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And every broken arrow
Every hardened smile
Every foolish gamble
Every lonely mile
Will bring you to your knees and
Closer to the reason
And there's no making cases
For getting out or trading places
And there's no turning back
No, you are here
No, you are here
– The Wailin’ Jennys
Honestly, he expected the crash to hit him sooner. Once Robby was off the roof. Once they were out of the hospital. Once the alcohol hit his system. That was the whole point of meeting in the park, to weather the crash together. Co-regulation isn’t always an option, he could hear his therapist reminding him for the millionth time, but if it is, it can be a huge help. And wasn’t that what he was just saying to Robby? We survived as a species because we learned how to cooperate and communicate...
So he sat with the others, letting his leg and his nervous system both have a break before he asked them to carry him home. Letting his mind tiptoe right up to the edge of remembering a dozen different moments from the last few hours... right up until he felt the No through his whole body. Like poking at a bruise to see if it still hurt, or looking out over the edge of the roof.
Robby, on the other hand... Jack sighed and let a shiver pass through him, finally feeling how close Robby had stood to the edge now that they were both on solid ground. He was disappointed but not surprised when Robby was the first to stand, to wish them all goodnight and walk away. Jack didn’t feel panicked, though, and the world didn’t go quiet around him, so probably he thought Robby would be safe. He made a mental note to check in tomorrow and turned his attention to the others.
Mohan looked dazed as she sank into the spot Robby had vacated. No surprise there. The young one, Shamsi’s kid, was pretty quiet, too, but she had her eyes fixed on Mateo like looking at him was keeping her upright. He felt the corner of his mouth twitch, and he made a second mental note to check in with Mateo, though he seemed to have the situation under control. Donnie and Princess were both wound tight, voices a little too high and fast, but he could see them starting to come down to something approaching calm the longer they talked and the more times they laughed.
Good. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out slowly. That’s good. He tried to remember how many of them had people at home. Fuck, he was tired. Maybe he’d actually be able to get those couple hours’ sleep he’d told Robby he wanted before he came back.
The kids peeled away first — once Mateo realized that his love-struck shadow was dead on her feet and never going to leave as long as he was there, he offered to see her back to the hospital to find her folks. Princess needed another ten minutes or so of joking, but then she sighed and stood. “I should go too.”
Jack held out the packet of wipes she’d lent him and offered what he hoped approximated a smile. “Thanks,” he said as she took them; she nodded like she knew it wasn’t just for the blood he’d been able to wipe off his shoe.
Donnie nursed his beer a few minutes longer. He looked like he was mulling something over, and Jack braced himself for whatever he was working himself up to say. But when Donnie stepped down from his perch on the back of the bench, all he asked was, “One more for the road?”
Jack glanced at Mohan and realized she hadn’t moved. He wasn’t sure she’d even heard the question. He turned back to Donnie and shook his head. “Nah, man, have a good night.”
“You too.” But then Donnie hesitated, frowning slightly at Mohan and looking a second question at Jack. Jack nodded, I’ve got this, and Donnie looked relieved.
And then there were two.
He turned his head to look at her, felt a pull through his shoulder, and sighed — that was not going to be sustainable for any length of time. And of course the bench didn’t have an arm for him to lean against if he turned sideways, and all the leverage from his left leg was on the wrong side. He could get a good grip on the seat below him with his right hand and the back of the bench with his left, though. He moved his prosthesis down to the ground, propping it against his go bag, and grabbed the bench again. Add a little momentum from swinging his left leg up, and he managed to turn until he was facing Mohan.
God, she looked so young. It’s not that he forgot, exactly, when they worked together —
(Well, maybe a little. He and Walsh always argued — it was the foundation of their friendship, and the reason he was sure she’d been much more worried about Hector’s crushed pelvis than about the pigtail catheter — but he had a sinking feeling that sometime in the next few days she’d be pulling him aside for a gentle talk about that pigtail catheter and the line between teaching residents and flirting with them. He was not looking forward to it.)
— but she was so smart, and especially tonight she was confident and quick on her feet and unruffled. Back there, in the red zone, you’d never have known it was her first rodeo.
Now she stared into space, beer can resting on her knee, barely moving except to breathe shallowly and blink. He wished he knew her better. Not for reasons Emery would scold him over (well, okay, those too) but because she looked like she needed something, only he didn’t know what. Not like he did with Robby, or Dana, or his fellow night shift regulars.
He should wait, he thought. Not try to fill the silence, for once in his life. But he could feel the crash coming, and he didn’t know how long he had before it hit, and she clearly still needed someone. He was pretty sure even Em would agree he shouldn’t leave her here alone. So he thought about it for a minute, and then he asked, “Doin’ okay in there?”
No answer.
“Doctor Mohan!” he said in his Senior Attending voice.
She gasped in a breath that sounded like it actually filled her lungs and turned reflexively toward him. “Sorry?”
He felt the corner of his mouth twitch again, a fond smile trying to escape, especially when Mohan shifted to mirror him, pivoting her left foot as she curled her right leg under her. She blinked again and looked around, eyes widening as she realized the others were gone.
He waited for her to look at him again before saying gently, “I asked how you were doing.”
“Oh, I’m fine!” she said too brightly, then tried not to wince.
He gave it a beat. “Want to try that again?”
Did she blush? He couldn’t tell in the dark. “I mean, not fine fine, but... fine.” She met his eyes, but only for a second before she looked away. Took a sip of her beer, grimaced, and leaned over to place it under the bench.
Jack waited.
“Do you ever...” She glanced up at him, hesitating. “After something like... what we just... do you feel better? And then worse?”
He breathed a laugh. “Always.”
She smiled briefly, relaxed a little, then frowned again. “Cassie said it was an adrenaline high.” He nodded, and she continued, “But you didn’t seem...?”
“What, high?” he asked, and he smiled when she nodded. “Let me ask you this, would you be able to guess Louie’s blood alcohol by looking at him? If you didn’t already know him?”
Mohan’s frown deepened, and when he thought back over what he’d just said he cringed. Way to be reassuring, comparing yourself to an addict. “What I mean is that this was your first mass casualty, right? Probably the worst thing you’ve faced as a doctor?”
She nodded slowly.
He forced himself to meet her eyes. “It’s not mine. I’ve had a lot of practice riding that high, and I’ve learned to recognize when it’s happening and use it instead of just getting swept up in it.”
“Oh.” Her gaze shifted down to his legs filling the space between them on the bench — left leg bent upward at the knee to fit, right leg flat but still stopping short of touching her. “If it were a normal day, would you have suggested the pigtail catheter?”
He sighed. “Fuck, I don’t know. It would depend on what else was happening, how much time we had and what other options were available. Whether I could justify overruling Walsh.” He couldn’t quite read her expression, but it gave him pause. “If you’re asking whether I think you could’ve done it without the adrenaline, whether I would’ve trusted you, the answer’s yes.”
She took a ragged breath. “I’m not sure —”
“Hey!” He leaned forward, holding eye contact with her the way he had with Robby. “Don’t do that. That was not the adrenaline. That was all you.” She opened her mouth, he assumed to disagree, so he cut her off. “I trusted you to do it because I knew you could, and if I hadn’t I would’ve done it myself.”
She quirked an eyebrow at that. “It wasn’t too risky for you after all?” But she was smiling just a little, now, and he thought maybe she was finally getting the joke.
Just to make sure, this time he grinned when he explained, “Who did the procedure was never the risk, it was who had to block Walsh from tackling the person doing the procedure.”
Samira stared at him for a second, and then a laugh bubbled up out of her, and if that wasn’t the sweetest sound he’d heard all night. “Are we going to need bodyguards after this?”
“Nah, I’m sure she blames me, and by our standards that was barely a squabble.”
More laughter, from both of them, and then quiet. But companionable quiet, now, and Samira seemed better — not out of the woods, but back on the trail — and he was starting to feel tired. Reluctantly, he started to think about wrapping this up. Getting his prosthesis back on and heading home while he still could.
“Doctor Abbot?”
Call me Jack, he thought but didn’t say. “Yeah?”
“How are you?”
He stared at her, mind completely blank.
“I know you said you’ve been through things like this before, but...?”
And oh God, no wonder her patient satisfaction scores beat everyone else’s by a mile if this was her bedside manner, but she was a resident and the crisis calm was definitely wearing off now and he would not put that on her.
“You don’t need to worry about me,” he told her, which wasn’t technically a lie.
She gave it a beat. “Want to try that again?”
I didn’t even think about jumping off the roof, which granted was mostly because Robby was in my spot and I was too busy talking him down, but still. I’m afraid to try and sleep, and I don’t want to be alone in my apartment, but I already texted my therapist to schedule an extra session on my way in. You’ve been traumatized enough for one night, you don’t need my crap on top of that, not right now.
I don’t want to push you away, but I don’t trust myself to remember where the line is if I let you see me as a person instead of an attending.
“I appreciate the concern,” he said at last, “but like I said I’ve had a lot of practice riding the high, and I’ve had a lot of practice getting through the aftermath. You don’t need to worry about me.”
He watched her considering this, and it occurred to him to wonder what rumors she might’ve heard, especially after she asked carefully, “You won’t... how does Dana put it? ‘Get some air’?”
The question hit him right in the gut, but at least this one he could answer. “Not alone. Never without someone knowing that’s where I’m going.” Never without a lifeline.
“Promise?”
Several people and long ago, but he didn’t mind adding her to the list. “Promise.”
She nodded once. “Okay. Thank you.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “Don’t suppose you have some sort of teleporter in your go bag.”
Jack laughed. “I wish.” He grabbed the bench again and shifted right, bent over and grabbed his prosthesis so he could put it back on. “You working tomorrow?”
“Seven AM,” she answered with fake cheer.
“Jesus, what’re you still doing here, then?” He moved his right leg, checking the fit of the prosthesis before he grabbed the strap of his go bag and stood.
“What about you?”
“I have another day off, but...” He shrugged. “Probably come back sooner.”
When he turned to wish her good night he found her standing with her arms crossed and wearing an expression he suspected she’d learned from Dana. “You’re not really giving me confidence in your coping mechanisms. You know that, right? Is that the example you want to set for your residents?”
Yup, I’m definitely in trouble. But after a moment’s hesitation he stood a little straighter, looked her in the eye, and said, “It is if the other examples I could set would be worse.”
He watched the air go out of her, and then he watched her pull herself together. Felt that rush of pride and admiration again when she said steadily, “In that case, I hope I don’t see you, but if I do you should come say hi. Let me know if you need some air and Robby and Dana aren’t around.”
He thought about it for a second or two. “Yeah, okay,” he said softly. “I can do that. You too, yeah?”
A little more tension went out of her posture. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“You drive?” he asked. She nodded. “I’ll walk you.”
They walked in silence back toward the hospital and then up into the garage, and when they reached her car he insisted she get in and start it before he left. She rolled her eyes — “It’s not like there aren’t plenty of people who could help me if I got stuck” — but she was already turning her key in the ignition, and she waited until the engine was humming steadily before she turned and gave him one last smile.
“Goodnight, Doctor Abbot.”
He smiled back. “Goodnight, Doctor Mohan.” He patted the roof of her car as he walked back out of the parking space, then continued through the garage toward the pedestrian exit. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, pulled out his phone, and texted Robby, I’m calling you tomorrow, and you’d better answer.
He was waiting at the first street crossing for the light to change when his phone buzzed: a thumbs-up emoji from Robby.
The light changed. Jack crossed the street and turned toward his apartment, feeling bone-deep tired but relatively almost okay. And wasn’t that something?