#doctor reader

You were never supposed to be on Project Hail Mary, it was an extremely last minute decision on Stratt’s end. You met her maybe… three days before you were induced Though, she made you feel as if you didn’t have a choice but to be in this project.

You were the only nurse at Grover Cleveland, well over-qualified for your position. With a Master’s Degree in Biology, completing and passing the MCAT—essentially you’d completed every step to become a proper doctor at the hospital near your house.

And you hated it. God you hated every part of it, all the responsibility, disrespectful patients, nurses, staff, just generally a displeasing job for you. You’re sure that other doctors loved their job, but you loved this area much more. You weren’t willing to move in order to find a better job at a hospital, it wouldn’t be home.

So, you compromised. You believed it was better to be happy and poor than miserable and rich. Your family believed otherwise, as hard as you worked for your degree, but you really didn’t care.

You get paid extra just for being a technical Doctor, though some staff who don’t really know you still refer to you as a Nurse. It doesn’t bother you with staff, no, you care more about the children.

All the kids in school call you Doctor, so any staff member that’s going out of their way to push down your hard work is simply just trying to be disrespectful. It’s best to ignore.

You didn’t speak much to Dr. Grace, but he respected your title highly, you think it’s because people don’t respect his. You’d often hear him talking to students;

“That’s Dr. Grace to you, Kevin!”

Sometimes, when kids would ask to go to the nurse, you could hear him reply that this school didn’t have a nurse, only a Doctor.

You found it amusing, especially considering you two didn’t talk much. His classroom was on the other side of school compared to your office, he only came into your office once to ask for bandaids.

You remember the faint knock on your door. “Come in!” You’d reply, working on your computer and still using your ‘student voice.’ When Dr. Grace walked in, you continued typing a report from a kid that scraped his knee pretty badly.

“Just one second hun’.”

“Take all the seconds you want, I get paid by the hour.” Dr. Grace replied, closing the door behind him. He had never been in your office, so he really took in the comforting atmosphere of it. 

Your head jolted up at the blatant voice of a grown man, seeing Dr. Grace smirking at you. You couldn’t help but laugh at the misunderstanding.

“Oh, sorry Dr. Grace, thought you were a student.”

“I didn’t think I was that short. Shot my ego straight down, Doctor.”

You giggled, pushing your rolling chair aside, away from the computer to better talk to him. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Do I?”

You crossed your arms. “What do you need?”

He walked over to the counter of your desk, crossing his own arms on them and leaning over to peek at what you may have on your desk.

“Bandaids. Like a pack, my kids are pretty violent so we ran out.”

You’d nod your head, standing up to walk to the corner of your office, and opening a drawer. “I can give you a map to the nearest Walmart.” You replied, searching for some band-aids. Preferably ones with cute designs on them, biology themed?

“Hardy har har.” 

You tossed him the pack, he caught it. “Will that do?”

They were bandaids with planets on them, he rubbed them with his thumb, looking at them pretty intently. “Yeah. That’ll be fine.” He put them in the pocket of his suit, and you couldn’t help but think about how different your work attire was. Yours was much more calm, much more casual.

“Alright, tell your kids to stop falling or cutting themselves on paper, Band-Aids are expensive.”

“I think if I told them that they’d just wanna do it more. They’re menaces.”

“Right, bye Dr. Grace.” You sat back down in your rolling chair, typing on the computer.

He gave you a slight wave as he walked out.

Most interactions with people coming into your office were… boring. Everyone was scraping their knees, or needed packages of bandaids. Again, overqualified.

After school had ended, you were finishing up some paper-work, well, procrastinating on it. When someone knocked on your door, you assumed it was George Rams’ mom, he had a fight today and you were the one who got stuck with fixing him up. You were sure she had some concerns, most parents aren’t used to actual doctors working in schools, you’ve had parents complain a lot about a ‘nurse’ handling something that a proper doctor should handle.

“Ma’am, I am a doctor.” You’d say. It was often just met with an ‘Oh, thank you for your time.’

The woman who came in was cold and had a stoic expression, she had the vibe like she commanded a room. You were surprised that such an authoritarian figure would have a child getting into fights, but it’s also expected for children to have a rebellious phase in Middle School, better than High School at the very least.

“Hi Mrs. Rams, is this about your son?” You sat up, giving her your attention.

“I have no son. My name is Eva Stratt, I am working with the United Nations to solve the growing Patrova Line problem with Astrophage.”

You stare at her, not saying much. Because what did this have to do with you? Did she confuse your office with the front office? Was this a mental health issue?

You open your mouth to reply before she states your full government name, which makes you pause your words in slight surprise.

“You are a Doctor right, overqualified for the position as a Middle School Nurse?”

“Maybe.” 

“It seems to be a theme with this school to hire those overqualified to work here. Please stand, Doctor.”

You do, you don’t know this woman, but you stand.

“I hereby grant you clearance to know all information about Project Hail Mary.”

She places her hands on your shoulders, her words imply that she knows someone else overqualified to work here. Dr. Grace, right? That’s the only option, he’d be gone for quite some time, with constant substitutes. Normally a teacher would get in trouble for that but the principal seemed pretty lenient, almost scared to say anything about it.

“Come with me.”

She begins walking out, but you don’t follow.

“Uhm, Ms. Stratt thank you for this… whatever this offer is but-“

“It is not an offer. You will come with me either by willingness or force. I would suggest following me.”

She stares at you for a moment, until your feet automatically move. You follow Stratt, you leave your computer open with George Rams’ medical information on it. You don’t know why—well, yes you do. It’s fear, you’re scared of what Stratt is gonna do to you if you don’t follow her. 

Over the next three days, you don’t ever see Dr. Grace. 

Stratt tells you the purpose of Project Hail Mary, that this is a suicide mission. 

She tells you that you’re not her top candidate, and that you’d only be sent if Dr. Grace is sent.

“He’ll only be sent if something happens to our two scientists, but we know he will not want to be there at all. We aren’t sure if he will cooperate, or if he will do self harm in the hull in order to escape the responsibility.”

That doesn’t sound like Dr. Grace, but at this point you don’t know if you really know Grace at all.

“Not only do you know him, but you’re an extremely qualified Doctor, so you’ll be the ship medic if he is sent up. If he does harm to himself, or others, you will be in charge of that situation. Or if any mishaps happen where someone is wounded, we need this Project to follow through.”

You slowly rose your hand during one of these meetings. “What if I… don’t… want to go. This is a suicide mission, I-“

“We don’t care. Grace will not want to go. So you two can bond over that.”

Awesome. 

And with your luck, after a deadly explosion of Astrophage, the two scientists were rendered useless before launch. Pronounced dead at the scene.

And you were forced to be put into a medically induced coma, and to go aboard the Hail Mary, all so you could be a medic.

——

When you woke up, everything was hazy.

“What is 2+2?”

Four. You thought.

“Aughhr…” You say.

“Incorrect.” The voice restates its question. “What is 2+2?”

Why can’t you talk? You smack your lips, not wanting to open your eyes yet, because you’re still trying to remember things. You make loud noises, groaning continuously. You roll out of bed, before feeling an edge, okay, don’t roll over there. You open your eyes slowly, seeing you’re very high above the ground, with several empty ‘hospital’ beds below you.

A robotic arm grabs you and moves you back to the center of the bed. “What is 2+2?”

“Fruckc.. off…” You groan, trying to sit up, to look around. The lights are bright and fluorescent, and the gravity feels unreal. Your arms feel stronger, you don’t feel unhealthy.

You feel tired. You feel gross.

You can assume it was a coma, your memories are hazy, you have no clue where you are. But you know that you probably just got out of a coma.

“What is 2-“

“It’s four!” You yell at the arm. “Four! It’s fucking four!” You rub your face.

“Correct!”

The arm takes several IVs out of you, you assume a feeding tube was taken out of you moments before you woke up, because your throat feels really weird.

You look on the other side of the bed, seeing a floor and a ladder that leads to a hatch. This room obviously has nothing of importance to provide you, so you sit up, slowly standing. Now that you’ve answered the question, the robot helps you up, guiding you to the hatch.

When you begin climbing, the robot arm holds onto your back to prevent you from falling, and when you get the hatch door open, you can’t help but say “Thank you,” to the arm.

When you step out of the hatch, you enter a hallway— and you smell blood. It’s so much blood, it’s a nauseating smell. You cover your nose with your hospital gown.

Is this a hospital? Hospital gown, smell of blood, coma, seems like a hospital. But why would a robot arm be taking care of you? That doesn’t seem right in the slightest.

You hear loud thuds, like a ball rolling down the hallway. You turn your head in fear, maybe a cart or an emergency patient is being rolled. You step to the side to make way.

But you see a… rock… crab? In a clear… low polygraphed ball.

What the fuck is that?

“Human! Human is alive! Three humans on ship! Grace friend!” It begins rolling towards you, you have no clue what it is. You don’t want to know.

Ship? You start to wobble down the hallway, in your mind you’re running, but you’re actually walking quite slow. You turn the corner, looking behind you as the rock shouts ‘Amaze Amaze!’

You bump into a wet figure, gasping, and backing up to see blood on you.

You quiver in confusion, you look up. A bearded man with longer hair looks down at you. He’s muscular, he has frustration in his eyes, and he’s covered in a lot of blood. You think you hear him ask if you’re okay, but it doesn’t fully register.

You begin shaking your head, about to scream.

But behind the man, is Dr. Grace. You remember him, his face, his name, that’s about it.

“Dr. Grace!” You shout, walking over to him, again, imagining yourself jogging much faster towards the only person you know.

Dr. Grace accepts you into his arms, registering that you just woke up from a coma. Regardless, his embrace feels safe.

“You’re awake!” He screams, happy as can be despite the blood now on his shirt. He seems to have been worried about you, because his arms are shaking in your tight embrace.

“I don’t- I, what’s going on? I don’t remember anything…”

“It’s okay, It’s okay. God, you’ve been out so long, the mission is basically done.”

“Mission?”

“Project Hail Mary.” He says, memories come back faintly at the mention of the name, and you rub your head slightly.

“Human does not remember!” The rock states the obvious. It goes slightly ignored.

“Okay…” You push yourself away. “That doesn’t explain the… rock, or this guy covered in blood.”

He blinks at you, despite being covered in blood, he’s pretty reserved. The blood doesn’t seem to be… from him. It’s like he took a bath in someone else’s blood. He ignores you entirely, and looks at Grace.

“Who’s is this?”

“Gosh, so many questions! This is Dr….” He repeats your last name. “She’s the Doctor at the school I worked at, I… I’m not sure why she’s on this ship. I’ve been wondering that since I woke up.”

You push yourself off of him, not realizing you’d been hugging him so tightly for so long. He didn’t seem to mind, it actually looked like he needed the brief human embrace.

You rub your eyes. “Who is he? Why is he asking who I am?”

“Because I was curious?” The bearded man turns his head at you.

“Okay, okay everyone calm down please. Uh, Rocky.”

“Yes Grace, question.”

“Can you take Simon to uh… the showers where he can handle the blood situation? And clothing situation? I should probably talk to the Doc here privately. Catch her up, you guys are throwing her off.”

“Understand. Come Grace blood friend to bathing center.” Rocky rolls away, and the burly man named ‘Simon’ follows it with heavy footsteps that squelch against the metal floors.

The silence is heavy in the room, your brain is foggy, fuck, your eyesight is foggy. You have the rest of your life on this spaceship, and you can’t even remember what you’re on it for.

Dr. Grace guides you into the laboratory, simply because it’s an easy room to get to in that moment, he helps you sit down.

He reexplains the entire Project Hail Mary mission, the issues with astrophage and the Patrova Line. The more he speaks, the more you remember. The more you remember why you’re on this ship.

You interrupt him mid-sentence. “How long have you been alone, Dr. Grace?”

He blinks at you, shocked at the interruption, but he considers it. “I have no clue… maybe eight months, if you’re asking how long you’ve been out since I’ve been awake.”

“…I’m sorry. Stratt sent me as a… medic for the ship. I was supposed to be the one handling any issues. But from the looks of it you seem to have gained injuries.” You gently take his hand, looking at a scar, running your thumb over it. He lets you.

“None of that explains the rock, or that random guy— seriously, who was that? Eight months is not that long, and I’ve missed so much.”

“Well, that rock is— Rocky. He’s from the planet Erid, making him an Eridian. I taught him our language, and he’s helped a lot with solving the Astrophage problem. Perfectly healthy, it’s just we can’t survive in each-other’s atmosp-“

“You solved the Astrophage problem?” You perk up, eyebrows raising.

Dr. Grace perks up with you. “Yes! Uhm- Tau Ceti, the star, it has a Patrova line to a planet we named Adrien. On that planet was basically um… microorganisms, to put it simply, that were a ‘predator’ for astrophage. Then all I did was send those back on probes to Earth.”

You sigh, leaning back in relief that the problem had been solved. 

“That means I’ve missed it all, we’re all going to die out here.”

“Not exactly, Rocky gave us some astrophage as fuel, we have enough to make it back to Erid. So, not back to Earth right now but… maybe in the future?”

You sigh again, taking it all in, you originally thought you had no choice but to die. Hearing that’s not the case? Extremely relieving. You rub your head, the brain fog clearing.

“As for the man, he actually arrived like… four hours ago? It’s really complicated but we think he’s from an alternate dimension, and accidentally managed to enter a wormhole. His ship is designed for water, like an extremely thick submarine. We managed to get him out of it and bring him in, as the ship didn’t look suitable enough to survive out in space.”

You blink. “That doesn’t explain the blood he had on him? Is he an axe murderer?”

“He says that in his world- or, dimension, all the stars have died, all the planets are gone. There’s just space stations, and he was a Convict for… something he doesn’t wanna talk about. They basically had him go into an ocean of blood, but he was being used as a sacrifice? Or bait? Either way he’s pretty shocked about being alive still.”

Dr. Grace fidgets with his hands and fingers, you can tell he’s been really thinking about this the past four hours. “We’ve spent a lot of time getting him alive, with CPR and feeding him liquids. But he recovered quickly. My hypothesis is that he’s from a dimension that didn’t solve, or didn’t realize the astrophage problem, leading to planets and stars being eaten by them.”

“…Or it’s completely unrelated to astrophage.”

The brain fog is coming back, but you get the general idea. “Is he nice?” You ask, rubbing your head intently.

“He doesn’t seem like a butt.”

That’s not a very direct answer. He may just be closed off though. Your stomach grumbles loudly, it’s almost embarrassing.

Dr. Grace shows immediate concern. “Oh! Gosh, I’m so sorry. Stay right there!” He runs out the lab, and comes back with a small pouch.

“What is that?”

“Liquid food, your body isn’t used to solids so you have to work back up to them. I know it sucks.”

You groan, begrudgingly opening the satchel and taking a sip. You’re met with an immediate flash of flavor and deliciousness on your tongue, it tastes like chicken, several healthy vegetables mixed in. It’s the best thing you’ve had in… what, four years?

Dr. Grace chuckles at your expression, and how quickly you down the food. Immediately you feel better, your muscles feel somewhat better. Mentally, you still feel gross.

“Uh… shower? Is that possible?”

Dr. Grace nods. “Yeah! Come, I’ll show you.”

You follow him down the hallway. “Originally,” He starts, “The ship wasn’t gonna have a shower room, but I had to beg Stratt. Saying it’d be inhumane to make a person bathe without a proper shower.”

You nod. “Were you and Stratt close? She barely talked to me.”

He glances at you over his shoulder, shrugging. “I’d like to think she trusted me more than others, but I wouldn’t consider us friends. She had a mission that took priority over any friendship.”

Dr. Grace points down a hallway. “That room is the shower room, let me know if you need anything.”

The offer isn’t perverse, it’s genuine.

You walk over to the door, unthinking, and nudge the door open. The shower room is relatively large, like a mini-locker-room shower. There’s several unopened bars and packages of soap, conditioner, all sorts of stuff. One of the showers is already running.

The floor is red.

Oh.

“OH I’m SO sorry I-“

“It’s okay.” Simon says. “It’s a locker-room shower, other people are expected to be in here.” He looks at you with a cold look in his eyes, you can see several burns and welts on his arm, something you should definitely treat under different circumstances.

Until then, you close the door. “Just- let me know when you’re done, I’d prefer!”

You hear a quiet ‘Mkay’ from him, and you notice a ball rolling down the hall again, Rocky turns the corner and looks at you.

“Blood Human is in bathing room, Doctor Human.”

You sigh. “Thank you, Rocky.”

Before the crab has a chance to roll away, you ask; “Uhm… where would my clothes be?”

Rocky rolls around in excitement. “Rocky show! Follow! Follow!” He rolls off in glee, and you jog slightly to catch up.

He stops at a door, there’s four beds, one of them has a cage so you assume it’s Rocky’s bed.

“This Doctor bedroom. Clothes under bed.”

You smile at Rocky. “Thank you, sorry for being scared of you.”

“Apology accepted. Rocky understand that Eridian beauty is difficult for Human brain to comprehend.”

You just kinda… blink at him, but you shrug. “Sure!”

You go over to your bed, pulling out a box. Stratt had, seemingly, broken into your home to take some of your personal clothes and pack them. Which is creepy, but you appreciate it. You search for comfortable loungewear, maybe some shorts and a tank top, something reasonable to wear out of a shower.

You find a black tank top and matching shorts made of silk, they’re somewhat loose on you. You intend to get some real sleep after your shower, not comatose sleep.

You walk out with Rocky, who politely waited for you. You run into the once bloodied man in the hallway, he seems freshened up. He’s wearing a tight t-shirt and sweatpants, presumably belonging to Dr. Grace or the deceased members of the ship.

He’s drying his hair with a towel that rests over his shoulders, and he looks at you. You both pause, Rocky rolls away from you both.

“I’m done showering.” He added blankly, walking away.

You watch him intently, you can’t tell what his tone is. He just seems tired.

You go into the shower room, taking a long hot shower, you don’t even care if the water supply is limited anymore. You use all the soaps they’d given you, taking full advantage of this moment alone. No one walks in, reasonably. 

Afterwards, you put on your black tank top and shorts, you figure you should probably tell Dr. Grace that you’re going to bed, so he’s not worried about your uncomfortably long absence. 

You walk down the hallway, holding a wet towel and the old hospital gown, you peer into the laboratory, seeing Dr. Grace talking to the man.

He’s explaining everything he just explained to you.

“So basically, we’re headed to Erid. I’m not sure if we’re going back to Earth, but we won’t die.”

“That’s all I care about, Ryland. I don’t wanna die.”

Dr. Grace smiles at him. “That makes two of us.”

They’re sharing a nice moment, it feels like you’re watching an old married couple. Supposedly, they’d just met a few hours ago, but they talk to eachother like they’ve known each other quite some time. Simon is obviously pretty reserved, given his situation, but Dr. Grace saved his life, so he seems to trust him more than you.

You hate to interrupt but you knock lightly on the door.

They both look at you at the same time, Dr. Grace’s expression softens, Simon’s stays the same.

“Hey, uhm. Sorry, I guess this is a weird thing to tell you both but I’m going to bed. I need some real sleep.”

“Okay.” Simon says. “We’ll probably be close behind, at least, I will. I think Ryland is a bit worried about the ship and its destination.”

“Yeah,” Dr. Grace agrees, “Mary’s been through a lot, so if anything off collision happens I’d like to be awake but… I assume we can do shifts?”

You yawn. “I don’t really care.”

Rocky rolls around in the lab, you reckon he’d been hiding around a shelf. “Rocky watch Doctor sleep!”

You grimace. “What?” 

Simon’s expression is similar to yours. Being watched sleep isn’t exactly something you’re wanting to do.

“Eridians watch each other sleep, to keep each-other safe. You get used to it.” Dr. Grace says, and honestly you don’t really care after learning that, as long as Rocky isn’t being creepy, right?

You just nod, gesturing for Rocky to follow.

When you lie down in the bed, it’s a lot more comfortable than the hospital one you originally woke up in. You can feel Rocky staring at you in silence, but you don’t really mind, it’s not the end of the world. You find yourself falling asleep relatively fast.

——

When you wake up, it’s dark outside.

Okay. That’s a given. 

The lights are off in the hallway, and you can hear light snoring. You sit up slightly, peering into the pod next to you. The once bloodied man, Simon, is sleeping heavily.

You can see the welts on his arms, even with little to no light. You really want to look at them when he’s awake. For right now, you’re up, you have no clue how long you napped for, maybe four hours? Either way, you feel relatively refreshed.

Rolling out of the bed, you stand up. Rocky shuffles, moving closer to Simon. He doesn’t say anything, but he figures he should watch Simon sleep now since you’re awake.

You trudge down the hallway in search for Grace, you know he’s awake, or sleeping somewhere that’s not the pods.

You walk into the lab, the lights are on, but Dr. Grace has his head down on the table. He’s sleeping.

What do you do? Do you wake him up? 

You stand there for quite some time, feeling through your now dry hair. 

“Dr. Grace?” You whisper, he shifts slightly.

“Mrgmmph…” Is his reply.

That means he’s not in a deep sleep, so you calmly walk over to him.

You rub his shoulder softly. “Hey, you should probably sleep in the beds. You’ll hurt your back sleeping here.”

He puts his hand on you, a failed attempt at pushing you away.

“Mnmoo…” 

“Moo?” You repeat to him.

“No… I said no… I don’t wanna get up…” He grumbles, waking up slightly.

You pause, rubbing his shoulder still.

“Rocky isn’t watching you sleep.”

For some reason, that does it for him. He peeks an eye open under his glasses, and he sighs. It takes a moment, but he gets up. He rubs the eye boogers out under his glasses, flicking them somewhere. Gross, but understandable.

He walks with you quietly to the dormitory, you two don’t say much, but your hand moves down to his back, you don’t really know why. 

You guide him to his bed, it’s comforting, the way you gently open the blanket up for him, taking off his glasses and setting them to the side. He doesn’t say thank you, but you know he’s grateful.

Simon rolls over and faces the other way.

——

It had been a few days, maybe three? Not an extremely long time, especially compared to how long Dr. Grace had been alone, and for what Simon had to put up with before he came here.

Simon seems to be having a hard time adjusting to freedom, and adjusting to trust. Dr. Grace did say he was a convict, a criminal, so you assume he may have done something wrong? You have no clue what defines ‘wrong’ in his dimension though.

Either way, he’s been through a lot.

One day when Dr. Grace was showing Rocky some more things about Earth in the little TV room, you were left alone with Simon in the laboratory.

It had been awkward, especially since you walked in on him literally showering. God- you felt horrible for that.

Bringing it up again would just make things a lot more awkward, right? So you choose not to. No matter how much you want to apologize over and over.

He’s looking at all the science lab tools, you don’t really understand them, but if anything he understands them the least. You hope he doesn’t ask you to explain anything, because it would be a very botched explanation of equipment only Dr. Grace (and even Rocky) really know how to use.

Just as you’re thinking that, he speaks.

“So what’s your purpose here?”

You laugh a little, being caught off guard. He lifts his eyes to meet yours, and you realize he’s asking a serious genuine question.

“Oh, err, I guess I’m the medic for the ship? I… haven’t really been doing the best job, because I’ve been in a coma. I’m glad Dr. Grace was able to help you.”

Simon looks down at his arm, at the welts that had calmed down. 

“Why are you calling Ryland, Dr. Grace? He’s a Doctor? I didn’t know that.”

“He has his doctorate innnn…” you bite your lip trying to remember, “molecular biology? So technically he has the title. He’s more focused on science and space and stuff, I’m surprised he knew C— well, never mind, he’s a teacher, CPR is a useful skill.”

Simon blinks at you, registering all the new things he’s learning about Dr. Grace. The fact that he has a doctorate, the fact that he’s a teacher. Has Simon been to school, does he know how college works? You really don’t know how different your dimensions are.

“Right.” He states, sighing. “I’m glad he knew it. He saved my life.” 

You nod in agreement, quite awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I… don’t really know what you’ve been through but whatever it was it seemed-“

“Traumatizing?”

“I was gonna say exhausting but, traumatizing could be a word to describe it.” Like you said, you didn’t know his situation.

He goes quiet softly, fingers running over his welts. 

You can’t help but ask.

“Can I see them?”

“What?”

“The welts, I’m guessing they haven’t been treated yet, right?”

Simon considered, it didn’t even occur to him to treat them. He walks over to you, showing you his arm. 

His forearm is covered in tiny blisters, it’s gross. When working in the medical field, this stuff isn’t gross to you. There’s irritation in certain parts, visibly red skin. His forearm is… large, there’s so much room for these blisters to appear, they go all the way down to the palm of his hand. It looks like his arms are the most affected. 

“What are these from?”

Simon bit his lip. “I think radiation?”

You look up at him, eyebrows raising. “How much radiation were you encountering for this to happen?”

He looked away slightly. “On the Iron Lung.”

He doesn’t say anything else and… okay? The medical tool? Wh… what? 

“Iron Lung?”

“That’s what… they… called the submarine I was on. It needed to use a radioactive camera to see, I think. I didn’t really… read the manual.” He admitted shyly, avoiding your gaze. He isn’t as tough as he looks.

That makes more sense. “Well, since you’re not around radiation anymore, this seems treatable. Maybe some scarring but I can definitely work with this, if you’d let me.”

He thinks about it, watching you analyze his blistered arms carefully. You study him, waiting for a reply.

He swallows, his adam’s apple moving visibly. “…Please. It hurts.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You and Simon calmly walked to the shower-room, you weren’t sure if there was really a bathroom? And even then that may be uncomfortable to deal with.

You pull a stool up, having him sit. Leaving him there for a moment, you find a ton of medical supplies in a closet, and you bring them.

You turn a faucet on to a lukewarm temperature, using a clean rag to gently wash his arm with soap. You do it carefully and softly, making sure you don’t accidentally pop any blisters or cause more irritation than needed. 

“Have any blisters popped?” You ask, drying his arms by patting them.

He thinks. “No.. uh, I think this one? I’ve tried not to mess with them.”

“That was a very smart decision.” You smile softly at him, he doesn’t know how to take the compliment. 

You look at the one popped blister on his palm, digging in your basket of medical supplies, applying hydrogel to protect the area. “Are you okay with taking an antibiotic?”

“If it helps.”

“So yes, okay. I’ll give you some when we’re done here.”

You get some medically safe moisturizer, applying it to extremely irritated areas of his arms. He winces softly. “I know, I know.” You’d say to him. “It’s almost over.”

When you’re done, you give him some advice. “Wash it with this bar of soap and lukewarm water everyday to keep it clean. Pat it dry, don’t rub it.” He nods. 

“If any blisters pop, come to me. Here, take these antibiotics, they’ll help.”

You were surprised the ship had antibiotics to help exactly with what Simon needed, you guessed the hull had everything you guys could need for the short time you would be out here. You even spotted condoms while searching through the closet. 

Stratt definitely… over-prepared.

Simon takes everything you handed him, looking at it, back at you. He looks grateful.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just… wouldn’t have known what to do, I guess. Thank you.” He covers his mouth, he looks like he’s about to cry.

You place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Simon, it’s okay. You’re welcome, I would do it again in a heartbeat. Just come straight to me if you have any more problems, okay?”

He nods, sighing, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. “Okay, okay. I will.”

The two of you get up, conversing slightly. Nothing of importance, he’s asking a little about your life on Earth before Project Hail Mary. You both leave the shower room laughing, running into Dr. Grace.

He looks surprised, raising his eyebrows. 

“Uh… what were you two doing in there together?” He turns his head, double checking around the corner to see that yes, he really did just watch you both come out of the shower room together.

Used to be so easy

To give my heart away

But I found out the hard way

There's a price you have to pay

I found out that love

Was no friend of mine

I should have known

Time after time

So long, it was so long ago

But I've still got the blues for you

Leaving New York was one of the easiest decisions.

The most difficult part was leaving without anyone to look back on at the airport. Embarking on a new professional opportunity, a chance you had always dreamed of and precisely why you had studied for most of your life. Finally, the sleepless nights, the headaches, and the years working in hospitals and private practices; it all came down to that moment.

As I was saying, you were on your own. Your best friend, the woman you ended up in love with during your residency and first certification... Addison Montgomery... Shepherd was trying by all means to resuscitate a marriage that was a slow-motion death spiral waiting to happen. The evenings you spent together, whether at her house or your apartment, were put on hold with the excuse that Derek had decided to go home early, and to his wife’s misfortune, he never kept his promise. So both of you, alone, drifted out of touch. 

There was no going back once your ultimate choice was made.

On the same night your plane left New York, the pouring rain carried in each drop a plea, a tear of sorrow, and a pair of angry hands that pushed the woman’s tender body up against the windowpane. Blood, insults, and the departure of the man who was in himself the failure of more than a decade of affection. Derek walked outside the room without hesitation, leaving behind a woman who was emotionally, physically, and mentally traumatized. This only strengthened the sense of abandonment she already felt.

Addison’s first reaction wasn’t to go after her husband or her cheating lover. It was to call you. Her trembling fingers dialed a number that no longer had a signal. She eventually found out in the worst way that she was all by herself. The beeps were redirected to voicemail. The dark night featured dew, rain pounded the roof, and the hum of a house that no longer represented a story.

She hurried to your apartment in the rain and desperately knocked on the door, screaming your name like a merciless prayer. That’s when your neighbor, a woman in her late sixties, stepped out into the hallway and embraced Addison’s silhouette, smaller than she had ever seen her before. The elder entered her own apartment, taking a deep breath as she pulled out a towel and a sweater for Addie, surprising her by the sudden embrace she provided.

The woman’s husky voice sounded like a plea. “Where is she, Dolores?”  

She hadn’t noticed how much she cherished being with you, how you truly made her feel alive, even if only for a few hours together or between surgeries, you were always there with her. 

Until you weren’t there anymore.

When you agreed to fly back to the United States, new job possibilities came to light: one in Seattle, another in New York, and one in Los Angeles. 

As a result of your successful work with children in Africa, with additional teams to provide palliative care for the sickest and improve the quality of life for the tribes. It wasn’t predominantly about medicine, and certainly, the healthcare professionals who stayed wouldn’t let your work die. Given the magnitude of your worldwide reputation, your expertise would be in circulation and tremendously appreciated anywhere; you were well aware of that.

Yet all the places highlighted seemed to relate to a story.

New York held the weight of an ambiguous love, a friendship that dissolved into something platonic, and a thunderstorm of feelings you understood you would probably never forget, and as for Seattle... Well, you were definitely not one for the cold rain. Although the proposition of ​​working with one of your former professors seemed like a promising alternative and a trip to the small roots you still had in the country. What was remaining for you was Los Angeles.

The bright fluorescent lights of the medical facility were indeed an element that discomforted your vision. After two years in a hot environment, where the sun was practically burning hot and the moon reflected warm shadows, that artificial light still made your optic nerves dry for a brief second, but it was something you would deal with head-on. 

On your way to the nurses’ station, you exhibited high-heeled boots, black jeans that, for God’s sake, hugged your sleek leg muscles like a thin layer of skin, and finally, the creamy silk blouse that emphasized your eyes and the rich shade of your natural long locks. One of the female attendees who was chatting quickly gazed into your eyes; apparently, the perfume you had chosen to apply this morning got there seconds before your presence was acknowledged.

Armed with an almost sinful smile and a persuasiveness that was potentially just a breath away, your accent sounded a notch deeper than usual. “Good morning, ladies. Could you tell me where I can find Dr... Charlotte King?”

Soon after taking over as head of pediatrics and neonatology, your work at the hospital only taught you even more brilliance in the medical field. The residents and interns consistently expressed their desire to work under your name, and as a result, an increasing number of patients were referred to your care. 

Despite your professional life taking off like a rocket, the beach house where you had been sleeping seemed to lack life. It was a furnished house with two bedrooms and a large balcony. Adorned for quiet sunny days, but it still seemed uninhabited, even after two years of residing in that place.

You had few friends; they were always cheerful and looking out for you in any circumstance you could anticipate, even though you only saw them when they were performing surgery at the hospital or when Charlotte insisted you go to her private practice for dinner and then give her a ride back to her house.

Positioned toward the cafeteria table, a cup of chamomile tea with warm milk and a word search magazine occupied your concentration. It was Friday night, and you were seeking the perfect opportunity to cool off and still stimulate your cognitive abilities. However, Charlotte appeared to have other intentions when she collapsed in the chair next to you and removed the Care Bears customized pen from your fingertips.

“Do you even realize what day of the week it is?” she arched her raised eyebrows in a mocking gesture. She noted that your intense engagement with work had prevented you from dictating space-time.

“Do I truly need to know?” the smile on her face emphasized that the next words would be like walking on broken glass with no shoes, so naturally, Charlotte established something you couldn’t argue against, even if you wanted to.

“Look, you never exit this hospital. When you’re not here, you’re in the lab working or in some operating room, changing the course of neonatal surgery. Your house is a cold place. In Los Angeles! You need to jazz up your personal life, dear.” her hand was covering yours, an act of concern and reassurance. “What do you think about dinner with the girls and then going to karaoke at that gay bar downtown?”

You let out a deep sigh, closed your eyes, and let your body loosen up for a second, then immediately broke into fits of giggles. “You should have started off with ‘gay bar’ instead of insulting me for being a workaholic.”

The moment Naomi hugged you, a signature aroma filled your memories. It was a fragrance you were sure you had been devoted to; it was completely distinct from the woody smell Naomi traditionally adopted; it was sweet, and you could feel that warmth in the bottom of your abdomen again, one that had left you in tears in the New York airport. Breathing deeply, just the four of you in the restaurant, it was almost impossible to get your thoughts out of that bittersweet aroma, and considering how Violet constantly appeared to be ready to vomit all night, it would be common to assume that both of them were withholding some information.

“What made you switch your perfume, Nai?” finally, the question that had been burning in your throat took its proper form. Everyone praised your art of analyzing behavior and, even better, persuading your prey to communicate precisely what you were trying to find out, not simply what you would probably want to hear.

“I... Didn’t.” she was cautious, which made her raise the glass to her mouth, where she took a mouthful of wine and glanced away at Charlotte. “Actually, Charlotte gave me a refill of the same perfume I bought for my birthday; something must have changed in the formula.”

Your jaw set, brain processing far quicker than gears. “Maybe... It’s charming; it reminded me of that old friend.” this made the two brunettes in front of you exchange a nervous stare. They agreed that they couldn’t keep the information to themselves for long.

“Actually, maybe this perfume belongs to the person you’re thinking of.” Violet let the cat out of the bag; it was now or never... well, not “never,” but a big change and possibly one of the most challenging parts since the beginning.

The three women learned about your chapter of the story with Addison Montgomery; everyone there had a previous relationship with her, but they were equally estranged when her marriage to Shepherd claimed over half of her social life. Despite being a feminist, Addison still maintained faith in marrying a man whose individuality was a walking red flag. This left her somewhat more alone than she was ever supposed to be.

“Thank goodness I’m not coming to the clinic soon. I don’t picture how I’d respond to looking at her again after so long…” you expressed. It was unexpected to think that even after four years absent from contact, that woman who was your best friend and first platonic romantic partner still influenced your mental picture of time, or potentially it was the dizziness that caused this downward spiral of mental chatter.

At that point, Charlotte had chosen to ask for the bill, paying for the weekly dinner as they had all agreed over time. The two doctors decided to go home while you and your best friend drove down to the bar. Charlotte was definitely more excited to go than you had previously been.

Upon arriving, you both marched directly to one of the tables most distanced from the crowd.

“Tonight we’re going to drink to get wasted and probably fuck. You, my boo, need to get laid.” the blonde tossed her cards on the table, waving to one of the waiters passing by, ordering two cocktails.

“We definitely shouldn’t talk about my sexual activities.”

Eight glasses of tequila and maybe two cocktails later, you found yourselves dancing to the loud music. The dance floor was overflowing, bodies sweating with heat and desire or just the euphoria of knowing they were in a welcoming space. As the night grew darker, Charlotte had successfully kissed two women and a polyamorous married couple and would very likely go home with them. As for you... Just glances, tangible flirtation for a while until a lock of red hair magnetized your attention. She was tall, with shapely legs and a generous cleavage, the devil walking on earth. Your mouth was watering, and for a brief period, so did the woman standing in front of you. When did she get so close?

“Adeline. Nice to meet you.” she extended her hand to greet you, and you responded to the invitation, taking her warm hand and bringing it to your lips, leaving a harmless peck on her knuckles.

After introducing yourself, she went directly to the point, setting her hand somewhere between your neck and loose hair, caressing the nape of your scalp, and scraping her sharp nails against your skin. Her lips were soft and salty, and yet she grew too smooth through the lipstick. Your rough fingers caressed the gentle curves of her hips, moving up until they brought her body between your legs, letting themselves be guided by touch, by imagination... Unfortunately, for your senses, all you saw was the ghost of Christmas past.

Even when you landed in a bed that wasn’t yours, in a room that would certainly not be yours, when between your legs was a glorious woman devouring you as if her life depended on it, your moans were real, of course they were, uninhibited, unfiltered, seductive like a promise to your own brain. Through all the whining, your heart screamed her name. “Addie, Addie please…” inevitably, you reached the peak, with her sweet smell in your head and the image of her red hair resting on your legs. The illusion, once again, in its purest form.

Later the following morning, you leave the apartment with barely a trace, your clothes still retaining the scent of the previous night. Looking down the street, you realized Charlotte had all your belongings, and by the late morning, she was almost certainly at the clinic. 

You slipped your phone out of your jeans pocket and called the emergency number, leaving a short message on the voicemail. “Hey, Charlie. Uh... I’m about ten minutes from the clinic. I’m going to pick up my car, okay? Bye, see you in a minute.” your voice was harsher than expected, maybe even dryer. That’s how you ended up at the clinic with a large cup of coffee and shades, probably stolen from a stack in a very crowded store since they still held the price tag on the temple.

Perhaps it was the alcohol entirely vanishing from your body or the sunglasses blurring your perspective, but less than five steps away, Addison Adrianne Forbes Montgomery lowered her frame on the reception desk, arms loosening as she exchanged words with Dell. 

At that exact point, the world immediately began to slow down, your cardiac rhythm pounding in your ears, a sudden fever sending chills down your cervical spine. Equivalent to a ricocheting bullet, a wave of emotional states that had long ago been bottled away and buried seven feet under the surface. That’s when the receptionist’s attention was drawn straight to your frozen silhouette. He called out your name in a cheerful announcement but quickly tracked the change in the atmosphere; during that moment, the redhead realized who that unconventional last name belonged to. 

It was like seeing an angel, she remembered. For how much time had she been waiting for that comeback? All the forces of the universe were always playing comically against her: first the end of her marriage with Derek, then the love affair with Mark that eventually ended in an unborn child, and then the three-way romance that concluded with one of the interns in Seattle being heavily driven along by her ex-husband. 

She needed a fresh start in Los Angeles, and what a twist of fate, this was the perfect place to reunite with an old flame... A burning spark that in Addison’s heart probably would have never been extinguished, for your joyful laughter was forever written in her soul. Even though your groundbreaking achievements in medicine were honored across the globe, the redhead in question had never thought your paths would cross again.

Addison was at a loss for words while entering the apartment after that rainy night. The decor was untouched, and your fragrance soaked through each room. However, the apartment became lifeless due to your absence. Not just from the residence, that neighborhood, or the country, you left her life. It happened so carefully that, amidst the waves of tears on the soft couch, wrapped in your sheets, with your perfume enchanting all her sensibilities, she watched as practically nothing could make sense anymore without you. Friday nights, rosé wine bottles, and even the hospital were no longer interesting.

Used to be so easy

To fall in love again

But I found out the hard way

It's a road that leads to pain

I found out that love

Was more than just a game

You're playing to win

But you'll lose just the same

The leaves danced like poetry in the collision of glances that undoubtedly carried hundreds of emotions, including relief and doubt; time did seem to fade away, resembling a scene from an Old West duel. Addison was the first to take the very first stride towards that wave of uncertainty, her heart also humming as if she had just completed a marathon in high heels. You could never adequately express how much you treasured those glowing eyes, so breathtaking even after so much time.

The expressions on both of your faces were exceptionally hard to read; Addison maintained her posture even though her eyes said the exact opposite. With a painful lump loosening in her throat, she muttered in a silent breath, “You're alive.”

A chuckle escaped your lips. You could deny any geographical separation; at that moment it was obvious that nothing had truly changed.

She was the same Addison you had fallen in passionate love with, and you were the charismatic and outspoken woman she had let into her heart and soul. Your eyes were basically the same, calm and comforting. Hair remained perfect and even more voluminous, and the sideways smile appeared, something Montgomery dreamed of witnessing again. She could say with all her tenderness that it was a dream; even so, you commented, “No need to sound so disappointed.”

“There you are!” your best friend Charlotte’s voice cracked, pulling both of you out of the mental space cultivated by nostalgia. The blonde came striding in with her hurried aura, meeting you. She smiled openly, a hint of mischief shining through simply because she knew how well your night had been spent. “Here’s your car key. It’s parked in my spot. Your purse is there, too.” she said, handing you the keychain that holds your house keys, your car key, and a red pom-pom along with a pendant of your personalized initials.

Addison examined that exchange of information with a furrowing eyebrow before clearing her throat and captivating the blonde's attention, who continued with a smile on her face and pretty much an infallible plan to fulfill a theoretical assumption she had in mind, due to your background with the clinic’s newest employee.

After greeting Montgomery, Charlotte immediately turned her attention to you, “Can you pick me up when my shift at the hospital is over?”

Your hands were sweaty, your face flushed from Charlotte's lack of filter. “Of course. Let me know when you’re finished.” you managed to reply, pondering the presence of your past right in front of you.

“You're a sweetheart! See you later, darling.” Charlotte said, standing on tiptoe and sealing her lips to your cheek. Before you could realize it, she was gone, and Addison was staring at your face with even more hesitation.

A deep breath, a masked relief, was all you needed to summon the courage to finally proceed along Addison’s steps, guiding her by the arm until you reached the empty office. Just when the redhead was standing in the middle of the room, she could hear the door lock and your stride to the leather couch, where you sat quietly and extended your arms for her to do the same as you.

“So... It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.” she began, tucking a piece of her red hair behind her ear.

“You cut your hair.” you pointed out, studying how that cut emphasized her authoritative yet charming facial features.

Addison couldn’t hide her bright smile, remembering one of the times you had inspired her to cut her hair, but she never had the courage to, mainly because Derek thought she would look older. “And you let yours grow... It looks stunning.”

So long, it was so long ago

But I've still got the blues for you

At that moment, the conversation descended into a collection of past emotional memories about how Addison felt distant in so many specific instances, but also in relation to how she lost your friendship so unexpectedly, leaving a wound in her heart. On the other hand, you failed to mention your burning love for her, only emphasizing how much you missed the friendship you two had founded and how, over time, the strings that held together that attachment had lost their way or essentially headed down different paths, as was to be expected. You talked about your two years of service in Africa, about the sleepless nights caring for children and mothers so young they barely could comprehend what was to come in their lives. She told you about the love affairs that adjusted her standpoint on life, directing her to Los Angeles. To you.

All this exchange was abruptly interrupted by both of your cell phones ringing, announcing a hospital emergency. Immediately, heading to the parking lot, you offered her a ride, and together, you went to St. Ambrose. In a very quick change of clothes into surgical scrubs, your chief resident detailed the case that was being transported by ambulance, and with your instructions, the team was ready to handle it. Addison was watching your conduct, waiting to do her part. 

That case moved along like a smooth breeze, both doctors operating together as if they had been doing it for years, observing and anticipating each other’s precise movements so that the patient would finally become stable along with the baby, who would be born prematurely if the women weren’t so good at their respective specialties.

“Good work there.” Addison emphasized, catching your eye as you scrubbed your hands after the surgery.

You grinned, cheerful; you had always fantasized about that instant. “Thank you... Likewise, you haven’t lost your abilities with your hands.” a tender phrase of flirtation escaped your lips. From where? You had no idea, but whenever she was around, your filters dissolved like an uninhibited waterfall.

She giggled, feeling her cheeks heat up with the blush that observation induced. After that surgery, nothing would ever be the same, and you could feel the change in the surroundings as soon as you stumbled out of that operating room.

That week prior to their first mutual reconciliation talk, things at the hospital soon started to collapse completely. As more potentially fatal cases arrived at their door, schedules became chaotic, day could turn into night, and shifts could no longer be twenty-four hours but rather further extended. There was definitely no time for naps between surgeries; just a coffee and a muffin would be enough for that wave of babies, children, and mothers with health complications. Amidst all that chaos, your thoughts traveled straight to Addison, who was taking on the night shifts so she could also be in attendance at medical appointments at the private clinic. The purple scrubs stood out; only neonatal attendants wore them, and as opposed to you, Addison was looking like a glowing goddess in them, which made your heart race when she smiled at you, her eyes exhausted from a week without a break from work.

Your attire was anything but traditional, and Addison considered it your distinctive style. Working with children and their mothers, your scrubs had small handmade stars, and for a few days she swore she saw some embroidered designs there too, on the hem of the shirt and pants—maybe a Care Bear or a Disney character. When she approached you, you didn’t pull back from a tight hug, keeping your face snug against her neck as if that would take away any tiredness from your body. She felt exactly the same. Your perfume activated her senses, causing her to cling even more tightly to you.

So many years

Since I've seen your face

But here in my heart

There's an empty space

You used to be

“Are you doing okay?” you asked, whispering in her ear and attaching one hand to the nape of her neck, caressing it as if the entire world had simply stopped in that empty hallway, where nurses were shifting from one side to the other, checking on patients.

She breathed in, slowly detaching you from the tight embrace, and when she caught your eye, her throbbing exhaustion made her guide you to the first on-call room in the corridor. 

“I need a rest, and so do you, so come here and let’s rest.” she demanded, lying down on the bed and pressing her back against the wall, leaving enough space for you to lie down next to her.

It wasn’t something you were completely used to, but another thing you missed those nights in New York where you both shared a bed or a couch. When you lay down next to Addison, her arms found your waist, and she buried her face in your neck. Your arms worked their way around her body, wrapping her in a warm and cozy embrace. Your heart pounded in your chest, that hidden passion coming back like a high-speed train, overpowering your senses and driving hot tears to well up in your eyes. 

A pout escaped your lips; you had waited so many years for this moment, however platonic it might be. “I love you, Addison Montgomery.” you blurted out, holding low your voice. 

She wasn’t asleep.

Both bodies lingered affectionately in that small bed, intertwined, maintaining the warm feeling of comfort and the full attraction of two hearts that had been bruised on their way back to each other. Addison was seeking a fresh start, oblivious that coming back to the past would only heal all the fears and frustrations she had built up from toxic relationships with her former best friends. It was this moment that she understood that the problem wasn’t her and her misconceptions about falling in love with friends; no, the problem was that none of those friends were you.

You were the one who was holding her hand through questionable choices without question, the one who also embraced her when things didn’t go as originally planned. Addison vividly remembered the wedding day; even knowing you weren’t one of the bridesmaids, you were beside her and muttered in her ear that everything would be alright, that it was a mutual decision, and that getting married had always been her dream. She knew, deep down, that the union was for status and ego. Even so, you were there, in a crimson dress so exquisite that she wondered twice about the need to go down on your body and devour you completely, even knowing there were only minutes remaining before she had to walk towards the Shepherd family name. 

Archer took her, and she looked so beautiful in her wedding dress... You felt that still-growing passion tighten, grow to the point where tears of pride faded and eventually turned into tears of sorrow, because witnessing the love of your life marrying a man who didn’t deserve even a fraction of the woman she is was genuinely torturous. After the “I do.” Montgomery’s bright eyes searched for your figure somewhere among the family members. Unfortunately, she couldn’t find you. 

For the first time that late afternoon, she felt half her heart tighten. Because she had affection for Derek, and she also felt that you were holding back the most tender and joyful aspects of her.

In the following years, you were constantly present, and you were frequently at game nights, playing doubles with Mark Sloan. She was jealous of that, of the close relationship you two shared. For a long time, Mark had a particular aspect of you that she wished belonged to her. It wasn’t a sexual affair; you were always very open about your sexuality, something she respected given she was a coward in admitting that potentially her happy ending wasn’t with the current husband at the time. You and Mark talked about women openly and even had a little battle to find out who could collect more numbers on the nights you both went out. Even if Addison was jealous, she noticed that you respected her marriage and would never bring up that kind of subject with her, a friendship about intimate and lustful matters without judgment.

In your arms, Addison could leave her heart open to be taken care of, broken, or rescued from an anguish she had experienced her whole life. After four years without you, she came to figure out that time would never be her true friend, that you might have grown so much that you would certainly never let her come back into your life.

Then again, you were intertwined in that moment, and even though she was ready to ask more about the conversation she witnessed between you and Charlotte, she also knew that you would never lay down with another woman if you were in a committed romantic relationship with the doctor.

“Please, Addison. Stop thinking. I haven’t slept in two weeks, so please... Let me have this break.” you positioned yourself more comfortably in bed, consequently bringing your faces one millimeter away from the woman in your arms. Your breaths became one, and at this crucial moment, Addison couldn’t rest.

Her hand reached up to meet your face, emerald eyes tracing every delicate feature before she could touch, index finger memorizing the curve of your nose, the small freckles on your rosy cheek. You opened your eyes, conscious of what was happening. When your impulses became louder than the indecision in your subconscious, you moved inches closer, brushing your nose against hers in an affectionate caress. Addison felt her skin tingle, closing her eyes to feel that exchange of affection more intensely. She felt your hand travel down the fabric of her scrub top and move inside, finally touching the skin of her back, caressing it with delicate fingers, drawing her body closer. She wrapped one leg tight around your waist, lying down with half her body pressed against yours.

“I missed you so much…” she said, swallowing hard.

So long, it was so long ago

But I've still got the blues for you

You should get up and move on, abandoning any thoughts that held you in this position and never gazing at the past that way all over again. You called all three of your friends on the night you left for Africa, but your cell phone vibrated once. Somehow, Derek showed up, wishing you a good flight and letting you know he was going home early to surprise his wife. That night, Addison and Mark didn’t answer the phone. With your chest cramping from anticipating what had been happening, the first few minutes of the trip felt suffocating. Heavy breathing, hot tears, and irreparable anguish. You fell asleep halfway to your destination, as your body was weakened. Over time, you acquired the ability to be free of the anchors that surrounded your heart, allowing you to radiate happiness beyond the need for societal restrictions. You learned to smile openly, to dance in the rain, and to see life from a completely different point of view.

That’s why you refused to leave. This time, without marital partners or lovers involved. No forcing yourself to pretend that your heart wasn’t holding out for hers. You stayed simply because love doesn’t just vanish overnight; respect, affection, pride, and the feeling of friendship—all of that was the culmination of the reasons why. From the minute you fell in love to the moment your senses had to pause to breathe, break down the situation, mature, and eventually, be able to surrender.

“Now you’re the one thinking out loud.” Addison chuckled, looking up and resting her head on her hand.

You carefully approached the door, unlocked it, and waited for the redhead. "Let's go home, Addie." both smiled brightly, which was just what you needed. Home.

Though the days come and go

There is one thing I know: I've still got the blues for you

📌 ∶ @jayquery , @lizaornot , @autisticbiologistmess , @taliiiaasteria.

⸻ english is not my first language, but I hope you enjoyed it. constructive feedback is always welcomed! let me know if you want to be tagged in future fanfics. thanks for reading! 💞

I’m accepting requests! if you enjoy my writing and want to read a story about a specific character, I’ll do my best to make it happen!

a special kiss to Lai, who encouraged me every step of the way in writing this story. I love you forever, baby. 💋

Zayne looks cold on duty, but he softens the second he sees you.

Every nurse swears he never smiles.

Until you walk into the hallway.

He stops mid-charting and murmurs,

“Love… you’re finally here.”

His whole face relaxes, just for you.

He always finds small excuses to check on you during rounds.

You’ll be in another ward and suddenly hear:

“Doctor, I’m just reviewing patient files… happened to pass by.”

He absolutely did NOT “pass by.”

He walked three floors just to see your face.

Zayne gets jealous in the most quiet, polite way.

If a male patient or doctor gets too friendly, he steps behind you,

Hand lightly brushing your lower back as he says with that cold voice:

“She’s assigned to me today.”

Translation: Back off. Mine.

He memorizes your schedule better than his own.

You forget your lunch breaks.

He doesn’t.

He quietly leaves a thermos on your desk with a note:

“Eat. Please.”

Zayne always checks your pulse when you look tired.

Not because you’re sick.

He just wants to touch you without admitting it.

“Your heart rate’s slightly elevated… come here.”

He sneaks forehead kisses inside empty supply rooms.

His cold voice drops to a hush when he pulls you close:

“Five minutes. Just you and me.”

He pretends he doesn’t like PDA in the hospital… but he does.

He’ll say,

“Professionalism, darling.”

Yet his hand always finds yours under the desk during meetings.

When you get overwhelmed, Zayne becomes incredibly soft.

He cups your face gently and whispers:

“Love… breathe. I’m right here.”

His voice alone calms you like medicine.

If anyone talks badly about you, Zayne’s stare could freeze blood.

He doesn’t raise his voice.

He just steps forward and says,

“…repeat what you said.”

Nobody ever does.

11. Living together means waking up to Zayne wrapping around you.

Zayne is scary-fast in emergencies… but always checks if you’re safe first.

Before sprinting to a code red, he whispers:

“Stay behind me.”

He hates when you skip meals more than anything.

He’ll stand in front of your computer like a wall and say,

“Put the chart down. Eat.”

He reads your research papers at night and leaves notes.

Little sticky tabs saying:

“Brilliant thought.”

“Proud of you.”

“Teach me this part?”

15. When he’s tired, Zayne becomes clingy.

He always waits for you when your shifts overlap.

Standing outside the ward, hands in pockets, cold expression —

Until you arrive.

Then his voice melts:

“There you are, i have been looking for you darling.”

17. He gives you his white coat when you feel cold.

Zayne can’t focus when you’re on a dangerous case.

He stands watching from the corner with his arms crossed,

Jaw tight, eyes sharp.

He looks like he’ll murder the disease itself.

At home, he cooks for you.

He’s surprisingly good.

He places food in front of you and says softly:

“You worked harder today. Eat first.”

Zayne loves washing your hair on off-days.

He stands behind you, fingers massaging your scalp, whispering:

“You deserve softness, love. Let me.”

He never raises his voice at you. Ever.

Even when he’s upset.

He talks quietly, gently:

“I’m not angry… I’m worried.”

Zayne brings you coffee EXACTLY the way you like it.

He tries to hide his affection at work… but fails.

The nurses tease him because whenever you walk into a room,

His voice instantly softens.

“Ah… darling, come here.”

After night shifts, you both fall asleep together on your couch.

“We should shower first…”

Him, pulling you into his chest:

“No. Stay. I want you here.”

And he sleeps with his arm around your waist,

The patter of the rain against the ship's windows played through your head as you were cleaning up the med-bay. A plethora of things were in your arms: bandages, suture kits, needles, syringes, and more. They all needed to be checked, organized, and put away.

The faint music you had playing in the background started to play over the rain noise in your head. Suddenly, you found yourself humming to the tune as you checked the lot numbers of certain equipment, making sure it was all from the proper batch.

Your job was meticulous. But you liked it. Loved it, actually. It was worth taking care of people at their lowest or when they just needed someone to rely on. You were a caregiver at heart.

Still humming, you continued to organize equipment, the rustling of plastic hitting your ears. You got lost in the moment, like you were running on autopilot. It happened frequently.

SCREECH.

Suddenly, the door was being slung open, the metal scraping against the floor with a loud ring. You jumped, turning around to see a familiar figure.

Kid.

Except there was blood all over the floor.

Dripping from his arm.

"Oh my g—" You started, but realized you had to act quickly.

"What the hell happened?" you asked frantically, grabbing the closest towel and speeding over to him.

"Stupid fucking workshop," he said, a roughness in his voice. "Can you fix this shit?" he asked, holding his arm out to you.

"Yeah—yeah, just c'mon..." you said.

You looked down to see nothing but a large gash, damn near cutting into his muscle. Blood was consistently flowing out. You quickly wrapped the towel around his arm as tightly as you could, leading him over to one of the more comfortable beds in the bay.

Sitting him slightly at an angle, you propped his arm up on a separate surface. You watched his head sling back, his face scrunching up in pain, although he was trying to put on the whole tough-guy act.

Quickly, you grabbed a tourniquet, wrapping it around his arm and stopping the bleeding. Kid winced at your actions.

"This might take a while to get you fixed up," you said, starting to grab everything you needed to fix this damned mess.

"Whatever you gotta do, just fix the shit," he managed to rumble out, no real bite in his words. There was never any real bite in his words toward you. You simply hummed in acknowledgment, looking back at him once more.

You slightly shook your head at yourself and your thoughts and grabbed some pain pills, quickly bringing them over to him. You quickly realized he couldn't take them himself. He didn't have his prosthetic arm on, and his other one was displayed on a med table.

Great.

You swallowed hard.

"Here, take these for me..." Your tone was softer than usual. You couldn't help it. Watching as he tilted his head up in the slightest, the visible knot between his brows showing the pain he refused to admit he was in, you put the small cup of pills up to his mouth, tilting it forward and letting them make their way in.

You then brought a small cup of water to his lips, looking at him for just a second before realizing he had been staring directly at you this entire time. You started to push the cup forward slightly, letting him get some water. You looked back up at him, his eyes practically piercing into yours.

Damn.

Okay.

After a second too long of staring, you took the water away, once again shaking your head slightly at whatever that was.

"Good?" you simply asked.

You got a grunt in return, his head thrown back again.

"That should help," you said, grabbing the pile of supplies you had gotten out and bringing them over to your now-established workstation.

Another grunt in response.

"I need surgery or somethin'? What's all this shit for?" he asked exaggeratingly, eyes widening slightly at everything you brought over. He was being a smartass, though.

"Just stitches, asshole," you replied, causing a small laugh to come from him.

His laugh caused a smile to appear on your face. You sat down, set everything up, and finally started to fix this mess. You pulled out two syringes: a local anesthetic and another shot.

"I'm gonna give you these. One numbs it, one makes sure you're not gonna get an infection or anything, yeah?" you said, talking him through the steps you were taking.

You got a small "yeah" in response.

"One... two... three... deep breath... and you're done," you said for both shots, throwing them into the nearest biohazard bin. You started to quietly clean his arm up, watching his face finally begin to unscrunch and his muscles relax.

"Meds helping you at all?" you asked while shoving gauze into the gash across his arm.

"Yeah," he grunted out, leaning fully back and getting comfortable in the bed, realizing he was going to be here for a while.

You hummed in acknowledgment, letting moments of silence go by as you worked on his arm. Cleaning his arm, you tried your absolute best not to butcher this any further. Thinking about it, you finally decided to ask.

"How'd this happen?" you asked, not looking at him, continuing to work on his arm.

He was silent for a moment, but then he spoke up.

"I was working on something," he said, the usual roughness in his voice fading.

"Something?" you asked.

"Shit for my arm," he said, lifting his amputated arm slightly before putting it back down. He was always working on that damn thing.

"And?" you asked.

He looked over at you, and you looked up at the same time.

"And I slid past the stupid piece of shit without paying attention," he said as he stared at you a little too long before turning his head the other way.

You hummed in acknowledgment and started to change your gloves, throwing all the dirty cleaning supplies away.

"We all have our accidents," you simply said, starting to put a new pair of gloves on.

"I don't do accidents," he said, finding himself watching you.

"So you did this on purpose?" you teased, seeing the knot return between his brows.

"No—" he started.

"You just said you don't do accidents, though?" you teased again, the scowl on his face growing.

"Shut the hell up," he said. Again, with no real bite in his voice.

You hummed in acknowledgment, followed by a little laugh. You didn't notice, but his face lit up when he heard your laugh. His eyes were locked on you like no other. You were like a breath of fresh air. He'd never know how to react to that feeling.

You finally sat down and started to suture the gash on his arm, your movements quick, efficient, but meticulous. A period of silence passed between you both, the faint music you had playing in the background filling the lack of conversation.

You started humming again. You were honestly doing it subconsciously; it was a habit at this point. Plus, it was helping you focus.

Kid found himself looking at you again, not being able to take his eyes off of you. He didn't know why he couldn't.

Usually, with anyone else, he'd find the humming annoying. Maybe even tell them to shut up. But he oddly found himself enjoying yours. He'd never heard you hum before.

And he'd love to hear it again.

And again.

You both got lost in the silence and faint music in the background, the med-bay becoming a sanctuary for both of you. It felt like nothing could interrupt you both. The silence wasn't awkward. It was comfortable.

Suddenly, he spoke up.

"Thanks, Y/N."

You stopped.

For just a moment.

"Don't thank me," you said, looking up at him and giving him a small smile.

"You're not a problem, Kid."

"I'm more than happy to take care of you."

You watched his expression falter for just a moment before going back to its normal state. He gently rested his head back on the bed, staring at the wall. You went back to work.

The silence loomed over the both of you again.

Kid found himself staring at you again. He'd never admit it, but he liked your slightly off-tune humming. The way you slightly bit the inside of your cheek when focusing on something. The way you were extra careful with him, even though he could destroy everything within a mile radius if he really wanted to.

God, what the hell is he thinking?

You're killing him here.

You started to get toward the end of your sutures, looking up to see if he was doing okay. I mean, you'd been zoned out for the past ten minutes.

You looked up to see him already looking at you.

You brushed it off and looked back down to focus, but you could feel his eyes piercing into you. You looked up at him once more and then back down.

"You're staring."

He scoffed.

"Told you I don't do accidents."

-------------------------------------------------------------

"I said stay still." "Quit ordering me around." "Then stop reopening your stitches." "...I'm leaving." "Sit back down."

What begins as a doctor constantly patching up her most stubborn patient slowly turns into late-night coffee runs, impossible shifts, shared silences, stolen moments, and a love neither of you ever saw coming.

Because sometimes...

Even heroes deserve someone to save them.

✦ Pairing

Pro Hero!Katsuki Bakugo (28) × Surgeon!Reader (26)

✦ Genre

Slow Burn • Romance • Medical Drama • Hurt/Comfort • Action • Mystery • Slice of Life • Mutual Burnout • Eventual Happy Ending

✦ Tropes

✦ Doctor × Stubborn Patient • Grumpy × Grumpy • He Falls First (He Just Doesn't Realize It) • Mutual Burnout • Late-Night Coffee Runs • Forced Proximity • Hospital Romance • Friends to Allies (Midoriya & Reader) • Protective Bakugo • "Who gave you permission to scare me?" • Secret Relationship • Domestic Fluff • Eventual Happy Ending

✦ Background

✦ Set eight years after the Final War, the story follows Japan's No. 2 Hero, Dynamight, and one of the country's most gifted cardiothoracic surgeons, known to the public as "The Miracle Surgeon." The reader graduated from U.A.'s General Studies Department, where Recovery Girl mentored her in emergency medicine and helped shape her into the doctor she is today. During her time at U.A., she formed a lasting friendship with Izuku Midoriya, who now teaches at the academy while she serves on its Medical Advisory Board. Although Bakugo unknowingly crossed paths with her during his first year after his fight with Midoriya following All Might's retirement, he has no memory of the girl who quietly repaired the injuries no one else could see. Years later, fate brings them together once more—this time as a stubborn hero and the surgeon determined to keep him alive.

✦ Warnings

✦ This story contains graphic injury descriptions, surgical procedures, hospitals, blood, violence, PTSD, burnout, grief, emotional trauma, minor character death, kidnapping, villain attacks, themes of overwork and self-sacrifice, heavy angst, slow-burn romance, suggestive romantic content, and eventual healing, with a happy ending.

✦ Status: Ongoing

❖ Chapter Index

ARC I — The Worst Patient

"Every hero eventually ends up on an operating table. Some are simply more difficult than others."

Chapter One — I Said Stay Still

✦ Bakugo's mission ends in disaster • Emergency surgery • First meeting • He tries to leave • Tears his stitches

Chapter Two — Miracle Surgeon

✦ Recovery • Hospital antics • Coffee at 2 A.M. • Emergency involving Kirishima & Best Jeanist • Bakugo witnesses Operation Zone

Chapter Three — Green Memories

✦ U.A. visit • Midoriya reveal • Old memories resurface • Coffee becomes a habit

────────── ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆ ──────────

ARC II — Under Observation

"Healing isn't just about stitches. Sometimes it's about learning to slow down."

Chapter Four — Doctor's Orders

✦ Routine checkups • Home visit • Phone numbers • Dinner • Learning each other's routines

Chapter Five — Not a Date

✦ More outings • Friends teasing • Growing comfort • Media rumors begin

Chapter Six — Flatline

✦ A patient dies • Reader breaks down • Bakugo stays • Quiet comfort after loss

────────── ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆ ──────────

ARC III — Crossing the Line

"Some hearts heal slower than broken bones."

Chapter Seven — Almost

✦ Emotional vulnerability • Almost confession • Almost kiss

Chapter Eight — Heartbeats

✦ Feelings become impossible to ignore • Domestic moments • Mutual pining • Everyone notices except them

Chapter Nine — First Kiss

✦ Bakugo is injured again • Explosive argument • Confession • First kiss • Frustration and months of buried feelings erupt into a heated make out session

────────── ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆ ──────────

ARC IV — Critical Condition

"Saving lives is easy. Saving the person you love is another story entirely."

Chapter Ten — Confidential

✦ Secret relationship • Stolen kisses • Hidden dates • Learning to love in private • A new threat begins targeting the heroes' medical support

Chapter Eleven — Missing

✦ Reader disappears • Hawks joins the investigation • Bakugo refuses to give up • Desperate search

Chapter Twelve — Code Blue

✦ Rescue mission • Bakugo breaks protocol • Operation Zone pushed to its limits • Reader is brought home

────────── ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆ ──────────

ARC V — Home

"Even heroes deserve somewhere—and someone—to come home to."

Chapter Thirteen — Stay With Me

✦ Reader becomes the patient • Reverse "I said stay still." • Recovery • Bakugo refuses to leave her side

Chapter Fourteen — Off the Clock

✦ Recovery leave • Shared apartment days • Sleepy mornings • Shared showers • Kitchen kisses • Cuddling • Playful teasing • Affectionate makeout sessions • Learning what a peaceful life together feels like

Chapter Fifteen — Stay Still

✦ Reader overworks herself again • Bakugo finally understands • He cares for her the way she always cared for him • The title comes full circle • Epilogue

The first time she says, "I said stay still," it's because he's her patient. The last time he says it... ...it's because he's terrified of losing the woman who taught him that even heroes deserve someone to save them.