through everything as we go, alright?”

mrs. cho nodded. “alright.”

y/n returned the smile before turning to the workstation to enter the tonometry readings and place the initial orders under robby’s supervision. before stepping out, y/n turned back toward the stretcher one last time, her fingers lingering on the edge of the rail as if she needed one more second to steady herself.

“oh, and one more thing.” her voice came out a little softer than she intended, and she quickly cleared her throat before picking up the call bell from beside the pillow and placing it gently within mrs. cho’s reach. “if you need anything at all, just press this button. one of our nurses will come by and help you, alright?” she gave the explanation carefully, though there was a faint nervousness in the way her hand hovered for a beat too long before she pulled it back.

mrs. cho smiled, her shoulders seeming a little less tense than when y/n had first walked in, and the warmth of that expression made y/n’s own nerves ease just a fraction.

“alright. thank you, doctor.” mrs. cho’s voice was soft and grateful, and she settled back against the pillow with a small nod.

y/n smiled back before giving the bed rail one last absentminded check, her fingertips brushing it once as if she needed the reassurance more than the patient did.

“you’re welcome. we’ll be back to check on you soon.” her tone was gentle, though there was still a faint edge of self-consciousness in it as she stepped away.

she turned toward the door and nearly jumped out of her skin. “oh my gosh…” she let out a breath, pressing a hand briefly to her chest as her eyes widened in startled embarrassment. “dana, you scared me.” her voice cracked just a little on dana’s name, and she gave a sheepish laugh that did little to hide how rattled she was.

dana didn’t answer right away. she remained leaned against the doorframe with her arms folded, watching y/n with an expression that was equal parts amused and triumphant, as if she had been waiting for this exact moment.

“y’know, kid…” dana finally said, pushing herself upright with an easy confidence that only made y/n feel more exposed. the corner of her mouth curled into a knowing smile. “i’ve got a feeling i’m about to win a bet.” her tone was teasing, but there was a sharp little glint in her eyes that made y/n’s stomach tighten.

you glanced over your shoulder, your hands still fussing with the call bell you’d just shown the patient how to use. “um…” a small laugh escaped you as your brows knitted together. “bet about what, exactly?”

“mhm.” dana’s answer was short and smug, and she tipped her chin toward mrs. cho’s bed as if the evidence were already obvious.

dana nodded toward mrs. cho’s bed, “you explained every step before you touched her. you dimmed the lights before she even asked. you put the call bell back where she could reach it without thinking.” she ticked each point off on her fingers with the ease of someone who had been paying close attention. “then you checked the bed rails on your way out.” her voice stayed light, but each observation landed with unsettling accuracy.

she paused just long enough for y/n’s expression to shift, and y/n felt her cheeks warm as the realization crept in. “you used to be a nurse, weren’t you?” dana said it plainly, like she was stating something she had known all along, and y/n’s heart gave a small, nervous jump.

for a moment, y/n simply stared at her, caught somewhere between surprise and the urge to deny it even though she knew there was no point. “…was i that obvious?” her laugh was quiet and a little embarrassed, and she glanced away for half a second before looking back.

dana laughed softly, clearly pleased with herself. “to everyone?” she shrugged, still wearing that knowing grin. “probably not.” her tone suggested she had enjoyed being one of the few people who noticed. she pointed a thumb toward herself, “to the nurses? clear as day.” dana’s smile widened, and y/n could practically feel the station gossip forming around her.

mrs. cho glanced between them before smiling warmly, clearly entertained by the exchange. “she was a nurse?” she asked, her tone curious and kind. her eyes settled back on y/n. “no wonder.” the words were simple, but they carried an easy approval that made y/n’s nerves flutter all over again.

y/n blinked, suddenly aware of how much attention she had drawn. “you have very gentle hands,” mrs. cho continued, her expression softening with sincerity. “nothing felt rushed.” the compliment landed squarely, and y/n’s shoulders loosened just a little.

a faint flush crept into y/n’s cheeks, and she ducked her head with a sheepish smile before looking back at dana. “thank you.” her voice was quiet, and she gave a tiny, self-conscious nod before continuing. “i’m still working on thinking like a doctor.” the admission came with a nervous little smile, as though she was half apologizing for not being fully settled into the role yet.

she rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly aware of her own hands. “you know what they say…” a quiet laugh escaped her, but it sounded more bashful than amused. “old habits die hard.” she tried to make it sound casual, though the way she shifted her weight betrayed how flustered she felt.

then another thought struck her, and her expression tightened with a fresh wave of worry. “…does robby know?” she asked it carefully, her voice dropping a little as if she were afraid of the answer.

“nope.” dana grinned, clearly enjoying how nervous y/n looked. “but the nurses have definitely figured it out. you’re kind of the talk of the station.” her tone was playful, but y/n could hear the certainty underneath it.

y/n groaned quietly, pressing her lips together as if that might keep her embarrassment contained. “…maybe don’t tell robby.” the request came out fast, and she immediately looked a little mortified by how eager she sounded.

dana raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the sudden urgency. “oh?” dana’s tone was light, but she leaned in just enough to make y/n feel even more exposed.

“it’s not that i can’t handle more responsibility,” y/n said quickly, lifting both hands in surrender as if she needed to defend herself before dana could tease her further. “i just… i don’t want anyone changing their expectations because of what i did before.” her voice softened on the last part, and the nervousness in it made the honesty feel even more real.

she searched for the right words, glancing down for a second before forcing herself to meet dana’s eyes again. “i’m here as an ms4.” she shrugged lightly, though the motion was a little stiff with nerves. “i want to earn everything at that level. not skip ahead because i happened to be a nurse first.” the explanation came out carefully, as if she had rehearsed it in her head more than once.

dana studied her for a second before a small, approving smile settled across her face, the teasing easing into something more sincere. “yeah, sure, i can respect that.” her voice was quieter now, and the approval in it seemed to take some of the tension out of y/n’s shoulders.

y/n let out a quiet breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her chest loosening with visible relief. “so…?” she looked at dana expectantly, though there was still a nervous edge to the question, as if she needed the reassurance spelled out. “so…” dana stepped aside from the doorway, making her answer with the gesture before she even said it. “my lips are sealed.” her grin returned, but this time it was warm rather than teasing.

a beat passed, and y/n waited with a hopeful, slightly anxious look. “nurse to nurse.” dana added it with a wink, clearly pleased to have gotten the reaction she wanted. y/n smiled despite herself, the tension in her face finally easing into something more genuine. “thank you.” her voice was soft, and the gratitude in it was immediate and sincere.

dana pointed a finger at her as she started backing into the hallway, still wearing that knowing grin. “but don’t come after me if robby figures it out on his own.” her tone was playful again, though she was already retreating toward the noise of the department.

“i won’t.” y/n answered quickly, and the speed of it made her sound even more earnest. “good.” dana gave her one last satisfied nod, clearly pleased with herself.

dana shot her one last grin before disappearing back into the organized chaos of the department, leaving y/n standing in the doorway with her heart still beating a little too fast.

“oh, hey.” a familiar voice caught her attention from behind, warm and tentative. “you still busy?” whitaker asked, hovering a few feet away with an ice pack wrapped in a towel balanced awkwardly against his injured pinky.

y/n turned to find him standing there with a tentative smile, looking almost apologetic for interrupting. “nope.” she shook her head and motioned him over with an easy, practiced gesture. 

“come on. let’s take care of that little thing.” she led him toward the central work area, where the station buzzed with its usual rhythm. whitaker followed her to the counter while someone called report over the phone and a resident hurried past with a stack of charts. deciding it’d only take a few minutes, y/n pulled an underpad from a nearby drawer and spread it across the counter.

“go ahead.” she nodded toward the pad and smoothed it flat with one hand. “rest your hand here for me.” her tone stayed gentle as whitaker carefully laid his hand down.

y/n examined the finger again, turning it beneath the lights above. the swelling had become more pronounced, and the nail now had a dark purple-black patch beneath it. she reached for a couple of alcohol swabs. “this might feel a little cold.” she glanced up at him with a reassuring half-smile before cleaning the nail with practiced, careful strokes.

“it’s really throbbing…” he admitted through a quiet hiss, watching her work with obvious discomfort. “it looks like the blood’s trapped under the nail.” y/n glanced toward the supply drawer as she reached for an 18-gauge needle.

“we’re going to need to drain it.” she said it matter-of-factly, already positioning his hand. whitaker’s eyes followed the needle, “…no anesthesia?” he asked, his voice lifting just enough to betray his concern.

“it’ll be over before the numbing medicine would even have time to kick in.” y/n rotated the needle between her fingers while settling his hand more securely. “i’m only going through the nail—not into the nail bed. you’ll feel pressure for a second, and then hopefully a whole lot of relief.” she kept her voice calm and steady. “…okay.” whitaker swallowed and gave the smallest nod. 

just as y/n positioned the tip over the center of the darkened nail—“wow.” another voice drifted over the station, dry with amusement. “first it was crash. now it’s huckleberry.” santos leaned against the opposite side of the workstation with her arms folded, wearing the unmistakable expression of someone who had wandered over purely to eavesdrop.

“hey, santos.” y/n looked between the two interns, already bracing for whatever santos was about to say. “who’s crash… and who’s huckleberry?” she asked, curiosity and confusion mingling in her tone. “crash is javadi.” santos tipped her head toward the trauma bay, clearly enjoying herself. “she passed out earlier after seeing the degloved leg earlier.” she nodded as if that explained everything.

“and huckleberry…” santos’s grin widened as she let the suspense hang for a beat. “why are you calling me that?” whitaker asked, looking up at her with a wary frown. as he spoke, y/n took advantage of the distraction. the tip of the needle gently bored through the nail with a faint pop, and a bead of dark blood immediately welled up through the tiny opening. “it’s a term of endearment.” santos shrugged, clearly unconcerned with how little that helped.

“…sounds like sarcasm.” whitaker blinked at her, deadpan despite the tension in his hand. “ditto.” y/n agreed absentmindedly as she blotted away the blood with a piece of gauze before gently encouraging a little more drainage with light pressure on either side of the nail.

“pfft.” santos raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “you think?” she asked, her grin turning sharper. “bordering on harassment.” whitaker’s reply came so matter-of-factly that y/n had to bite back a laugh.

santos ignored him. “so where are you from?” she asked, shifting her attention to whitaker as y/n wrapped a small dressing around the tip of his finger. “broken bow, nebraska.” whitaker kept watching y/n’s hands, as if answering santos was only a secondary concern.

“jesus.” santos frowned dramatically, as though he’d named the edge of the earth. “where the hell is that?” she asked, squinting at him over the rim of her water bottle. “’bout three and a half hours west of omaha.” whitaker gave a small, helpless shrug.

“oh.” santos nodded with exaggerated understanding. “so… just a little south of nowhere.” she delivered it with a grin that made it impossible to tell whether she was teasing or diagnosing. “…pretty much.” whitaker sighed, resigned to the joke.

“what do your parents do?” santos asked, already sounding like she knew the answer would be useful ammunition. “they have a farm.” whitaker’s mouth twitched as if he knew exactly where this was going. “see? i rest my case,”santos pointed at him like she’d just won an argument. “huckleberry.” she grinned, clearly pleased with herself.

whitaker sighed the long-suffering sigh of someone who already knew there was no escaping the nickname.

y/n finished securing the dressing and gave his finger one last gentle look. “there.” she smiled as she cleaned up the wrappers. “how’s that feel?” she asked as she tossed the used supplies into the sharps container.

“…wow.” whitaker flexed the finger experimentally, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “the pain’s… mostly gone.” he looked back at her, genuinely impressed. “it should feel a lot better now that the pressure’s off.” y/n pulled off her gloves and gave him a practical, nurse-like warning. “just try not to bump it for the rest of the shift.” she kept her tone light, but the advice was clear.

“i’ll try.” whitaker smiled—a little lopsided this time—as if he meant it. “thanks.” the word came out soft and sincere. “don’t worry about it.” y/n waved it off with an easy smile.

across the station, santos pointed a finger at y/n as she started walking backward toward another room. “i’m still keeping an eye on you.” her grin turned triumphant, like she’d just made a promise she fully intended to keep. “for what?” y/n laughed, already knowing santos was about to make this worse. “you still owe me a nickname.” santos’s grin widened before she disappeared into another patient room.

whitaker watched her leave before glancing back down at his bandaged finger. “hey.” he looked up while y/n tossed the last alcohol wrapper into the trash.

“do you think huckleberry is… kind of a stupid nickname?” he asked, his voice quieter now that santos was gone. she stared at him for a second before a laugh escaped her. “i mean…” y/n rested a hip against the counter as she considered it. “i actually think it’s kind of cute.” she smiled, clearly amused by how seriously he was taking it. “but i wouldn’t read into it too much.” her tone stayed reassuring, light enough to keep him from spiraling. 

“and… isn’t ‘i’m your huckleberry’ an old saying?” she tilted her head, thinking aloud. “like… ‘i’m your person’ or ‘i’m the one for the job.’” she laughed softly at her own uncertainty. “i might be completely wrong, though.” she lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “you should definitely fact-check me.” her grin widened, inviting him to laugh with her.

“oh.” y/n spotted mckay waving her over from across the department and pointed in that direction. “duty calls.” she gave whitaker an apologetic smile as she straightened. “see you later, whitaker.” she took a couple of steps backward, already being pulled back into the flow of the ed.

“break a leg…” a grin tugged at her lips as she caught herself and glanced down at his freshly bandaged hand. “…or not. hopefully you don’t.” she winced playfully at her own near-miss. “i’ll do my best.” whitaker laughed, lifting his hand a little as if to prove he would be careful.

still smiling, y/n turned and disappeared back into the flow of the emergency department, leaving whitaker looking down at his finger—and, despite the nickname, feeling a little less out of place than he had a few minutes earlier.