aleenah

Cassie swallows hard when she sees you. Robby’s young, way-too-beautiful-for-him date, wearing a short black dress with sequin details, fabric dipped so low in the back McKay almost thinks you’re asking for her hands on your skin. She has to clench her drink tighter in her hand just to resist the urge to go over there and pull you away.

She met you for the first time four months ago. When you came into the ED because Robby forgot his badge. He’d pulled you aside, talked in a low voice, barely squeezed your arm as a thank you before darting back to work. Cassie noticed. She noticed how he treated you like a secret until it was convenient for him to show you off. She noticed how, that day, you lingered in the ED for a few minutes too long with a dejected look in your eyes, hoping Dr. Robinavitch might take a break from his patients for five seconds for his… girlfriend? Sugar baby? Whatever. She’d even noticed how your expression immediately shifted back into something calm and collected when Cassie had come over, arms crossed, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Hey… everything okay over here?”

“Hm? Yeah. Fine. Sorry. I’m not a patient.” You’d laughed softly, given her a sheepish smile. Cassie couldn’t have held back the look of amusement on her face if she tried.

“I know. You’re Robby’s…” She paused, eyebrows raising just a bit as she shifted on her heels, waiting for you to fill it in.

“Girlfriend. Or, uh, we’re dating.”

“…Right. Okay. Well, he’s—“ She’d looked around. No Robby in sight. “Busy. But I'm sure he’ll be done soon. Maybe you want to wait in the staff lounge for a bit?”

You paused for a moment. That’s when Cassie had caught the conflicted look in your eyes back again. Like you wanted to wait… but maybe knew he wasn’t coming. “No. It’s fine.” You’d muttered, shaking your head as if you were shaking off the thought. Then you looked at her with a soft, slightly sad smile. “Thank you. It was nice to finally meet one of his colleagues.”

“Yeah. Likewise…” Cassie’s smile had barely widened, her head tilting to the side as she’d slid her hands from being crossed, into the pockets of her hoodie. “You never actually told me your name.” She pointed out, trying to sound casual, like this was just a coworker casually wanting to know more about her friend’s life.

“Oh, yeah, right! I'm Y/n.”

“Cassie McKay.” She nodded to you, taking a moment before speaking again. “You should come around again sometime. I’m sure the ED could use someone who isn’t totally miserable around for a day. Robby could probably use it.”

The way your smile had widened made Cassie’s heart skip a beat. That never happened.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Then you’d waved and walked off. That was it. Just that small interaction and, all of a sudden, Cassie couldn’t get you off her mind.

Alas, those four months passed and Cassie never saw you around the ED. Tonight was the first time since then. And now you’re here, as Michael’s arm candy, looking around while he gets caught up in some conversation about hospital billing or whatever. And Cassie just watches as he totally ignores you. Because of course.

She’s just about ready to give up the staring when you look over your shoulder and catch her eye. Just as a smile begins to spread on your face, Cassie has to fight to keep hers neutral. Then you break away from Robby… and start walking over to her. She can’t keep the small, almost smug grin off of her face. Partially because you’re finally leaving Robby’s side, partially because you’re specifically leaving to come to her.

“Hey, Cassie, right? We met a few months ago when I visited the hospital?” You say with a warm smile, champagne flute in hand.

“Yeah. I remember you.” She says as she takes a sip of her drink, trying to play it casual. “You look nice.” Cassie motions to the dress with a nod. “Nice” is an understatement but she doesn’t particularly want to say “you look incredibly hot” to a girl who she’s only met once and who is probably at least 15 years younger than her.

“Thank you!” You smile even more brightly at her and Cassie catches her own smile widening too. “You look amazing.”

Cassie does in fact, look amazing. Her tailored black suit, the slightly messy red curls, it all makes her look absolutely stunning. But it’s the way you say it, making it somehow so clear that amazing isn’t just some shallow compliment for when you don’t know what to say, gets Cassie’s heart to skip a small beat.

“Thanks.”

Cassie clears her throat, taking a sip of her drink as she tries to reel herself back into acting normal. But then she gets a glance of Robby. Who is still talking? Like he didn’t even notice you were gone. Her jaw tenses. “Robby’s…” She pauses, searching for some way to say this other than “acting like an inattentive dick right now”… “Pretty busy, huh?”

“Yeah. He’s always busy at these things, trying to find donors for the hospital… you know how it is.” There’s a smile on your face as you look over to Robby, yet a very obvious sadness in your tone when you talk about him being busy.

Cassie narrows her eyes, turning to look at you. “That doesn’t mean he has an excuse to ignore his girlfriend.” She sounds more pissed off than she meant to. Oops.

“He’s not ignoring me. He’s just busy.”

“Just busy my ass.” Cassie snorts a laugh as she takes a sip of her drink. “You’re a beautiful girl, you’re sweet. You deserve better treatment than that.”

That slips out before Cassie can really think about it. She says it casually, like it’s the obvious truth that you deserve better than Robby.

“Our relationship works for both of us. We’re not really—I don’t expect that kind of special treatment from him. It’s mutually beneficial.” You try to shrug it off, taking a sip of your own champagne.

“Mutually beneficial?” Now Cassie’s tone is much, much more frustrated than she means. She can’t help it. “What, is he paying you to be his arm candy?”

Cassie, of course, immediately notices the way you pause before answering. Oh. So maybe her sugar baby guess wasn’t far off.

“I need the money. It’s easy.” You shrug, taking a large sip of your drink as if it’ll distract you from the conversation.

Cassie lets the space between you fall silent for a moment, her eyes on you. You’ve opened up to her, given a little piece of information that only makes her inexplicable frustration with Robby more palpable. She doesn’t want to mess this up.

“You could find someone else.” She proposes suddenly, shoving one of her hands into her pocket. “Like maybe someone who wouldn’t treat you like shit.”

Cassie McKay is… jealous? When she says “someone else,” the image of you and her together, her hand resting on the small of your back, rubbing circles against the skin there at a party just like this one, actually paying attention to you, suddenly pops into her head. She is, for some reason, ready to curse Robby out for this girl she’s only known for a few hours at the most.

“It’s not exactly easy to find someone who is willing to help pay your college tuition just for being with them.” You interrupt her thoughts by saying that, eyes fixed on Robby across the room. Like this is your only option.

“I would.”

The words slip out before Cassie even thinks about what she’s saying. That seems to happen a lot around you. But she doesn’t get all embarrassed, doesn’t take it back. She just goes quiet, taking a sip of her drink, eyes fixed on you. When you turn to make eye contact with her, cheeks heating up, eyes wide—clearly you’re picturing it too—Casie just stares back.

“You could leave Robby. Go on a date with me.” She shrugs, finally looking back to the party, playing it totally cool. Like she’s not dropping this bomb on you. “A real date. Just us. No fancy gala.”

“What? I- are you serious?”

“Have I not made it clear that I think you’re too good for Robby yet?” Cassie asks rhetorically, a twinge of sarcasm in her tone as she runs a hand through her hair. “I could treat you better.”

The look on your face actually makes Cassie smile a little. She was trying to be serious, but you look absolutely adorable with that flush blooming across your cheeks. Acting in yet another impulse—maybe she’s just learned to be bold enough to go for what she wants at this point—she reaches up and gently cups your jaw, brushing a thumb over your cheek.

Now it’s your turn to act on an impulse. You lean in quickly, pressing your lips against McKay’s in a gentle, chaste kiss. For the brief moment your lips are against hers… she kisses you back. Then you pull away. Cassie is left with an even bigger smile on her face.

“You know Robby could have seen that, right?

“I don’t care.”

Something flutters in Cassie’s chest at your tone. She lets out a small, almost disbelieving laugh at how fast you’ve switched up—and all it took was her proposing a real date. She feels something she hasn’t felt in a long ass time. Desire. Palpable and warm, stirring low in her stomach already. She takes a deep breath as she sets her drink down on a nearby table. The hand that had been holding it moves up to your waist, fingers brushing the small of your back just like she had imagined when she first saw you tonight. She gently tugs you in closer to her, voice lowering conspicuously.

“I’m going to take that as a yes?” She asks lowly, almost teasingly.

You nod, a smile spreading on your face as you finish off the last of your champagne and set it on the same table as her glass. “Yes.”

Cassie’s smile widens, something rarely unguarded for her. “Good.” She’s about to lean into another kiss when she remembers where they are. In the middle of a gala. Surrounded by her coworkers. Plenty of people who know exactly who you came here with. She glances around, jaw clenching slightly as she thinks. Then an idea flickers in her head. Her eyes light up a little as they snap back to you. “How good are you at keeping quiet?”

Cassie presses you against the bathroom door as it shuts behind you two. Her hands plant on your hips, only letting go to quickly lock the door. She kisses you deeply and desperately, like she’s savoring this moment, savoring the taste of you. One hand slides up to cradle your face, keeping your lips moving against hers with no space between you two. She holds you like Robby never had. Like you’re something precious.

Cassie’s lips begin to trail down your neck with slow, almost needy kisses, covering any of the bare skin of your neck in the faint lipstick she is (was) wearing. It feels as if she’s trying to make it abhorrently clear: you’re hers. Not Robby’s sugar baby. Her date. The thought running through her head causes Cassie to let out a rough groan against your neck, hands tightening where they rest on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer to her. She hasn’t done this in years. Probably not even since Harrison was born. It only makes her more desperate to have you.

“I could make you feel… so much better than Robby.”

She mumbles against your neck, breathing heavier and her voice an even lower rasp than usual.

“Can I?”

This time, she pulls away, looking at your flushed face, how your chest heaves. She doesn’t lean in and kiss you again. Not yet. She waits for you to let her take this a step further. Your little nod is her cue.

She kisses you deeply again, both hands coming up to cradle your face now. When she breaks away, she doesn’t waste a single second.

You watch with heavy breaths as Cassie moves, kisses trailing down your neck, hands sliding down to your thighs, pushing your dress up. She couldn’t care less if it wrinkles. She’ll worry about that later. Now, all she wants is to taste you.

Cassie is on her knees before you know it—hands on your thighs, lips leaving desperate kisses against the soft, plush skin. Without forcing or guiding, your hand moves to tangle into her red, messy hair. She glances up at you as she feels the soft tug, you anchoring yourself to her. A grin spreads on her face.

“Good girl. You’ll probably need it.”

She mutters teasingly as she begins pushing your dress up higher, until she sees the lacey fabric of your panties. Expensive looking. Probably a gift from Robby. The thought makes her scoff. Immediately, she hooks her fingers into the waistband and tears them down your thighs, letting them drop to the floor. For a long moment, she just stares. Her eyes fix on your pussy like it’s the most perfect thing she’s seen in months.

Cassie doesn’t start slow. No, her hands anchor on your thighs, keeping the dress pushed up as she licks a stripe from your dripping entrance to your already sensitive clit. Her tongue flicks the sensitive bud, a low moan sending vibrations against you as your hand gently tightens in her hair. Her hands grip your thighs harder, tugging herself against you, giving her a better angle to eat your pussy like a starved woman.

Her tongue works expertly. No matter how long it’s been, it’s a skill Cassie could never forget. She switches from long, flat-tongued licks through your folds, to teasing, deliciously overwhelming licks against your pulsing clit. She eats you out like she’s worshipping your cunt, tongue pushing into you just to taste you more.

Every time you moan, your hand tightens in her hair or your thighs twitch, Cassie responds with a low moan against you and licks against your pussy with even more desperate determination than before. She watches for every little reaction. So, when your hips start bucking up against her face, pushing her nose against your clit perfectly while she licks through your cunt, she knows you’re close.

But she’s not done.

“Don’t cum. Not until I say so.”

Her voice is a rough rumble against you. And she doesn’t even stop licking you to mutter her command. Her lips quirk up into a smile when she hears you whine, feels your hips buck against her face. She responds by grabbing your hips tighter, pinning them to the door.

You feel as if you can barely hold on after just a few moments of trying to hold back your orgasm. You can’t stop your thighs from shaking, hips grinding against her face with desperate intensity. Cassie just continues tasting you, licking up as much as you slick as she can. Her nose nudges your clit—just enough pressure to keep you from cumming, but enough to get you so fucking close—while her tongue pushes into your dripping entrance again. Even when you tug her hair and whine, she doesn’t let up. She stays attached to your cunt, unwilling to stop licking you until you feel so good, you won’t even be able to think about Robby anymore.

“Cassie— I- I need to cum. Please.”

You whine, moans turning even more needy than before. Cassie groans against your pussy, movements ceasing for just a second to look up at you, at your flushed cheeks, your parted, kiss-swollen lips. That’s what gets her. She nods against you as she dives back in.

“Cum on me.”

She murmurs right against your cunt as she goes back to licking with even faster, messier licks and kisses. Not having to hold back your release anymore, you feel yourself reaching your high within a few pushes of her tongue into your sopping pussy. Your head falls back against the door, hand tightening in her hair as she works you though your orgasm, tongue slowing as you cum on her.

She pulls away when you’re done shaking around her, forehead resting against your thigh, lips pressing softly against your skin.

“You’re perfect.” She murmurs, voice low and laced with something almost worshipful.

She stands slowly, guiding your panties back up as she goes. Her eyes remain fixed on yours, a little smile stuck on her lips. As soon as she’s face to face with you, she wipes your slick from her face with the back of her hand—an effortlessly sexy move, because of course—and leans in to kiss you again.

“Break up with Robby.” She mutters against your lips before pulling away just enough to look at you. “Then I'll take you on a proper date, okay?”

Her thumb gently wipes at the faint lipstick marks left on your neck, carefully helping you clean up so no one at the gala suspects anything.

You nod quickly. “Yeah.”

Cassie’s grin widens. “Good.”

And with one more quick kiss, you’re slipping back out to the party, arm in arm with Robby… already planning out how you’ll end things.

Cassie slips out a minute later, casually joining a conversation with Samira and Dana.

“Well, someone looks chipper. What, you finally get laid or something?” Dana asks with teasing sarcasm as Cassie approaches—still with that wide grin.

cassie mckay loved having you around, and it was a blessing she found a good babysitter for harrison who was not only the sweetest, but such a good influence on him.

she don’t know how she got lucky with you, but she did. you had been helping her out for a year, making an easy schedule for university and to attend to babysitting when harrison wasn’t with his dad for the weekend, or if chad needed mckay to watch him for the week.

but there was more reasons why cassie liked you; you always cleaned up her home even when she insisted there was no need, you would meet with harrison’s teacher if she didn’t have the time to, you would always make sure she had a prepped breakfast or leftover dinner, and more.

you weren’t only there for her son, but for her too.

it was barely four in the afternoon, and cassie surprisingly got home early on a saturday. she came in swamped, you and harrison on the living room floor playing with legos.

“ms. mckay!” you cheered, smiling. “i thought you had a late shift?”

“they let me go home early for… something,” she murmured, rubbing her temple. harrison ran up to her, giving her a hug and she kissed the top of his head. “what did you do today, kid?”

“we did my science project together!” harrison said, and cassie looked at you, grinning. “we got all the supplies for it earlier.”

“you did? i could’ve loaned you some money,” cassie frowned, and you shook your head.

“oh please, it wasn’t much! and i had just as much fun,” you assured, and she hummed, nodding. “well i’ll be off then. when will you need me again?”

“there’s no rush for you to leave,” cassie said, and you giggled, shrugging. “stay for dinner, it’s the least i can do.”

“i got groceries for your dinner tonight, it’s easy,” you stated, and harrison went to you to give you a goodbye hug. “he also has a parent conference on tuesday morning. i told chad, but he won’t make it?”

“of course he won’t,” she muttered under her breath, yet made sure harrison didn’t hear it. “can you come back tomorrow around 10AM?”

you nodded, giving the small boy a hast hug goodbye before grabbing your purse. “hopefully i can see you a little more before you have to leave for work,” you told her, and a sweep of blush powdered onto her cheeks. “i don’t mind taking harrison to the conference, if you can’t make it.”

there it is, that’s why she liked you being around. she had someone to step up, and help her take care of things. “i’ll let you know, okay? but for now, go home and get some rest,” she insisted, and you nodded. “and thank you for helping harrison with his project — i honestly didn’t even know he had one.”

“i kinda had to get it out of him,” you joked, the two of you sharing a soft, little laugh. “well i’ll be off then. see you tomorrow, ms. mckay.”

“you know you could always call me cassie,” she stated, and you smiled. “this is not a professional field.”

“bye, ms. mckay,” you said, walking out of her apartment, and she stared at the door for a few moments before bringing herself back into reality.

for rest of the day, cassie couldn’t stop thinking about you — well, she always thought of you. but she never considered it odd because you were her son’s babysitter and she knew you for a while now, and she just always wondered if you always got home safe, ate well, when you’d hang out with friends, if were taking care of yourself—

why was she thinking about you this much?

she was just concerned, and you had been around so long, of course she wondered about you, and had her worries. that’s not wrong, right?

by the time it got late, she made sure harrison got to bed, turning off all the lights in the house and sat in the living room, mindlessly watching some television to clear her mind from the workload she was going to deal with the next day.

cassie slowly began to doze off, her eyes begging for some sleep while some hot tea sat in her hands, the cold weather of pittsburgh making its way into her home.

then, her phone buzzes aside of her. she bursts awake, nearly splashing the tea onto her lap, and puts it on the coffee table. she hastily grabbed her phone, just for her eyes to register your contact name appearing.

cassie answers. “hi? what’s wrong?”

she could hear faint wind in the background, but what caught her attention was you sniffling. “i’m so sorry for calling late but… are you still home?” you wondered, and she became filled with worry and concern.

“of course i am,” she stated. the phone call immediately dropped and only a few seconds later, there was a soft knock on her door. she pulled the throw blanket off of her, and rushed to the front door.

the winter wind hit her face as she swung the door open, and you stood there, teary eyed and tears running down your cheeks. her heart sank, and she tried to come up with what to do next.

“i know this is inappropriate because you’re my employer, i just,” you sniffled, wiping your eyes, “i didn’t know where else to go for the night.”

“what happened?” cassie asked. you didn’t say anything else, shivering with fear. she brought you inside, immediately maneuvering you to the couch, and wrapping the blanket around your frame. “it’s freezing, did you walk here?”

“my dad took my car,” you mumbled. “it sounds childish, i know. it’s just my living situation with him. he gets so drunk, and when he does, he’s so mean to only me.”

cassie never dared to pry about your private life, all she knew is you had a straining relationship with your parents, but mostly with your father. you didn’t tell her much, and she didn’t want to ask.

you looked down at your lap, and cassie crouched down in front of you. “you have to talk to me, sweetheart,” she softly spoke, almost too worried herself that if she raised her voice in the slightest, she’d scare you off. “i could’ve picked you up, it’s dangerous out there.”

silence filled the room, cassie thinking of what to ask next, or if she should give you some space. she analyzed your body language, and how you were trembling, her eyes falling still onto your fingernails.

they were bleeding, just slightly.

“did you scratch someone?” she asked, grabbing your hands and pushed up the sleeves of your sweater, only to see faded bruises. “what is this?”

you didn’t look at her, ashamed and wanting to cry again. you felt only small and weak, vulnerable, and all ready to fall apart in front of cassie.

“you have to tell me what this is, or i’m alerting the authorities,” she said, and you shook your head, looking at her. “then tell me.”

“it just got bad tonight,” you mumbled, your breath and voice trembling. “it got so bad, and i got so scared.”

“did your father do something?” cassie asked, and you hesitantly nodded, inhaling sharply. your hands moved to your scarf, your hands visibly shaking as you slowly tugged it off of your neck. her eyes widened at the sight of bruises forming around your neck.

she could kill someone.

“you can’t tell anyone, no one can know,” you pleaded, falling into a puddle and voice of sobs, cassie coming to your side and pulling you into a close hold.

she consoled you, rubbing your back, and held your head close to her chest as you made yourself into a ball on her lap. “you can stay here as long as you’d like,” is all cassie could manage to say, gently rocking you, her soft shushing sounding like warm velvet.

minutes later, you had found a way to calm down, only few sniffles being heard from you. cassie sat back as you pulled yourself up and off her lap, your doe, glossy eyes making a connection to hers. “did i disturb you?” you wondered, and she grinned, shaking her head. “it’s late and you have work tomorrow, i’m sorry.”

“let’s just worry about getting you to sleep, okay? you can sleep in my bed, i’ll take the couch,” cassie insisted, but you protested, frowning. “it’s really not a problem.”

“i just,” you began, inhaling sharply and took a second to find your words, “i don’t want to sleep alone, if that’s okay?”

cassie could almost faint, her heart hitting her chest, and cheeks going flush. “okay yeah, i’ll sleep with you,” she agreed, and you smiled, softly thanking her. she guided you to her bedroom, turning on the main light, and you stood close by. “here are some pajamas, and i can wash your clothes in the morning,” she handed the sleepwear to you, giving a slight smile.

“is it okay if i have some privacy?” you asked, and she nodded, turning around and staring mindlessly at the floor, hearing the rustling of your clothes and shoes being taken off. she looked at anything, her socks, her fingernails, anything to let time pass while you got changed. “i’m done now.”

cassie looked at you, and took your clothes, folding them on her dresser. “i hope you’re not a blanket hogger,” she lightly joked, and you chuckled, a toothy smile cracking from your mouth. “harrison will do that, and he will make sure i’m at the edge of the bed.”

“i promise i’m not,” you told her, and the two of you shared a soft, gentle smile as she moved the blanket up and open for you to get onto the bed. “you don’t have to tuck me in.”

“i’m going to do what i want, sweetheart,” she said, and you grew flustered from the nickname, but didn’t refuse her gesture, crawling into your side of the bed. she pulled the comforter over you, being sure the blanket made you warm and you were comfortable.

“isn’t it weird that harrison will see i’m here early in the morning?” you asked, and she shook her head, her eyes averting to your neck. “please don’t look at me like a wounded animal.”

“i’m not, i never would,” cassie stated. “but if i knew things were this bad at home, i would’ve let you move in.”

“this is a two bedroom apartment,” you pointed out. “i wouldn’t let you sleep on the couch forever.”

“if i had to sleep on the couch to ensure you were safe, then,” she trailed off, shaking her head in thought before her knuckles began to softly caress your warm cheeks, “but you’re here now, and it’s almost 1AM.”

cassie shut off the main light, returning to her side of the bed, and got under the comforter, yet double checked she wasn’t invading your space.

“cassie?” you whispered. you never called her by her first name, not ever — she was familiar with you referring to her as ms. mckay, but now that you were saying her first name, her heart melted and a surge of emotions coursed through her. she never thought you’d actually say it, even after she teased you about it.

“what’s going on, baby?” cassie turned to her side, somehow making out your face in the dark room. she called you another sweet name, hoping it wasn’t trouble or gross to you, but she could see a smile threatening to creep up on your lips.

you went quiet for a few seconds, but you inhaled when you mustered the courage to ask, “is it okay if you hold me while i sleep? i know it’s weird to ask, but i would— fuck, it’s actually okay—”

“come here,” cassie demanded, and she could see your smile as her arm laid opened, you curling up against her side. she moved the blanket back up around your frame, her arm hooking around you, and kept you close.

“goodnight cassie,” you mumbled, your body slowly coming to an ease as you realized you were safe, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

and cassie couldn’t sleep for the night, wide awake in her thoughts, and wanting to memorize your warmth, while you were glued to her.

“busy night?” victoria asked, seeing cassie’s clearly exhausted eyes, and how she kept yawning. “did you sleep at all?”

“had some trouble falling asleep,” cassie said, and victoria nodded, both returning to looking at patient’s charts.

“dr. mckay and victoria, we have an injured patient,” robby called out, and they left their clip boards on the nurses’ desk, running over to the emergency room.

half of the team joined in, seeing a clearly broken knee with the bone popping out, and a dislocated jaw. “patient is 49 years old, male, was found this morning by the bridge,” robby announced, and cassie took a close look, examining the wounds. “he’s barely conscious.”

mel handed cassie his information chart, and when she saw the name, her eyes widened, her body going numb.

it was your drunken father.

she put the chart to the side, focusing back to your dad, and realized she had to be a professional for now. her mind blurred between wanting to harm him, and having to do her job without letting her feelings for you get in the way, which was difficult to do.

everyone was hands on, trying to talk to him to keep him awake, saying how he was going to need surgery.

cassie couldn’t be in the surgery room — she’d purposely kill him.

he was immediately taken into the operating room, and cassie stayed back, calling your number. the phone rang about three times before you finally picked up.

“hi ms. mckay,” you answered. “is everything okay?”

“just checking up on you and harrison,” she replied, and you hummed. “how is everything today? i’m sorry i had to leave you.”

“you’re a doctor, it’s okay!” you exclaimed, cassie’s heart warming to sound of your bit of laughter. “luckily i had some concealer in my purse so i used it to cover up the whole thing. besides, i didn’t want harrison to see it.”

“okay, well i left some money on the kitchen counter so you two could order in. i’ll be off by midnight,” cassie told you, looking at the clock; it was barely fucking 1PM. “see you soon.”

you hung up the call, and cassie put her phone back in her pocket. she went helping other patients while your dad remained in surgery, and she wanted the time to pass by faster.

she worried about you, about leaving you alone for the day after you were harmed by your dad and it felt wrong — she felt so guilty.

a bit of comfort came to her when she realized you were with harrison, and he was a good distraction, that he’d be occupying you until she got home and could take care of you.

before she left to get her bag from the locker, she looked around to see if anyone would watch her go into the room your dad was in. she was smart about it, grabbing the clipped chart as she made her way in, your dad watching some television on the small antenna box in the corner.

“how are you feeling after the anesthesia wore off?” she asked, smiling and he shrugged. “you got some bad injuries, do you want to tell me what happened?”

your dad didn’t respond for a while, his eyes studying cassie’s face, and how she bitterly looked at him.

“are you the woman my daughter babysits for?” he asked, and cassie sighed, putting the chart down. “have you notified her?”

cassie closed the curtain, turning back around and came closer to his side of the bed. “she’s at my house,” she began, hands on the bed’s railing. “she came by last night, she showed me what you did.”

“i didn’t do shit, she’s a liar,” he retorted, and cassie glared at him. “and how could i have done that? i don’t remember.”

“i didn’t even say what she showed me,” she backfired, and your dad knew he was caught. “if she wants to be at my place, i don’t mind. she’s there most of the time, anyways.”

“she’s my kid. she shouldn’t be at some woman’s house,” your dad protested, and she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “she’ll come back home, i’m her father.”

“well that’s her choice, isn’t it? but from where i stand, she’s going to stay with me,” cassie stated, and his face froze, his heart rate going up on the monitor. “so if you don’t want me going to the authorities — or making sure you leave here alive — you will back the fuck off and stay away from her.”

your dad didn’t say much else, only giving her a curt nod, and that got a grin out of her. “glad we’re on the same page,” she picked up the clipboard, and walked out of the room.

you laid on the living room couch, watching random episodes of friends on the television, and waited for cassie to come home.

for once, you didn’t worry to walk around in a house, almost scared any wrong move you made would cause punishment. your heart didn’t race with anxiety, but instead was filled with serene and peace that cassie would be home, and could hold you again.

the front door’s knob made noise, perking your ears up as you looked over at it. cassie appeared, visibly exhausted until she saw the sight of you, and a smile cracked on her lips.

“you’re home,” you said, sitting up, and she put her bag down by the coat rack, closing and locking the door. “there’s leftover dinner in the microwave, i’ll go warm it up right now—”

“no, stay,” cassie suggested, and you listened as she sat down next to you, bringing you into her side.

“my mom called me, she said my dad’s in the hospital,” you told her, peaking up at her. “you didn’t happen to see him?”

“i was occupied with other patients and surgeries,” she said, playing with your hair. “i can ask around about updates.”

“no, it’s okay,” you murmured, “it’s better if i didn’t know. also, i had my friend stop by my house and bring me some stuff.”

“i could’ve taken you,” cassie said. “wait, you told your friend you were here?”

you didn’t say much else, getting up and put the throw blanket on the couch. “i’m gonna shower, and i think we should go to bed,” you walked to cassie’s bedroom, her following right behind you. “i can shower last, if you want to shower first—”

“why didn’t your friend say anything—”

“also, i'll take the couch tonight—”

"baby, baby, stop and look at me," cassie grabbed you by your shoulders, forcing you to face her. "why didn't you go to your friend last night?"

you teared up, your body crumbling inside itself as guilt and fear shifted itself onto your face. "i feel safe with you," you muttered, your voice low and your bottom lip quivered. "besides, my friend would leave me to be with her boyfriend, and would forget."

cassie didn't want to push you anymore, only nodding and bringing you into an embrace. "okay baby, it's okay," she reassured, and you sniffled, tucking your face into her shoulder. "let's get you to the shower, and we'll go to sleep."

you separated yourself from the hug, and cassie wiped away your tears, letting you grab your shower products and sleepwear. "you can shower with me," you said, and her body went stiff, her cheeks going red as you both looked at one another. "i mean, if you want?"

cassie could have rolled into her grave and gone to heaven, gaining the movement to make her head nod. "yeah, that's fine by me," she calmly responded. "if you're comfortable with that?"

"i wouldn't ask if i wasn't," you stated, and she hummed, both of you careening to the bathroom together. she closed the door, and you turned on the water to a mildly hot temperature, putting your products on the shower shelves, with your sleepwear on top of the sink.

cassie's eyes focused on everything you did before your attention ws back onto her. "i'll get in first," you stripped off your clothes, and she turned around to give you a second of privacy, looking back once she heard you get in.

she took off her own clothes shortly after, going in behind you as your body bare stood in front of her, her eyes gawking at your figure. you were luckily soaking your hair under the water as she fought off every muscle and urge to drop to her knees, and kiss you from your thighs to your stomach, where her hands wanted to touch and remember every inch of.

cassie was not religious — far from it — but god, you were heaven, the sweetest blessing and creature that mankind has ever made, every part of you tempting her to bite your skin, and to leave your mark.

yet the temptation morphed itself into concern when there was few other bruises scattered around your body, and her jaw nearly went slack when you turned around, and there were patterns.

"baby," cassie whispered, and kissed the back of your shoulder, her hands on your waist, maneuvering you to look at her.

there was this glistening star in your eyes that she had always noticed, that always sparkled when you stared at her as if you needed more, wanted her to be more in your life. your lips ached, your body welcoming and soaking in her touch that perfectly melted into your skin, and your bodies pressing in closer together.

cassie knew she could be more, anything you needed or liked — that was her sole purpose being in your life, and she swore to herself that you would never go back home, and you would only need her for the rest of your life.

"you're my girl, okay? you're my girl," cassie promised, and you nodded as she didn't hesitate or take another second to push her lips up against yours. you sunk into the kiss, your hands on her rosy cheeks, wanting her to move in deeper onto your lips, both of you craving of each other's taste.

water cascaded over the two of you as the kissing became messy, feeling the water droplets fall in between each other’s lips. cassie could leave marks on your body from the way her hands held onto your waist, refusing to let you go or even move an inch back.

she pulled away from the kiss, staring at you. “is it okay that we’re doing this? are you okay with it?” she asked, panic in her voice as if she felt like she was depriving you of purity, and also because she was so much more older than you.

“if you haven’t noticed since i started babysitting harrison, i’ve been wanting this,” you admitted, and she grinned. “i’ve wanted you, and i hope you’re okay with that, too.”

“we don’t have to decide anything right now, but,” cassie started, bringing one hand up to your cheek to gently stroke her thumb against it, “we could go out for dinner sometime — somewhere private and safe.”

“i’d love that, please,” you said, and she nodded, going back to kissing you, taking you aback for a moment. “but i think you should know something.”

cassie paused, looking at you. “what is it?”

“i’m… how do i say this?” you wondered, thinking to yourself. “i haven’t done… anything. i never had—”

“you’ve never had sex?” cassie asked, visibly worried because she felt like it wasn’t right for her to be your first time. “we don’t need to do this, i promise. your first time should be special.”

“i’ve never been more sure,” you assured. “i want it to be with you, and i know you’ll make it special; i trust you.”

and cassie would — of course she would.

she turned off the water, stepping out first and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around you. she put on her own bathrobe before she scooped you up into her arms, a surprised gasp eliciting from you.

“if you’re really sure about this,” cassie said, opening up the bathroom door, and walking back to her bedroom, “i’ll make sure everything’s perfect for you, but there’s one condition.”

she sat you down on the edge of her bed as you looked up at her, clutching the towel wrapped around your body.

the look in your eyes that cassie always noticed was now back — you looked at her like she hung the stars in the sky, and you did think that. she was everything your dreamed of upon a shooting star, a prayer you called upon in the sky for years.

“if you get uncomfortable, you immediately tell me to stop. i won’t get mad or angry,” cassie said, and you nodded immediately. “i’m serious, sweet girl. your safety and comfortability matters to me.”

“i promise i will tell you,” you swore, and she kissed your forehead, about to walk out of the bedroom. “where are you going?”

“i’m going to try to make this special,” she stated, and you sat there, waiting around for not too long. a part of you was anxious, and you felt a bit embarrassed because all your friends have had their first time before you did, and you grew worried that cassie would dismiss you since you practically inexperienced.

only after a few minutes, cassie came back in with random candles in her arms, a wash cloth dangling around her wrist, with her hand clutching a cup of water, and you chuckled, watching as she placed the candles spontaneously in the room.

“my first time wasn’t special so,” she began to light up the candles, “i don’t really know what i’m doing.”

you smiled at the fact she was trying, and wanted to make this beautiful for you, where you could feel warm and special. your eyes followed her every movement, witnessing how focused she was as she put the cup of water and wash cloth on the bedside table.

“okay sweetheart,” she muttered, turning off the light as the glow of the candles brightened up the room, illuminating her face as she stood in front of you. “we’re gonna take this slow. stand up for me please, baby.”

you obeyed, getting up from the bed, and held onto the towel. cassie slowly moved your hand, taking over by gently removing the towel as it fell with a thud, and she kissed the side of your head, her hands reaching back to your waist.

her kiss went from to the your forehead, and down to your neck, her lips sewing chaste, adoring kisses into it, earning soft moans out of you while your hands combed into the back of her hair. you kept her close, your delicate noises waving into her ears, and she grinned against your skin.

she brought her lips up to yours, the kiss turning hungry and desperate, the two of you sharing moans, your fingers linking into the strands of her hair, her own hands grasping onto you as if you’d run away.

“get on the bed, lay down,” she demanded, and you didn’t hesitate for a second, crawling backwards onto the bed, cassie not too far behind as she hovered over you. her kisses felt heavy and sweet, whimpering into her mouth as her hands groped your breasts, your nipples sensitive to the touch. “oh good girl, you’re so good.”

your body was running off of high levels of desire, cassie heightening it when she went from kissing your lips, trailing down to your neck, and collarbones. she pressed kisses along them, to both of your shoulders, needing to taste and of inch of you that you gave to her.

she returned back to looking over you, and you smiled at her, your heart beating against your chest so hard, you swore she could hear it. her hand went to the side of your head, her brain registering how you looked in this moment; you stared at her with such love and adoration, she could ruin this moment by crying.

you couldn’t believe how her eyes canvassed every part of your face, a similar feeling of wamth coming into your soul in the familiar moment when the sun kisses your face when looking out into the sunrise horizon, and you just breathe it in.

“you’re so beautiful,” cassie whispered. “fuck, you’re so beautiful, and i’m so lucky.”

“you don’t have to say that,” you said, frowning.

“baby,” cassie gave a gentle peck to your forehead, “you’re beautiful, and i’m such a lucky woman.”

you didn’t realize a tear fell out of the corner of your eye, sniffling. “i…,” you choked on your words, everything caught in your throat. “i—”

“i love you, sweet girl,” cassie said, and your eyes glowed with pure happiness. “i love you, and you never have to worry about me not loving you.”

“i love you too, cassie,” you told her, and her smile copied yours. “please kiss me, please take everything of what i have. it’s all yours.”

she kissed you from lips, down to your body and peeked up at you when she was near your cunt. “are you sure about this?” she asked once more, and you nodded.

“i’m so sure,” you reassured, and the second her lips put a kiss to your cunt, electricity jolted your body.

her arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping her head locked between them as her mouth licked and sucked your cunt, and your hand reached into her hair, gently gripping it.

your heartbeat was faster and harder, your body making sense of this surreal moment, and your back threatened to arch.

cassie wanted to bury herself in between your legs forever, her mouth filthy hungry for you, and couldn’t get enough of you tasted sugary sweet. she moaned against your cunt, the vibrations coursing through your body as your eyes rolled back.

you tugged her head in further, her nose bumping against the bud, and inhaling how you smelt, everything of this intoxicating her brain.

“cassie, cassie,” you repeatedly moaned her name, whines cracking in your throat. your body squirmed, breathing heavily as your hand went from her hair to her hand, hers instantly holding yours with her thumb caressing it. “you’re so good at this, you’re making me feel so good.”

she lapped her tongue more on your cunt, before bringing her head up, your juices and her saliva mixing all around her mouth as it glistened brightly from the light of the candles.

“have you ever fingered yourself?” she asked, her question causing you to sit up on your elbows. when you took a beat to even think of a response, she already knew. “i’m going to be very slow and easy on this part, and if it hurts, you have to tell me.”

you hummed, giving her a curt nod. she rubbed your juices around your hole, pressing a kiss to your thigh before she slowly put two fingers into you.

your cunt tightened around her fingers, a voice of shaky whimpers coming out of you, and you looked at her.

cassie slowly and gently thrusted her fingers, her eyes studying every reaction you made. “you’re doing so good, being so perfect for me,” she cooed, and you whined, falling back onto the bed. her mouth latched itself back on your cunt, your body overwhelmed from the double pleasure, but electrifying sensation that you could feel in every part of your body.

she made sure to build up her pace, her fingers getting more deeper and faster, your moans and whimpers falling out of your mouth.

this is all she needed, to make you feel good and perfect.

a warm, buzzy jolt rooted itself in your stomach, before surging all of into your bones and down to your cunt. your thighs trembled and stiffened, your skin feeling on fire as your moans were on the brink of a cry.

“i feel like… cassie,” you cried, but she didn’t stop because she knew you were close, and she wouldn’t waste a drop of your taste. her fingers pounded harder into you, your mouth both sucking and licking your cunt. “fuck fuck, cassie please—”

your eyes rolled back, your back arching and body letting go of everything, with your thighs clamping around cassie’s head, almost keeping her trapped there. “oh my fucking—,” you choked as the warm sensation in your stomach went down into your cunt, and through your legs.

cassie kept herself and her mouth latched onto you, your entire cunt squeezing itself around her fingers when you finally reached your orgasm. she slipped her fingers out of you, getting final licks and tastes of your cum, before picking her up back up.

you laid there, your body and mind trying to come down from the high. “baby, baby,” cassie called out, crouching over you, and grabbed your face to look at her. “are you okay? what’s wrong?”

your breath shuddered in your throat, gathering lungfuls of oxygen as your eyes readjusted to clear vision, and to see how she looked like you practically cured her hunger.

“i’m okay, promise,” you said, voice trembling. “what was that?”

“that was an orgasm,” she chuckled. “it’s normal, i promise.”

you hummed, exhaustion creeping up on you. “i’m tired now,” you mumbled, your eyes droopy as you continued to look at her.

“i know baby, but we have to clean you,” cassie said, helping you sit up, and brought the cup of water to your mouth. “drink up, you need it.”

you slowly sipped the water, and she held the glass to your mouth. she brought it back to the table after a few seconds, and soaked the wash cloth into the water.

“this is going to feel a bit cold,” she told you, gently moving the wash cloth over your cunt, and you whimpered. “it’s going to be okay, it’s just a quick clean.”

after she was done, she got up and put the cloth in her laundry hamper. she sat at the edge of the bed, her eyes falling onto your neck, and back into yours. “you don’t need to go home anymore,” she said, resting her hand on your thigh. “whatever or whoever you need, that’s what i am here for.”

you were able to draw up a smile, nodding. “okay, i’ll stay,” you assured, and she kissed your forehead.

minutes later, you and cassie were bare naked in bed, the candles blown out, and the only light that existed in the room was the moon that peeked through her blinds.

bodies skin to skin, and cassie held you close, your head on her chest as you could hear her soothing heartbeat while her fingernails ran up and down your back.

The after was a slow, insidious thing. It was in the way she said your name— Dr. Y/L/N, always formal in front of others, but softer when it was just the two of you in the supply closet, counting “narcotics”. It was in the way she’d slide a cup of terrible hospital coffee across the counter toward you, made exactly the way you liked it, without you ever having to ask. It was in the way her hand would find your lower back during a chaotic trauma, a steadying pressure that said I’ve got you without a single word.

It was 2004. She’d been married for twelve years to a man named Benji who worked regular hours and came to hospital functions with a kind smile. He looked at her like she was the center of his universe. You had no right to want her. You wanted her anyway.

You wanted her in the way she’d linger for a moment after handing you a chart, her fingers brushing yours. You wanted her in the way she saved you a seat in the break room, pulling out the chair next to hers with a pointed look when you walked in. You wanted her in the way she found you after bad shifts, sitting in silence with you in an on-call room until your hands stopped shaking. She never asked if you were okay. She just sat with you, close enough that your shoulders almost touched, close enough that you could smell her perfume, a simple floral scent that you would forever associate with safety.

You never said anything.

What was there to say? I'm in love with you, and I know you're married, and I know this is impossible, but I can't stop thinking about you? You were thirty-eight years old. You were too old for confessions. Too old for grand gestures. Too old to believe in the kind of love that changed things. So you watched her from across the trauma bay, watched her move with practiced grace, and you loved her in the silence between your shared glances.

One night in 2007, you were both held over for a double shift during a bad storm. The ER was eerily quiet, and you found her.

The lights in the lounge were too bright. They always were, the harsh, fluorescent, the kind that made everyone look washed out and exhausted, that highlighted the shadows under her eyes and the gray in her hair, that turned the room into something clinical and sterile. You stood beside her, close enough that your arms were almost touching.

“You should go home,” you said, your voice hoarse from exhaustion.

“Benji’s got the kids,” she replied, not looking at you. “I’d just be staring at the ceiling there, anyway.”

You nodded. You stood in silence for a long time, watching the storm. Then, without a word, she leaned her head against your shoulder. Just a small, simple gesture. You held your breath, terrified of breaking the spell. You felt the weight of her, the warmth of her, and you let your cheek rest against the top of her head.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered.

You closed your eyes. “There’s nowhere else I’d be.”

The rumors started in 2009. You’d been working together for ten years, and somewhere in that time, the lines you’d both been so careful to maintain had blurred. It wasn’t just glances and coffee anymore. It was the way you’d walk her to her car after a shift, the way she’d linger, finding reasons to keep talking. It was the way you’d gravitate toward each other in a crowded room, your shoulders touching, your voices dropping to a frequency only the two of you could hear. You’d become a unit, a silent, seamless partnership that the rest of the staff noticed.

You didn’t know who started the rumor. It didn’t matter. In a hospital, rumors spread faster than infections, and this one had all the hallmarks of something that would stick.

Did you hear about the new attending? The one who works trauma?

Yeah. Heard she’s one of them. You know. A lesbian.

She’s always hovering around Evans. You think Evans knows?

Evans is married. She’s got kids. I doubt she wants anything to do with that.

You heard it first from a nurse named Karen, who cornered you in the break room while you were pouring coffee. She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"You know, we don't have a problem with that sort of thing here," she said, her voice a low, conspiratorial purr. "But maybe you should be careful. Some people might get the wrong idea. The way you look at Dana."

Your hands went cold around the warm mug. You stared at her, your heart pounding so hard you were sure she could see it.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Karen smiled. "Of course you don't. Just thought you should know. People talk."

She left. You stood in the break room, alone, and tried to breathe, but the air felt thin, sharp in your lungs.

You told yourself it didn't matter. You told yourself you didn't care what people thought. You were a doctor. You were good at your job. That was all that mattered. You’d weathered worse things than gossip.

But the gossip was insidious. The nurses who used to joke with you went quiet when you entered a room, their conversations halting mid-sentence. The attendings who used to invite you to lunch suddenly had prior commitments. You’d walk into the locker room and hear the whispers stop, replaced by a pointed silence that was louder than any words. A patient’s family member requested a new doctor, saying they were “uncomfortable.” The attending who was your colleague gave you a look—a mix of pity and judgment that made your stomach turn.

You didn't say anything. You didn't complain. You went to work, you did your job, you saved lives. You told yourself that was enough.

But it wasn't. Because the worst part wasn't the whispers. The worst part was Dana.

Dana heard the rumors. You knew she did. Everyone heard the rumors.

And she did nothing.

At first, you thought she was just waiting for it to blow over. But then she started taking her breaks in the nurse’s station instead of the lounge. She stopped saving you a seat. When you walked into a room, she’d suddenly find a task that required her to leave. The hand that used to find your lower back, the lingering touches, the quiet moments after bad shifts—it all evaporated. She stopped looking at you across the ER like you were the only person in the room. Instead, she looked through you, her gaze sliding past yours with a practiced blankness that was worse than anger.

You’d catch glimpses of her old self sometimes. A flicker of warmth in her eyes when you told a joke to a patient, quickly masked. A moment where she almost reached for your arm in a trauma, pulling her hand back at the last second. She was building a wall between you, brick by silent brick, and you were powerless to stop it.

One night, you found a small, folded note in your locker. It was in her handwriting. All it said was: I’m sorry. I can’t be seen with you right now.

You crumpled the note in your fist, your knuckles white. You’d never felt so small.

You confronted her six months after the rumors started. You found her in the break room, alone, her back to the door as she stared at a cold cup of coffee.

"Dana."

She stiffened. Didn't turn around.

"We need to talk."

"I'm busy."

You closed the door behind you, the soft click of the latch echoing in the silence. "You've been avoiding me for months. We haven't had a real conversation in weeks. I find notes in my locker like I’m some sort of villain."

She turned then. Her face was carefully blank, the professional mask she wore when she didn't want anyone to see what she was feeling. But her eyes were tired, shadowed with something that looked like grief.

"I haven't been avoiding you."

"Yes, you have." Your voice cracked, despite your best efforts. "Ever since the rumors started."

Something flickered in her expression. Guilt, maybe. Or fear. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't." The word came out sharper than you intended, and you saw her flinch. "Don't do that. Don't pretend you don't know. You heard what they're saying about me. About us."

She was quiet for a long moment, her jaw working. Then: "I heard."

"And you didn't say anything." It wasn’t a question. Your voice was hollow now. "Karen has been treating me like a pariah for half a year. I've been reassigned from two critical cases because families are 'uncomfortable.' I come to work every day feeling like I have to apologize for my existence. And you... you just let it happen."

"What was I supposed to say?" Her voice was tight, controlled.

"Anything!" You threw your hands up, the dam finally breaking. "Anything would have been better than nothing! You could have told them to stop. You could have told them it didn't matter. You could have—" You stopped, your throat constricting. "You could have stood up for me."

Dana's jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in her cheek. "It's not that simple."

"Why not?" You stepped closer, your voice dropping. "I'm your—" You stopped. What were you? You'd never defined it. Never named it. Never said the words that had been sitting between you for ten years, for a thousand shared glances and silent understandings.

"I'm your friend," you said finally, the word feeling wholly inadequate. "At least, I thought I was."

She flinched. It was small, almost imperceptible, but you saw it. The mask cracked, and beneath it was raw, desperate pain.

"You don't understand," she said, her voice breaking. "I have a husband. I have children. I have a life here. If people start talking about me the way they're talking about you—"

"What about me?" Your voice was barely a whisper now, but it felt louder than a scream in the small room. "You think I have no life just because I'm single? You're throwing me under the bus to protect yourself? To protect your image?"

"It's not like that."

"Then what is it like, Dana?" You felt the tears you’d been holding back for six months finally spill over, hot and shameful on your cheeks. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're pretending you don't know me. Like you're ashamed of me. Of what they think I am."

"I'm not ashamed," she said, but she couldn’t meet your eyes.

"Then what are you?"

She didn't answer. She looked at you for a long, aching moment, and you saw something in her eyes—something that looked like fear, like longing, like ten years of unspoken things clawing their way to the surface. Her hand twitched at her side, as if she wanted to reach out and wipe your tears away.

"I can't," she said finally, and her voice was so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. "I'm sorry. I can't."

She walked past you, her shoulder brushing yours for the briefest second, and then she was gone. The door swung shut with a soft click, leaving you alone in the silence of the break room.

You stood there for a long time, staring at the spot where she’d been, the taste of defeat bitter in your mouth. You had loved her in the quiet spaces, in the stolen moments, in the silence. And in the end, it was the silence.

Her silence, that destroyed you.

The silence after Dana walked out was the loudest thing you'd ever heard.

You stood in the break room for what felt like hours, though it was probably only minutes. Your tears had dried. You looked at the door she'd disappeared through and felt something crack open up in your chest—something you'd been holding together for years, piece by careful piece.

You went back to work because that's what you did. That's what you'd always done.

You scrubbed in on a trauma, hands steady, voice calm. The patient was a twenty-three-year-old man, a construction worker who'd fallen three stories. His wife was in the waiting room. She was seven months pregnant.

You saved him. You always saved them. That was the cruel joke of it—you could hold someone's heart in your hands, could coax life back into lungs that had stopped breathing, could stitch together the broken pieces of strangers,

but you couldn't fix this. 

You couldn't fix her. 

You couldn't fix yourself.

The months that followed were slow.

Dana didn't just avoid you. She officially removed you from her life, and she did it with the same quiet efficiency she brought to everything else. She switched her shifts. She stopped taking breaks in the lounge altogether. When you walked into a room, she walked out. When you were assigned to the same trauma, she worked opposite sides of the bay, always keeping patients, equipment, anything between you.

You tried to talk to her again, once.

You cornered her by the ambulance bay, three weeks after the confrontation. It was two in the morning, snow falling, the lot empty except for a single ambulance that had just left. She was pulling on her coat, preparing to walk to her car.

"Dana. Please."

She stopped but didn't turn around. You could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands had gone still on her coat.

"I just want to understand," you said. Your voice sounded foreign to you—thin, desperate. "I just want to know what I did wrong."

She turned then, and for a moment, you saw it—the crack in her armor. Her eyes were bright, her lips pressed together so tightly they'd gone white.

"You didn't do anything wrong," she said. The words came out strangled.

"Then why?"

She shook her head, "You need to let this go. You need to let me go."

"I don't know how."

Her face crumpled. It was just for a second, but you saw it—the same raw, aching thing you'd been carrying for a decade, reflected back at you. Then she was gone, walking across the lot, her boots crunching on the salt-dusted pavement.

She got in her car. She drove away. You stood in the snow until your hands went numb, watching the red of her taillights disappear into the dark.

The worst part was that you still had to see her.

That was the unique cruelty of a hospital. You couldn't just disappear, couldn't move to another city, couldn't pretend the last ten years hadn't happened. You had to walk the same halls, ride the same elevators, breathe the same recycled air. You had to hear her voice over the intercom, see her handwriting on patient charts, catch glimpses of her across the trauma bay—her hands, always moving, always saving, the same hands that used to find your shoulder, your back, your arm.

You started taking the stairs instead of the elevator because you couldn't bear the possibility of being trapped in a small space with her.

You stopped going to the cafeteria because that was where she took her lunch now.

You ate in an empty on-call room, door locked, sitting on the edge of a bed that smelled like bleach and stale sheets, forcing down protein bars you couldn't taste.

The other nurses noticed. Of course they did. The rumors had quieted—there was nothing left to talk about, after all. You'd been effectively neutralized. No one whispered anymore. They just... didn't look at you. Didn't talk to you unless they had to. You'd become a ghost in your own department, haunting the edges of a place where you'd once belonged.

You threw yourself into your work because it was the only thing left. You took every trauma, every code, every impossible case. You worked double shifts, triple shifts. You slept in the hospital more nights than you slept at home. Your apartment, when you bothered to go there, felt wrong—too quiet, too empty, filled with furniture you'd bought with Dana's voice in your head.

You lost weight. You didn't notice, but other people did. Jack, one of the older attendings who'd always been kind to you, pulled you aside one day.

"When's the last time you ate a real meal?" he asked, 

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You're disappearing."

You laughed at that. It came out wrong—too sharp, too hollow. "I'm right here."

Jack looked at you for a long moment. "She's not worth destroying yourself over."

You felt something twist in your chest. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jack said quietly. "I've seen things. I saw you two, before. The way you were together. The way you looked at each other." he paused. "I'm sorry. For what happened. For what they did to you. To both of you."

You couldn't respond. Your throat had closed up. You nodded once, a jerky, mechanical movement, and walked away before you could fall apart in front of him.

You saw Dana with her husband six weeks after the ambulance bay.

It was a Saturday, and you'd made the mistake of going to the cafeteria to get coffee because the machine on your floor was broken. You rounded the corner and there they were—Benji's hand on her lower back, the same place her hand used to find you. He was saying something, smiling, and she was smiling back, and she looked... fine. She looked normal. Like she hadn't spent the last six months methodically dismantling your entire world.

You stopped so abruptly that the person behind you almost ran into you.

You watched her laugh at something he said, watched her reach up to touch his face, and you felt something splinter inside you. Not the clean break of anger or betrayal, but something messier. Something that tasted like: That could have been me. That should have been me. If I had been born different. If the world was different. If I was different.

You turned and walked away. Your coffee was forgotten. You made it to the stairwell before your knees gave out, and you sat down on the cold concrete steps, your back against the wall, and you cried. Not the quiet tears of the break room, but ugly, wrenching sobs that tore out of you from somewhere deep, somewhere primal. You cried until you had nothing left, until you were just a hollow shell sitting in a stairwell, listening to the distant sounds of a hospital that kept moving without you.

You started having nightmares.

Not about patients, not about the things you'd see. You dreamed about Dana. Over and over, the same dream. You were standing in the trauma bay, and she was across from you, and you were trying to reach her, but the room kept stretching, growing longer and longer, and no matter how fast you ran, you couldn't close the distance. You'd wake up gasping, tangled in sheets, your hand reaching for someone who wasn't there.

You stopped sleeping. Two hours a night, three if you were lucky. You drank coffee like it was water, your hands shaking from caffeine and exhaustion and something you refused to name.

You made a mistake on a patient. A minor one, a medication dosage slightly off, caught by the pharmacist before it could do any harm. But it was noted. It was recorded. You were called into the chief of medicine's office.

"We're concerned about you," he said. He was a thin man with kind eyes. You'd always liked him. Now you sat across from his desk, feeling like a child called to the principal's office.

"I'm fine."

"Your charting has been inconsistent. You've made two minor errors in the last three weeks. You've worked ninety hours in the last six days."

"I'm fine," you repeated. Your voice sounded flat, even to you.

He studied you for a long moment. "This isn't a reprimand. We're mandating you take seventy-two hours off. No work. No coming in. I want you to sleep. I want you to eat. I want you to remember that you can't save anyone if you're falling apart."

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Because he was right. You were falling apart. You'd been falling apart for months, and everyone could see it except you.

You went home. You sat in your apartment, the one that felt like a stranger's, and you stared at the wall. You didn't sleep. You didn't eat. You sat on your couch, the couch that Dana had mocked, and you thought about every moment of the last ten years.

The first time she laughed at something you said.

The first time she saved you a seat.

The first time you realized you were in love with her, standing next to the fridge in staff room, watching her talk about her trip to Michigan, thinking: I would burn my whole life down for you.

You'd been so careful. You'd never asked for anything. Never pushed, never pressured, never said the words that would have made it real. You'd loved her in the silence, and the silence had been enough until it wasn't. Until the silence became a weapon. 

You went back to work after three days. You were still thin, still exhausted, but you'd slept. You'd eaten. You'd put yourself back together enough to function.

The first day back, you walked into the ER and there was a new nurse. Young, nervous, clearly fresh out of school. She was standing at the nurses' station, looking lost, and without thinking, you walked over.

"Need some help?"

She looked up at you with wide eyes. "I'm looking for Dana Evans. They said she was the charge nurse? I'm supposed to shadow her."

Your chest constricted. "She's... she should be in the trauma bay. I can take you."

You led the new nurse through the ER, past the beds, past the monitors, past the ghosts of a thousand moments you couldn't escape. And there she was. Dana. Standing at the trauma bay, reviewing a chart, her reading glasses perched on her nose.

She looked up when you approached. For a moment—just a moment—something passed between you. Something that was pain and longing and ten years of everything you'd never said.

"Dr. Y/L/N," she said. Formal. Professional. The same way she'd said your name a thousand times.

"Dana." You forced your voice to be steady. "This is your new orientee. She was looking for you."

Dana's gaze dropped to the new nurse, and she smiled—that warm, competent smile you'd fallen in love with a decade ago. "Of course. Come with me. I'll show you around."

She walked away. The new nurse followed. You stood in the middle of the trauma bay, watching her go, and you felt something you hadn't felt in months: a flicker of anger. Not at her—you couldn't be angry at her, not really, no matter how much you tried but at yourself. At the years you'd wasted. At the words you'd never said.

What if you had said them? What if, that first day, instead of I think we're going to work well together, you'd said I think I'm in love with you? What if, in 2004, you'd told her the truth? What if you hadn't been so careful, so silent, so afraid?

What if you'd been brave?

You didn't last seventy-two hours after that.

It was a bad shift. The kind of shift that would have broken you even on your best day. A pediatric code, a four-year-old girl who'd drowned in a backyard pool. You worked her for forty-five minutes. You did everything right. She died anyway.

You stood in the trauma bay, your hands still wet from the code, and you couldn't move. The other staff filtered out, their faces drawn, their eyes averted. You were alone with the empty bed, the discarded equipment, the silence.

And then you weren't alone.

You didn't hear her come in. You just felt her. The same way you'd always felt her, from the very first day.

"Y/N."

Your name. Not Dr. Y/L/N. Just your name. She hadn't said it in months.

You didn't turn around. You couldn't. If you turned around, you would break.

"Y/N, look at me."

"I can't."

You heard her move closer. Felt her behind you, close enough to touch.

"I know," she said, and her voice was shaking. "I know. But I need you to hear me."

You closed your eyes. Your hands were trembling.

"I've been trying to do the right thing," she said. "For months, I've been telling myself that I was protecting my family, protecting my children, protecting you. I told myself that if I just... if I just stayed away, it would get easier. That we would get over it. That we would move on."

Her voice cracked on the last words.

"But I can't," she whispered. "I can't move on. I can't get over it. I can't—" She stopped. Took a breath that sounded like it cost her everything. "I can't stop thinking about you. I can't stop wanting you. I can't stop loving you."

You turned then.

She was crying. Dana Evans, who had held up the world for twenty years, who had seen things you couldn't imagine, who had stood in the middle of chaos and never flinched—she was crying, her face wet, her hands shaking, her mask finally, completely gone.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry. I was a coward. I was so afraid of what people would say, of what it would mean, of what I would lose—and I lost you anyway. I lost you, and I've been walking around for months like a person who's had a limb amputated, pretending I can't feel the ghost of you everywhere."

You stared at her. Your heart was pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat, in your temples, in the tips of your fingers.

"You have a husband," you said. Your voice came out rough, scraped raw.

"I know."

"You have children."

"I know."

"You said you couldn't."

She stepped closer. You could see the individual tears tracking down her face, the way her lip trembled, the way her hands were fisted at her sides like she was physically holding herself back.

"I was wrong," she said. "I was wrong about everything. And I know it might be too late. I know I don't have the right to ask you for anything. But I need you to know that I love you. I have loved you every single day since 1999, since you walked into this hospital looking like you were going to be sick, and you looked at me like I was the only thing in the room."

She was close enough now that you could smell her perfume, the same simple floral scent you'd been chasing for a decade.

"I love you," she said again, her voice breaking. "And I am so, so sorry."

You stood there, in the middle of the trauma bay where a child had just died, with the woman you'd loved for ten years crying in front of you, and you realized: you were still afraid. You were terrified. Of what this meant, of what it would cost, of what would happen when the sun rose and the real world came back.

But you were more terrified of walking away.

You reached out. Your hand trembled as you touched her face, your fingers brushing the tears from her cheek. She closed her eyes, leaning into your touch like a starving thing finally being fed.

"I've loved you since 1999 too," you said. "I've loved you every day. And I'm so angry at you I can barely breathe. And I don't know if I can trust you. And I don't know if this can work. But I—" Your voice broke. "I don't know how to stop. I've tried. I've tried so hard. And I can't."

She opened her eyes. They were red-rimmed, swollen, the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

"I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you," she said. "If you let me. If you still want me."

You laughed. It was wet and broken and nothing like the laugh you'd imagined a thousand times, but it was real.

"I want you," you said. "I've always wanted you. I just—I need you to be brave. I need you to choose me. Not in secret. Not in silence. I need you to choose me the way I've been choosing you for ten years."

She nodded, tears still falling. "I will. I promise. I will."

You kissed her.

It wasn't the kiss you'd dreamed about. It was messy and desperate and tasted like salt and grief and ten years of everything you'd never said. It was the kiss of two people who had spent too long in the dark, finally stumbling toward the light.

She pulled back first, her forehead against yours, both of you breathing hard.

"What now?" she whispered.

You looked at her—really looked at her, for the first time in months. You saw the fear still there, the guilt, the weight of everything she was about to lose. But you also saw something else.  

You saw love.

"Now," you said, "we figure it out. Together. One day at a time."

She let out a shaky breath. "Together."

Dana text you fifteen minutes ago.

Today had been hard. Every fucking day in "The Pitt" as everyone around lovingly called it was hard.

You still had half an hour left of your shift. That was, until the merciful calm had finally descended. McKay had sat with you, and you'd talked about her last patient. You'd talked about yours. Even amongst the constant noise of the ER, it was hard to turn off your mind from the worst case scenarios. The what if's. The doubts has started to creep in. You supposed if they hadn't you wouldn't be a particularly good doctor. These days, with all the death it was hard to focus on anything else.

Dana had told you months ago that it never got easier. That a job like yours was the profession of those not yet crazy enough for the psych ward. She was joking, of course. In that overstated way of hers.

Your phone buzzed again.

Dana.

Besides you, Cassie raised a brow. "You're popular today."

Setting down your glass of water, you laughed. "Seems like it."

Cassie leant back in her stool. She always seemed so unbothered. Like she was born for this job. "Say, have you seen Dana? She said she was headed out for a smoke."

Another buzz in your pocket. Another notification that was most definitely Dana. "No."

"I guess she's busy," She muttered. "If you find her, tell her I need a prescription report signed off."

You nodded, and opened your phone.

It was Dana. Of course. She was growing impatient.

You knew usually she'd be smoking at the ambulance bay. But, there was a spot she'd shown you that was just hers. In the ambulance bay, yes. But, tucked out of sight. The old watchman cabin from the 90's. That, apparently everyone save Dana had forgotten existed. It sat obscured by the chain link fence surrounding the hospital, covered in old shrubbery.

Slowly, you took the stairs, and pushed open the double doors to the bay. The cool air hit you like a truck. The ER was always so warm. The light breeze was a welcome reprieve. At this hour, everyone who could was taken advantage of the lunch quiet. It was odd. In nine months, you'd never seen the ER so empty.

Taking a breath, you headed over the farthest side of the bay. Skirting around the fence, you double checked to ensure no one was watching, and pushed back the branches.

Reaching the cabin, you pushed the door open to find Dana. One leg hoisted on a chair, leaning against the old blue walls. What you suspected was her second Cigarette between her fingers.

"You're late," she said, noticing your tired expression. "You okay?"

"Sure," You said hesitantly. "I've been...better."

Dana stood on equal footing now. "Something bothering you?"

"Not exactly."

Her voice dropped dangerously low. "Someone bothering you?"

You didn't answer.

She blew out the smoke. Her eyes locked on yours. Furious. "It sure as fuck better not be Robby. If he's - "

" - Dana." You held up a hand. "It's not Robby. It's not anyone, actually. I just feel like I'm failing my patients."

"Oh, pretty girl." She cooed, stamping out the cigarette. "Talk to me, please."

She looked at you then with those soulful eyes. Head tilted, and the slightest touch of a smile on her face that was contorted in concern. She looked beautiful.

"I was talking to McKay. She lost a patient last week."

"Yeah, I remember."

You took a breath. "She told me that it's hard. And today was harder the most. I get it, I do. We're human and we're going to make mistakes." You looked up at her. "But how do I stop thinking about the next one I'll lose?"

Dana's gaze softened. Moving closer, she drew you in for a hug. The familiar scent of her floral perfume enveloping you. "That's really what's on your mind?"

You nodded, turning back to face her. "Yeah."

"I'll tell you how you do this, sweetheart." She said softly. "You think about the next one you'll save. And the next one after that."

"But - "

She pressed a finger to your lips, silencing you with a grin. "Think you can do that for me?"

You nodded, and your lips quirked into a small smile. "Dana, you're incredible. Do you know that?"

"I'm well aware," she said proudly, hands reaching to adjust her shirt. "I'm full of surprises."

"Oh?" You laughed, and the sight of her was enough to make your heart race. "Like what?"

She fixed you with a glare. "Come here and I'll show you."

She gestured for you to come forward, and you did as you were told. Slowly, Dana wrapped her arms around your shoulders. Pulling you closer, she pressed her lips against yours. Gently at first, but the kiss grew hungrier. Needier. Desperate.

Dana's hands tangled in your hair, as if she couldnt get enough of you.

"Turn around, pretty girl." She ordered, breaking away and pointing to the wall. "Please."

You nodded, and stood, facing the wall with your back You knew what was coming, Dana was always partial to being a little inventive. But. As she pressed up against you, you couldn't help but gasp.

She chuckled softly, and began to press kisses to your neck. Enjoying the effect she was having. Slowly, she slid her hands down your sides. Then, she dug her knee into your leg, forcing them apart roughly.

Her hands wandered lower. Until she snuck passed your waistband and into your underwear. She pressed herself roughly into your back. You were pinned between the wall, and her. "Good girl."

Even the words alone were enough to ilicit a whimper from you. Dana's fingers traced along your thighs, and she clicked her tongue as you tried to gain more friction. One soft kiss, and her fingers found your entrance. Already wet and desperate.

"Dana," you muttered. "I want you."

Her fingers didn't move. But. You heard the disappointment in her voice. "What are you missing?"

"Please."

She teased her fingers against your clit. "Better."

You bucked against her, and she pushed two fingers into you, harshly. Your face hitting against the wall with a gasp.

"You can do it baby," she urged "come on."

She pushed herself further into you. Fingers pumping in and out as her other hand worked on your clit. Your legs trembled and you whimpered as your orgasm neared. "Dana, please."

She pushed against you harder, allowing as much pressure as she could. Fingers pressing inside you hard. Dana's breaths came ragged in your ear, and she whispered. "Come for me."

And you did. You came around her fingers, legs shaking and your breath hot and heavy as you rode against her hand. She pulled out of you, with a grin. Until she pressed her own slick fingers to her mouth, and sucked.

"Fuck, you're something else." You said, still shaky.

Gently, Dana leant over, and pressed a kiss to your brow. Not before sorting out your messy hair. "So," she asked, readjusting her stephescope and collar. "You feel a little better?"

Dana’s eyes look you up and down like you’re a piece of meat, she’s not visibly tired, which scares you more. She’s too calm. You’d gone out for drinks with Trinity and Dennis, before you had left the house, Dana made it clear that you had to be back by 1am. Promising her that you left and now you were back at 3:30am.

“I can explain—"

“Over my lap. Now.” She downs the last bit of her drink and places the glass on the side table. You stand up and walk over to her with shaky knees, you’d only see Dana this mad once, and it was when a patient was violent with you. Dana pulls you over her knee, slowly pulling your skirt and panties down and rubbing your exposed ass.

“You know why you’re being punished, right, baby?” She’s still rubbing her hand on your bum and thighs, you slowly nod, tears gathering in your eyes.

“Y-yes, Mama, I stayed out past my curfew.”

“I thought you were my good girl and would follow my rules, but you didn't, so now you’re here. You’re getting 20 hits.” You nod once again, tears running down your face. You feel so disappointed, you always wanna be good for Dana. She’s the first person to really see through your tough act, she clocked it on the first day of your R1 rotation when she found you sobbing in the parking lot. Dana knew you needed guidance and a stern hand, and she was more than happy to give it to you.

The first hit comes down hard, you let out a little yelp. Dana tells you to count, and you do not, wanting to upset her more.

“One! Thank you, Mama."

Another hit comes down on your ass, and you thank her once more. They keep coming and coming, and you can’t stop yourself from crying. The alcohol is making you more emotional and has heightened your senses.

“20! Thank you, Mama.”

“You did so well for me, baby. So proud of you.” Her hand rubs all over your bum, trying to soothe the feeling a bit, but you’ve grown uncomfortably wet from the punishment, and Dana knows. Her hand trails in between your thighs, and her fingers find your soaking wet cunt.

“Someone enjoyed their punishment a little too much.” Her fingers sink into your cunt, and you let out a small moan, she thrusts them in and out of you, her finger coming to rub circles on your clit. “F-fuck, Mama feels so good!” You moan out, your senses overwhelmed with pain and pleasure. Dana only goes faster, you feel yourself getting closer to the edge.

“Yeah you gonna cum, sweetheart? Come for Mommy like a filthy slut?” The only thing that comes out of your mouth is a broken moan; the pleasure is too overwhelming. She continues to move her fingers in and out of you, rubbing your clit. Your orgasm washes over you like waves, Dana lets you ride it out until you’ve calmed down.

She pulls her fingers out, and you whimper at the loss of her fingers, but she brings them down to your mouth, and you suck them clean for her. She helps you get up and takes you to the bathroom, where she takes off your makeup and applies some ointment to your bum. She helps you get into your PJs and leaves the room for a moment.

You get caught up in your head. What if she actually hates me? Or she’s actually really upset. You don’t notice that she came back with some Advil and water.

“Hey, hey, kiddo, why are you crying? "Mama's here." She gets into bed beside you and tucks you into her chest, you can’t help the sobs that come out of you.

“I-I’m—I'm sorry, please don’t leave me I’ll be good.” She understood now, you felt insecure and vulnerable. You thought she left you.

“Sweetheart, look at me. I’m never leaving you, okay? Mama's not mad anymore, you took your punishment well and you apologized. All is forgiven, okay? You’re my sweet girl, and I’m so lucky to have you.” She presses a kiss to your lips, and you melt into her. “I love you, angel."

“I love you too, Mama." With that, you fall asleep safe and sound in her arms.

Divider credit / cursedcarmie