Chapter Text
Dennis Whittaker woke up before his alarm went off.
For a few seconds, he didn't move—just stared at the cracked windshield above him, the faint glow of streetlights still bleeding through the glass. His body ached from sleeping in the driver's seat again.
His home The farm wasn't really a place right now.
It was the back of his old car.
He rubbed his face, exhaled slowly, and sat up. His uniform was folded on the passenger seat beside him, already slightly wrinkled. First day. New hospital. New city. Pittsburgh.
"Alright... just get through today," he muttered to himself.
Outside, the air was cold when he stepped out. The city was still half-asleep, but the hospital ahead of him already looked alive—lights on, movement behind glass doors.
Before going in, he stopped at a nearby gas station bathroom. The mirror was flickering under a weak fluorescent light. He stared at his reflection—tired eyes, messy hair, a face that looked like it hadn't slept properly in days.
"This is fine," he whispered sarcastically, already knowing it wasn't.
He brushed his teeth quickly at the sink, splashed water on his face, and changed into his scrubs as best as he could in the cramped bathroom. When he finally stepped out, it was already 6:03 a.m.
He got back into his car, drove the short distance, and parked outside the hospital entrance.
Pittsburgh General Emergency Department.
First day.
No turning back.
⸻
Inside, the hospital hit him immediately—noise, movement, urgency. Everything felt too fast.
"Whittaker?" a voice called.
He turned.
A woman in scrubs stood there, confident posture, clipboard in hand.
"Yeah, that's me."
"I'm Dana. Follow me."
No hesitation. No softness. Just movement.
She walked fast. He followed.
"This is the ER floor. Trauma rooms are this side. Nurses' station there. Doctors rotate constantly, so don't get attached to silence."
He nodded, trying to keep up.
At the nurses' station, more people were gathered.
Alright, listen up. Quick introductions. You're all starting your first year in the ER."
"I'm Dana. I'll be guiding you today. Try to keep up."
"Now newbie's introduce yourself"
One by one, they looked up.
"Javadi," said a woman briefly, nodding.
"King," another added, nervously .
"But you can call me Mel" she said it in a fast sentence
"And I'm Santos," a woman said, leaning slightly back at a wall. "Good luck to everyone."
There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice, but not unkind.
"Thanks," Whittaker replied quietly.
Dana clapped her hands once. "Alright, move. I'll show you all the triage."
⸻
The next hour blurred into information.
Triage rooms. Patient flow. Priority levels. Critical vs non-critical.
"This is where decisions happen fast," Dana explained. "You don't have time to hesitate. You assess, you act."
Whittaker swallowed hard.
That sounded... impossible.
Soon after, he was paired with Santos.
"Come on, huckleberry ," she said. "Let's go check patients."
"Why do you call me like that" said Whittaker with a concerning
"I don't know just came into my mind" said Santos with a little smirk
Whitaker just looked at her and said nothing just went quiet
They moved room to room, checking vitals.
Blood pressure. Heart rate. Oxygen levels.
Santos worked quickly, efficiently. Whittaker tried to match her pace.
"You're thinking too much," she said at one point.
"I'm literally trying not to mess this up," he replied.
"That's the problem. Relax. The machines do half the work."
Despite her sarcasm, she stayed close, guiding him without making it obvious.
Hours passed like that—paperwork, vitals, charts, moving from one patient to another.
By late morning, they were entering data into the system.
Santos leaned back in her chair. "I hope we don't need to make all this charting!"
"Me too," Whittaker admitted.
"Didnt you like the patient too that had the knee problem ."said santos with a laugh
He let out a short laugh. "Omg yes he was so annoying like why do you need another dose when he had already"
"Yes , so real ." Said santos with a big smile
Then—
A voice cut through the station.
"Why aren't you two working?"
Both of them froze.
A man stood behind them—older, calm posture, sharp eyes that immediately scanned everything in the room.
Whittaker straightened instantly. "Sorry, we were just—"
The man raised a hand. "Relax. I'm kidding."
A pause.
Then a slight smile.
"I'm Robby."
Something in the room shifted.
Dana, nearby, glanced over briefly but said nothing.
Santos straightened. "Dr. Robby?"
"The one and only," he said casually.
Whittaker blinked. "Oh—uh. Dennis Whittaker. Trainee nurse."
"Santos," she added.
Robby nodded. "Good. You can just call me Robby."
Whittaker hesitated for half a second too long.
Because now that he was standing closer, he noticed it.
The calm voice. The confidence. The way he carried the entire room without trying.
And—he really shouldn't have noticed this—
He was good-looking. In a way that felt completely out of place in the chaos of the ER.
Santos nudged Whittaker lightly. "Stop staring."
"I wasn't—" he started.
Robby's eyes flicked briefly to him, then away.
"Carry on," Robby said, already moving past them.
Whittaker stayed still for a second longer than necessary.
"Come on," Santos muttered, pulling him gently. "We've got work."
Robby didn't look back.
But he had noticed.
⸻
By midday, the ER had fully exploded into chaos.
Whittaker was running on adrenaline alone now.
Vitals. Charts. Patients. Moving. Thinking. Not thinking too much.
"You're doing fine," Santos said once as they passed each other between rooms.
"I don't feel fine," he replied.
"That's normal."
Then everything stopped.
Room 12.
A monitor alarm screaming.
Whittaker stepped inside first.
A patient—older male—wasn't breathing.
"No pulse," Whittaker said instantly, panic rising in his chest. "I—he's—"
"Start compressions!" Santos shouted as she rushed in behind him.
Whittaker didn't think. He just moved.
Hands locked. Chest compressions. Fast. Hard. Counting in his head.
"Come on... come on..."
"Call it in!" Santos yelled.
He kept going.
His arms burned. His breathing broke.
"Don't you dare stop," he whispered under his breath.
The door slammed open.
"Code blue!" someone shouted.
And then—
Dr. Robby was there.
He stepped into the room, saw the scene instantly, and his expression changed—not panic, not shock.
I hope you liked the first chapter and what do you think will happen next?
1063 words