Mary

You noticed the shift in Dana before Robby’s words even registered in your mind, her posture stiffening as betrayal and shock washed over her features.

“I don’t have time for this, Dana,” Robby yelled, running his hands over his face. “Can you just focus on your job? Or do you need me to do that as well?”

Time seemed to stop, as residents and nurses alike paused to watch the scene. Sure, Robby got mad at med students, interns, residents, even Jack, but never did he raise his voice at Dana. Unlike the rest of your peers who seemed to be frozen in stupor, you stopped typing, immediately pushed yourself out of your stool and rounded the nurses’ station.

Dana opened her mouth to throw something back, but before she could, you stepped in front of her, your instincts superseding any rational thoughts.

“Dr. Robinavitch, you’re out of line,” you said, your voice cooler than anyone had ever heard it.

When you joined the PTMC about a year ago, the department was quick to learn that you were an endless ray of kindness, a smile seemingly always decorating your face. As a nurse, it was your second nature to be caring, but you were genuine, not only with your patients but with your colleagues, whether it was offering to babysit Harrison on your day off or helping Santos with her charting. You brought a lightness to the pit that they always knew they needed but somehow could never muster.

While the ED knew you would never harm a fly, they had also noticed your demeanor would shift whenever it came to Dana, or rather, when anyone slighted the charge nurse.

After you’d heard the story of Dana getting punched in the ambulance bay, you found yourself putting yourself in between her and unruly patients, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the team. You knew that Dana could take care of herself—she was perfectly capable of standing up for herself—but that didn’t stop you from dropping water bottles and granola bars on her desk, practically forcing them down her throat (”I’m not leaving here until I see you eat that bar, Evans”).

It all came to a full head of steam when Samira overheard you scolding a patient who had unwisely called Dana some choice words in your presence. When Mohan relayed what she’d heard to the others, no one believed you would ever say what you said, especially to a patient. But when you came back to the nurses’ station with a tight smile on your face, asking Princess to cover North 5 because the patient requested a different nurse, they knew it was true. And that’s when Princess started calling you Cujo, a nickname that caught on, much to your chagrin.

“(Y/L/N), I suggest you stay out of this.” Robby narrowed his eyes at you. “I am your attending–”

“No,” you interrupted abruptly. “You are not my anything. I report to her.” You motioned your head backwards slightly towards Dana, your steely gaze never faltering. “Now I know you did not just suggest that somehow Dana needs to to focus on her job or that somehow you would need to do it for her–” it was your turn to narrow your eyes– “because the last time I checked, she’s the one keeping this place together. In fact, I’d like to see you try and do her job.

“So unless the next words out of your mouth are “I’m sorry” or “Thank you,” I suggest you turn around and leave.” You finished your tirade as calmly as you’d started it—your voice never rising, your hands firmly by your side—and yet no one had never seen you so angry.

Robby opened his mouth to say something, staring at you for a moment as if you were a stranger, before glancing over your shoulder at Dana, whose eyes remained locked on you. For a moment, you held your breath, not sure which way this was going to go. But whatever he was going to say, he decided against it, as he turned on his heels and headed out towards the ambulance bay.

“I knew Cujo had some bite to her.” You heard Trinity mutter to Perlah, but your focus remained on the attending’s retreating figure. When Robby finally rounded the corner, you turned around to face Dana, your eyes still burning with a fire she’d never seen in them before, something dangerous.

“You okay?” You placed a soft hand on her forearm, your touch grounding her.

“I’m fine.” Dana wore a tight-lipped smile as she tried to regain some professionalism.

“Good.” You nodded tersely. “I’ll be right back.” And before Dana could say anything further, you were hot on Robby’s heels, following him outside, leaving behind a stunned ED and confused charge nurse.

For a moment, no one said anything, torn between pure shock that someone had stood up to Robby and utter confusion as to whether they should cash in their bets about you and Dana now or later. When you were out of her sight, the stillness of the ED unnerved her.

“Show’s over,” Dana barked, causing the residents and nurses to jump back into action. “Don’t you all have patients?”

As the small crowd dispersed, she looked back down at her tablet with a sigh before feeling a lingering presence hovering over her. Without looking up, she asked, “You need something, McKay?”

“You still need someone in two?” Cassie leaned against the counter of the nurses’ station, her eyes scanning the nurse. “I have a sec.”

“Mrs. Matthews is waiting for you then,” Dana simply replied, looking up with a smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes but still shone with appreciativeness.

“On it.” Cassie paused, almost wanting to say something further before deciding against it. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Dana nodded, her focus turning back to her screen as the redheaded doctor walked away. She hadn’t seen you come back inside, but as she rounded the station to check the board, Dana heard your laugh, and her eyes flitted towards the sound, where you were standing at a computer, typing away while chatting with Trinity about something. The confrontation seemed to have left you, but Dana could tell you were still on edge, your shoulders tense and your jaw clenched.

“Hey.” Robby sidled up to her side, looking less strained and properly scolded. Looking up at the board, he did his best to appear routine, as if not to draw attention to himself.

Dana merely hummed, just to acknowledge his presence, her focus still on board.

“Dana,” he sighed, uncrossing his arms as he turned to her, his tone practically begging her to look at him.

“What can I do for you?” She finally looked up at him with a sardonic smile, hiding her hurt.

“Dana, I’m sorry,” Robby said, causing her eyes to widen slightly. Dana couldn’t recall the last time he’d heard those words come out of the attending’s mouth, let alone directed to her. In fact, she could probably count one on hand the number of times he’d said anything resembling an apology to her.

“I was wrong and out of line,” he continued. “It won’t happen again.”

Wanting to make him sweat a little, Dana pursed her lips.

“Damn right it won’t,” she retorted as the corners of her mouth twitched up and her glare softened. Robby knew then that all was water under the bridge, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“You got a good one there, Evans.” Robby put a friendly hand on her shoulder before retreating into the chaos of the emergency department.

Dana didn’t need to ask who he was referring to, her eyes immediately finding you across the room, your watchful gaze already on her, no doubt having observed the entire interaction. Realization dawned on her, and she felt something settle in her gut, but before she could figure out what it was, your name was being called.

You didn’t move at first, your attention still on Dana, who gave you the smallest of smirks, one you’d have missed months ago but noticed now, as you’ve come to memorize even her most minute of mannerisms. The action is good enough to reassure you—for now—and you barely nod your head, satisfied, before letting McKay catch you up on the next patient.

---------

Later, when things had reached a manageable pace, Dana found you in the kitchen, your back to her as she entered.

“Please tell me I can at least enjoy this cup of coffee before the next trauma,” you whined playfully, turning around to face the other woman.

She didn’t know how you knew it was her, but somehow you always knew with her. You knew how she took her coffee with one cream and two sugars, how she would only eat the cookie dough flavored protein bar from the vending machine, how she was making a valiant effort to quit smoking. And Dana knew you knew all these things because you were the one showing up to your shift with two cups of coffee in hand; you were the one dropping a bar onto her desk; and you were the one slipping a pack of gum into her pocket when her hands got fidgety.

At first, she didn’t think much of it, but as the weeks and months went on, and you continued to show up and look out for her, Dana couldn’t stop her chest from tightening each time.

“Don’t worry, hon,” she chuckled at your antics. “You got time.”

“Thank goodness,” you mumbled into your mug, taking a sip and letting your posture sag.

“About earlier–” Dana took a step forward, one hand on the counter and the other on her hip– “you didn’t have to do that. I can handle Robby.”

“I know you can,” you said simply as you set your cup down. “Doesn’t mean you should have to.”

Dana frowned, a million different emotions swirled through her. “Why do you do it?”

“Do what?” You tilted your head to the side with an easy smile playing on your lips.

“Take care of me,” Dana whispered, the words tasting foreign in her mouth as she admitted the truth more so her to herself than to you.

“Somebody has to,” you only half-joked before sobering, “and because I want to.”

Inhaling sharply and quietly, Dana pushed herself off the counter so she was standing up straight, her eyes level with yours, searching for a reason. You sensed the change in her demeanor, the composure she maintained and that everyone expected from her slowly starting to crumble.

Without a second thought, you softly put a hand on her shoulder and pulled the older woman into your body, wrapping your arms around her.

Dana immediately melted into the comfort of your touch as she let herself, just for a moment, fall apart, step out of her charge nurse shoes and just be her. Because with you, she didn’t have to be anyone else but Dana.

The commotion of yells for an incoming trauma caused you to separate, your bodies still close enough that your fingers brushed hers.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, not wanting to let this fleeting moment end. A flicker of hesitation flashed in Dana’s eyes, and you frowned at the rare sight. But before you could ask her what was wrong, she stepped forward and pressed a light kiss to your cheek, her lips just centimeters away from yours.

“Thank you,” she murmured with a squeeze to your bicep, one that promised something more to come later, before taking a few steps back. You watched as her professional mask slipped back on with ease, and you instinctively mirrored her shift, your mind refocusing.

“Now get back out there, Cujo.” Dana smirked at the nickname, causing you to roll your eyes fondly. “They need you.”

I need you. She didn’t need to say it because you knew, and she knew you knew.