#oph2

“Um, actually I had something I wanted to show you, Dr. Ramsey,” I meekly reply, using my free hand to motion him closer.  

“Dr. O’Shea - ”

“Please,” I implore him softly.  “I think it might be important.”

He relents, sighing and stepping closer.  “What is it, Rookie?”

I lower my voice to barely a whisper.  “I noticed when I unlocked my phone to play some music Emily flinched away from the screen, almost like the brightness hurt her eyes.”

“There could be any number of explanations for that.”

“Her reflexes are sluggish, that combined with the fever, the irritability, not eating - ”

“Look, Rookie.”  Ethan puts a hand on my shoulder.  “I can appreciate that you want to help, but all these symptoms can be attributed to the sepsis. You’ve managed to calm her down and I’m sure her parents are grateful, but leave her case to the diagnostics team.”

Insufferable.  Completely, absolutely insufferable.  And gorgeous.  And tall.  And so completely climbable.  I loathe him.

Ramsey’s eyes widen and a small sound of protest leaves his mouth as I grab his hand and gently guide his fingers to the top of Emily’s head.  His face pales as his fingertips brush over the swelling that’s nearly invisible under her dark curls.

“As I was saying, all of those symptoms combined with the severe swelling of her fontanelle, makes me think the sepsis was brought on by a severe case of meningitis,” I murmur.

Ramsey gazes down at me steadily.  “You think?  I’m not going to subject an infant to a spinal tap based on your guess.”

I grit my teeth and inhale deeply.  “I know.  I know this is meningitis.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” he says.  “I’ll page Naveen and call for an anesthesiologist.  Once we confirm, we’ll need to pinpoint what variant of meningitis we’re specifically dealing with.”

“Dr. O’Shea?  I have Emily’s bottle ready.”  Sarah steps forward and takes Emily from me, gently cradling the little girl in her arms and offering her the bottle.

I turn to leave but the sight of a can of formula sticking out of Emily’s diaper bag stops me.

“Sarah?  Has Emily always been formula fed?” I ask.

Her face falls.  “Is that a problem?  I was never able to produce enough milk for her, so we had to formula feed.”

“No, not at all,” I hurriedly reassure her.  “As long as our girl gets fed, that’s all that matters.”

“What are you thinking, Rookie?” Ramsey whispers, his warm breath ghosting over my ear.

A pleasant shiver runs through me, and I almost start to lean into him, my traitorous body reacting to his close proximity.

Get it together.

“Bacterial meningitis caused by cronobacter sakazakii.” I murmur, tilting my head towards the formula can.  

Ramsey’s eyes widen.  “My god,” he whispers.  “Stay here and update the parents.  I’m getting the rest of the team.”

Not thinking, I reach out and grab his arm before he can walk away. He must be able to see the panic on my face because he takes my hand in his and squeezes it once.   “You can do this, Rookie.  Walk them through your theory and what’s going to happen next. I’ll be back soon.”  

10:30 p.m.

Through the window of the hospital room I watch Emily rest, an IV inserted in the crook of her tiny arm.  Jason and Sarah doze fitfully in armchairs positioned next to her crib.  Emily is sleeping soundly, her face no longer flushed with a fever; a sure sign the intravenous antibiotics are working.  My shift ended three hours ago, but I can’t bring myself to leave, worried that the minute I walk out of the hospital something awful will happen.

“What are you still doing here, Rookie?”

“Could ask you the same thing, Dr. Ramsey,” I reply, my eyes never leaving Emily’s sleeping form.

“This isn’t even your case.”  A hard edge creeps into Ramsey’s voice.  

“Are you saying I should only care about the patients that I’m assigned to?”  

Ramsey sighs, scratching at the thick stubble on his jaw.  “Of course not.  A good doctor will care about every patient that walks through those doors, whether they’re assigned to them or not.  But I’m not convinced anything you did this afternoon was because you cared about the patient.”

I turn to face him and cross my arms over my chest, scowling.  “Excuse me?”

“You think any other physician here would have let you get away with that little stunt you pulled this afternoon?”  Ramsey steps closer, towering over me, and I fight the urge to back away from him.

“If you hadn’t made that solve I would have had your job, Rookie,” he continues, his voice low and dark.  “Attention-seeking stunts like that won’t land you a spot on the diagnostics team, so if you ever even think about doing something like this again you will be out on your ass.”

I blink, momentarily stunned into silence.  “You think I helped Emily just to get noticed by the diagnostics team?” I finally manage to ask, unable to keep a note of hurt out of my voice.

Ramsey rolls his eyes.  “I see it every year, ambitious interns who think that if they pull off an impressive solve -”

“You think I would use a sick child to further my career?” I seethe, drawing myself up to my full five feet four inches.  I move closer, invading his personal space and jabbing a finger into his muscled chest.  “I was waiting for test results on the one case I had, so I offered to sit with Emily so Jason and Sarah could get some rest.”

His handsome face shifts into a disdainful sneer.  “So you abandoned your own patient to help mine.”

“I was partnered with Dr. Landry on that case, and he had no issues proceeding on his own for an hour or two while I assisted Jason and Sara.  I’m surprised you don’t remember that since you went out of your way to try and humiliate him when we presented earlier today,” I hiss.

Ramsey has the good grace to momentarily look abashed, and he breaks eye contact with me as his cheeks flush a faint pink.  He clears his throat.  “Now that you have mentioned it I do seem to recall -”

“I didn’t do this to get noticed by the diagnostics team,” I continue, poking him again.  “I did it because I saw a pair of scared, first time parents falling apart because their baby was sick and inconsolable.  I did it because that family needed help.”

Ramsey catches my hand in his, sending a pleasant thrill through me, and gently pulls it away from his chest.  “I may have been hasty in my initial assessment of your motivations,” he says slowly.

I rip my hand away from him, cradling it against my chest. “Don’t ever fucking touch me again.”

I turn and hurry down the hallway, trying to ignore the way my body responded to Ramsey’s touch, and how much his accusation had hurt.

**********************************************************************************

September 17.  9:30 p.m.

“Shit.  Shit, shit, shit!” I mutter, sitting on the floor behind the intake desk and looking through the lost and found box.  I’d spent the whole day moving into a new apartment and the last thing I want to be doing is searching for my I.D. badge, but if I don’t have it tomorrow morning it will be just one more excuse for Ramsey to get on my case.  And after our last encounter outside Emily’s hospital room, I’ve been avoiding him at all costs.  I eventually find it among the sea of tangled lanyards and other bits and bobs that my fellow doctors have misplaced.

I shove the box back into place and start to stand up, wincing as the blood flows back into my lower legs.  I immediately crouch back down as raised voices carry down the corridor and draw nearer to the waiting area.  I peek over the edge of the desk, watching Ramsey throw his hands up in the air and scowl at Dr. Banerji.

“You can’t do this, Naveen!  I won’t let you!” Ramsey shouts, angrily running his hands through his hair as he paces back and forth.

“It must be done, Ethan,” Dr. Banerji says placidly.  “Not everything is in your control.  It’s time you finally learned that.”

“You are not my teacher anymore!”

Naveen gently smiles at him.  “I am always your teacher.”

“Goddamnit Naveen!”  I involuntarily gasp as Ramsey slams his fist into the wall.  Dr. Banerji sighs softly before walking away, Ramsey staring miserably after him.

What.  The. Fuck.

Faced with the choice of hiding here until Ramsey overcomes whatever internal crisis he’s going through or facing him directly… I decide to nut up. I slowly emerge from my hiding space without him noticing me.  I strongly consider just sneaking away, but then I notice the blood.  I wage a brief internal battle before making my choice.

“Dr. Ramsey?” I call out softly.

He whirls around to face me, eyes wide.  Once he recognizes me his eyes narrow and he scowls.  “Spying on me, Dr. O’Shea?”

“It’s adorable that you think I’d waste my very limited free time on you,” I snark back.

“How much did you see?” he asks, clenching his jaw.

My god, that jawline…  Focus, Rory!

I shrug.  “Enough.”

“If you speak a word about this to anyone -”

“You’re bleeding,” I interrupt.

He stares down at his hand in confusion.  “I didn’t realize…”

“Come on,” I sigh.  “Let’s get it taken care of.”

Ramsey’s shoulders stiffen.  “I am perfectly capable of -”

I roll my eyes.  “Do not fear Dr. Ramsey, even I, a lowly intern, know how to patch up busted knuckles. Just let me help.”

He refuses to move, so I grab onto the end of his tie and gently tug him towards an empty patient room.  Too shocked to protest, he obediently follows me.  Once we’re in the room I shut the door to prevent any prying eyes, and direct him to sit on the edge of the hospitable bed while I glove up and gather all the necessary items.  I sit next to him and tentatively take his hand, surprised by just how much larger it is than mine.  

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, soaking a gauze pad in saline solution and dabbing away the drying blood on Ramsey’s knuckles.

“No,” he says tersely, refusing to look at me.

“Ok,” I murmur, focusing my attention on my work.  Some of my hair falls out of my ponytail and into my eyes. “Damn.”

“Let me.”  Ramsey’s voice is rough and there’s a slight hitch in his breathing.  He extends his uninjured hand, pausing just short of touching me.  I tilt my head up, allowing him to move the loose hair out of my eyes.  His fingertips brush against the shell of my ear, lightly trailing over the curve of my jaw as he withdraws his hand; the scrap of his calloused skin against my light five o’clock shadow causes a pleasant shiver to run through me.  

I peer up at him over the rims over my glasses.  “Thank you,” I whisper, suddenly feeling nervous.

He doesn’t reply as his blue eyes rove over me, taking in every detail. “Why are you doing this?” he finally asks.

I shake my head, breaking the temporary spell he had seemingly cast over me.  “You hurt yourself,” I say, annoyed at how breathless I sound.  I snap my eyes back down to his hand, gently dabbing antiseptic cream over his cuts.

He laughs softly, the sound dark and seductive in the close quarters of the small hospital room.  “I’m fairly sure I could have managed a band-aid or two, Rookie.”

I shake my head, biting my lower lip as I concentrate on precisely placing steri-strips over his broken skin.  “I don’t know,” I finally mutter.

“You’re so different from the others,” Ramsey whispers, almost to himself.

I snap my gloves off and gather up my trash, depositing it in the appropriate disposal bins under Ramsey’s intense gaze.   “I need to go, Dr. Ramsey.  My roommates are -”

The words stutter in my chest as Ramsey stands up and catches one of my hands in his.  “I owe you an apology.”

My brain short circuits at the feel of his fingertips caressing my palm, a barely there sensation that instantly makes me wonder what that touch would feel like on other parts of my body.  “W-what?” I stammer.

“For accusing you of using Emily’s case to further your career,” he clarifies.  “It was an unfair assumption on my part, and I apologize.”

Just like that the spell is broken, the mere mention of his accusation enough infuriate me all over again.  Glaring, I jerk away from him, resolutely ignoring the faint pang of disappointment that thrums through my body as I do.  “You can take your apology and shove it up - ”

“Rookie.”  The word is a growled warning, and Ramsey has gone from contrite to furious.