# PMTCRN , a private + selective portrayal penned by sammy ( 25, she / her , PST ) of andrea arellano torres — an emergency department nurse from HBO's the pitt. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. read guidelines before interacting.
∣∣∣ GOOGLE DRIVE. PROMPTS. CHARACTER STUDY. HEADCANONS. STARTERS.
A STUDY IN . . . grief that settles into your bones and learning how to live in spite of it , inherited resilience , the quiet loneliness of being the eldest daughter , & the so-called ❝ american dream ❞.
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jealousy ? andrea ? psh, never ! at least that's what she tells herself. others would beg to differ. maybe it was easy for her to deny it because it was hardly expressed explicitly. rather than explosive reactions, she tends to retreat into the sanctuary of her emotions. a protective shell drawn around her vulnerability. her warm presence is rapidly replaced with cold detachment, leaving people to wonder what went wrong. this coldness isn't born out of anger but of hurt, a reflection of how deeply she feels the sting of insecurity. she often struggles to voice her jealousy outright, fearing rejection or misunderstanding, so she lets her actions or lack thereof, speak for her.
today's different though. she's not sure she could simply do nothing about this. not when it involved carter. he's not doing anything that's deserving of the silent treatment anyway. technically . . . she had no hold over him. he wasn't her boyfriend. she wasn't his girlfriend. but they were something. something she didn't want to lose. and apparently, that something was going to have to be defined a little sooner than later. andrea catches the tail end of the conversation as she approaches, the nurse from med surg standing in front of carter with a smile that is just a little too interested. she slows, just enough to take in the situation. she's not even entirely sure what possesses her to step in. maybe it's the way the other woman is looking at him. maybe it's the sudden, sharp twist of something unpleasant in her chest.
whatever it is, she doesn't think about it for long. "oh, hey," she says, sliding into the conversation with a smile that is entirely too pleasant to be innocent. her gaze flickers briefly toward the nurse before settling on carter. "sorry, babe. i didn't realize you were busy." the endearment comes easily. far too easily. she steps closer to him, close enough that the gesture can be interpreted however anyone wants to interpret it. her hand finds his arm, fingers curling lightly around it as she turns her attention back to the nurse.
"i didn't mean to interrupt. i hate to be rude, but i gotta pull my boyfriend away. we have . . . stuff to check out." there's a brief pause. andrea can feel the lie settle between them. not entirely a lie, she tells herself. not really. not if this is going anywhere. not if she has anything to say about it. "carter, you weren't going to make me come find you, were you ? " she asks, glancing up at him with a look that is both warning and pleading. silently, desperately, she hopes he understands what she's doing. "remember we had those plans after work today ? that stuff i told you about." there weren't any plans. not technically. but she can make some.
"That's not embarrassing!" Igraine insisted. "It's romantic, I mean, I don't know what men think, but I think it's romantic. They go on and on about men yearning, but we invited that shit," Igraine said decidedly. There had definitely been a level of it. She had enjoyed bickering with Jack, the way he'd push back on what she thought. It made her feel something.
When Drea said it so distinctly, she laughed. "We really are Bluetooth linked," she snorted. They did have minds that thought alike. She probably wouldn't see Robby the same way as some of the other women she'd heard about him from in the ED, but she could appreciate it when it was there. She also didn't know if he was seeing someone; she honestly didn't know if either of them was seeing someone.
"I may have gotten snippy with him last week, started a whole rumor when the new nurse asked him out on a date...and that was before Quinn. I just blurted out the first thing I thought of, and he followed me out, saying I was spreading false information," she grinned. She knew he'd argue with her; he'd leave the nurses' station and follow behind. The plan wasn't conscious at first, but halfway through, she was determined.
"listen . . . mama loves some yearning. crushing on someone for years though ? seems a little a sad to me. but i'll take your word for it and we'll just say it's romantic." the more she discussed this with iggy, the more she realized hiding it from her friend in the first place was ridiculous. out of all the things andrea had shared with her, this was what she was too nervous to bring up ? a man ? a crush that you could actually talk about with your girlfriend was way more fun anyways.
upon hearing the new nurse had asked the attending out on a date, her expression shifted slightly. "wait." her brows lifted. "she asked him out ? " there was a pause, and then, far too quickly, she added, "like, actually asked him out ? for real ? " she seemed to realize how interested she sounded and immediately tried to recover. "not that i care," she insisted, despite absolutely no one having accused her of caring. "i’m just . . . " she waved a hand, searching for a reasonable explanation. "surprised. that's all." she was quiet for half a second, which was apparently as long as she could manage before the question escaped her. "was i off that day ? i find out about everything, but this is the first time i'm hearing about this."
"Oh! Eleven's not bad! I mean, little dogs can live up to fifteen, right, so he's got plenty of years left. I hate thinking about Jensen getting old. Ugh."
"i don't even wanna think about how many years he has left. i just like to avoid thinking about it and be delusional enough think he'll live forever. i mean . . . chihuahuas have like nine lives. i spoil the hell out of him too. i don't buy dog food. i cook for him."
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He snorted a laugh, shaking his head in a short movement, trying to imagine some kind of insanity overcoming him and him eating someone's stitches like a spaghetti noodle.
"Don't worry, I don't think you're in any danger from that happening. Besides, I only eat the ones that go wrong," he grinned, "So just don't make any mistakes and we're all good, right?"
"i'll just avoid having to get stitches anytime soon. i don't wanna risk it." she playfully shot him a worried expression before a chuckle escaped my lips. "alright, i'll find you tomorrow to give you, hopefully, the solution to your insomnia. i gotta get back to work before i'm tempted to take another cupcake. thanks again, langdon."
' Do you work with my daddy? ' Tanner plucked up another crayon from the box on the table. Tucking the other one neatly back inside before beginning to color in the book. Pigs should definitely be green...he had always wanted to see a green pig. ' Is he coming back yet? ' - (special guest) Tanner.
"is your daddy dr. langdon ? " the boy didn't need to provide an answer for her to know that she's right. "i do work with him. i'm andie," she joined tanner at the table. her focus landed on the coloring book, watching how tanner colored in the pig. green . . . creative choice. "i'm not quite sure how long it'll be till he comes back, but he's just finishing up helping someone. he'll be with you soon though." she reassured him, offering him a smile. "i like the shade of green you picked for the pig. if you have enough time before you go, i'll trade you a really cool sticker for a picture you color in. does it sound like we have a deal or do you want me to offer in something else ? you've got options."
"Andrea!" Ally comes running over to her friend with a sparkly pink bag in hand. "Happy birthday!" She offers a big hug and the bag, which is holding a cute crocheted practical magic white tank top that perfectly matches the one Sandra Bullock wore, some cute black cat earrings, and a sweet smelling perfume. ( <3 pittnights)
it doesn't take her very long to realize why the crotchet top looks so familiar. after all, andrea's watched "practical magic" more times than she can count. a warm smile tugs on the corners of her lips before pulling her friend in for a hug. "ally," her voice trails off as she sways a bit into the embrace, "i love you. you're the sweetest. i can't wait to wear this. seriously, you're the best." | @pittnights
"a diaper ? oh god, no. he's not that old. we haven't gotten there. he's eleven. he's in good shape an everything, but he's definitely slowed down a bit."
andrea doesn't deny it. she sits with one knee pulled against her chest, absently toying with the sleeve from her sweatshirt. "iggy's deploying soon." the sentence lands heavily.
elena nods, "how are you feeling about that ? "
andrea lets out a quiet breath, "i don't know. i mean . . . i guess i know how i'm supposed to feel."
"and what's that ? "
"proud ? " her shoulders shrug a bit. "i guess i am. i'm always proud of her. she's brilliant."
"but ? "
andrea looks toward the window, "i keep thinking about airports. i hate airports." the confession surprises even her. "i hate watching people leave." families hugging. people promising they'd see each other soon. ' have a safe flight. ' ' see you next week. ' ' call me when you land. ' promises. enrique begged her not to drop him off at the airport anymore whenever he'd visit home because he simply couldn't stand seeing his sister cry every single time.
"i don't believe promises anymore." the room grows quiet. "i don't mean that people lie," she shakes her head quickly. "i mean . . . " she struggles for the words, "people mean them. promises. at least most of the time." her mother meant she'd always be there. her father meant he'd come home after work. patients meant it when they told their families they'd be okay. intentions had never been the problem. life was.
"you've learned that wanting to come home isn't the same thing as getting to."
andrea closes her eyes, "yeah." she barely whispers it. "that's exactly it." the toying with her sleeve comes to a halt. "everyone keeps saying she'll be okay." a bitter laugh escapes her lips. "i don't know how anyone says that. — they hope she'll be okay." andrea knows hope.
hope had kept her staring out the apartment window at fifteen, convinced her parents would walk into the front door. hope had convinced her that her mother's diabetes would get under control. hope had sat at the beside of enough hospital beds to know it wasn't a guarantee. "i work in the emergency department." there's an exhaustion that's audible in her tone of voice. "i watch people leave for work and never make it home. i don't get to believe that tomorrow belongs to anyone." there's a brief moment of silence before she speaks up once more. "so when people tell me not to worry . . . it feels like they're asking me to ignore everything i've lived through."
elena leans forward slightly, "what's the fear ? "
andrea opens her mouth. nothing comes out. eventually — "i'm afraid of getting a phone call." her voice cracks. "not because I think it's going to happen." she wipes beneath one eye, "but because . . . i know it can." the distinction matters. she isn't catastrophizing. she's gotten better at not doing that. she's grieving a certainty she'll never possess. "i hate that i can't convince myself she'll be okay."
"what would it take to convince you ? "
andrea laughs softly, "i'd have to know the future."
"and can anyone ? "
"no."
"so what are you grieving ? "
the question catches her off guard. she frowns, "i'm not grieving."
"aren't you ? "
andrea looks down, "i think i'm grieving . . . " she exhales shakily, "the version of me that used to think goodbye was temporary." she hadn't realized she'd lost that. not until now. "when I was little, if my mom said she'd see me after school, that was the end of the conversation." of course she'd see her after school. that was how the world worked. until one afternoon, she came home and her mom wasn't there. and her dad never came home. "i don't think I've ever gotten that feeling back."
elena lets those words settle.
"when someone i love walks away, my brain immediately starts collecting them." andrea's eyes fill.
"what do you mean ? "
"i notice everything," she smiles sadly. "the way iggy laughs. how she thinks every meal i make is worthy of a michelin star even though it could be a simple bowl of macaroni. the face she makes when she's trying not to smile." she laughs through her tears. "i memorize people." she finally understands why. "in case . . . " the words stick in her throat and she cannot finish them. she doesn't have to.
elena doesn't finish them for her either. instead, she asks quietly, "what would happen if you told iggy this ? "
andrea shakes her head immediately, "i can't."
"why ? "
"because I don't want my fear to become hers." she smiles faintly, "she already has enough to carry."
"and you ? "
"i've always been good at carrying things."
"you've always had to." the correction is gentle. not good at it. required to do it.
andrea's composure finally fractures. "i just . . ." she presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. "i want one goodbye in my life to actually be just a goodbye." not a deportation. not a funeral that she never gets to attend. not a facetime call from another country. "i want her to leave . . . and i want her to come home. i want life to stop proving me wrong." the office is silent except for her quiet sobs.
after a long while, elena speaks. "i don't think you're afraid because you've stopped believing in people."
andrea lowers her hands.
"i think you're afraid because life has taught you that love doesn't protect us from loss."
she nods. slowly. painfully.
"andrea, your fear isn't irrational because terrible things can happen. they can. you've lived that truth. but you've begun treating possibility as certainty. every goodbye feels as though it already contains a loss that hasn't happened yet."
for the first time since iggy told her about the deployment, andrea allows herself to admit the truth she has been avoiding. she isn't mourning something that has happened. she's mourning the certainty that it won't.
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= Left in the locker with a Gym premium membership for a year =
inside the card: up that bicep game - Jack
(I did not have time with traveling to do this, just pretend you got this yesterday)
there's a pep in her step as she makes her way over to the senior attending. "you didn't have to get me anything. i'd say i can't accept the gym membership, but i know you won't take no for an answer so . . . thank you." her love for the gym wasn't a secret, but it had nothing to do with vanity nor the health benefits of maintaining an active lifestyle. going to the gym helped her clear her head. it kept her sane. it was somewhere she could be a little selfish for once and focus on herself. jack's gift was thoughtful, and she'd be lying if she said a small tear didn't escape her eye when finding the birthday card in her locker. it was one of those gifts that made you feel known. "i really appreciate you."
Send this little flower 🌸 to the friends whose writing you adore and whose presence makes your dash a happier place. Let's share a little love. 💖
hugs for you. the way you and kenna have me wrapped around y'all's finger with your threads is crazy. it's literally my morning paper. i read my fanfics and then i read the threads you both grace us with on the dash. both of you are insane. aether, i am very thankful to have you on my dash and to have the chance to write with you.
Send this little flower 🌸 to the friends whose writing you adore and whose presence makes your dash a happier place. Let's share a little love. 💖
not worthy, not worthy! i am very much thankful for this sweet message. right back at you though, because you're a phenomenal writer. what a treat to surround myself with people like you on here.
"you're imagining it, ig." she didn't slow her pace as she crossed the employee parking lot, keys already in hand. "there. happy ? " a tired smile tugged at one corner of her mouth, though it never quite reached her eyes. "i'm fine." the words came too quickly. too rehearsed. she kept walking. she made it almost all the way to her car before finally stopping. not because she'd decided to, but she knew igraine wasn't going to let it go. andrea let out a slow breath through her nose before turning around, one hand planted against the roof of her car. "what ? " the word came out sharper than she'd intended. "i don't know what you want me to say. i've been showing up to work and doing my job." her fingers tightened around her keys. "i'm here. so why does everyone keep asking me if i'm okay ? " the question escaped before she could stop it. "it feels like every other conversation lately starts with ' are you okay ? ' it's fucking exhausting." she gave a short, humorless laugh. "and if i say yes, nobody believes me. so what am I supposed to do ? give a different answer because it's the one everyone wants ? " there was no anger directed at her friend even if andrea's tone said otherwise.
"i know you're just checking on me, but i'm so . . . " she stopped herself, lips pressing into a thin line. the sentence died before it could become something honest. all she could do was let out a long exhale. "i'm just not in the mood to be somebody's project the second i clock out." the moment the words left her mouth, regret flashed across her expression.
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gael leaves the trauma room, navy blue scrubs separating him from the doctors who work in the emergency department, and walks to the nurse's station returning the chart. “ Buenos días, Andrea. La paciente de la habitación tres ya está lista para ser trasladada. Alguien bajará a buscarla en cuanto haya un quirófano disponible, ” he speaks before leaning on the station towards @pmtcrn . “ got any other patients in need of a consult before i head back up to the surgical floor? ”
andrea barely looked up from the chart she'd been working on, fingers still moving across the keyboard as gael's voice reached her. the familiar cadence of spanish was enough to pull her attention away from the screen, and a tired smile tugged at the corners of her mouth "muchísimas gracias," she replied automatically, accepting the chart from him before setting it neatly into the pile beside her. "we appreciate it." an OR opening up on the surgical floor meant they'd have another bed available for one of the patients out in the waiting room.
her eyes drifted toward the tracking board mounted above the nurses' station, scanning the sea of names, room numbers, and color-coded statuses. nothing immediately jumped out as surgical. "i haven't heard anyone calling for you," she admitted, one shoulder lifting in a small shrug. "we'll probably bother you again at some point today though. you're like one of the few surgeons that get here in a timely fashion. if you repeat that to anyone up there, i'm gonna deny it. don't wanna burn any bridges with surgery if i ever wanna retire as a OR nurse or something."
