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Maybe one of the worst things that her mother has ever done to her is that Victoria is never truly at ease with herself - the shadow of Eileen Shamsi is always looming over her. She’s telling her to straighten up, to focus, to stop wasting her time talking to people when she can be studying, learning, being the child prodigy that everyone expects her to be. Sometimes Victoria can ignore it - she can pretend she doesn’t feel her mother near her; she can have a good, normal time without feeling the ever-present guilt pooling in her stomach.
Here, in McKay’s bed, that is definitely not the case.
McKay is getting something from the living room. Victoria can’t remember what. It’s not the first time they’ve done this, so maybe she should, but her mind is caught on more important things right now.
Like how she shouldn’t be doing this. Like how she shouldn’t have done this, actually - there is no doing. It’s done. It lays on her chest like a heavy weight - heavier than usual, though the result is always the same - she can’t breathe.
She tries to get herself under control. She usually manages to do it fine before McKay comes back, but usually it’s a rock, and tonight it feels like a boulder. Not for the first time she thinks about how much of a bad idea all of this is. She could lose her spot at PTMC. She could lose the ER. She could lose her family.
So could McKay.
For her, it’s almost worse - she might lose Harrison from this, and Victoria would kill herself before she put McKay and Harrison’s relationship in jeopardy.
But that’s a lie, because she’s already doing it.
They haven’t gone below the waist, for whatever that’s worth. No, it’s all PG-13, because Victoria always chickens out before they get that far, and McKay pretends she doesn’t care but Victoria knows she does. If they’re gonna risk it, they should at least risk it all the way, right?
Whatever. She’ll probably get there one day.
Her mother is still… lurking somewhere at her shoulder. It’s funny, it feels like how people describe ghosts except for the fact that her mother isn’t dead. She’s in good health, probably sitting at home debating medical journals with her father, so why is she here, with Victoria?
She knows that her mother already doesn’t like her being in the ER. She thinks it’s demeaning, or something. Victoria obviously thinks that’s stupid - she loves the rush of the ER, the way it challenges her, forces her to think on her feet. But her mother doesn’t see that.
McKay opens the door, gentle.
“I have takeout,” she sing-songs, raising a plastic bag in the air. “It’s Chinese.”
Victoria tries to smile from where she’s slumped over in the bed, but maybe it comes out as more of a grimace, because McKay’s eyebrows furrow together and her eyes fill with concern. Victoria almost hates her for it.
No, she doesn’t.
McKay sets the bag of takeout at the edge of the bed, sits down next to Victoria instead. “What’s wrong, doll?”
Victoria takes a shuddering breath. “Don’t - don’t call me that.”
She doesn’t want to look at McKay’s face. She knows that the woman will be hurt by it - she feels bad as soon as she says it, but the ghost of her mother nods in approval.
“Okay,” McKay says, her voice barely anything but a murmur. “What’s wrong?”
“We should… stop.”
Victoria wants to throw up as soon as she says it. She doesn’t want to stop. And she knows that’s exactly why they should. But her mother taught her to be selfish - it’s in her nature. She longs to be selfish now.
“Stop what?”
Victoria scoffs. “You know what.”
McKay drops the pretense. “Okay, sure. Why?”
There are a million things Victoria could say. Because there are a million reasons they should stop. She could say just about anything except for the truth. And instead, she chokes on all of them and resists the urge to claw at her throat.
Because, really, it’s not about being a doctor. It’s not about her mother, looming at her shoulder. It’s not about the guilt - Victoria has always been guilty, God. It’s that she’s starting to -
attach. She’s getting too attached.
She’s not under the impression that this is a serious thing they have going on. It’s casual. It’s blowing off steam. McKay isn’t even in the right space for a relationship right now. She has Harrison to look after. McKay isn’t her ex, she’s probably going to wait a long time before even entertaining the thought of a real relationship.
And, yet, still.
It’s been too long. She needs to find an answer. She needs to say something.
“I... I - I just -”
McKay shushes her, like a spooked animal.
“You know what, you don’t need to tell me anything, Victoria. I just - do you really want to end it? Or are you doing it because you have to?”
Victoria doesn’t have an answer for that. Maybe deep down she does want to end this. If only so that she doesn’t dig herself a deeper hole than she’s already in. She can see the light up above now, but there’s no telling how deep she’ll be two weeks from now, even two days from now.
McKay’s arms snakes around her, and Victoria can’t help but curl into her side. She doesn’t know. It’s so unbearable but she doesn’t know. She’s never not known what to do, knowing what to do is what makes her such a good doctor in the first place.
She takes another shaky breath and lets it out in something akin to a sob. She doesn’t even know if it is.
“Okay,” McKay murmurs, her breath warm against Victoria’s ear. “You don’t have to do this, baby.”
She doesn’t refuse the pet name this time. She doesn’t have it in her.
“I don’t want to,” she confesses. “I do, but - I don’t -”
“Then don’t,” McKay says, like it’s that simple.
It’s not.
“My… my parents -” It’s more vulnerable than she wants to be, and she stops talking. She thinks McKay might get it anyways. She knows her mother. She doesn’t know her ghost, her shadow, but she knows her. It’s close enough.
“You’re an adult,” McKay says, and there’s a note of sadness in her voice. Pity, maybe - Victoria knows she’s a bit pathetic. “You don’t have to let her dictate your whole life, Victoria.”
McKay’s right, she knows. It would be easy, she thinks, to stop letting the shadow loom over her. But then she tries, and she can’t.
She loathes it. She hates herself for it.
She hates herself for a lot of things.
“C’mere,” McKay says, as if they’re not already practically cuddling. “Lemme see you.”
Her thumbs swipe across Victoria’s tear stained cheeks, and it’s hard to stay in her slump when she’s looking at McKay and her kind eyes. Soft, softer than they ever are for anyone else, yeah, it’s hard to keep thinking about that shadow.
“I don’t - I really don’t want to,” she says, sheepish now. It was maybe an overreaction. She feels like she’s been swept away by her emotions lately, at least when she’s not working.
McKay understands. “Then we won’t,” she says. “Don’t let your mom ruin this. I think we’ve got something good going here.”
It sounds so much like something more that Victoria’s overwhelmed for a moment. And then she presses her lips against McKay’s, chaste yet firm. McKay’s hand is already cupping her cheek, but it moves lower, holds her jaw.
They break apart. McKay smiles at her, and something warm blooms in her stomach, something that overpowers the guilt.
“I think I could go for some Chinese,” Victoria says. McKay laughs, and Victoria can feel the boulder start to lighten up.