Chapter Text
Aurora Emery is running.
She doesn’t know where she’s going, or why she needs to go there, but she knows she can’t stay where she is. She knows she can’t seek refuge in her aunt’s office, she can’t look for comfort in the other interns, or even the residents and attendings, she can’t distract herself by caring for her patients anymore. She needs to run and hide and forget the world until it gives up and forgets her, too.
She spots a supply closet down the hall and runs straight for it, throwing the door open and shoving it closed. She steps further inside, tears suddenly springing from her eyes as her throat tightens, raw and awful. She drops against the opposite wall to the door, her knees pressing against her chest as she splinters in some random supply closet, alone and ignored by the world.
She shouldn't be surprised at this point, it's not new, it's not strange. This isn't even the first time she's cried inside the walls of Edenbrook, only now it's so much more, now it's unstoppable and debilitating as she cries into her scrubs, her body shaking with each rasping breath and each sob as she just crumbles, falling apart as the rest of the hospital carries on without her, not even sparing a second thought for someone so irrelevant to them.
The door creaks open, Aurora’s eyes flying up to meet a curious gaze, “H-Hey!” she sniffs, wiping her sleeve under her running nose. “Get out!” she glares at the figure, even as she’s slumped on the floor beside shelves of toiletries with mascara pouring down the length of her face in dark streams.
“Aurora?” the figure whispers, stepping inside the cramped closet and closing the door as their footsteps draw them closer to a teary Aurora.
“Go on, then. Say it,” she spits through tears, her voice cracking under the weight of her sobs and hurt. Cleaving under the pressure of everything she’s ever wanted to say but held back and fracturing from the size of everything she’s never wanted to say but forced from her throat anyway.
The figure drops before her, setting a stack of charts they were carrying a foot or so away, their eyes surprisingly earnest and concerned as they gaze into Aurora's, “Say… what?”
Aurora sniffles again, wiping at the tears under her eyes now, “What you and everyone else have always wanted to say!” she accuses harshly. “That I’m only here because of my name! That I don’t deserve my spot!” she chokes on the last words, as if they could physically hurt her to release them, and they almost do.
“Are you okay?” a stupidly kind and soft and concerned voice asks from above her, a hand landing on Aurora’s shoulder and squeezing comfortingly.
She jerks away from the touch, “Do I look like I’m okay? I’m crying in a freaking supply closet!”
“Okay…” The figure sits beside her, staring ahead and nodding absentmindedly, “What happened to make you cry in a closet?”
Aurora scoffs, “Everything,” her voice falling away with the words. “I’m just so goddamn tired,” it comes out as only a whisper, her eyes focusing on her knee as a finger traces a circle on her shin.
“Of what?”
“Everything!” she repeats, fire back inside of her at having to repeat herself. She shouldn't be having this conversation, this entire thing is ridiculous. Why are they even bothering with her? God, this is insane.
“Well, let’s start with one thing," they begin. "What’s been bugging you the most? What made you come in here?”
“My aunt?” she shrugs with a frown, swallowing thickly before speaking again, “I thought she’d lay off while she was busy with your hearing… but she’s pushing me even harder,” she confesses reluctantly, still feeling ridiculous.
“Pushing you? What do you mean?”
She sighs, “I know you all think I have an easy ride here because of her… but you have no idea how much she expects of me.”
“Because of your family name?” the figure turns, looking to Aurora curiously, as if the makeup streaked across her features isn't even there, as if they're having the most casual of conversations, as if they're sitting in the cafeteria discussing movies or something equally trivial.
“Sure, that,” she shrugs. “And also the fact that she hates being an administrator. Sometimes it feels like she’s trying to live through me because she doesn’t get to practice anymore.” Her arms tighten around her legs, chin landing on her knee, “She makes Zaid and Ines set me the most complicated cases, and then she calls me to her office to talk about them for hours and hours.”
“So she gives you the answers?”
“No!” she turns, glaring furiously, “She just grills me until I find them. And then when I finally get a second to myself, away from her or the patients, I get flocked by those… those leeches,” she grimaces, “It’s like med school all over again.”
Aurora used to enjoy her classes when she was younger, she loved science in high school and most of her undergrad courses. But that stopped when she reached med school. Itwas awful for her, even if she loved her classes, it wasn't enough, it just became draining, the only escape from everything that dragged her down outside of those halls.
She had no real friends, she had no allies, she had no one to trust. Everyone wanted to partner with her because they thought she was a genius, everyone wanted to impress her or bribe her into letting them meet her aunt, everyone wanted to get close to her just for the career boost. And she hated how easily she used to fall for it, how many people she thought she was genuine, close friends with just for them to abandon her when she couldn’t introduce them to whatever famous doctor they idolized. She hated how alone and broken she always felt as they walked away, as she retreated to her dorm to cry and break down, just like she’s doing right now, after all this time.
Tears well in her eyes again, slowly sliding down her cheeks as they escape and muddy with her mascara, “You have no idea what it’s like knowing that everyone who talks to you or tries to be your friend is just doing it to get in with your family.”
An arm wraps around her back, pulling her into the figure’s side gently, “I had no idea you were having such a hard time. I’m sorry,” the tone is sincere, the words precious as they hit Aurora’s ears.
But she’s not falling for this again, she's not letting someone in just for them to hate her when she's not enough, just to abandon her when she can't give them what they want, just to leave her crying and lonely like everyone else has. “Like you care,” she scoffs, pulling back from the arm around her.
But that arm still stays, lighter now, “I do. I care about you and what you’re going through. I’ve never once cared that you’re an Emery, I care that you’re Aurora, and you could have let me tell you that before. But you were a jerk to me from day one. I wasn’t trying to get in with you because of your name. I didn’t even know who your aunt was, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway,” the figure tries, a thumb brushing Aurora's side absentmindedly, sending jolts of electricity through her entire body.
“What, did you learn medicine in the woods or something?” Aurora scoffs once more, rolling her eyes as that arm tightens around her back again.
“That’s what Jackie said,” the tone’s lighter, almost humorous as it falls from the figure sitting beside her. Before a breath is sucked in, evaporating the humor and the lightness, “Look, I think you’ve been burned by people using you so much that you’ve stopped giving people the benefit of the doubt. I get it," a shrug, "You don’t want to trust people. But if you never give yourself a chance to be wrong… you’ll never be right either.”
Aurora falls silent, a hand circling her back comfortingly as she stares into the darkness of the supply closet, the shelves of cleaning supplies and toiletries. “You don’t have to be alone, Aurora.”
And then she cracks and crumbles, falling apart at that one word, that stupid, awful word that’s haunted her for years, that left her cold and exhausted of everything, that stabbed her in the heart for even daring to have one. The tears fall faster than before, waterfalls flooding her skin as they drip from her chin and sobs shake her once again, a familiar sensation after all these years of being truly, hopelessly, despairingly alone.
Arms wrap around her, pulling her against the figure, and as soon as they do, she falls apart even more. She shatters into thousands of pieces knowing that this is the unfamiliar component in this entire ordeal, that something as simple as comfort has eluded her for who knows how long. Something as simple as concern or caring or whatever motivation the person she’s sobbing against has is entirely foreign to her now.
This isn’t how things were supposed to go, this is nowhere near how things were supposed to go. Aurora was supposed to be her own person without her aunt’s shadow, to dominate the other interns and win the spot on the diagnostics team, to prove herself as an amazing doctor, with or without her last name. She was supposed to be level headed and calm, confident and capable, the best of the best. She was supposed to be perfect, to be everything her aunt wasn’t, to be better. And she certainly wasn’t supposed to be crying into the shoulder of one Rylen Damen in a dimly lit supply closet when she should be tending to her patients, helping the people relying on her to tell them what’s wrong, how to fix it.
But she doesn’t even care to fight anymore. She doesn’t care that she’s not enough, that she’s not the best, that she’s still under her aunt’s debilitating shadow. She doesn’t feel like working harder than anyone to prove herself or destroy her competition, doesn’t feel like pushing herself to her breaking point, doesn’t feel like fending for herself anymore as she falls apart beyond repair, not when Rylen's being so… so… so Rylen.
Which is such a ridiculous thing to think, that someone’s simply being themself, simply behaving as they would any other day, simply doing what comes naturally to them. But that doesn’t change how true it is, how perfect and amazing it is, and how much Aurora never wants it to end, never wants any of this to stop, never wants to walk away from this damned supply closet just to start drowning in everything that drives her mad again.
She never wants this to end, she never wants Rylen to stop tracing her spine so lightly and comfortingly, she never wants Rylen to stop whispering into her hair with a tone that’s so kind and soft, and she never wants Rylen to stop hugging her so. Incredibly. Perfectly. Tight.
But of course, she does. She does stop trailing her hand along Aurora’s back in that light and comforting manner, she does stop murmuring reassurances and promises that everything’s okay and fine in that sweet and caring voice, and she does stop hugging Aurora so. Incredibly. Perfectly. Tight. She pulls back gently, careful not to shatter the fragile Aurora splitting and fracturing in her arms as she carefully meets her eyes, still so soft and perfect. She cups her cheeks, her palms barely resting on the skin beneath them as heat radiates from her, warming Aurora in the chill of the closet, “You gonna be okay?”
Aurora sniffles, forcing a stiff nod as she carefully lifts her hands from their crumpled position in her lap to wipe away the tears falling down her cheeks. Except Rylen beats her to it, her thumbs wiping away the streams under Aurora’s dark and watery eyes, and it’s so tender and sweet and precious and warm and perfect that Aurora can feel herself splintering again, cracking under the caring, concerned gaze resting on her. She sucks in a shaky breath, willing herself to be strong again, to be able to handle this.
Because she can handle anything and everything, she always has, from med school and her cold and lonely dorm to the judgmental stares and constant, hauntingly empty space beside her as she roams Edenbrook. She’s always handled it, she’s never fallen apart so terribly as much as she is now. She's never fallen apart in someone’s arms in the oddly perfect way she is now. She's never felt so vulnerable and so safe at the same time like she does now, in the fourth floor supply closet, shelves of cleaning supplies and products stacked around her.
“Are you ready to head out? Or do you need another minute?” Her voice is so low, so gentle and unbelievable as it spills from her lips, honey dripping down her chin, golden and flowing as it coats Aurora from head to toe, a warm blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
Aurora averts her gaze, turning to her folded hands in her lap as Rylen's thumbs ghost across her cheeks, a steady, stable rhythm to match her breathing to, “I’m sorry about… this,” she mumbles, insecurity alighting the blanket, turning the fabric to ash along her shoulders. “You shouldn’t have to be here wasting your time.”
Rylen's head dips down, working to catch Aurora’s teary gaze in her own, “Making sure you’re okay isn’t a waste, Aurora,” she hums, low in her throat as her palms slip to Aurora’s jaw, nudging her gaze upwards.
“Yeah, it is,” she rolls her eyes with a frown. “There’s people dying, Rylen,” she meets her eyes, jaw set tight.
“And you’ll be one of them if you don’t take care of yourself and take a break when you need it,” Rylen holds her gaze, serious and stern, pleading for her words to take hold as her hands fall from Aurora's face, a chill replacing their warmth.
“I don’t need a break,” she insists, regardless of what just occurred.
“We’re sitting on the floor of a supply closet and your eyes are red,” Rylen's eyebrows raise, a knowing smile on her face that Aurora wants to wipe off. “You’re allowed to take a minute when you need to, Aurora, I’m serious.”
Aurora frowns, “I’m not about to make a habit of breaking down in closets.”
“Good,” Rylen grins, raising a fist and tapping Aurora’s chin playfully with her knuckles, “Because you’re too talented to waste your energy on being upset.”
Aurora’s eyes roll, her frown only deepening, “Why are you mocking me now? Was seeing me cry not enough?” she accuses coldly, her arms crossing over her chest protectively.
“Aurora,” her tone is serious. “You’re literally a Disney princess, of course you’re amazing.”
Her cheeks flush dark, her eyes desperately darting around to avoid Rylen's, searching for an escape or distraction to quell the heat in her cheeks that really shouldn’t be there. It's a compliment, but a different one from what she's used to. This is absolutely absurd, there is not one discernible reason for her to be blushing or embarrassed or whatever is happening as she coughs awkwardly.
“Now come on,” Rylen jumps to her feet, offering her hands and wiggling her fingers to Aurora teasingly. “You need to forget about this rank closet and go help some people,” she grins that grin that used to make Aurora want to vomit, but for reasons she may never know, now sends an electric jolt through her as it’s directed at her for once.
She takes the hands stretched out to her, gripping the soft and warm palms beneath her own as Rylen jerks her upwards, stopping just a few tiny, tiny inches from that smiling face. She sucks in a sharp breath, taking a step back and putting distance between them, brushing off her coat just to occupy her hands and mind.
Rylen picks up the few charts she dropped when she entered and passes them to Aurora without a word. She crosses to the door, pulling it open and bowing, her arm outstretched as she gestures for Aurora to exit. “Your Highness,” she teases, glancing up to wiggle her eyebrows at an annoyed Aurora.
She rolls her eyes, exiting quickly and making a beeline for the bathroom to clean up, dropping her new charts on the sink as she wipes away her makeup, fixes her hair, and kills a few moments until her eyes look less red. She takes a deep breath, grabs her charts, and heads out to meet her new patients, whoever they may be.
She cycles through them, introducing herself, familiarizing herself with their cases, running tests or receiving results for ones Rylen's already ordered. And on top of that, she has her previous patients to tend to as well, some of which are cases she’s stumped on or waiting to see if her hunch is correct. And all of them are absolutely draining, absolutely exhausting as she stands with a plastered-on smile and cycles through an explanation of a diagnosis or a treatment plan or an invasive test.
She exits another patient room, stopping at a nurses station to receive some results and order another exam, and finally, finally empties her hands of paperwork and charts and results and orders and countless other items that drive her insane. And finally, finally she can stop, can collect her head, can rest and prepare herself for her next shift that consists of the exact same procedures and routines.
She sways, exhaust fogging her mind as she trudges through the halls of Edenbrook towards the on-call room. She’s been staying there as much as she can lately, not wanting to risk encountering her aunt and all of her lectures any more than necessary. She pulls the door open, crosses to the opposite side of the room, and collapses on a bed, staring upwards blankly.
She doesn’t want to move or think or even breathe at this point, she’s too tired and sore, both physically and mentally, as she blinks slowly. But she forces her muscles to work, her arm to take out her phone from her pocket, and her fingers to tap at the screen, setting an alarm and scrolling through notifications. She stops on a text from an unknown number, opening the notification and reading, ‘Good luck.’
Aurora frowns at the light glowing from the screen, the gray text bubble of her correspondent, the monotone, unfeeling dots and lines making up the letters of the message, and especially the name signed at the bottom, beneath those odd words, a name that should not have her number: ‘-Rylen.’
She drops her phone to her side, turning away from it to face the wall, curling up tight and staring into space until her exhaustion begins to wear on her consciousness, a few thoughts swirling as her eyes flutter shut, her folded arm slipping beneath her head as a makeshift pillow as she sinks into the cot beneath her.
Somehow, her thoughts start slowly circling to Rylen, as strange as it is. They’re of that dumb smile she gave Aurora as she held the door to the supply closet open, they’re of the mascara stains on her shirt as she walked down the hallway, they’re of the steadiness in her voice as she stepped into the closet, that steadiness she can draw out of seemingly nowhere.
It was there as she bailed Aurora out to Ramsey, it was there as she led Aurora through her crisis during triage, and it was there as she whispered into Aurora’s hair. It’s always there when it matters, when someone’s career, or health, or wellbeing is at stake. It’s always there when Aurora needs it, even if she didn’t want it or ask for it, even if Rylen had no reason to offer that stability, that olive branch.
Yet she still did. She still met Aurora’s gaze and apologized for something that wasn’t her fault just to save her from the wrath of Doctor Ramsey after experiencing it herself. She still stood across from Aurora, speaking soft and slow, even as Aurora was on the brink of a panic attack, a collapse of her psyche provoked by all the horrors surrounding her, horrors that surrounded Rylen, too. She still stepped into that stupid, cramped closet and pulled Aurora into her arms, her breath hitting against her ear and providing a single constant, the only comfort in that closet as everything hurt and exploded and became too much all at once.
She didn’t mock or hurt her, she didn’t belittle or demean her, she didn’t search for an in with her aunt or a crack in her armour to attack until she bled to death. She just sat there, letting Aurora’s ruined makeup and hot tears stain the fabric of her clothes before leaving Edenbrook for who knows how long, careful not to further shatter the splintered woman that had hit her limit as she shook in her arms.
Aurora turns, grabbing her phone off the cot and unlocking it, opening up that message from Rylen. ‘How’d you get my number?’ she types furiously, staring at it impatiently, waiting for ‘Delivered’ to turn to ‘Read,’ waiting for three dots to appear, waiting for a cohesive response. Her nail taps against the screen, sharp and staccatoed in the dark and empty on-call room, harsh and berating in the dim lighting surrounding Aurora.
‘Your aunt’ pops up after a few minutes, a few minutes that drive Aurora insane, just staring at the light illuminating her face.
Her eyebrows knit together, ‘Why? And why did she give it to you?’ she types quickly, mildly frustrated with her aunt for being so careless with private information.
‘I wanted to be able to check on my patients, Princess, calm down.’ The answer’s quick, sarcastic and teasing like the ridiculous gesture Rylen made as she exited the supply closet.
Heat rushes to Aurora’s face, her cheeks flushing in the dim lighting, though from anger or embarrassment or both, she can’t tell, but she knows she doesn’t like it one bit. ‘Don’t call me Princess,’ she fires back.
‘Oh, do you prefer Your Highness? I can work with that. Oooooh or Your Majesty! That better?’
Aurora’s lips quirk in the slightest smile at the letters on her screen, but she forces it away. ‘I prefer Aurora, my name,’ she responds.
‘You’re no fun, Princess.’
She frowns, ‘Aurora*’
‘Princess*’
‘Aurora*’
‘Princess*’
‘Aurora*’
‘Do you not think you’re a princess? Is that what’s happening? Aw, Aurora, are you not confident? Do we need to work on your self-esteem?’
She shakes her head, rolling her eyes, ‘Shut up, Damen. You have my number to discuss patients and that is all,’ she scolds.
‘Sorry, Princess, I’ll be good. How much longer is your shift?’
‘I'm already off. I was trying to sleep before your message distracted me.’
‘Sorry. Good night :)’
Aurora rolls her eyes again, setting her phone back down and settling into the cot beneath her once again, intent on a few hours of sleep before she can make her escape to the apartment, her aunt hopefully long gone by the time she returns and can enjoy the rest of her night. But even as she drifts off, thoughts of Rylen still slip into her mind, thoughts of that ludicrous smiley face and the grin she knows it's meant to represent.