#it's a routine procedure to her i guess | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pucksandpower · 2 years ago

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The Center Cannot Hold

Charles Leclerc x wife!Reader

Summary: one cruel diagnosis sends your hopes and dreams crashing down in painful shards around you

Warnings: cancer, medical procedures, infertility, religion, recommendation to terminate pregnancy

The sun sneaks through slits in the blinds, casting patches of warmth on your shared bed. You’re nestled against Charles’ chest, his heartbeat a gentle hum beneath your ear.

“Morning,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep.

You smile, shifting around to meet his gaze. “It’s beautiful outside.”

Charles brushes a stray hair behind your ear. “Every day with you is beautiful.”

There’s a silent pause as the two of just stare at each other. You both know there is more to this morning than mere pleasantries. You think of the tiny stick in the bathroom, far more significant than its small size would have you believe.

“Should we?” You ask hesitantly.

He nods, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Together.”

You both rise hand in hand, making the short walk to the bathroom. Your hands tremble as you reach for the plastic stick on the granite counter.

With a deep breath, you pick it up.

Two lines.

Positive.

Tears prick your eyes and you turn to Charles. “Look,” your voice barely a whisper.

He chokes on air. “Is this ... are we really”

“We did it,” you confirm, tears streaming freely.

Charles’ eyes shimmer with unshed tears of his own. He pulls you into his arms, burying his face in your hair. “We’re going to be parents.”

You pull back slightly, placing a hand on your stomach. “Our baby.”

He nods, laughing softly through his tears. “Our little miracle.”

Holding the test between you both, you share a look of wonder. It feels like the universe has just shifted and realigned in the most beautiful way.

***

The waiting room is a sea of neutral tones and the soft murmurs of hushed conversations. You sit, nervously tapping your fingers on your knee, while Charles wraps an arm around your shoulders in an attempt to calm you.

He leans down to whisper in your ear, “You alright?”

You give him a small, tense smile. “Just a bit nervous. First-time jitters, I guess.”

Charles gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Everything will be fine. It’s just a routine check-up.”

Before you can respond, a soft voice calls out, “Mrs. Leclerc?”

You both rise and follow the nurse as she leads you into a cozy exam room, pastel walls adorned with photos of smiling babies and happy families.

After a series of routine checks and questions, the mood remains light. However, when the doctor enters, a middle-aged woman with a kind face, there’s a subtle shift in the air, a feeling that’s hard to pin down.

“First-time parents?” She asks with a warm smile, trying to put you at ease.

Charles nods, beaming with pride. “Yes and we’re over the moon about it.”

She returns the smile but then her expression becomes more clinical, professional, as she reviews the ultrasound. The room is filled with the sound of the machine and your quiet exhalations.

Minutes stretch on, the silence growing more pronounced. The doctor’s brows furrow, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Charles, sensing the change, grips your hand tighter. “Is everything alright?”

She hesitates for a moment before turning to face you both. “Your baby seems healthy but there’s something concerning about your cervix. I would like to run a few more tests to be sure.”

Your heart plummets, the room suddenly feeling colder. “What ... what do you mean?”

She chooses her words carefully, “There is a chance that it is just a benign irregularity but we need to be certain.”

Tests turn into more tests and the hours seem to blur. Charles is fidgeting anxious mess beside you but his thumb never stops stroking your hand.

Finally, the doctor returns, the weight of the world seemingly on her shoulders. “I won’t sugarcoat it,” she begins heavily. “The results point to cervical cancer.”

Silence deafens the room. The world around you blurs and you feel Charles’ arms wrap around you, holding you as if you might shatter.

“No,” Charles whispers, his voice breaking. “There must be a mistake.”

The doctor looks at you with sympathy. “I wish there was. We caught it early but it’s aggressive. My recommendation would be to terminate the pregnancy and begin treatment immediately.”

Your mind races, heartbreak and disbelief clashing within. “Terminate? But our baby ...”

She gently cuts you off. “It’s the best chance to save your life.”

Your vision blurs, the reality of her words crashing over you like a tidal wave. The room, with its softly painted walls and happy baby pictures, suddenly feels like a cruel mockery.

Charles eyes are clouded over with tears and despair. “Please,” he whispers, holding your face between his trembling hands. “I can’t lose you.”

You choke back a sob, the enormity of the situation making it hard to breathe. “But our baby, Charles. Our little miracle.”

He hugs you close, his voice muffled as he buries his face your hair. “I know. But I need you. We promised each other forever, remember?”

You clutch at him, memories of shared dreams and whispered promises flooding back. The villa by the sea that you would fill with warmth and laughter, growing old together, watching sunsets side by side.

“I can’t imagine a life without you,” he continues, voice breaking. “Not a single day.”

The pain in his words cuts deep, each syllable a raw wound. You hide your face in his chest, tears soaking his shirt.

“We wanted this baby so much,” you whisper brokenly.

“I know,” Charles chokes out. “But I need you with me. I can’t be alone. I can’t live without you.”

***

The soft glow of a lamp casts long shadows, making the room feel both intimate and immense. You sit on the couch, a soft blanket draped around your shoulders, staring blankly at the tea that has long gone cold in your mug.

Charles sits opposite you, unmoving. He clears his throat, searching for words, “I’ve been thinking ... about what the doctor said.”

You look up, meeting his gaze, a storm brewing within it. “So have I.”

Charles closes his eyes, struggling with his emotions. “I can’t bear the thought of a world without you in it. I would be content, you know? To grow old, just the two of us, if it means I spend every day of my life with you by my side.”

Your heart aches, tears pricking your eyes. “Charles, our baby ...”

He cuts you off, voice filled with raw emotion. “I know. But you’re my world. I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you.”

A heavy silence settles between you two, the weight of unsaid words pressing down.

You take a deep breath, “I want this baby. I want our baby. But I also want to grow old with you, to be there for every race, for every win and every loss, on and off the track.”

He reaches across, taking your hand in his, fingers interlocking. “We’ve faced so much together. But this is tearing me apart. I just want you safe.”

You squeeze his hand, searching his eyes. “If I choose the baby, will you ... will you resent me? Will you resent them? If I choose the baby, and ... leave you alone?”

He looks away, the pain of thinking about it clear on his face, “Never. I would be lost. Completely and utterly lost. But I’ll never hold it against you. Or them. I’ll cherish our child but my heart ... my heart would be forever broken.”

You both sit in silence, lost in your thoughts.

“I’ve made up my mind.”

Charles looks at you intently, waiting.

“I’m going to keep the baby.”

He shuts his eyes tightly but a tear manages to slip through the crack and down his face. “I will support whatever decision you make. I just ... I love you so much.”

You move closer, wrapping your arms around him. “I love you too. We’ll face this together, no matter what.”

As you lay down beside Charles, the comfort of the familiar sheets beneath you, he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. You can feel the tension in his body, the struggle to be the rock, to be strong.

In the quiet darkness, you feel more than hear his silent sobs, the tremors that shake his frame. You reach out, intertwining your fingers with his, offering the only comfort you can as the world falls apart around you.

***

“Please, mon amour, just eat something,” Charles implores, voice laced with worry as he holds out a plate of your favorite pasta.

The aroma drifts to you, making your stomach churn, but you force a weak smile. “I’ll try.”

It’s been months since that fateful doctor’s appointment. The specter of cancer looms over your pregnancy like a dark cloud, casting shadows on the joy you should be feeling.

Days blur into one another. Doctor visits are now your routine. Charles, who once sped around racetracks with fearless abandon, now navigates the hospital corridors with a silent determination.

There are days when weakness consumes you, moments when you can’t summon the strength to get out of bed. Charles has become your lifeline, helping you dress, making sure you eat, and even carrying you when your legs give out.

“I can’t do this,” you whisper to him one night, tears tracing down your cheeks. “I’m not strong enough.”

He cradles your face, his own eyes brimming with tears he refuses to shed. “You are the strongest person I know. You’re carrying our baby. That’s the bravest thing anyone can do.”

The pain is relentless, a constant companion. Each doctor’s visit brings more bad news. The cancer is spreading and your body is weakening. Yet, you cling to hope, to the belief that your love for each other can conquer anything.

One evening, you're curled up on the couch, aching and exhausted. Charles, sitting beside you, traces a finger along your cheek, his touch gentle as he tries to be strong for both of you.

“You’re my world,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “I hate seeing you like this but I would rather be with you in this darkness than without you in the light.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you reach for his hand. “We’ll get through this together. Our love is stronger than anything. Even cancer.”

But you’re not sure how much you can believe that anymore.

***

“You’re playing with fire,” your sister blurts out the moment she steps into your living room. Her eyes are red, mascara messily smudged around them.

Charles’ jaw clenches but before he can retort, your father interjects, his voice roughened by age and worry, “She means you’re risking too much. We all see it.”

You sink further into the couch under the weight of their stares. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you really?” Your mother questions wetly. “Every time we see you, you’re paler, weaker. Is it worth it?”

Charles steps forward, taking your hand. “It’s her choice. And I’ll stand by her through everything.”

Your best friend sighs deeply. “We’re just scared for you. We don’t want to lose you.”

The room becomes a whirlwind of opinions, tears, and pleas. They all mean well, you know that, but the their concerns feel suffocating.

The tension escalates, words sharper than intended, when suddenly Charles explodes, “That’s enough! It’s her decision and it’s not up for you to debate.”

The room falls silent.

Your sister speaks up, “We just love you, that’s all.”

Charles collapses onto the couch beside you, burying his face in his hands. “And you think I don’t? I don’t want to be a widower. A single father looking at our child and seeing only the love we lost,” he admits in a hushed tone, his voice breaking. “It’s the only thing I see whenever I close my eyes. It plagues my dreams. But that love means supporting Y/N even if seeing what she’s going through breaks my heart.”

You pull him close. “I know. But I need to hold onto hope. To believe we can have it all. Our baby and a lifetime together.”

He gazes deep into your eyes. “I love you. More than words can say. I just want you with me, always.”

Tears flow freely down your cheeks as you reach for his hand. “I know you’re scared. I am too. But I believe in us, in our love. And I can’t bear to let go of our baby.”

He wraps you in a hug and you can feel his body trembling. “I don’t want to lose you but I can’t stand to see you suffer like this either.”

***

“Do you think they’ll have your eyes?” Charles murmurs, his hand gently resting on your swollen belly, fingers tracing small circles.

You smile weakly, feeling the flutter of tiny kicks in response. “Or your fearless spirit?”

He chuckles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your baby bump. “Hey there, little racer. Promise me you’ll take after your mother more.”

Despite the weariness that constantly lingers, these quiet moments fill your heart with warmth.

“Imagine,” you whisper one evening, “our little one’s first day of school or their first race if they decide to follow in their papa’s footsteps.”

Charles grins, “And inheriting their maman’s stubborn streak will surely mean they’ll be a world champion.”

As your body grows heavier with the weight of the pregnancy and growth of the cancer, your time spent outside the confines of your bed becomes increasingly limited. The facade Charles wears for your benefit becomes increasingly brittle. He’s your rock, never letting his worries show in front of you, but you still see the toll it’s taking on him.

One evening, after ensuring you’re comfortably tucked in, Charles kisses your forehead softly and whispers, “Rest, mon amour. I’ll be right here.”

Drifting into a fitful sleep, you wake to the muffled sound of heart-wrenching sobs. Curiosity pulls you from the warm cocoon of your bed with the last of your strength, guiding you towards the soft light spilling from the slightly ajar bathroom door.

Listening closer, you can hear Charles’ broken voice, “I can’t ... I can’t lose her. Not like this.”

You press your hand to your mouth, tears spilling down your cheeks as you realize he’s on a call, probably with one of his brothers.

“You don’t understand,” Charles continues, his voice trembling with emotion. Every time I look at her, I see our future slipping away. Our dreams, our plans ... everything is fading into ashes.”

There’s a pause, punctuated with stifled sobs. “I have to be strong for her but it’s tearing me apart. Every smile I wear, every reassurance I give, it all feels like a lie because I am so freaking scared.”

Your heart aches, hearing the raw pain in his voice, knowing all this time he’s been shielding you from his own agony.

Silently, you retreat, not wanting him to know you’ve overheard. Slipping back into bed, you grapple with the weight of the shared pain, the collective heartache that has become your reality.

Minutes later, Charles returns to the bedroom. His eyes red-rimmed but determined. He sends a shaky smile your way, “How’s my brave girl?”

You reach out, trying to pull him against your chest with tired arms. “Let’s be brave together.”

He nods, choking back fresh tears. “Together. No matter what.”

***

The old church stands quietly in Maranello, its tall steeple pointing skyward, as if reaching out to the heavens. Inside, the soft glow of candles flickers as the side door swings open. Don Pietro, an aging priest with kind eyes lined with crow’s feet, is startled by the sudden entrance.

“Charles?” His voice, filled with surprise, echoes softly in the hushed space.

Charles’ normally confident stride is replaced with hesitation. “Don Pietro,” he tries to muster a smile but fails. “I ... I didn’t know where else to go.”

The priest approaches, eyes filled with concern. “I’ve been worried. When Ferrari announced you were taking a season off, I prayed for you.”

Charles chuckles bitterly, “Prayers. Never thought I would be seeking those.”

Don Pietro studies him for a moment. “Pain has a way of making us turn to the unexpected.”

Charles’ face contorts in anguish. “I’ve always called myself an atheist. After Jules ... after my father ... I felt abandoned by any god that might exist. But now, she’s ... she’s everything to me and I’m powerless to stop losing her.”

The priest’s voice is soft when he replies, “Life may test us in ways we can’t comprehend. But God never gives us more than we can bear.”

Charles’ laugh is hollow, devoid of mirth. “Bear? I can’t bear the thought of a world without her. Tell me, how does a loving god allow such pain?”

Don Pietro sighs, the weight of many years shining through. “I won’t pretend to know all the answers but sometimes faith is all we have.”

“I feel like I’m being punished, like I’m cursed. Why else would I lose the people I love most?” Charles looks at the ground, his shoulders slumped in defeat as he takes a shuddering breath. “I would give anything ... anything to save her. I have thought to visit mosques, synagogues, temples ... anywhere some higher power might listen to my pleas. I’m desperate, Don Pietro.”

The priest speaks gently, “Turning to God in times of despair is not weakness. It’s human. But faith is not about bargaining, it’s about having trust.”

A tear rolls down Charles’ cheek. “I’m so scared. Every night, I watch her sleep, wondering if it will be our last night together. I would gladly give up everything else if it means she stays with me.”

The priest reaches out, placing a comforting hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Then let’s pray, my son. Let us pray together.”

The tears turn to a steady stream rolling down Charles’ cheeks as he falls to his knees. “Please ... I’ll do anything. Just don’t take her away.”

Don Pietro kneels beside him. “God hears you, Charles. And He knows your pain.”

They stay united in prayer. Two souls reaching out to the heavens and begging for a miracle.

***

“It’s too early,” you gasp, clutching the bed sheets as another contraction grips you.

Charles is by your side, panic evident in his eyes even as he tries to keep you calm. “Breathe, love. Just breathe. We’ll get through this.”

But the pain is relentless, each contraction more intense than the last. The hospital room is a blur of activity, doctors and nurses rushing around, preparing for the premature delivery.

“You need to stay strong,” one of the nurses urges, trying to guide you through the pain.

Charles, pale and shaking, holds your hand so tightly it’s almost painful. “Stay with me,” he pleads, his voice breaking. “You and our baby, both of you, stay with me. Please.”

The labor is grueling, each passing minute a test of your willpower and strength. Charles is crumbling into pieces beside you, every ounce of his pain clearly written across his face.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispers, leaning close. “Not now, not ever.”

But the world around you is fading, the pain becoming too much to bear. “I love you so much. In this life and the next,” you choke out with the last of your strength as your vision tunnels.

Suddenly, alarms blare. The room becomes a whirlwind of organized chaos. “We’re losing her!” A doctor shouts.

Charles is pushed aside as they work to save you. “No! Please, no!” He screams in agony.

You’re dimly aware of being rushed into another room, doctors shouting orders and starting emergency procedures.

Then, everything goes black.

Charles is left in the corridor. A broken man, waiting for news, praying for a miracle. Hours feel like days, each passing second an eternity.

Finally, a doctor emerges, his scrubs covered in spots of dark blood. “The baby is fine,” he begins, “But your wife ... we had to put her in a coma. The cancer is advanced. We’ll do everything we can but she’s not out of the woods.”

Charles sinks to the floor, tears streaming down his face. “Please, just save her. Please.”

***

“It’s a girl,” a nurse approaches Charles with a small bundle wrapped in a soft pink blanket.

Charles, tears still fresh on his face, looks up, momentarily stunned. “A ... a girl?”

The nurse nods, offering the tiny newborn to him. “Would you like to hold her?”

He hesitates, then slowly reaches out, cradling his daughter in his arms. Her small face, a canvas of peace among the chaos, is a stark contrast to the turmoil surrounding them.

“She’s beautiful,” he whispers, tears starting anew. “Just like her mother.”

The nurse smiles gently. “Have you thought of a name?”

Charles nods, “Juliette. After my godfather.”

Gently rocking the infant, he leans down, pressing a tender kiss on her forehead. “Hey, Juliette,” he murmurs. “I’m your papa. Your maman and I have waited so long for you. We love you so much.”

Juliette stirs, her tiny fingers curling around one of Charles’ own.

“I promise,” Charles voice breaks, “to protect you. I will be here for you, always.”

A doctor approaches, clearing his throat. “Mr. Leclerc, your wife’s condition is critical. But she’s a fighter and she has a lot to fight for.”

Charles nods, looking down at Juliette. “She does. We both do.”

Gently rocking your daughter, he loses himself in the rhythm of her soft breaths and the warmth of her tiny body against his chest. It’s an odd feeling — holding the fresh promise of life in his arms while the love of his life hangs in the balance.

***

“We’ve run all possible tests,” the oncologist begins. Charles, clutching a sleeping Juliette to his chest, waits with bated breath. “The cancer has progressed aggressively. To give her a fighting chance, we need to perform a hysterectomy.”

The room grows cold as the gravity of the doctor’s words sinks in. Charles’ voice trembles, “But that means ...”

The doctor nods, voice as gentle as the situation allows. “She won’t be able to bear children again.”

Silence stretches as the weight of the world seems to fall on Charles’ shoulders. He gazes down at Juliette, the embodiment of the dreams and hopes you both had.

“We had plans,” Charles whispers, more to himself. “We wanted more children, a big family.”

The doctor waits. “I understand how hard this is. But without the procedure, her chances ...”

“I know,” Charles cuts him off, voice breaking. “Do it. Do whatever it takes to save her.”

The doctor nods, squeezing Charles’ shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “We’ll do our best.”

As preparations for the surgery commence, Charles sits in the dimly lit waiting area, holding Juliette close. The baby, as if sensing the heavy atmosphere, remains unusually quiet.

“It’s not fair,” Charles’ lips form words meant for the void. “She’s sacrificed so much already. She deserves a world filled with joy and laughter.”

From across the room, a nurse, having overheard, speaks up, “Life has its cruel twists but the love you both share … that’s rare. Hold onto that.”

Charles nods, taking solace in the nurse’s words. Time seems to lose all meaning, each tick of the clock amplifying the uncertainty and fear.

Finally, a surgeon approaches, fatigue evident in her posture even as her face remains carefully professional. “The procedure went as well as could be expected. Your wife is stable for now.”

Relief floods Charles so rapidly that he has to stop himself from falling to the ground as he murmurs a heartfelt, “Thank you.”

But as he sits by your bedside, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, the reality of what you had lost sets in. The dreams of a large family, shared laughter, and memories, all stolen by this cruel twist of fate.

***

The world around you is a haze of light and shadow, the sounds a distant echo. Your eyes flutter open and for a moment you’re lost, disoriented, and overwhelmed. Then, you see Charles, his face etched with relief and sorrow, tears glistening in his eyes.

“Welcome back,” he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. “We’ve missed you so much.”

You try to speak but your throat is too parched to make a sound. Charles offers you a sip of water, his hands trembling as he helps you drink.

“What happened?” You finally manage to croak, your eyes darting around the unfamiliar room.

Charles takes a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. “The cancer ... it had advanced. They had to perform a hysterectomy to save you.”

The word hangs in the air, heavy and final. Your abdomen feels sore and you reach down, fingers tracing the bandages. Panic seizes you and the tears pour down without permission as the reality of what’s been taken from you crashes down.

“It’s gone,” you sob. “Our dreams ... our family.”

Charles leans in, tears mingling with yours. “Shh, mon amour. None of this is your fault. We’ll find another way, another path to happiness. We have Juliette and we have each other.”

But the weight of guilt is crushing. “We dreamed of a big family,” you cry, the depth of your loss piercing. “And I’ve taken that away from us.”

He brushes your tears away. “You have nothing to be sorry for. This is not your fault. We’ll make new dreams together, I promise.”

“I just wanted to give you everything,” the grief wracks your body.

“You already have,” Charles insists. “You’ve given me love, you’ve given me our little girl … our Juliette. That’s more than I could ever ask for.”

With great effort, you lift your arms, weak from the ordeal. Charles, understanding your unspoken desire, carefully places Juliette against your chest. You’re too weak to hold her on your own but together, you and Charles support her tiny form.

“Hello, Juliette," you whisper, tears of joy mingling with your earlier tears of grief.

She blinks up at you, her eyes wide and curious. You’ve never felt anything like what fills your heart as you look at the perfect human you both created, the embodiment of love and resilience.

“I love you both so much,” you whisper, heart swelling with a dizzying mix of joy and sorrow.

Charles, his own eyes filled with tears, leans down and kisses both you and Juliette gently. “We have each other and right now that’s all that matters.”

***

“I never imagined it would be like this,” your voice wavers as you lie propped up by pillows in the dimly lit bedroom.

Charles, his fingers intertwined with yours, meets your gaze. “Neither did I.”

The weight of all that’s transpired hangs heavily in the room. The joy of Juliette’s arrival is marred by the pain and loss you both feel.

“I feel ... incomplete,” you admit, tears forming in your eyes. “Like a part of me is missing.”

“I wish I could take away the pain,” Charles responds. “If I could trade places with you, I would in a heartbeat.”

You squeeze his hand. “It’s not your burden to bear. But it’s … hard. I wanted to give Juliette siblings, the big family we always talked about.”

Charles leans in to rest his forehead against yours. “We still have a family. We have each other and we have Juliette. We can still have a full, beautiful life together.”

You sigh, “But do you ever wonder why? Why us?”

He hesitates, searching for words. “Every day. Sometimes, there’s just no answer, only a path forward.”

You curl into him, drawing comfort from his warmth. “What does our path forward look like?”

Charles pulls back, looking deep into your eyes. “It’s filled with love, with hope. We heal together. We face challenges together. And we build a future together. No matter what.”

“I’m scared.”

He brushes away your tears. “So am I. But we have each other and that’s a pretty good place to start if you ask me.”

***

“She smiled, Charles! Did you see that? Juliette smiled!”

Charles rushes over and peers into the crib with gleaming eyes. “There it is! That little grin,” his voice is filled with wonder. “Our little miracle has the most beautiful smile. Just like her mother’s.”

Juliette, seemingly aware of the shared happiness in the room, gurgles softly, her small fingers reaching out to grasp a lock of Charles’ hair.

You watch them, a gentle smile playing on your lips. “She brings us so much joy. It’s amazing.”

Charles nods, his eyes never leaving Juliette’s face. “She’s our light in the darkness.”

Leaning over, you press a soft kiss to Juliette’s forehead. “I’m so thankful for both of you.”

He shifts closer, resting his head against yours. “You know, mon amour, I’ve been thinking ...”

You turn to him, curiosity piqued. “About what?”

He takes a deep breath. “About our dreams. I know it’s not what we originally planned but what if we consider adoption?”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, love and hope blossoming. “Adoption?”

Charles smiles warmly. “Yes. We’ve always dreamed of a big family. And there are so many children out there who need a home, who need love. We can give a child all of that and more.”

Tears well up in your eyes but they’re tears of joy and gratitude. “That’s a beautiful idea.”

He leans in, pressing his lips to yours gently. “Our love knows no bounds. The path to our dreams may not be as simple as we once imagined but we will get there, one step at a time.”

***

Charles’ phone buzzes with an incoming call in the early hours of the morning. Seeing a familiar name flash across the screen, he answers immediately. “Don Pietro? Is everything okay?”

“Charles, you need to come to Maranello. Both of you. As soon as possible.”

Charles exchanges a puzzled glance with you. “Is something wrong?”

“Just come,” Don Pietro insists, “and bring your wife. I believe there is a miracle waiting for you.”

The drive to Maranello is filled with anticipation. Your mind races with possibilities, questions whirling in a tornado of confusion and hope.

Upon arriving at the church, you’re met with the sight of the elderly priest holding a tiny bundle. The baby, with soft tufts of hair and eyes wide with curiosity, looks up at the two of you.

“This,” Don Pietro begins, “is Enzo. He was left on the steps of our church last night. And the moment I held him, I thought of you two.”

Charles’ eyes widen. “Enzo ... like Ferrari?”

Don Pietro nods with a soft chuckle, “It’s as if the universe is trying to tell us something.”

You reach out, taking the infant into your arms. Enzo’s little hand wraps around your finger, his eyes meeting yours. The connection is instant, like two souls recognizing each other.

Charles’ voice is thick with emotion, “It’s as if he was meant to be with us. A sign, maybe?”

Don Pietro smiles warmly, “Perhaps a nudge from above, reminding us that miracles happen when we least expect them.”

Tears spring to your eyes, the weight of the moment overwhelming you. Charles is equally moved, his eyes glistening and lips trembling.

“We talked about adoption,” he murmurs. “But this ... this feels like fate.”

Don Pietro nods. “He needs a family, love, and a home. And I believe you two can give him that.”

As Charles takes Enzo from your arms and cradles him close, a bond that goes beyond words quickly forms. You lean in, touching Enzo’s chubby cheek, your heart swelling with love.

The moment feels destined — a new piece seamlessly fitting into the puzzle of your family.

***

“Look at that, Julie and Enny! Those cars go vroom vroom,” you point out with a smile playing on your lips as the roar of engines fills the air.

Juliette’s eyes widen in awe, her tiny hand pointing excitedly. Beside her, Enzo claps his hands, giggling. “Vroom!” He mimics.

Charles, his racing suit on, kneels to their level. “Would you like to see papa’s car up close?”

Both children nod eagerly, their eyes sparkling.

As you make your way through the paddock, team members and other drivers stop to meet the kids. “Look at these future champions!” Exclaims one of the engineers, ruffling Enzo’s hair.

Juliette, ever the social butterfly, giggles and offers a shy “Hello.”

Reaching the Ferrari garage, the team breaks into smiles. “Looks like Charles brought his lucky charms today,” someone comments, causing a round of chuckles.

“Ready for a photo op?” Charles grins, lifting Juliette into the driver's seat as you follow suit with Enzo, placing him right beside his sister.

They look so small in the cockpit, faces full of wonder. “Beep beep,” Juliette laughs, pretending to steer.

“Future Ferrari driver right here,” Charles beams.

As the team gathers around, cameras flashing, you take a moment to soak it all in. The laughter, the joy, the memories — this is what life is about.

“There were times I thought this day would never come,” Charles whispers to you, his arm wrapping around your waist. “Our family here, all together.”

You squeeze his hand, tears of happiness threatening to spill over. “Our dream is now … and it’s only just beginning.”

***

“Henri and Helaine, look it’s your sister!” You cheer, pointing to the massive screen as Juliette’s Ferrari speeds past, making your young twins cheer and clap clumsily in excitement.

Charles grins as an orange blur follows shortly, “And Enzo’s not far behind. What a race!”

The atmosphere in the paddock is electric. Red for Ferrari, orange for McLaren, the colors of a family divided by teams but united by love.

Suddenly, a microphone appears as a familiar reporter approaches. “A quick word for the fans? It must be a thrilling day for the Leclerc family!”

Charles grins, adjusting his half-Ferrari, half-McLaren cap. “Oh, absolutely! We couldn’t be any prouder. A bit of sibling rivalry never hurt anyone, right?”

You laugh, nodding in agreement. “We’ve always said, as long as they’re safe and enjoying themselves, that’s what matters. Though,” you add with a playful wink, “I always wear both colors, just in case!”

The reporter chuckles. “And the young ones? Future racers in the making?”

Henri, with all the innocence of childhood, pipes up, “I wanna go vroom too!”

Helaine nods rapidly. “Me too! Super duper fast.”

You and Charles exchange a glance in amusement. “Well, there you have it,” Charles says with a smile. “Looks like the tracks will be seeing Leclercs for many years to come.”

The race ends with both Juliette and Enzo clinching a podium finish. The celebrations are loud and filled with joy, but for you, true happiness is seeing your family — past, present, and future — come together just like you always dreamed.

1K notes · View notes

tbyfandoms · 7 months ago

Text

Heart to Heart | Clay Beresford x Reader

Pairing: clay beresford x f!doctor!reader

Word Count: 16.2k

Summary: after crossing paths and connecting with new york’s most well known businessman, you end up in a whirlwind situation that’ll change your life forever (requested)

Warnings: reader is a heart transplant recipient, descriptions of heart transplant procedures and the healing process, mentions of overdosing and death of a mother, mild swearing

Masterlist/Request Form | Ask/Tell/Request

A/N: clay beresford, my angel bb! I was literally so excited when I got this request. I’m so absolutely obsessed with the awake movie and I think hayden did such a good job as clay. I literally need all the content for my little nyc golden retriever lmao! I really like how this turned out and I hope ya’ll do too. thank you sm to the person who requested this! enjoy and lmk what you think <3

Sterile.

That’s the only word you can ever come up with to describe the feeling of walking into the hospital each day. The white tiles, the bright lights, the almost burning scent of alcohol; it’s all so much to take in but somehow it also gives you a sense of peace.

Every time you come in through those doors it’s like a fresh start. No matter what happened the day before, no matter the heartbreaks or victories, the moment you step inside it’s another chance at new opportunities. It’s one of the reasons you love working here so much, love doing what you do. There are a lot of uncertainties in your line of work, but there are some risks worth taking.

Rounding the corner you start going over what you need to do today. Residency has been a whirlwind of an experience and every day is different from the last, but over the past few months since you’ve been at this hospital, you’ve started to get somewhat of a routine down. At least when you start your day it’s kind of the same every time, giving you a moment of normalcy until the real fun begins.

Changing into your scrubs in the locker room, you nearly jump as one of your coworkers, Jill, comes up beside you.

“Hey!” She squeaks, a gleam in her eyes you know all too well. She’s definitely up to something.

“Jesus, stop doing that to me! You’re gonna kill me one of these days,” you grumble. Shutting your locker you sit on the bench to change into your comfortable work shoes. They’re not the prettiest but they do wonders for your back and feet during these long shifts you endure.

“Sorry! But you’ll never guess who I just saw walk in with Dr. Harper.”

“Who?” You inquire—Jill’s giddy smile and shifty eyes beginning to freak you out.

“Clay Beresford,” she whispers, moving closer to you on the bench to ensure no one else can hear. Not like anyone would considering the two of you are the only people in the locker room.

“Really?” The name isn’t at all unfamiliar. If you live in this city, you know who Clay Beresford is, or his name at the very least. The man owns half the city at this point, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he owned all of it by the time he hit 30. All inherited from his father and even from his own doing too. You’ve seen a bit about him here and there in the papers and on the news. It surprises you how young he is and yet he’s already accomplished so much. It’s inspiring to put it plainly, especially considering how much good he’s done for the underprivileged.

It doesn’t surprise you Jill’s seen Clay here. When you started working at this hospital the gossip was everywhere. You couldn’t chat with a coworker without Clay Beresford being brought up. Apparently he has a bad heart and suffered a massive heart attack not long before you started. It was clear to you then that he didn’t have much time left without a transplant, and that was a while ago. You’re surprised he hasn’t been able to receive one yet considering his status, but amongst the whispers you were able to piece together that his blood type is rare and thus the transplant waiting game began. You’re unfortunately more familiar with that game than you’d like to be—having had your own heart transplant just a few short years ago.

No pun intended but your heart aches for Clay. You know that fear and anxiety he must be facing isn’t easy. The wait for a transplant is brutal enough as it is, but dealing with that is only half the battle. The road to recovery is a long and painful one and you just hope he has the support he’ll need once he does have the surgery. You’re not sure why your mind wanders to thoughts like that when you think of Clay, maybe it’s the transplant sympathizer in you, but there’s also just a part of you that feels like the Beresford heir is so much more than the media and other people make him out to be.

It’s sad, really, when you think about it. In reality Clay’s just like any other person trying to keep on living and get healthy, yet he’s talked about around the hospital as if HIPPA doesn’t exist. Sure he has money and power—as much as a man in New York could have—but that doesn’t change the fact he’s just a 20-something year old guy fighting for his life. You just wish more people saw it that way and wished him well instead of questioning what’s gonna happen to his company if he doesn’t make it out alive.

“-and I mean ohmygod I only saw him for a split second but I swear he is one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” So lost in your own thoughts, you hadn’t even realized Jill has been going off on a tangent about her encounter with Clay.

“Wait, so did you talk to him?” Your eyebrows knit together as you look over at your friend, suddenly needing her to go back several steps in her story.

“No, I told you when I saw him walking down the hall with Dr. Harper I said hello to Doctor and that was it. I couldn’t exactly blurt out Clay’s name like I knew him. If I had I mean hello, stalker much?” You try to bite back your smirk, wanting to tell her that’s exactly what this whole conversation paints her out to be, but you let it go. Jill is always one for the dramatics. “But I did look at him as I was passing by and he smiled at me and nodded and honestly after that I’d say I’m pretty content with life now.”

Giggling, you shake your head. “You’re somethin�� else you know that, Jill?”

“Awh, c’mon! You can’t tell me you wouldn’t just die to have a conversation with Clay Beresford,” Jill teases, poking you softly in the side to try and egg you on. You swat her hand away playfully and roll your eyes.

“It’s not like he’s royalty. Sure he’s attractive and rich but so are a lot of men, some not so favorable.”

“Okay but he might as well be! He’s about as close as you can get to royalty in New York! And that’s the point, he’s not part of those not so favorable men. He seems like a really great guy! I know you think so too, I’ve heard your thoughts on him before. It’s good to have guys like him having a hand in what goes on in this city. God knows we need the help.”

“You got all of that out of a smile and a nod?” This time it’s Jill’s turn to roll her eyes and the two of you laugh lightly as you get up from your spots on the bench.

“Whatever, I’m just saying! You’ll understand where I’m coming from when you meet him in person.”

Reaching for the door handle you look back at Jill. “I doubt that’ll ever happen. I can’t think of one instance where he and I will ever end up in the same room together.”

“It’s possible, I mean look at me! I was just walking down the hall ready to come get you and there he was in all his glory,” she smiles. “I’m honestly surprised you haven’t run into him yet considering all the times he’s here. I know he’s always with Harper when he is here and you’re not usually on his service, but still. I’m also surprised Harper hasn’t introduced the two of you considering your history. You could probably give Clay some tips, you know.”

Turning the thought over in your head you realize that’s not actually a bad observation or idea. “You know you’re actually right. I do have first hand experience with that stuff…but I mean so does Dr. Harper. Sure he’s never experienced a transplant personally but he’s performed them countless times. He probably knows better than me everything that goes along with getting a new heart. I’m just a resident, what could I really help Clay with?”

Jill hums, a sign that means she’s not giving up. “There’s nothing better than talking to someone who’s actually gone through what they have. Respectfully, Dr. Harper can tell Clay all he wants about the process but you’ve actually lived it. I’m just saying it wouldn’t be the worst thing if you happened across him and were able to at least ease his mind if nothing else. Transplants are scary and dangerous, especially heart ones, but you’re proof they actually work and that he has a fighting chance.”

Glancing at your coworker you can see it in her eyes she’s being sincere. Sure Jill likes to joke a lot and is more unserious than not half the time, but she does have her moments and you’ve certainly found yourself in one. It warms your heart that she actually thinks you could be of any help to fellow transplant recipients, even if this whole conversation only started because of the fact she’s attracted to a patient.

“Thanks, Jill. Look I promise if I happen to see Clay Beresford I’ll make sure to give him all my expert advice on dealing with a heart transplant.” Saying it out loud kind of sounds ridiculous to you, still not believing the idea you’d ever even have a chance to talk to the businessman. But it seems to be enough for the woman beside you because in an instant she’s excitedly clapping her hands.

“Goodie! Now, let’s get serious.” Grabbing onto your arm as the two of you continue walking, she leans her head closer to yours—reminding you of when you were both in the locker room. “Do you think Clay has a girlfriend?”

And she’s back.

*****

After parting ways with Jill, you find yourself wandering the halls. A patient had asked you for directions and you took it upon yourself to just lead them to where they needed to go, finding it much easier to do instead of trying to explain it. Sometimes you swear you still get lost around here too.

You’ve ended up a long ways away from where you need to be so you’re quickly trying to find the easiest way back. You don’t have much to do right now but you’d still rather be closer to your assigned doctor for the day in case something comes up. Anything can happen and you want to be accessible if help is needed. You’re eager to learn any and all new skills whenever you can, plus you have a feeling it helps when doctors are deciding who gets to join in on surgeries, which—if you’re being honest—is the goal.

Turning the corner, you cut through the hallway where some of the operating rooms are. You’ve found yourself here countless of times in the past few months, either helping out with low-risk surgeries or merely observing. It gives you a rush in the moment, makes your heart beat a little faster, and although you know super high stress and a rapid heartbeat isn’t the best for you and your condition—it makes you feel alive. The rush and the heavy thumps of your heart remind you of all you’ve been through, all you’ve survived, and it makes you even more grateful to still be here. Grateful to still be able to go out there and help people just like you’ve always wanted.

Smiling at the thought, you quicken your steps, eager to get back to work and see what the day has in store for you. Though before you get much further, you look off to the side and see a doctor rapidly approaching you. It’s Dr. Puttnam, one of the doctors that works closely with Dr. Harper.

You’ve worked on his service a few times before but each time you were itching to get away. There’s just something about him you find a little off. Part of it is probably the way he so easily cracks jokes in the operating room while cutting open a patient and how he seems so cocky with everything he does. It’s like there’s this missing piece of humanity in him, he gives you the impression he only cares about himself and you constantly find yourself wanting to roll your eyes in his presence. You and Jill have talked about him before and she feels the same way you do—if not stronger. The two of you always tease each other when one of you unfortunately gets put on his service, and as he approaches you you pray he’s not here to tell you today’s one of those instances. That’d really put a damper on your mood right now.

“Y/N! Glad to run into you. Hey, do me a favor and let Dr. Harper know to saddle up. Riordan’s cabbage is in the ICU bleedin’. He took off for the fuckin’ vineyard so we gotta get in there. Harper’s supposedly in one of the operating rooms so just find him and let him know I’ll be waiting, thanks!”

You don’t even get a chance to respond because in an instant he’s back to rushing down the hallway. See this is exactly why you don’t like him. Who talks like that about another patient? It’s like taking care of people is a chore for him…as if it’s not his job.

Ugh.

Trying to not let it get to you, you take a peek in the operating room closest to you. You can see Dr. Harper through the window and can tell he’s talking to someone but you can’t see who it is. You’re pretty sure he didn’t have any surgeries this morning so you’re confused on why he’s even inside. You shrug and push on the door, feeling the weight of it as it slides open.

When you walk in you catch the tail-end of Harper’s conversation. “You might not have much of it left, okay?”

Your eyes cut from the doctor to the figure that moves on the operating table. As you step further into the room you nearly trip over your feet as you stop dead in your tracks. Laying on the operating table, forearms holding up the top half of his body, and staring straight at you, is Clay Beresford himself.

Oh my god?

For some reason you figured Clay would’ve been gone by now. Sure you knew he was with Dr. Harper, but considering his job you just assumed it’d be quick. You never thought in a million years you’d walk in on him laying on an operating table fully clothed and apparently discussing something serious with Dr. Harper. It’s strange but you’re also intrigued.

“Ah, Miss Y/L/N! How can I help you?” Harper’s voice breaks you out of your trance and you pray the heat you feel flush through your body isn’t visible as you finally look away from the blonde just a few feet in front of you.

“Dr. Harper, I-I’m sorry to interrupt! I didn’t know you were with a…” Words fail you as your eyes flit to Clay once again, taking note of the soft smile adorned on his face. Finally the word you’re looking for comes to mind and you shift your focus back onto Harper. “Patient.”

“It’s quite alright, we were just finishing up.” Harper turns to Clay and from the tone of his voice and look on his face, you get the feeling you actually were interrupting. “Was there something you needed, Y/N?”

Before you can dive too deep into the possibilities of what it is Dr. Harper was talking to Clay about, you remind yourself of the actual reason you walked in here. “Yes! Sorry! Dr. Puttnam stopped me in the hall and told me there’s a bit of a-uh emergency?” Going over Puttnam’s words in your head you try to piece together a more respectful version of them. “Dr. Riordan’s patient is apparently bleeding out and he’s away on vacation so Dr. Puttnam said it’s up to the both of you to treat the patient now. It seemed urgent and he said he wants you to meet up with him in the ICU right away.”

A flash of shock crosses Dr. Harper’s face as he takes in your words and you can see him start to revert to hyperdrive-as most doctors do with news like this. “Oh I see, alright, thank you for letting me know.”

Harper places a hand on Clay’s shoulder and you take this moment to do a once over of the businessman as his attention is being drawn elsewhere. He’s wearing a grey suit that is of course fitted to perfection and he’s got some leather shoes (that you’re sure are worth more than your rent) to match.

It’s funny, you would think that considering his well-kept appearance and cookie cutter styling, the Beresford heir would be oozing the feeling of wealth and prestige. But instead all you see as you look at him sat on that operating table, looking up into the serious eyes of his doctor, is apprehension and uncertainty wrapped up in expensive packaging.

Clay may have practically all the money in the world and an empire of a business backing him, but it’s clear in the unspoken message passing between him and Dr. Harper that there’s a lot more involved than what the public knows. It’s apparent to you, just like you thought earlier, that there’s more to Clay Beresford than just his money and pretty face, that he too has things—people—he’s scared of losing.

You can’t help the downward dip in the corner of your lips as you think about it all, as you think about how you were in his exact same position not that long ago.

“I have to go,” Harper says as he steps away from Clay, but suddenly he stops and you watch as his gaze flutters back and forth between you and the blonde. A thought seems to occur to him and you swear you can see a smile start to form on his face. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot you two have never met before. I don’t know why I didn’t think to introduce you sooner. Y/N, this is Clay, he’s a patient of mine that’s awaiting a heart transplant. Clay, this is Y/N, she’s a resident here and is actually a heart transplant recipient herself.”

Now it’s your turn to be shocked. Where is Jill and how in the hell did she speak this into existence?

Before you get the chance to actually process the fact you’re being personally introduced to Clay, you watch as the man of the hour sticks out his hand for you to shake. You take a step forward and grasp it in your own, giving his hand a light shake as he nods his head and smiles up at you from his seat on the table.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says.

“You as well, Clay.” A beat passes between the two of you just looking at each other and it’s in this instance you notice how blue Clay’s eyes are. They’re pale blue—like the sky—and you find yourself hoping that a cloud never passes through them.

God, get it together, Y/N.

Letting go of Clay’s hand, you take a step back and put some distance between you. The pictures of him on the news and in the paper so do not do him justice. You take a second to remind yourself Clay’s still a patient of this hospital and, yeah, you’re still an employee of it too. Oops?

“Remember what I said, Clay. No regrets. The clock’s ticking,” Harper says as he walks backwards towards the door. As he faces forward and grabs onto the handle, he stops and turns towards you both again. “You know, Y/N, while you’re here maybe you can give Clay a little advice and insight on the importance and weight of this surgery? Have a little…heart to heart, if you will.”

The doctor smiles at you both before he disappears through the door, leaving you and Clay alone in the operating room.

As the door softly closes, you swear you could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows. For being a bustling hospital it sure is quiet out there…

“So, you’re a heart transplant recipient?” Clay breaks the silence first and you’re grateful for it. You’re not sure what you would’ve even opened a conversation like this with. What does Harper expect you to say? Hey, Clay! This surgery is super scary and you might die, but stay positive!

To be fair, it’s not like that’s a lie per say, but it’s incredibly blunt and you’re definitely not the type of person to just dish something out like that and move on.

“I am,” you start, finding it hard to fully look into the blonde’s eyes again. They’re so intense you’re not sure you’ll be able to be alone with him in this room, look into them, and not completely lose your mind. “It was a while back, nothing extremely recent, but yeah. It was…an experience.”

You don’t even know how to articulate the proper words to explain to Clay how monumental something like a heart transplant is. He’s not stupid, there’s no doubt he knows the risks, but having experienced it yourself and knowing first hand what’s it’s like on the other side of it all is hard to summarize.

“I bet it was,” Clay practically whispers. It’s in this moment you notice he’s lost some of that front he was obviously putting up for Dr. Harper. That joking edge in his tone is gone and is instead replaced by unknowingness. “Dr. Harper has tried to explain to me over and over how important and serious this surgery is, and I get it I really do, but there’s still a part of me that is completely lost on it all. I think if I believe it’s not that bad and just act like everything is fine that it will be. But I know that’s not how it works.

“I’ve tried to talk to Dr. Harper about it but it never comes out the way I want it to. I feel like it would kind of fall on deaf ears anyways. At the end of that surgery Dr. Harper will still be alive. I’m the only one in that operating room who has a chance at not making it back out of there and that terrifies the hell out of me.” Clay let’s out a breathy laugh, not because he finds anything actually funny, but because of the fact he can’t believe he actually said that out loud.

Since the moment he found out he needed this surgery, he’s never once vocalized the very real possibility of what can happen. He’s heard it spoken a dozen times to and around him, but never once has he heard it be spoken in his own voice. The weight on his shoulders seems to somehow get even heavier.

You know Clay is a busy man and that there isn’t a lot of time here to get through to him. But you feel your heart practically shatter in your chest at the blonde’s words, and it’s at this point you decide you’ll try your best, because for some reason the universe has given you this opportunity to be there for someone in your position—something you unfortunately didn’t have. You won’t stand to let Clay be in this alone. Family or not, the man clearly has no one around who’s gone through what he has and you refuse to let him deal with it on his own any longer.

“Clay,” you say, taking tentative steps towards him, not wanting to cross a boundary but also wanting to be close enough so he really hears what you’re about to say. “Dr. Harper isn’t wrong when he says how risky this surgery is. There is a very high chance that you will go to sleep on that table and never wake up.”

Clay’s eyes flick to yours and suddenly that jittery feeling you had looking into them earlier is gone. Now you only feel sincerity and determination as you look into them.

“I don’t want you to take that as me believing you won’t survive this, though. I mean look at me, I know first hand exactly what you’re going through, what you will go through, and I am still here. I am alive and healthy and proof that this can work for you too. I don’t know everything Dr. Harper has told you or asked of you, but I want you to know that you don’t have to let the fear control you. Yeah, this surgery is scary as hell. I didn’t think I was going to make it either, but I did, and I’ve lived every day since knowing this transplant is not a death sentence. It’s a chance at a new life.”

Something flickers in Clay’s eyes and you swear you can tell you’re getting through to him, in whatever way that may be.

“Yes, there are risks, and yes I agree with Dr. Harper in the sense that you need to grasp the fact this surgery and it’s repercussions are very real, but that’s not all that’s important. Of course there are things you have to think about and take care of before going into this surgery, but you also need to take care of yourself. It is your life, Clay, and if I took away anything from when I had my own transplant surgery, it’s that no one else can get you through this the way you can. Your decisions are your own and you have to look after what’s important to you first, no matter what or who that may be. But just because there’s a chance you won’t survive, that doesn’t mean it’ll happen. You deserve to still be able to think about and plan your future. Dr. Harper is a good surgeon and I believe with all my heart that you will continue to have one.”

There’s a finality in your tone that you’re not quite sure on where it came from. Part of you feels like you were just standing on a soap box and maybe you shouldn’t have gone off on that little rant as much as you did, but from the look on Clay’s face you can tell it means the world to him.

“Y/N…why is it only now I’ve just met you?” Clay grins at you and you can feel your face flush at both his comment and awestruck gaze. “Somehow I feel things would’ve made a lot more sense earlier on if I would’ve met you when this all started. Not one person has ever made me feel the way you just did about this surgery. No one’s been able to give their honest thoughts and feelings on it all like that. This is the first time in almost a year that I’ve ever felt seen and heard.”

There’s a small blush on Clay’s cheeks and you revel in the way you words have affected him. You didn’t really have a plan, you kinda just went for it, so you’re glad it came off the way you wanted it to. If there’s anything Clay—or any transplant patient really—deserves is the chance to find solace in someone who can relate to them. Someone to help ease their fears, their burdens.

“There’s a lot of doctors and statistics involved in this whole thing, but there’s not a lot of relatability. Going through this process can be very lonely and nerve wracking, and I know we quite literally just met today but I want you to know I’m here for you, Clay. If you need someone that has any clue about what it’ll feel like, what the process of recovery is like, I’m here to answer those questions. Not everyone is the same, everyone’s transplant journey is different. But just know you no longer have to feel alone in this.”

As you finish your spiel, you try to hide your surprise at your own words. You’ve met this man officially mere minutes ago and yet here you are essentially offering up a shoulder to cry on. Even through your shock you find it weird how natural it feels.

“Thank you, Y/N, seriously,” Clay starts, clearly not feeling uncomfortable at the offer at all as an honest and warm smile adorns his face as he looks at you. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

That heat makes its way back to your face as you stare at Clay, watching as his eyes look up at you through his lashes as he continues to sit on the operating table. In this position you have the tiniest bit of height advantage on him and you curse yourself for noticing how easy it would be to lean forward and wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into an embrace.

After a few more beats of comfortable silence, the two of you just enthralled in each other’s presence, a daring thought pops into your head. It probably crosses so many lines in regards to HIPPA and just doctor/patient morals in general, but you don’t want this to be the last you see of Clay. Who knows when he’ll be back the same time as you, or if you’ll even get the opportunity to stop and talk to him when you are at the hospital at the same time. You’ve seen a lot of articles recently about taking things into your own hands, making the first step, and apparently this is your moment to practice just that.

“Clay-“ You don’t even get the chance to attempt to be bold because the moment the blonde’s name leaves your lips, his phone is ringing and his gaze is ripped from your own as he reaches into his pocket in search of the source of the sound.

You watch as he looks down at the screen and in an instant every thought of absolutely anything happening between you two is immediately dismissed. It’s so obvious in the way Clay’s shoulders relax, the crease between his brow flattens, and how his whole face practically lights up that clearly whoever is on the other side of that phone call is someone the businessman is in love with.

“Hey, baby,” Clay coos softly in the phone, looking so at peace in an environment that is the complete opposite of it. And that confirms it.

Your shoulders slump forward and you’re unsure why you feel so deeply affected by all of this. You don’t know Clay at all, never would have under any other circumstance, so why does it hurt so much watching him talk sweetly to another woman?

Quickly, you stand up straighter and plaster a smile on your face as Clay’s eyes flick over to you, seeming to remember where exactly he is and who it is he was talking to before his phone rang.

Pulling the phone away slightly from his face, he smiles at you apologetically. “I’m sorry, I should really head out now. It was so nice to meet you.” Clay gets up from the operating table and you find yourself taking a step back as his full height comes into view and he consumes your space.

“Of course! It was nice to meet you too, Clay,” you reply, finding it hard to meet his eyes now. A twinge of embarrassment floods through you. How naïve of you to let yourself daydream about this becoming anything else than what it actually is; a doctor talking to a patient.

You watch his retreating back as he makes his way to the door and you find yourself firmly planted in the spot he’s leaving you in. You won’t lie, a part of you doesn’t want to follow in the risk you’ll go in the same direction and you’ll be forced to hear him whisper more sweet nothings to another woman.

As Clay opens the door, he pauses for a moment before turning back to you and nodding his head. “See you around.”

The door slowly closes behind him and you let out a breath of air you didn’t realize you were holding in.

“See you around, Clay.”

*****

“God, I cannot wait to go home, curl up in bed, and go to sleep. I’m exhausted,” Jill groans as she rubs the back of her neck with her hand, trying to ease some of the tension there.

“Tell me about it, I feel like it was so brutal today. I guess it makes sense considering it is Halloween, but still.” Rolling your head, you feel a couple cracks in your neck and you can’t help the hum of satisfaction that slips past your lips at the feeling.

“Oh shit, it is Halloween, isn’t it? I can’t believe I didn’t realize! Ugh all the good candy is probably sold out by now. You think some of the other doctors with families will bring in candy tomorrow they don’t want their kids to eat? I’d kill for a full size Hershey bar.”

You giggle over your friend’s comments and roll your eyes as you nudge her softly. “Jill, we can get those from the vending machines! Stop trying to mooch off of kids’ hard earned candy.”

“I know, but it tastes better when it’s from trick or treating! A-k-a when it’s free! Besides those kids don’t need it, cavities and all that.”

“Oh okay, I didn’t know you switched over to dentistry,” you laugh.

Jill rolls her eyes and smirks. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hey, are you even working tomorrow? You better or when I steal a kid’s candy bar, I’m not sharing with you.”

“You’ll have to indulge without me then because I’m off,” you shrug and then laugh as you watch Jill throw her head back with a groan.

“Ugh, so not fair, you lucky, lucky girl! I’m not off until the day after.”

“It’s okay, I’ll get my karma then because I’m working when you’ll be off, so it all balances out in the end.”

Jill tilts her head and hums satisfactorily at that realization. “Huh, you’re right. All is forgiven.”

The two of you laugh and you shake your head at your friend’s antics. You don’t know what you’d do without her.

As the two of you round the corner towards the front door, you both slow down as you take in the sight of a small group before you. It only takes you a second to recognize Clay and even less time to realize he’s with a girl. A very beautiful girl at that.

“Woah, who’s the babe with Clay? You think that’s…?” Jill tilts her head slightly towards you, wanting to get your insight.

You don’t even have to guess that that’s the woman the blonde was talking to earlier on the phone. As you get closer you realize Clay has his arm wrapped around her as well, and your stomach lurches a bit at the sight.

“Y/N!” Your eyes are immediately averted from Clay’s embrace around his—presumed—girlfriend, and instead become locked in with those of the man in question. Those pale blues look somehow even brighter, happier than they were this morning. From the looks on everyone else’s face as well, you can tell there’s a reason for it.

“Hey, Clay,” you smile, finding yourself and Jill now wrapped up in the small gathering. “What’s going on? What are you doing here so late? Is everything okay?”

“More than okay, Ms. Y/L/N! Clay here is getting his new heart tonight,” Dr. Harper chimes in. The smile that breaks out on your face is uncontrollable.

“What!? Clay, that’s amazing! Congratulations.” For a mere moment it feels like the two of you are the only ones standing there. Clay’s soft, grateful smile causes your cheeks to warm and a sense of adoration to flow through you.

The feeling swiftly leaves though as you pick up movement out of the corner of your eye. All too soon you’re brought back to the reality that you’re in a group of people, and the man you can’t stop fawning over is very much involved with whoever this woman is next to him.

Your eyes flit from Clay’s to the brunette woman’s and somehow Clay seems to pick up on it, lightly shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m so sorry, I haven’t introduced you two yet! Sam, this is Y/N, one of the doctors who works with Jack. Y/N, this is Sam; my wife.”

Wife.

The word rings out in your head and you have to fight the way it nearly knocks you off your feet. “H-Hi! It’s so nice to meet you.” You reach out your hand and Sam does the same, your eyes widening at the sight of her wedding ring as she grasps your hand in hers.

You quickly try to recover, not wanting to be too obvious with the way you’re feeling right now. Sam’s smile is big and infectious and you’re sure she doesn’t notice a thing.

Who would, knowing a man like the one next to her is her husband?

Lightly shaking your head, you let go of Sam’s hand and turn towards Jill, needing her now more than ever and also realizing she also deserves an introduction.

“And this is Jill! A friend of mine as well as a fellow doctor.” Jill wastes no time in taking Clay’s gaze off of you, moving in closer and sticking out her hand immediately.

“Hi! So great to officially meet you, Clay!” She says ecstatically before turning her head towards his wife and only slightly losing the excitement. “Sam.”

Clay grasps her hand in his and you can just tell by the look on her face that she’s eating this up. You have to hold yourself back from laughing. “I remember you! I saw you this morning while I was with Dr. Harper, right?”

You swear you see Jill die and then come back to life all in a split second. “Y-Yes, that was me!”

She miraculously lets go of Clay’s hand and you hear her let out a stunned huff as the takes a step back towards you. Not a second later you feel Jill poke you lightly in the side and you know immediately she’s never going to live this moment down.

You cover up the chuckle that escapes you by clearing your throat. As you regain yourself, you watch as Sam looks up at Clay and they seem to share a private moment, even while standing in the middle of a hospital. It’s evident the love they have for each other, the trust and admiration. It’s palpable and makes your heart squeeze, both in envy and despair.

You’d give anything to have a love like that. A man like that. Specifically that man in front of you, if you’re being completely honest.

“You girls heading home for the night?” A voice cuts into your stream of thought and you’re grateful for the opportunity to turn away from Clay and Sam.

It’s Dr. Puttnam, but you’re honestly not even mad about having to talk to him right now. You might even go as far as to say you’re thankful for him…maybe.

“Yeah, our shifts just ended so we’re on our way out,” you reply.

“Really? That’s too bad, I was hoping maybe you’d be here for the surgery. I figured since you work with Jack and all that you’d be in the operating room,” Clay says, drawing your attention right back to him.

“Oh-!” Clay’s words catch you off guard but also leave you feeling flattered. To think he wanted—no, wants—you in the operating room with him, it leaves you practically speechless. “Uh-no, I’m not on your case specifically, but I wouldn’t mind stepping in, if Dr. Harper is-“

“No!” You’re cut off by Harper himself and with his sudden exclamation, your excitement dwindles. An opportunity to be there for Clay in a way you didn’t think was possible would’ve been everything. Even besides that, to step in on a high profile heart transplant surgery this early in your career could’ve opened so many doors for you. You’re confused on the sudden shut down of the idea and by the look on Clay’s face, you’re not the only one. Harper clears his throat and gives a strained smile. “I mean, unfortunately that wouldn’t be possible. Although Y/N is more than capable of taking part in the surgery, due to the severity of this case I must insist we stick with only the original people assigned to this operation. We wouldn’t want to risk anything or have more people in the room than necessary.”

A valid reason, but still a disappointing one nonetheless. You just nod your head understandingly, your lips coming together in a tight line as you try to not let your upset emotions shine through.

“You could stick around in the waiting room with me? If you want to that is, I know you’re just getting off a shift. Clay told me earlier about the conversation he had with you and well, I just know it’d mean a lot to him to know you were around—at least in some capacity—for his surgery.” Your eyes snap to Sam and her offer takes you by surprise.

Damn, she’s nice, too? It’s gonna be really hard to dislike this woman.

You shift your gaze to the blonde before you and he nods his head lightly, encouraging the idea. Your decision is a no brainer. “I’d love to. Anything to help support Clay.”

“Great!” Puttnam cuts in with a clap of his hands. “The more, the merrier! I’m sure your mother will appreciate the company, Clay.”

The doctor looks on with a smile but it immediately drops as he takes in Clay’s concerned expression.

“What? Wait, she’s here?” Clay questions.

Clay and Harper share a look and you try to not come off as nosy as you attempt to read their expressions. It’s clear Dr. Harper and Clay have some sort of understanding with each other. It doesn’t seem odd considering their friendship, but it’s clear there’s some hesitation between them when it comes to Mrs. Beresford, at least from what you can tell.

“What? She’s on the call sheet,” Dr. Puttnam says in defense.

Clay sighs before turning to Sam. “I’m going to go deal with this and then I’ll meet back up with you. I think it’d be best if I just went with Jack to handle my mother.” Sam nods and you watch as the blonde leans in and plants a soft kiss on her forehead before turning back to the group.

You try to make yourself appear as if you didn’t just witness their tender moment by stepping a bit closer to Penny, trying to locate what room they’re gonna have Clay in.

“If you want,” you start, wanting to offer at least some sort of help. “I can take Sam up to the room you’ll be in. She can wait there until you’re ready to get changed for surgery.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Clay smiles. “That’d be perfect.”

Trying to hide the blush you just know is beginning to coat your cheeks, you smile and nod your head before stepping away towards Jill. The look on her face makes her appear as if she’s just won the lottery and honestly just knowing how Jill is, her talking to Clay is her version of winning the lottery.

You roll your eyes affectionately and smirk as you physically feel how jittery with excitement she is as you pull her closer to you. “Well, I guess this is happening?”

“Holy shit! Yeah this is happening! Look at you getting all cosy with the Beresford family! This morning you didn’t even think you’d ever be in the same room as Clay let alone getting to talk to him and now be his personal on call girl.” There’s a suggestive look on your friend’s face and you feel yourself wanting to curl into a ball over the fact she said that when everyone else is barely five feet away.

“Jill!” You squeak. She begins to laugh and you hate the fact you feel yourself fighting back a chuckle as well. “I can’t believe you.”

“No, I can’t believe you. I’m heading home but go and get cosy with the apparent new Mrs. B.” Jill lowers her voice and leans her head so close to you her forehead nearly knocks into the side of yours. “Maybe you’ll find out she’s really some horrible person and you can swoop in and steal the blonde god that is Clay Beresford away from her.”

“Jill! Never gonna happen!” You playfully push your friend away and watch as she laughs brightly over the whole thing. You just stand there and shake your head, barely noticing the intrigued look on Clay’s face a few feet away from you.

As your friend recollects herself, you let her absurd words float through your mind. You sneak a glance over at the woman in question and find it hard to believe she could have any trace of evil inside of her. Her smile and eyes are too kind, and the literal glow around her as she talks with her husband is unmistakable. It’s clear she makes Clay happy and you’re sure a man as good as Clay Beresford would never fall for someone cruel.

“You never know,” Jill shrugs. She yawns and then continues. “I’m gone, but call me if anything happens! Good or bad, I want the details.”

“Promise! Have a good night, I’ll see you later.” Jill waves in return and as she walks past the small group she wishes Clay ‘good luck’, which he instantly thanks her for.

Even with her back turned you can tell the woman has a smile on her face. You don’t even wanna know the thoughts running through her head right now. The idea makes you chuckle.

Rejoining the group you take in the fact it’s dwindled since you stepped away. All that remains is Clay, Sam, and Dr. Harper.

“Y/N, perfect timing! Dr. Puttnam has gone with Penny to get the operating room ready for Clay. Why don’t you go on ahead with Sam while Clay and I speak with his mother. We hope the conversation won’t be long,” Dr. Harper says before glancing at Clay. “But either way we will meet up with you both and get started right away.”

“Sounds good to me,” you say before turning towards Clay and Sam. “Sam, right this way.”

The brunette smiles at you warmly and you mentally curse yourself for even jokingly thinking about the idea of stealing her new husband from her.

After all, she is just evidently a girl in love trying to live a long, happy life with her husband.

*****

To say the atmosphere has turned a little...chilly would be an understatement. After bringing Sam back to the waiting room, it wasn't long before Clay's mother joined you two. She greeted you kindly, asked a few questions, and thanked you for staying to support her son. But the minute Sam tried to insert herself into the conversation, tried to find some connection with Clay's mom, Lilith immediately shut her down. Lilith wasn't very receptive to anything Sam had to say, which made having any conversation with the both of them basically impossible, to put it lightly.

So now you find yourself practically trapped between these two women who clearly have some sort of history, anxiously watching the time tick by on the clock you've had your eyes glued to for some time now. Lilith's occupied herself with some playing cards she had in her purse and Sam twiddles aimlessly with her thumbs, no doubt feeling anxious not only about Clay but also due to the tension between herself and his mother.

"Miss, uh..." The deep baritone of the nurse's voice breaks you out of your thoughts and you immediately hone in on the chance he might be bringing news of Clay. "Ramos?"

Your shoulders slump down in rejection, feeling no closer to getting any answers than you did before the nurse walked in. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he goes and sits down in one of the waiting room chairs close to Sam. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you wonder what it is he could want from her.

"Hi, how you doin'?" He asks Sam and you can tell she's having non of it as she replies with a cool 'hey'. "Can I help you with something?"

Wow, he's persistent, you think.

You go to roll your eyes, picking up on the fact that clearly this guy is trying to hit on Sam. Which, if you think about it, is a little sick considering where you are currently. Obviously that doesn't deter some people.

"Haven't I seen you around?" You lift your head up and look over at the pair, finding it odd the nurse would even say that. You assume if he has seen her around, she'd be with Clay and this guy would know she's taken. You mentally brush it off, this is probably just part of his game to get Sam's number.

The need to maybe step in on Sam's behalf is abruptly pushed to the side as you see Sam hold up her hand, proudly showing off her engagement and wedding ring.

You can't help the tiny smirk that graces your lips as you watch the nurse sigh and slouch down in defeat. Sam shut that down real quick. The nurse mumbles an apology before rushing off back to his job.

"You have two rings on your finger." Your smirk disappears as you hear Lilith speak up from beside you. It's the first time she's spoken to Sam directly since you got to the waiting room. Something tells you this is not gonna be good.

"What was that?" Sam questions barely above a whisper. She's probably just as shocked as you this interaction is happening.

"Why are you wearing two rings, Sam?" The way Lilith questions it, you know she already knows the answer and she is not happy about it.

Holy shit, you think. She had no idea her own son got married.

Things just got a whole lot more interesting.

Sam stays silent and it doesn't take long for Lilith to question, "When?"

"Just before he got the call," Sam shrugs, looking timid. Clay's mom sighs and quickly looks away from her, finding the playing cards she's been shuffling way more interesting than whatever it is her apparent daughter-in-law has to say.

"Lilith," Sam pleads, but it's no use as Lilith refuses to look up.

Yikes. Maybe I should've sat on the other side, you think. You feel at any moment those playing cards could go flying and you really don't feel like being in the middle of that cat fight.

Clearing your throat in the least awkward way as possible, you get up and head for the vending machine a few feet in front of you. Maybe a little refreshment will do you some good. It is Halloween after all, you deserve a sweet treat.

As you pick which of the drinks it is you want, you remember the tidbit Sam tried to give Clay's mom earlier when she first walked into the waiting room. You hold down a bit longer on the button and feel satisfied as you watch your treat get released to you.

Bending down to grab your drink, you startle a little as a crash sounds from behind you. You turn your head and watch as Sam hurries to the floor, a bunch of orange pill bottles scattered around her. She must've dropped her purse.

"Oh, shit!" She exclaims, trying to catch some of the bottles before they roll away. You go to help her pick them up, but you stop as she begins to speak, clearly to Lilith. "Levatol, Enalapril, Digoxin. He likes me to carry them around. If I left it up to him he'd be popping 'em like M&Ms. He could OD on these things, you know?"

Sam finishes gathering all the bottles and goes back to the chair she was sitting in. "Can't say I'll miss them. A lot of cute purses I haven't been able to use over the last year."

"I didn't know you did that," Lilith says softly, looking down at the ground. It's obvious she's taking in the fact Sam cares deeply for Clay. Why else would she cart around all his medicines like that? You don't do that for someone you're not serious about. "That you carried his meds around."

It feels as if there's about to be some big turning point for the two women right now, so you stay hovering by the vending machine, not wanting to get in the way of whatever moment they're about to have. You only hope it turns out well and doesn't become a screaming match.

"I tried not to like him. I honestly did," Sam starts. "Lilith, I know how much he means to you."

"What do you want from me, Sam?" Lilith asks defensively. You barely know the woman and yet you can tell all of this is incredibly hard for her to fathom. Her son got married right under her nose and now he's in a life threatening surgery that she has no idea if he'll survive. You can't even imagine where her head must be at right now.

"I want you to tell him that he's as good as his father. I want you to tell him that it's okay to love me, and I want you to tell me that it's okay to love him back. He's already lost one parent, he can't lose another. He needs you. I'm not a bad person. I mean if you could just give us your blessing—"

There's a rawness and urgency in Sam's tone. At this point she has nothing left to lose. It's clear she's hanging on to every second Lilith is giving her, using every bit of that time to try and convince this powerful woman that she's deserving of her son. A part of you aches for her. To have a love you're willing to fight for is a rare thing, and you think anyone who's willing to sacrifice everything for the one they love deserves happiness.

"Okay, just stop talking." Lilith holds up her hand and that immediately causes Sam to halt her efforts. You prepare for the worst, but what Clay's mom does next shocks you. "Just make sure he takes his meds and...stop talking."

"What?" Sam asks, her eyes going slightly wide at Lilith's...acceptance?

"He has horrible allergies. Did you know that? Especially in the spring. Grass and flowers." You watch as Sam wastes no time in wrapping her arms around Lilith, bringing her in for a long awaited hug. The sight makes you smile. "Don't think this means I'm gonna be visiting every week."

Sam holds on a little longer and you can see Lilith start to stiffen a bit at the contact. She's not fully there yet, but you can tell this family is going to be okay. You may not know the whole story, but it's clear there's a lot of love involved. "Okay. Okay, let go. All right." Lilith chuckles a little and the two of them break apart, settling back into each of their respective seats.

You take this as your sign that it's all clear to take your seat again. You walk up and catch Sam's eye, you give her a warm smile and she gives you one in return. That glow she had around Clay earlier is back and you can tell this interaction she had with Lilith has lifted her spirits. That little envious feeling you had earlier too comes back, but you push it aside. Now is not the time.

As you sit down in between Sam and Lilith again, you open your drink and take a long sip. The cool liquid runs down your throat and you relish in the refreshing feeling. It feels like you've all been here for ages. You're starting to pick up on the feeling your friends and family must've had when you had your own heart transplant surgery. This waiting game is definitely not easy, and you'd give anything to get some answers.

Clay's wife must feel the same because not a second later she leans towards you and Lilith. "You know what? I'm gonna try and find out what's going on."

You both give Sam nods of encouragement, seeing it as the best bet. You thought about maybe trying to use your status as an employee as leverage to try and get some information, but the fact you're off the clock mixed with the fact you're not part of Clay's family had you second guessing doing that. Thankfully Sam's taking one for the team. "Sit tight, you two. I'll be right back."

The brunette walks off towards two doctors who have congregated in the hallway and you strain your ears to try and hear what they have to say, it's useless though, everyone talking in hushed tones.

There's a doctor in blue scrubs off to the right of Sam and you watch as he makes his way towards her. You've personally never seen him around before, but maybe he's new or he's been called in to help on a surgery. Whatever the case may be, you just hope he has some answers about Clay and his condition.

"You're not a doctor at this hospital!" You hear Sam bite out, and the comment leaves you confused. "I mean, you don't work here, do you?" She finishes in hushed tones, but it's just loud enough for you to hear, and by the looks of it so did Lilith. The two of you share a puzzling look, not understanding why Sam would say something like that. You chalk it up to the fact maybe Sam just hasn't seen this specific doctor before. You're sure she's decently familiar with Clay's team, so of course she'd have some questions if someone completely new is working on his surgery.

You give Lilith an assuring smile, trying to ease any worries she may have. She gives you one too, but you can tell it's not genuine. She goes back to holding her scarf close to her chest, no doubt what she's using to ground herself, and you mentally sigh. As with any patient's family, you want to give Lilith some sort of comfort to hold onto. A positive update. Good news on Clay's recovery. Anything at all. But alas, you're not able to offer anything and that alone breaks your heart.

Sam walks away from the doctor and you watch as she retreats down a hallway. You're not sure where she plans on going or how she plans on getting some answers, but maybe she knows something you don't. Clay is a high profile patient, to be fair. She could know a way to get access that you haven't heard of yet. Whatever it is Sam is doing, you just hope she's quick. You're not sure how much longer Lilith will be able to hold out without any information.

*****

It seems like hours before Sam makes her way back to the waiting room. In reality it was probably only ten to fifteen minutes, but every minute feels like an hour when it comes to something like this.

As the newest Mrs. Beresford walks towards you and Lilith, you watch as Clay's mother immediately springs to her feet.

"Is he okay? Is everything okay?"

"They wouldn't say," Sam offers. All that time gone and she has nothing to report? There's a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that says none of this is right, things aren't adding up, but you let it go the minute you catch a glimpse of Lilith's face; a mix of both relief at no bad news, but also nerves from no good news either.

"You were gone so long. I started—" Lilith rolls her head back, her shoulders slumping.

"I know, I know. I'm scared too," Sam sympathizes.

The brunette rubs the arms of the older woman before leading her back to her chair. She smiles and nods at you, and you try your best not to make anything of her shifty gaze. It feels almost as if she doesn't want you too close, seeing past anything she's giving Lilith.

It must be paranoia, nothing solid has happened to make it seem like something is going on. Sam is a nice girl, she probably can just tell you have the hots for her husband, and as the clock ticks closer and closer to his surgery finishing, you're sure she's just becoming a little uncomfortable sharing such a personal time with you.

You technically are just a random doctor she met today who had a heartfelt conversation with her significant other and is now sitting with her and her mother-in-law during his life altering surgery. When you put it into perspective, the untrustworthy atmosphere seems to make a bit more sense.

Shaking it off, you readjust yourself in your chair. With no news at all, who knows how much longer it's going to be. Might as well get comfortable.

*****

"Something's wrong." Lilith's voice breaks you out of the trance you've found yourself in. For who knows how long now you've been trying to ground yourself. You're not sure why you're feeling so affected. Maybe it's because you do have a soft spot for Clay. Maybe it's the realization of how scary it is to care for someone going through a heart transplant. Maybe it's a coping mechanism to try and tune out the fact the three of you haven't spoken since Sam came back, anxiety striking you all silent. "I can feel that something's wrong."

"What Is it?" You ask Lilith, noticing her stricken expression the moment you look towards her.

"I can't just sit here like this. They should have told us something by now."

Sam straightens in her seat beside you, no doubt gearing up to try and calm Clay's mom. "Listen to me."

"No, you don't understand. He's not just my son. I was a kid when I had him."

"He's gonna be fine," Sam assures, shifting her gaze between Lilith and you, nodding her head. Your nervousness is probably written all over your face.

"We've grown up together. It's me and him," Lilith continues.

Sam has a contemplative look on her face, and you find yourself having deja vu. You take this as your opportunity to offer Lilith some comfort and advice, much like you did with Clay earlier today. Although, that seems so long ago now.

"He's not gonna die. Not now, not today," you say as you turn your body towards her. Confidence—or something—must overtake you because you find yourself reaching for her hand, feeling the slight shake in them. A mother's worries.

"How can you be so sure?" She whispers, not pulling away from your light grip.

With all the sincerity you can muster you whisper to her, "Because he's got too much to live for."

You can see the shimmer of tears brimming Lilith's eyes as she takes in your words. In an instant, you feel her squeeze your hand, no doubt trying to thank you for your words without having to actually say so, her voice unreliable at this point with the amount of emotion lodged in her throat.

You simply nod your head, letting her know you understand completely. What you said isn't bullshit, it's genuinely how you feel. It's clear as day that Clay is surrounded by two women who love him very much. There's no doubt in your mind that he laid down on that operating table today with every intention of waking up and going back to them.

The thought squeezes your own heart that you fought so hard for. To love is to be loved, and you're happy that Clay has a good support system around him to guide him through what is no doubt going to be hell for a little while. You remember your own restless days and recovery process. Lilith and Sam may not know exactly what Clay is gonna go through, but you're sure they'll do all they can to help him.

*****

You're the first to notice Dr. Harper walking towards you along with the doctor Sam was talking to earlier. You lightly tap both Lilith and Sam with each of your hands to grab their attention. This is it.

"So?" Lilith questions after getting to her feet. Harper immediately shakes his head and your stomach drops.

"He rejected the heart." Four words. Four words is all it takes to completely throw you off balance. "We did everything we could, but the organ failed, and I am so sorry."

No, there's no way.

You feel Sam fall to her seat beside you and you wonder how it must feel for her. She married the love of her life not even a day ago and in just a few hours she lost him. You can't imagine a worse heartbreak.

"The organ failed?" Lilith questions, disbelief evident in her voice.

"Yes, it wouldn't respond to the procedure. But in cases like this, it's not uncommon for—"

"Don't you mean you failed?" Lilith cuts him off, and you can tell at any minute she might lose it. You can't blame her, you'd do the same in her position. You're positive Dr. Harper did all he can to save Clay, but this was a risk you were all well aware of. You just never thought it'd actually happen.

"No, we...we did everything that we could. It's just an imperfect procedure." Harper shakes his head and you can tell by the look on his face that this has broken him just as much as the rest of you. You don't know him or Clay that well, but it's clear they had a genuine friendship. He will never recover from this.

"Say it," Lilith bites out.

"Say what?"

"I wanna hear you say it. I wanna hear you say you failed my son." Dr. Harper stands there in shock as Lilith walks away from him and sits on the opposite side of the aisle of chairs. "It shouldn't have been you. It should never have been you. I fucking knew it."

"I'm sorry, Sam." Harper whispers before slightly turning and barely meeting your eyes. "Y/N."

He leaves the room and all that's left is you, Sam, Lilith, and the doctor Sam was talking to earlier. You find yourselves in utter silence. No other sounds can be heard besides the distant noises of other lives being saved and others being unfortunately lost. You think about how many more families will be devastated tonight just like the Beresfords. The thought pains you.

"I'm afraid we're gonna need your permission to take him off bypass." The doctor's words cause you to glance up at him. He stands tentatively at Mrs. Beresford's side.

"What?" She asks, looking over at him with tears streaming down her face.

"We'll need your permission," He says again, taking a seat next to her. "I'm so sorry to have to ask."

"I don't understand," Lilith shakes her head. "He's alive."

"Yes, but his blood's being pumped by a machine. He has no heart."

You squeeze your eyes shut, hating the image that's planted itself in your mind. You've seen countless people be put on bypass, it's your job, but it makes you feel sick to think about Clay being in that position with no way out. His chest open on that table with no heart inside to make him better again. You hate it. He deserved better.

"Then get him another heart," Clay's mother demands, not understanding the full severity of the situation. There is no other heart. You've heard enough about Clay and his case to know this one was a miracle as it is. To get another heart on such short notice, whilst also not having Clay on bypass for too long a time, is impossible.

"You don't understand. His blood type's too rare. We don't have one. I'm sorry. It's over." The doctor explains softly. Lilith merely thanks him before standing up and making her way to the corner of the waiting room, scarf still clutched in her hands.

"I'll be in the hallway," the doctor says before walking away form you all.

"Lilith," Sam says as she gets up from her seat.

"Could you leave me alone for a minute?" Lilith stops her in her tracks, not wanting Sam's comfort right now.

"Okay," she complies before walking away, going who knows where.

For a moment it's just you and Clay's mom. Nothing is said between the two of you, but just by looking at her you can tell she's struggling to keep it together.

You stand, taking a small step closer to the woman before softy calling out her name. "Lilith."

Suddenly, her eyes narrow slightly, a look of determination overtaking her grief-stricken features. "I'm going to the cafeteria. I need a moment alone."

She doesn't even await your answer as she swiftly makes her way around the chairs and towards the hallway, but not before snatching Sam's purse out of one of the chairs. You don't even question it at this point, you'd do just about anything else before standing in the way of a grieving mother.

*****

Time passes, and that nagging feeling you had earlier that something is severely wrong comes crawling back. Lilith still isn't back from the cafeteria yet, and you haven't seen Sam since Lilith asked her to leave.

You do the only thing that feels right. You go after Lilith. She's Clay's mother. If something is going on, she'd be the only one you could trust to tell you the truth. You need to talk to her, see if she feels the same way. You don't understand how this all could've gone south so fast.

Quickly making your way to the cafeteria, you looking around at all the tables and chairs, trying to find Lilith as quickly as possible. When you do finally spot her, what you see has your breath catching in your throat.

"Lilith!" You cry, rushing over to her secluded table. When you reach her, she's just finished shoving multiple pills in her mouth. You recognize the bottles as the same ones that fell out of Sam's purse earlier. Lilith has taken Clay's medication. She's trying to OD. "What have you done!? I need to get help."

Before you're able to rush off and call someone over to help you, Lilith has her hand wrapped around your arm, stopping you in your tracks. "No! Please, don't."

"Why are you doing this? What's going on? I came to find you because I think something's wrong with what happened to Clay but-but-" You feel tears start to brim your eyes. Even though you hardly know the woman before you, you can't imagine her taking her own life. The pain she must be feeling is insurmountable, but she can't do this. She can't.

"Let me explain, please. I don't have much time." Lilith urges you to sit down and you do so immediately. The quicker she gets out whatever she needs to say, the quicker you can go for help and save her life. There's no way you're losing both Beresfords tonight.

"What is it?" You urge, leaning towards her in your seat, the anticipation and stress eating you up.

"I had a feeling something was going on, I knew it from the beginning, but I kept telling myself I was just paranoid. My suspicions were confirmed though when I found this." Lilith pauses to reach into Sam's purse, pulling out a small stack of envelopes and handing them to you.

"What is this?" You look down at the letters Lilith has given you and your eyebrows furrow in confusion when you notice Sam's name on them. Except, on each letter, she has one of two different last names. On some of her letters her name is Samantha Lockwood, but on others, specifically one from Varick University (a nursing school), it says her name is Samantha Tunnell. You feel like you're gonna throw up, quickly catching on to where this might be going.

"She's not who she says she is. It only took me a second to put it together after that. She's been to this hospital before. Think about it; the vending machine she somehow knew how to work? The nurse asking if he'd seen her before? Her saying one of Clay's doctors didn't work at this hospital? How would she know any of that stuff? I don't know the exact specifics, but they're all in on it, all of them! They tried to kill my son, they are killing him unless I do something about it."

"Lilith, I'm sorry there's nothing we can do. There's no other heart for Clay. His blood type—"

"Is the same as mine."

Lilith's sentence sends your mind reeling. Suddenly, the picture becomes clear.

She's going to give him her heart.

"Lilith, if what you're saying is true—"

"It is, and I need you to let me do it. I've already called Dr. Neyer, he's on his way to perform the transplant, I don't trust anyone else. It's happening and it's happening fast so please, listen to me. I need you to do me a favor, Y/N."

You're stunned silent. There are no words to describe what's happening right now. It was just supposed to be a heart transplant. The anticipation of waiting for Clay to make it out on the other side was supposed to be the most nerve-racking event of the day, but suddenly his murder plot is.

Trusted medical staff. His best friend. His wife. All in on it. Your stomach churns and your heart races, but as you stare at Lilith, you realize just how serious she is. How dead set she is on changing the story these horrible people have written.

Gone is the poised woman who was married to a business tycoon. What remains is merely a mother doing everything she can to save her only child. You'd find it admirable if you weren't already feeling so frightened and worried about it all.

What she's set in motion cannot be undone, and as she stares at you eagerly, hoping you'll agree, you can't help but to take a leap of faith and do just that. "What can I do to help you?"

"Hold onto those letters like your life depends on it. Give them to the police directly the minute they get here. She cannot and will not get away with this. None of them will. But most importantly, what I need you to do is look after my son."

Lilith reaches out and grasps your hands in hers, much like you did earlier when you were assuring her Clay would not die today. Unlike earlier, though, her hands are no longer trembling. She is the most stoic you've seen her all day, and her determination is slowly but surely rubbing off on you.

"Lilith, I—" You can't find the right words to reply to her with. Obviously turning in evidence to the police is a no brainer, but looking after Clay? A man you met not even 24 hours ago. Your heart knows it's right, but your head is trying to reason otherwise.

"It's okay, I know it's a big ask, but please Y/N. Clay will have no one else on his side after tonight. I know you just met me, just met him, but for some reason I trust you wholly. I can tell your heart is pure. You stayed by Clay's side just for the mere fact you wanted to be there for him. You know personally what he's gonna go through after he wakes up from that surgery. I have no one else to turn to, no one else to ask. I know it's not fair of me, but I need you. He needs you."

Your heart swells. Emotions run wild through your mind, only one thought clear amongst the chaos. You have to do this, you have to do what she's asking. You want to. God knows no one else will get it all like you do. No one else will understand Clay and be there for him to answer any questions he may have. You truly will be all he's got.

With tears slipping down your cheeks, you nod your head. "Yes, absolutely. I'll do it, Lilith. I promise I won't let you down, I won't let Clay down."

"Good," she smiles, her eyes starting to droop closed. No doubt the concoction of pills she downed working their way through her bloodstream. Any minute now her body will shut down. Her heart will stop beating. She'll never wake up again. "Now hurry. Go find Neyers. He should be here any minute if he's not already. Bring him here and make sure he gets started right away. Clay doesn't have much time."

Noting your head, you stand up from the table, removing one of your hands from Lilith's grasp to wipe away your endless tears. Before you can take back your other hand, Clay's mother squeezes it tightly, causing you to look directly at her.

"Thank you," she whispers, her body slumping back in her chair, her head beginning to lean on the wall to her right. "Clay deserves someone like you."

You smile weakly at the woman, your heart squeezing for more reasons than one. "Goodbye, Lilith."

The older woman lets go of your hand and uses it to prop her head up. To anyone walking by she just looks like a tired loved one, looking to pass the time in the hospital cafeteria. But you know what's really going on. You watch as her breathing slows, her chest rising and falling less and less as the seconds tick by. It'll be any second now, but you can't bear to witness her final moment. Instead, you do as she asked and haul ass to the hospital entrance, looking for the man who's going to save the life of the Beresford heir.

*****

Knowing Clay was going under the knife a second time was no easier than the first time. Dr. Neyer is an incredibly capable doctor, but considering the events of today, you could say you're still a bit uneasy.

There was no way you were going back to that waiting room from earlier, you'd rather walk around aimlessly for hours instead of reliving those moments again and again in your mind. You're beating yourself up over the fact you didn't truly notice anything was off earlier. If you just would've trusted your gut feeling a little more or asked a few more questions, maybe things could've been different.

You shake those thoughts away, though, knowing there's nothing to be done now. What's done is done and all you can do is hope and wait for Clay to get out of that surgery safe and sound.

After meeting up with Neyer and the police, you discovered they already caught Puttnam and Penny. They're still looking for Harper and Sam, but you're sure they'll catch them soon. They're in this hospital somewhere and there's no way they're coming out of it without wearing handcuffs. There's officers at every exit, so it's just a matter of time.

Your sadness and confusion has morphed into anger now. You feel betrayed for Clay and his family, and you feel betrayed for yourself for the fact these doctors you trusted turned out to be nothing but heartless, greedy monsters. These people who you looked up to, who you wanted to be like, are nothing but frauds.

Heat starts to travel up your neck, and the feeling only intensifies when a loud noise ahead of you catches your attention and you spot a familiar brunette trying to open a locked door.

"Hey, Mrs. Beresford," you call out, Sam's head instantly snapping in your direction. "Or should I call you Ms. Lockwood? Or Ms. Tunnell? Or I know! How about just Sam? Considering that seems to be the only name that stays consistent through all your different identities."

Samantha smirks as she stalks towards you, a look of smugness all over her face. It's hilarious how she clearly thinks she's won. If only she knew how far from the truth that is.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she sighs. "All I'm doing is looking for some answers on my husband's death. I'm just the grieving widow, remember?"

Your blood boils at her comments. How dare she feign innocence when she's probably the one who killed Clay. Your mind goes back to when she was gone from the waiting room for so long, looking for updates on Clay's surgery. She was probably meeting up with all of them, planning on what they were gonna do next. It takes everything in you not to lunge for the woman before you.

"Cut the shit, Sam! I know what you did, and so do the police. Nice work on carrying around your mail with you. Couldn't even cover up your tracks properly. You'll never get away with this no matter how hard you try or how many fake tears you cry."

Sam's smirk falters. She knows she's caught. You can see the realization flash in her eyes. Her mistakes, her missteps, her failures.

"Oh, please," she scoffs, trying to gain back the upper hand. "And who are you, exactly? Nothing but a wannabe surgeon with a little crush on someone else's husband. Real nice."

"Yeah? At least I'm not a killer. And unlike you, I am a surgeon, which is more than you'll ever be while you're locked up behind bars." Crossing your arms over your chest, you tilt your head to the side and call over your shoulder, "She's over here, officers!"

Sam's eyes widen, quickly realizing you had her right where you wanted her. You saw the police officers coming up the hallway off to your right, you just had to buy them some time so they could catch up to you and arrest Sam once and for all.

Now it's your turn to have the smug look on your face as the officers rush past you and get Sam down on the ground. She never even had a chance to try and outrun them.

Walking over to the woman on the ground, you squat down to try and be more in her line of vision. You really wanna make sure she understands the words you're about to utter.

"Oh and, Sam?" You start, practically batting your eyelashes at her as she glares at you. "It's ex-husband now. And trust me, I'll take real good care of him for you."

The woman practically screams as you stand back up and turn on your heel towards the recovery rooms. Clay will be out of surgery soon and you wanna make sure you're there for him when he wakes up.

As you turn the corner, you spare a quick glance back down the way you came. Although you wish everything that happened today never occurred, it gives you great satisfaction to see the officers yank Sam up off the ground and practically drag her towards the exit.

Good, you think. She'll get what she deserves.

*****

After several more hours, you've found yourself sat in a recovery room. Finally.

Not long after the police apprehended Sam, they found Harper and arrested him. He was just sat in his office, evidence laid out on his desk. He was ready for them. If you had to guess, he's probably the only one out of that group who genuinely feels remorse for what they did. You find it hard to sympathize with him at this current moment, though.

Dr. Neyers informed you the surgery went well. They lost Clay right at the end but thankfully were able to bring him back one final time. He lays in front of you now on a hospital bed, the beeping of his heart monitor and his soft breathing the only sounds filling the room.

It's been a few hours since they brought Clay here, and you used that time to catch up on some much needed sleep after being up for nearly twenty-four hours. It was a quick nap, but you feel much better.

You're still trying to process everything that happened. Even with Clay laying here in front of you like this, you and him being the only ones in the room, it still doesn't feel real. Part of you thinks that maybe you'll wake up at any moment and it'll all have been a dream. Another part of you worries that it's all too real, and that there's a chance Clay might not wake up.

Dr. Neyers stopped in a few minutes ago and told you that Clay should be waking up any minute now. He might be a bit groggy but he would be awake nonetheless.

You’ve practically jumped out of your seat every other second since then each time you thought you saw movement. So far still nothing, but you’re hopeful it’ll be soon. You need it to be. You promised Clay’s mom you’d look after him, and you don’t plan on breaking that promise anytime soon.

Sighing, you get up from your spot in the chair next to Clay’s bed and instead take a seat to the left of him, your hip brushing his blanket covered thigh as you try not to fall off the side.

He looks peaceful as he lays there sleeping. So innocent from all the horrors that went on while he was in surgery. You dread the moment you’ll have to fill him in on all that happened. When you’ll have to tell him his mom—the woman he loves so dearly—is dead.

Emotion floods you and you try not to let it take you over. Instead you reach forward and grab Clay’s right hand in yours. His skin is warm and soft under your touch and you find comfort in it. You hope that when he does wake up, he’ll find comfort in yours too.

Rubbing your thumb back and forth over Clay’s knuckles, you look over at the EKG machine he’s hooked up to. His heart rate is steady, strong. You’re glad he made it out of the surgery, it’s rare people make it out of one transplant, yet alone two on the same day. Clay’s strong, you know he’ll get through this. He has to. His mom died to save his life and you don’t know a worse tragedy than one where neither one of them makes it out of this. The thought alone—

Your head snaps forward instantly. You wait a second and when it happens again you know you’re not just imagining it.

Clay’s hand squeezed yours. Twice!

Leaning forward, you watch as Clay’s eyes shift back and forth under his eyelids before finally, finally, they open. Immediately you’re met with two pale blue eyes.

He’s awake.

“Clay,” you whisper, not wanting to startle him. His eyes quickly find yours and you smile as you feel him squeeze your hand again. “Hey there. You’re okay, it’s all gonna be okay.”

Clay tilts his head to the side and you watch as he feebly attempts to sit up, no doubt trying to get some water. He winces and gives up immediately. You know that pain all too well.

“I got it, it’s okay. Don’t move.” Reaching over, you grab the small cup of water you poured a bit earlier incase Clay wanted it when he woke up. You hold the straw for him and bring it forward, allowing him to take a few sips. He tilts his head back when he’s done and you place the cup back on his bedside table.

“Thank you,” he croaks out, his voice raspier than normal. Even though you figured that would be the case, the deeper sound still takes you by surprise. You try not to take enjoyment in the sound, all things considered.

The blonde clears his throat and reality hits you as you realize you’ll now have to do the thing you’ve been dreading; telling Clay everything. You’re not sure where to begin, but you figure the beginning is probably the best place to start.

“Clay,” you say, uneasiness already settling in your voice. “I have to tell you something.”

A beat passes and as you go to continue, Clay beats you to it. “My mother is dead.”

Your eyes widen at his words. “How-How do you know that?”

He closes his eyes and takes a breath before saying, “I know everything. About Jack, Puttnam, and Penny. About-About Sam.” Pain crosses Clay’s features, but you’d bet anything that this time it isn’t physical. “When I was under, I wasn’t actually asleep. I don’t know how to describe it other than saying it was an out of body experience. I saw everything, heard everything, felt everything.”

“Oh, Clay,” you sigh, your heart breaking at his words. Immediately you know what he’s referring to. Intraoperative awareness is rare, and to think Clay was experiencing it during one of the worst possible surgeries and during one of the worst possible times absolutely blows your mind. What did he ever do to deserve this?

“What do you remember last?” You ask him. You don’t want to push Clay, but you need to know if there’s any gaps you need to fill in for him. Does he know he’s safe? Does he know everyone who tried to hurt him last night is never going to get near him again?

“The last thing I remember is talking to my mother,” he says it almost as a whisper and the sound nearly brings tears to your eyes. “She told me what she did, what she asked you to do. I get why she did it, but God, I just—“

Clay cuts himself off, tears beginning to fall from his eyes and down his pale cheeks. The sight tears you in two and causes tears of your own to fall.

“I’m so sorry, Clay.” Your voice cracks, the ability to hide any emotion completely disappearing. You reach out and brush away some of Clay’s tears with your thumb. The man practically melts into your touch and you find yourself wanting nothing more than to just wrap him in your arms and tell him it’s all gonna be okay.

“Did the cops catch them all, at least?” There’s resentment in his tone that you don’t blame him for at all. You can’t even begin to imagine the betrayal he must feel right now.

“Every single one of them. They’re all on their way to the station right now if they’re not already there. The evidence is solid, they’re never gonna see the light of day again and if they do it’ll be when they’re old and gray. You’re safe, Clay. I promise you that.”

The businessman nods his head and you can see him relax a little bit more. Silence settles over the two of you again, but it’s comfortable. Clay has also retaken ahold of your hand and this time he’s the one rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

Even though he’s the one that’s been through hell, he’s trying to comfort you. The thought makes you chuckle lightly and Clay smiles at the sound.

“Before all the doctors and cops realize I’m awake and start flooding in, I just wanted to say thank you and I’m sorry.” The blue-eyed man looks at you sincerely and you find yourself trying to hold back a frown.

“Clay, you don’t have to thank me for anything, and you have nothing to be sorry for. You had no control over what happened to you, over what these people did to you and your family.”

“I know, but you also didn’t have to get wrapped up in it. I should never have asked you to stay earlier. You were going home and I should’ve respected that and let you go. And my mother asking you to look after me? It’s too much, you don’t deserve—“

“Clay Beresford, stop it right now. Don’t you dare feel guilty about anything. No one forced me to stay here and no one forced me to accept what your mother was asking of me. I did it all on my own. The first time we spoke I told you that no matter what I’d be here for you, in whatever way you may need me, and I meant that. No matter what happened or no matter what will happen, I’m here for you and I don’t want you to ever feel like that’s a burden on me. That you’re a burden on me. We met for a reason and even though what’s happened after that is horrible, I will never take that for granted. I care about you, Clay, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop.”

Clay just lays there and smiles up at you, reveling in the passionate look on your face and in your eyes. He saw it yesterday when you guys met and talked about his fears and thoughts on the surgery. He admires your ability to speak your mind and stand up for what you believe in and how you feel. People like you are rare to him, and he feels incredibly lucky to have found you.

“You don’t know how badly I wish I could hug you right now.” The two of you burst into laughter but Clay’s laughs are suddenly cut short when he groans at the ache in his chest. “Ugh, I’m definitely not gonna get used to that.”

You try to tame your laughter, not wanting to trigger Clay to start laughing and hurt himself again. “Trust me when I say it’ll get better…eventually.”

Clay smirks before sighing, his eyes finding yours. “Seriously, though. Thank you for everything. I can’t imagine not having you by my side right now or what would’ve happened if I didn’t have that conversation with you yesterday. I hope you know how much I appreciate you, no matter how little time we’ve known each other.”

Heat rises up your neck and into your cheeks at his kind words. To think this is where you’ve found yourself when you didn’t even personally know this man twenty-four hours ago. It’s funny how life works sometimes. “You’re welcome, Clay. I appreciate you too.”

As if on cue, there’s a knock on the door and not a second later Dr. Neyers walks in, clipboard in hand. “Good morning, Clayton. We have a lot to discuss.”

Clay nods his head and the two of you share a look. Clay would never say it, but you know he thinks it’s best if he handles this part on his own. He and Neyers have a lot to go over and you’re sure the officers that were walking around the hall earlier will be in to speak with him soon as well. You’ll be here when he needs you, though. You always will.

“I’m gonna go grab something from the cafeteria. I’ll be back, but call me if you need me.” Clay nods his head and you quickly grab his cellphone from the table before placing it next to his hand. That way he won’t have to try and reach for it if he does need you before you get back.

Dr. Neyers gives you a small smile before you walk out of the room and close the door behind you. The click of the door handle fills the silence of the empty hallway and you find yourself grateful for it. You were worried your coworkers would be standing around waiting for any and all updates on Clay, and more specifically you and Clay.

When you were making your way to Clay’s room after the surgery, you caught a few of the nurses and other residents whispering to each other in the hall, no doubt trying to figure out why you’re suddenly involved in Clay’s case. You definitely can’t wait to see what the story is when you come back to work tomorrow. This hospital sure is gossipy.

The walk to the cafeteria is peaceful, though, and that’s only broken when your phone starts buzzing in your bag. You reach in and grab it and nearly laugh out loud at the message on your screen.

Jill:

Umm why did I just overhear people talking about you being here all night with Clay!? What happened, is he okay??? And why are there cops all over the place??? Fill me in on everything!!!

Oh, God, you think. Where do I even begin?

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen x female reader #hayden christensen x y/n #hayden christensen fanfiction #hayden christensen imagines #clay beresford #clay beresford x reader #clay beresford x you #clay beresford x y/n #clay beresford imagines #clay beresford fanfiction #requested

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ashleyrowanthewriter · 1 year ago

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The Sign for Gold Is Ugly - Chapter 1

*************

It began as a routine blood test. Goldie was impatiently rocking in her chair and flapping her tail that was beginning to grow while Dr. Erian was reading her card. From time to time he was glancing at his patient only to return to reading the card. Finally he put it down on his desk.

“I have some good news and some bad news,” said Dr. Erian.

“Some good news? What about?” asked Goldie.

“The good news is that your levels of calcitonin have finally reached the level that allows you to be legally deemed a merfolk,” said Dr. Erian.

Hearing the diagnosis Goldie became ecstatic. She threw her hands in the air and squealed through a toothy grin.

“That’s so great!” Goldie said. “What do I need to sign?”

“Not so fast,” said Dr. Erian. “I know how exciting that might sound, but you still have some paperwork not done.”

Goldie stopped her excited rocking and looked at Dr. Erian.

“What do you mean paperwork?” Goldie was shocked. “I have everything covered! Your psychiatric approval, the two year life test and even the single status certificate! And you just said that I have perfect hormone levels! What else would I need?”

“Well, you seem to have forgotten about the Mermaid Sign Language certificate, didn’t you?” said Dr. Erian

Goldie looked as if she heard about it for the first time.

“That’s a requirement?” asked Goldie. “Last time I checked it was just advice!”

“Times change quickly when you do animal HRT,” said Dr. Erian.

“How quickly are we speaking exactly?”

“I guess 30 months is a long time, isn’t it? From the beginning of it all to now.”

“But don’t they say that law doesn’t work backwards?”

“It doesn't. You haven’t started your legal procedure so you still don’t transition using the old system.”

Goldie wanted to protest, but she ran out of arguments. She just crossed her hands and frowned. Dr. Erian looked for something inside the drawer of his desk.

“Try going to her,” Dr. Erian told Goldie. “My other patients say that they achieve great results with her.”

Saying that Dr. Erian pulled out a flyer from his desk. Goldie read it with curiosity. In the picture there was a human woman and a beautiful mermaid with a gorgeous lingcod tail. They were raising their right hands and spreading their fingers. The description read Dr. Rowan’s Merslan School - For transitioners and translators.

Goldie thought that maybe she could try. Not that she particularly trusted Erian’s claims of satisfied patients. She simply saw no better alternative.

It was Goldie’s first class at Dr. Rowan’s school. She looked around the classroom looking at all the fellow students. Some were early into their transition, some were in a similar stage to her and some already had to be using wheelchairs thanks to their progress. All of them gathered in that room in a common goal to learn that one peculiar skill that the law found mandatory for them. For a moment it gathered up some self esteem in Goldie. If so many people were trying to do it then for sure Goldie could do it.

The door opened and one more person went in. A tall woman holding a briefcase. She stood before the class, raised her right hand and spread her fingers. The class repeated her movements. Goldie was confused, but she made the sign as well. She was waiting for the woman to sit down with the rest of the class, but then she started speaking.

“Alright, good morning, class! It is delightful to see you all. I am Dr. Rowan, but you might already know that. I am excited about teaching you and I hope you’re excited about learning with me.”

Goldie couldn’t believe what she heard. She took out the flyer from Dr. Erian, looking at it and at her teacher. There was no doubt. It was the human from the picture. It was strange for Goldie. She was almost sure that the teacher should be some kind of mermaid. Wasn’t there a mermaid on the flyer? Was that just a student? But it was only natural to think otherwise. Assumptions are indeed a powerful light that can blind its wielder.

The first lesson was feeling longer and longer and slower and slower. As much as she wanted to, she understood very little of whatever Dr. Rowan tried to teach her class. Goldie wanted the class to end. She wanted to once again understand what her senses were registering. Sure, she caught the meaning of maybe five signs, but she completely missed about fifteen others.

Near the end of the lesson Dr. Rowan finally said something that Goldie could understand.

“Now, one more thing before we finish. As you might have guessed, the names used in the Mermaid Language are not names you may be familiar with from English.After all there is no real way of communicating them through its signs. Instead you can choose any sign you’d like to!”

Finally Goldie caught something and found it cool.

“So I want you to think about whatever word you’d like to use as your name and tell me next week,” said Dr. Rowan. “I’ll show you how to show it. And… That’s all for today!”

Of course Goldie already knew what sign she wanted to use. So while her classmates were leaving the class she instead went to Dr. Rowan.

“Excuse me, what if I already have a word I want to use?” asked Goldie.

Dr. Rowan smiled. “I’ll show you then. What should it be?”

“Gold,” said Goldie. “Well… It might have been kind of obvious,” she added and chuckled.

“Alright, it’s easy. Look,” said Dr. Rowan.

The teacher closed her left eye and brought her right hand to her right eye. She then brought her thumb, index and middle finger together.

“Like this,” said Dr. Rowan.

Goldie mimicked her movements. She found the sign disappointing. She kind of hoped it would be more beautiful.

In her house Goldie was practising her name in front of a mirror. Or something along the lines. She had very mixed feelings about it. Her sister, Kayla, who just came to visit Goldie, noticed her lost in the mirror.

“Did something happen?” asked Kayla.

“The sign for gold is ugly,” said Goldie, still lost in her practice.

Kayla remembered that Goldie told her about trying to learn the Mermaid language. It was the first time she saw her sister practising and she saw that she did not have a fun time.

“Trouble learning?” Kayla asked.

“No kidding,” said Goldie. “Once I remember some sign I forget it immediately.”

“Don’t worry, you’re gonna be great at it someday,” said Kayla.

“It would be nice,” said Goldie. “But I guess this is my hell.”

Goldie returned to training signs. Kayla stood behind her and looked at Goldie’s reflection. She was still attempting to practise.

Kayla moved her sight to her own reflection. She was on her way to transition into a bat, but she didn’t know how far she would want to push her transition. She already had a lot of bat traits that she loved. Cute fur, wings beginning to sprout, sensitive ears… Kayla focused on her ears. They were really sensitive. In loud environments they were really hurting her. She sometimes needed to wear silencers.

And maybe that was the way to give Goldie some motivation and faith…

“You know…,” Kayla said. “Sometimes I do wish to be able to turn my hearing off.”

“Don’t you have silencers?” asked Goldie.

“Yes, but… I can’t talk if I can’t hear,” said Kayla. “I would like to learn some sign language. Maybe you could teach me?”

At first Goldie thought that she could help Kayla a bit. After all, who was she not to help her own sister? But then she noticed the possible hidden intentions.

“Is that supposed to make me want to study harder?” said Goldie.

“Maybe,” said Kayla.

Goldie sighed and laughed.

“Alright, sis!” Goldie said. “I can’t promise anything, but whatever I get I’ll try to teach you.”

“Thank you!” said Kayla. “Maybe you’ll manage to actually pick stuff up easier!”

“Yeah,” said Goldie. “Let’s hope so.”

*************

Yup, I am writing a fanfic of the Furry HRT universe. I wanted to come back to the idea. And write a story about aspiring mermaids learning sign language. As you might have guessed the main character is going to be @welldrawnfish. Also @kaylasartwork is going to be featured. I hope they like it!

EDIT: Thought I actually should link to Goldie's fish story and Kayla's bat story. Whoopsies...

#furry #furry hrt #fish hrt #mermaid hrt #bat hrt #fanfiction #fanfic #writeblr

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moosemink · 6 months ago

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Working alone looks different

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ CH6 - The Offer ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Pairing: No actual Romance just some mentioned, JayRoy | TimKon | BirdFlash Characters: Batfam | Justice League Word count: 3.808 A/N: Last Chapter ! Now all that is left is to crosspost the two drawings I made for this fic. There is a second part to this story. I've posted up to Chapter 5 of it on AO3, but I'll wait to cross post it to tumblr because I am struggling HARD with chapter 6 rn ^^; AO3 Masterlist for W.A.L.D.

The Justice League dealt with overzealous, extraterrestrial enemies on an almost weekly basis. From gigantic hordes of small, slimy critters to towering behemoths. They’ve fought it all and by now they have a sort of routine to the battles.

But this fight was much different from their usual procedures. Instead of one broody bat there were nine. Tough one of those nine was still an enigma to the league as they had yet to meet face to face. So far they had only heard her voice.

The other eight had fallen into a terrifying routine. They moved from enemy to enemy with cold, quick efficiency while quipping and smiling. Batman was the only one of them that fought side by side with the league members like he usually did, the rest of the Batclan kept mostly to themselves and the other young heroes that had come to help. They did swoop in and save a league member every time it was needed though, courtesy of the ninth Bat, Oracle, who seemed to see everything happening on the battlefield. Her moniker truly fit her perfectly.

Billy settled down on a roof to take a breather and to see if they had gotten any closer to winning. He really hoped it was over soon, he liked Fawcett much better without swarms of aggressive aliens.

He was really thankful for all the heroes that had gathered to help keep his city save. He was admittedly especially excited that a bunch of young heroes had joined too. He sometimes really hated that his powers made him look so much older, he really wanted to get closer with the hero community that was closer to his actual age. He liked the other league members but they too often talked about stuff he just couldn’t relate to. Sometimes it was exhausting to fake that you paid taxes and did other adult stuff.

Billy observed the Battlefield and his gaze fell to the different members of the Batfam. Nightwing was fighting aliens alongside Red Robin, easily trusting his back to his brother. The man bend in ways Billy was sure shouldn’t be possible but Red Robin seemed to anticipate every move. Used to his seemingly boneless brother. The two switched their weapons between each other easily. Moving almost as one, they took out another handful of enemies and with a wide smile on Nightwing’s face and a calculating grin on Red Robin’s, they moved to another part of the battlefield. Leaving behind mountains of bodies. Billy was really glad that they’re on the good side.

He turned his head and spotted Red Hood, locked in a fist fight against one of the bigger aliens. Hood was cursing like a sailor and hitting the alien hard in places that really hurt, at least to a human. Billy winced when Hood landed another hard kick to the lower half of the bipedal alien. Said alien let out an enraged roar but promptly slumped down to the ground, Billy spotted a red arrow lodged in the back of the extraterrestrial being‘s head. The red helmeted vigilante gave Arsenal, or the building Arsenal was sniping from, a thankful salute, he then pulled his guns out of his holsters and planted a few bullets perfectly between the aliens four eyes and or their knee caps. He switched between four guns with trained ease despite being limited to two hands and reloaded with such speed that Billy almost missed it. His reserve of bullets seemed endless.

Black Bat was basically a deadly shadow, Billy had only seen her for a second at the start of the fight, since then he could only guess where she was based on the aliens that just seemed to randomly keel over dead. Billy felt a shudder run down his spine as he saw the terror on an aliens face as his comrades dropped like flies around him. Again Billy was really glad he was on the same side as the Bats.

Another blue-kangaroo-looking alien dropped dead next to Red Hood. Said vigilante wordlessly pulled a knife from somewhere beneath his leather jacket and threw it in the air. The knife promptly disappeared in the air as a shadow, Black Bat, caught it. At the same time a broken blade dropped on the floor next to Hood’s boot. Billy simply watched in awe as the path of dead aliens kept going after the weapon exchange. Hood also just kept going, downing a few aliens with targeted punches and ending them with a bullet each if his fists weren’t enough.

Signal was hard to watch, as he used his powers, he apparently had, to blind the enemies. He then easily took them out as if taking a walk in a park. Well, a park in Gotham, Billy didn’t think that any other place would have parks that were comparable to a battlefield. Signal‘s bright light lured a lot of Aliens in his direction, which would’ve definitely been a cause for concern, at least for a non-bat. Signal simply kept moving unbothered by the masses moving towards him, because barely any actually made it close enough to be dangerous to him. Before they could step into his range most were skillfully taken care of, either by decapitation via the, in Billy‘s personal opinion, scariest Bat, Robin or by a simple punch via the Batlings kryptonian counterpart, Jon.

Billy admittedly watched Robin and Jon the longest as they were closets to his age. He really wished to be friends with them. As terrifying as Robin was, Billy thought he was equally as amazing. And Jon seemed like he would be a lot of fun to hang around. His warm and inviting smile had given Billy the courage to try and befriend them. He had gone to Gotham as he knew he would have to start with Robin to have a chance to be accepted into their group but before he had the chance to transform back into his actual body he had run. Robin hadn’t even let him get a word in and the cold Batglare from the just a few years older vigilante had killed all of Billy’s gathered courage. But as Billy watched Robin and Superboy work together he found himself filled with determination to try again.

Mind made up to try to find hero friends his actual age again Billy’s thoughts got interrupted by a battle cry. His eyes snapped onto the source and he spotted Spoiler. She had teamed up with beast boy who had turned into a mighty steed. The purple vigilante was loudly cheering and whooping as she rode on the large, green horse's back into battle. Together beast boy and spoiler mowed down enemy after enemy. Any foe that survived their stampede was finished of by Kon, Wally or Bart who were loudly cheering them on. The cavalry moved over the battlefield quickly and deadly as Spoiler easily switched between the weapons she kept on her person and literally anything else she could get her hands on. Even alien body parts were used and Billy found himself cheering them on from his perch on the roof.

By the time that Billy managed to pull himself from watching the young heroes fight, he notice that the numbers of the enemy had dwindle to barely two dozens. They were trying to retreat, but they were unsuccessful, as the Bats made quick work of them. The biggest problem now was the giant portal still open in the center of Fawcett City. Definitely not something Billy wanted to keep around. It didn’t mash well with the city’s looks. The bright, glowing greens and purples clashed harshly with the city’s aesthetic. Billy also wasn’t a fan of a potential second attempt for world domination via an army of blue-Kangaroos.

He knew he could easily close it but Billy also knew that it would cost him the last of his energy and would reverse his transformation. Everyone would find out that he was actually little, homeless, ten year old Billy Batson. The thought terrified him and made him hesitate.

But the decision was taken from Billy by the last alien, it seemed to tried to call for reinforcements from the other side of the portal. Before Billy even fully realized what was happening his body was already moving. He used the last of his power to quickly close the gate as Green Arrow shot the offending extraterrestrial being.

With the strike of a lightning bolt and a loud crack of thunder Billy, in all his now again ten years old glory, found himself in a small crater on the street.

Of course, to his luck, right in front of the Caped Crusader himself. And of course, worlds-best-detective that he was, he immediately connected the dots,

“Captain Marvel.” A simple statement, really but it froze Billy in place, “Is this your true form ?”

‘Right to the point, huh ?’, Billy thought but he also knew that the Dark Knight, slowly joined by all the other heroes, was expecting an answer.

“Y- yeah. I- I can ex- expla-“, Billy started but was interrupted by the wave of Batman’s hand. The man had more questions and it was clear he wanted them answered.

''Your name.'' Batman wasn't quite glaring at Billy but the boy could feel the Bat's stare drill a hole into his soul. Yet the voice Batman used wasn't quite as scary as his usual Batman-voice. He didn't seem angry, which Billy had feared, he seemed more, curious ? Billy doubted that was the right word.

''B- Billy, Billy Bat- Batson,'' Billy stammered out. His eyes snapped onto the rest of the Batclan, that had gathered behind Batman, as they collectively sucked a harsh breath in.

''B, No !'', Nightwing chided.

''He probably has parents, B !'', Red Hood joined in.

''I- I don't...'', Billy muttered hesitantly but he bit his tongue as the Batkids all displayed various reactions at his words.

Red Robin had his head in his hands, Robin tsk-ed and shook his head as he crossed his arms defiantly, Signal looked a little excited actually, Black Bat whispered something that sounded a bit too much like 'little brother', Spoiler threw up her hands and walked away exasperated, Red Hood was crouched down with his head directed at the sky quietly whispering a string of curses under his breath and Nightwing looked, well just resigned.

''Batson...'', The big Bat muttered, ''I mean...'' He angled his head to look at his colony of children and seemed to try to reason with them, about what, Billy did not know. In fact Billy was highly confused, he couldn’t think of what made half the Batclan look agitated and the other excited. He watched as Batman slowly reached for one of his utility belt pockets.

''Father, please tell me you are not reaching for what I think you're reaching for.'', Robin hissed, clearly already knowing the answer to his query as it came out as more of a warning then a question.

Batman suddenly moved very quickly and before Billy knew it a stack of papers was thrust into his hands, an annoyed groan escaping Red Robin and a tsk coming from Robin. Billy had to blink a few times before the words on the front page registered in his head. In bold letters it read:

ADOPTION PAPERS.

Billy sucked a breath in too fast and started coughing. Concerned eyes landed on him until he regained his ability to breath. Billy looked at the people gathered around him. The league members looked as confused as Billy, except for Martian Manhunter, his face carefully blank and Superman, who looked like he was trying not to laugh. The Titans present, old and new, were in a similar state to Superman, all trying their best to hold in a laugh. Though Billy also received an encouraging nod from both Superboys.

Billy opened his mouth to say something but before any words could leave him Red Hood cut in, ''I'm calling Agent-A, the kid is considering it. For fucks sake old man.'' Hood took of his helmet and pulled out a beaten up flip phone and very pointedly stared at Batman as he hit a speed dial button and spoke,

''Hey A, sorry to bother you while you're cookin’. B’s done it again.'', Hood drawled, he let out a deep sigh before he answered the person on the other end of the line, ''Yeah no, Black hair, blue eyes, orphan, maybe 9? or 10 ? Probably Homeless... His last name is Batson, there is no way we could've stopped him A.'' He then just grunted a confirmation before he harshly clapped the phone shut and put it into one of his many pockets. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed again. He must've spotted Billy's perturbed face as he gave him a surprisingly reassuring smile. He then turned towards Nightwing and with just a look relayed something to the older vigilante.

Understanding his brother’s wordless message easily, Nightwing turned to Kon and told him to go and pick up 'Agent-A', whoever that might be. Somebody with Zeta access apparently, as that’s were Nightwing told the Kryptonian to pick Agent-A up.

The questions in Billy's head only doubled as Kon returned just minutes later with a polished, well dressed, older man. A butler, Billy realized. Fully dressed in a butler uniform and with as simple black domino mask pasted over his eyes. The man carefully dusted of his clothes after the Kryptonian set him down before striding over to Batman. It was clear pretty fast why the man was called to Billy, as the Batkids all considerably relaxed but Batman tensed.

''My dear boy, what did I say about adopting every child you find ?'', The man lightly scolded the Dark Knight, his hands on his hips. Again, excluding Superman and Manhunter the JL members all tensed at the man’s words but the Titans looked just about ready to break out in loud laughter.

“Not to.” The bat grumbled, “But-“, Batman started while gesturing vaguely towards Billy but he was interrupted by the wave of Agent-A’s hand, just like the Bat had done to Billy just minutes before.

Billy was trying hard to keep a giggle down at the down trodden posture of the Bat but he almost choked on his fit of giggles as the butler addressed him with his smooth British accent, “Now, child I will not stop you from accepting Batman’s offer but know that you can refuse it.” The man bend down and pulled out a linen cloth, with it he gently wiped some grime off of Billy's face, only hesitating for a second to let Billy pull away if he didn't want to.

But Billy didn’t pull away and actually enjoyed the gentle touch and the feel of the soft linen. He felt himself relax as the butler continued speaking, “You may think about the offer as long as you'd like, but I do invite you to at least come to our home for a meal and a shower dear boy.'' Agent-A gave Billy a soft and warm smile that almost made the boy forget where he was. Almost, as Hal suddenly blurted out a question, unable to hold his tongue any longer as was typical for the man,

‘’I’m sorry but who the hell is this and what the fuck is happening right now ?! Someone please explain ?! I can’t be the only one that’s completely lost, right ?!'', the lantern exclaimed, desperately looking at the gathered crowd, begging for answers.

All eyes snapped onto the green hero, some of the JL members muttered that they also very much would like an explanation as Red Hood called out a ''Language Glowstick, there are children present.'', while slapping his hands over Robin’s ears, who ducked away while tsking offendedly. Then there was silence as Batman signed something with his hands and the Bats promptly turned towards each other and discussed something between themselves, evident by the quiet chirping the league now knew was actually the Batclan’s secret language.

After a moment and a seemingly quite heated discussion Batman was pushed forward by both Red Robin and Nightwing. He cleared his throat and then spoke in his usual, I-eat-gravel-for-fun, voice, ''Justice League, meet Agent-A. The man that raised me.'' Billy's jaw dropped at that and so did Hal's, Barry's and Green Arrow's. Wonder Woman looked exited at the prospect of meeting the person that raised the Bat, same as Dinah.

''Agent-A is the reason we haven't died yet with our level of self preservation.'' Nightwing declared with much affection and a fond and cheerful smile.

''The best of us all.'' Red Hood added, his tone surprisingly warm and loving.

''Oh you commend me too much my dear children,'' Agent-A said with a fond look in his eyes and small but very warm smile on his lips.

''Well that's great and it's very good to meet you sir,'' Hal said with a charming smile towards the Butler, that was apparently Batman's dad or at least something close to that (Billy's mind was still blown), ''But can we get one thing straight please ? Spooky you gotta have mercy on us non detectives.''

''Hnn.'' The Bat just grunted and gestured for Hal to continue.

The lantern stepped forward and next to Billy so he could have a better view of the Batfamily and everyone else that was present. ''First of, can we all acknowledge for a moment that our teammate that we all thought was an adult is actually a fu- freaking child ?!'' Hal exclaimed while pointing at Billy and looking at all the people present.

Billy felt his face heat up as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. He turned his eyes to the floor.

''Well yeah but that is hardly the weirdest thing to happen in our line of work.'' Arsenal chimed in, the red archer opened his arms and looked around asking for confirmation which he mostly got from the other young heroes present.

''Batson, has always struck me as the most agreeable of the Justice League besides Father. It makes much more sense now why he did.'', Robin stated and even if Billy doubted that that was true, his chest warmed at the other boys words. He met the boy's eyes and gave him an embarrassed but thankful smile, a hint of a smile hushed over Robin’s face before his usual scowl quickly returned.

Hal looked a bit offended but the green hero persevered, ''Okay, fine. Just for the record though I wanna say that a lot of things make much more sense now.'' Hal turned to address Billy, ''I gotta be honest with you, you're not a good liar, taxes are not a weekly thing you know ?'' The lantern smiled at Billy apologetically,

''But like, am I understanding this right ?'' Hal leaned down and tried to take the adoption papers from Billy, who hadn't realized that he was still holding them, though the lantern was unsuccessful as Billy kinda didn't want to let them go. Hal looked a bit sheepish before giving up and deciding to simply point at the stack of papers instead, ''Spooky is trying to adopt said teammate right know. Just like that ?''

''Well that's how he took most of us in, minus the demon brat, so yeah.'' Signal shrugged nonchalantly, he then seemed to think about something before he quickly added, ''And Oracle, he's kinda unofficially co-parenting with her dad which is a special can of worms and spoiler hasn't signed any papers'' He just shrugged as if he didn't just open up more questions than he answered.

''I- I'll just not ask,'' Hal sighed, ''so Spooky just collects kids ? God that sounds so wrong and weird.''

''It's a bad habit of his,'' Red Hood chided in the direction of his father.

''Calling it a bad habit is really an understatement,'' Robin muttered, ''And you cannot chide father, when you've basically taken to adopting all of Crime Alley's kids Hood.''

''Pshhh, haven't actually adopted any,'' The yet went unsaid, ''You do it too Demon brat, just with animals.'' Hood grinned triumphantly as Robin sputtered for a moment before he just did his signature tsk, Billy quietly noted that he didn't refute Hood's words.

''Now, now the man has more questions,'' Nightwing interrupted the banter, an amused smile on his lips.

Hal was silent for a moment before he sighed and carded his hand through his hair in a manner of exasperation. He opened his mouth a few times to ask a question but words seemed to avoid him as in the end he just shook his head and said, “I don’t know what to say, there’s too many questions in my brain and I’m pretty sure you, family of paranoia masters, won’t answer most, if any, of them anyway.”

Batman just grunted his usual “hnn” as confirmation. Billy was sure if Batman could he’d only speak in grunts.

Agent-A seemed to regard Billy for a moment before the man spoke, “We can discuss the offer of adoption over some food. I do insist though that even if you refuse, you’ll at least let us support you in any way possible child. Let me extend that offer to any of your close friend or family if you have any.”, the butler gave Billy a knowing look and the boy had to remind himself that this man had raised the Batman, worlds greatest detective, part of a family in which ‘Like father, like son’ was truer than anywhere else. Of course the man would know or realize that Billy had family even if he didn’t have parents anymore.

Billy had to swallow hard at that revelation as Red Hood walked over to him and offered him a hand to help him stand up. Billy hadn’t even realized that he was still sitting in the crater the lightning bolt created. He hesitantly took the man’s hand and was pulled to his feet with a strong tuck. And as Hood decided to simply pick up Billy, after the boy's legs gave out because of the exhaustion of using all his energy for the day and the shock of Batman offering to adopt him, Billy simply let him.

All Billy could think, as he was carried towards the closest Zeta, was ‘Man, Mary and Freddy will not believe me when I tell them about today.”

And they truly didn't until Billy showed them the adoption papers that he had kept. He did so because he didn't want to seem rude, at least that's the reason he told himself and anyone who asked. Yeah, that's definitely why he kept them. He was absolutely not considering anything.

<- Prev. CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4 | CH5 | CH6

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bomberqueen17 · 5 months ago

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middle-aged stuff

This is the time of year when I have determination and free time so i do all my medical appointments. This year I'm old enough that they want to screen me for colon cancer.

it's funny because current events, so i'm like, ah, it's the downfall of the western world. my taxes are funding genocide and man-babies playing dolls have decided that cruelty makes their enemies squeak satisfyingly and I get to watch babies starve about it. Meaninglessness blah blah. Oh and I have to get all these cancer screenings, and petition my insurance company about having them covered since they're supposed to be. And oh yes this and that. Mundane. Boring.

Also in current ongoing things, my most politically-active IRL friend, who lives over near the farm and dedicated her life from 2016-2024 to the Run For Something kind of aesthetic of trying to reform local politics first, recently (this week) succumbed to a prolonged fight with cancer, and it's incredibly sad and depressing and at least I know she's not seeing what's happening now, but I'm like. Well.

Well I'm taking my cancer screenings seriously I guess. Hers was a special case with many contributing factors but oh my gosh it was brutal and they tried everything and she fought so hard and god, how draining. I said goodbye to her in November, and she was so cheerful about it because that's the kind of person she was. My sister and BIL were taking some of the shifts to sit with her toward the end, so her family could sleep sometimes. It's just so brutal. So.

One thing: this is only the second time I've managed to go get a mammogram, but the form is the same. on the form, they want you to attest: I am not pregnant. And then they give you three boxes you can choose from, for how you can prove to them that you are not pregnant. One: I am postmenopausal. Two: I use an effective birth control. (List it here.) Three: I have undergone surgical contraception/sterilization (List date of procedure). None of these is the extremely, incredibly common scenario that happens to be my scenario, which is My partner has undergone sterilization and I am monogamous. Which I understand is not foolproof-- if you are lying or in some other way not actually living up to the second part of that statement (I myself have in idle thought exercises fallen victim to the extending my I-can't-get-pregnant-by-accident relief to scenarios that of course would not be covered by it; I'm sure many people over the ages have absentmindedly forgotten that their Foolproof Birth Control that affects only their partners actually makes it *more* important that they avoid all contact with anyone else.) But good Christ if I am lying, even to mysef, then this form is void. It kind of drives me nuts every time and I know they don't really care it's a CYA form but oh my god. (There's also no option for I am not sexually active or I am not sexually active with a partner who could impregnate me, which are also both foolproof and common scenarios!)

But as for colon cancer screenings, I'm gonna put that behind a cut.

There's this newfangled thing right. You can either go in for a colonoscopy, which is a routine and basic and fine normal thing people do all the time don't even worry about it, OR they can send you a kit where you submit your uh relevant excreta for testing and they look at it and find out if you have the DNA or other markers of cancer in that, and it's good for only 3 years instead of the 10 that a colonoscopy is good for, but I was like well, I will try that and see how it goes.

Friends. Friends. I thought, I am a person who, due to my lifestyle, quite often shits in a bucket in the woods, I am not precious about my toileting facilities, to be perfectly blunt. But I discovered that it is extremely difficult to contemplate shitting in a box in your own house, and then taking that box, nicely-packaged as it is, and sealing it up all nice and bringing it to a UPS store to drop off, and the outside of it has the testing company's logo and slogan, which mention the colon, prominently emblazoned.

It was not trivial. And at one point, as I struggled with my body's reluctance, I thought, it would probably have been better to take the turbolaxatives they give you, and the indicator liquid, and go and get buttwanded in a hospital. So I will do that next time.

All this is just to say, when you reach the appropriate age for such a thing, do not fall victim to thinking "shitting in a box at home sounds way easier than shitting for twelve hours and then going and being sedated in a hospital" like, by default. It may well be, you may well have really good reasons to think that, but my gosh. It was not as much easier as I'd expected.

(It's not really shitting in a box they send you a whole kit with the collection container and a sample thingy and preservative and a sealing lid and a hundred pages of instructions and a video you can watch that's sort of disturbingly clean and smiley but like. In the end. It's you, and this box, and your sense of self.) (Actually it would have been significantly easier for me to have done this in the woods than in my own house, now I think back on it. Context is king.)

anyway. anyway.

oh and. am i insane or did doctors used to be able to send prescriptions/referrals straight to the other facility? I showed up for my mammogram having left the piece of paper the doctor gave me about it on the kitchen table at home, and said as much to the receptionist. "Should I drive home and get it?" I asked-- 22 minutes each way-- and she said no no, i'll call them, but i have to call them, I can't go ahead and do the test without the thing. Best if i can speak directly to them and get a verbal approval. (What? do we not have emails anymore?)

She came to me and was like "they're not picking up and I have to check in other customers, can you call them" so of course when I called them I got right through, and they said oh we can send it, but the fax doesn't always work, so if you need a verbal, call right back and we'll pick up. I wanted to hand the phone straight to this receptionist but she was checking in a disoriented 84-year-old and I felt I really couldn't break in. So I hung up, the receptionist then said the fax thing hadn't worked, so I called back. The phone rang until it automatically hung up.

The confused 84-year-old who'd arrived after me went in for her screening. The sixtysomething with a cane who'd come in after her went in for her screening. The thirtysomething with impeccable nails who'd come in later than either of them went in for her screening.

20 minutes on hold later, I finally got through, to a different person at the doctor's office who could not understand what I wanted, did not know what to do, I finally handed my phone over to the receptionist at the radiology clinic, who managed to convey to this person what we needed.

God, I miss the like. halcyon good old days of 2012 when they could actually electronically send one another forms. And when not everyone was so horrifyingly understaffed that the prerecorded phone thing had twenty minutes of material on it because they know they won't get to your call.

Nobody wants to work anymore I guess????

Ugh. It was incredibly stressful and time-consuming and meant that I was so sweaty by the time the tech was trying to take images of me that she yelled at me for having put product on. (No ma'am, that's just stress sweat, you told me I couldn't have deodorant remember?) Had to baby-wipe myself off and then dry off on the ludicrous hospital gown. Ay yi yi. But I got my squashed glamor shots, and I am here to reassure you that all those horror stories about mammograms hurting are really for itty bitty titty types, if you have gazongas you can just plunk up there & it's a ton easier for them to get good pictures. So don't worry. It's not pleasant but like, i can basically stand outside the room while they're doing it. (No, this is hyperbole. I did take ibuprofen afterward but there were other contributing factors. My first time, when I was not so sweaty and stressed last year, was much easier.)

i am getting a lot of writing done. much of it is The Wrong Thing but it's all good. it's all good.

#about the author #cancer screenings #tw cancer #mammograms

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pedulum-chronometry · 3 months ago

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Cobel thoughts under the cut

Honestly, going back a rewatching Severance season 1 gives a whole new light to some things.

Like, Cobel gave me the ‘bad wrong crazy’ vibes throughout season 1 but upon finishing the most recent episodes, Sweet Vitriol in particular, like I get it now. I get her now.

The busybody eccentric neighbor routine makes more sense. Harmony grew up wearing bland corporate dress, of course when she crafted her very own ‘outie’ persona they were gonna dress like an aging hippie and own a shop that sells dubiously helpful skin creams, aromatherapy/essential oils, and probably crystals too. Like that’s the ultimate anti-establishment persona in her head. Corporate power structures don’t facilitate meaningful interpersonal interactions. No wonder she puts on the overly familiar facade and weaponizes it. No wonder she is controlled and cold at all times. She can’t afford to be anything other than her bland and calm worksona at all times. Her freak out when she almost runs over Mark might be the first true emotional outburst she’s had in years.

What is wild, is seeing her ask after Mark and like actually mean it. First watch through, she’s overly familiar then creepy and controlling/overreaching, but upon rewatch…. I’m not sure I would say she cares exactly, but you can see Harmony looking at this unfunctioning stuck-in-grief man and just thinking ‘Severance is helping him, right?’. You can see the calculations going on behind her eyes.

Like that’s her technology. She build it in response to her cult job and cult-ier home life. She was also denied the opportunity to undergo the procedure herself. She fashioned her own medicine but can’t take her cure. The next best thing is making sure it is working as intended. That’s why Harmony is overly invested in Mark chronically-hungover-at-work Scout. That’s why she needs to be running the Severed floor more than anyone has ever needed anything.

After she’s fired she’s adrift and clinging to whatever is around. And there Mark is, who she still cares for in a way. So she goes to the book reading and boom! it happens.

Mark, her number one hard case, goes ‘it’s just work, right?’ And in response she looks noticeably lighter and thoughtful for just one second - like it has just occurred to her right at that second that Harmony can and should separate her work and personal life. That there is more to life than work. That she is more than what her employer values in her.

It takes the Severed man, who has enforced work life separation (that she designed and made work!), for Harmony to finally see through the cult bullshit - that Lumon isn’t worth what it costs to not have that separation between professional and personal. I’m not sure she really understands it yet in that moment but the seed is planted. She gave Lumon/the Eagans everything and they threw her away when she became inconvenient or rather when she endangered someone who actually mattered to them.

Prediction-wise: This is why I don’t think she’ll turn Mark in to Lumon. Harmony is a very purposeful individual. She has literally torn up her worship of Lumon/the Eagans. She may have returned to them for a bit because it was what she’s programmed to do but she also chose to leave afterwards. (I really liked her turning around multiple times. Leaving a cult mindset isn’t easy so showing visually setbacks was great) She went and confronted her grief of her mother and abusive home to retrieve her designs. She could just fuck up Lumon by going to the press - or blackmail something out of Lumon i guess - but she chooses to show up for Mark. She’s still concerned/invested in him. Cobel, weirdly enough, cares about the people that chose Severance. The designs are hers. Her Severance. The Severed are hers, too, it would seem.

#severance #harmony cobel #I’m having thoughts about Cobel

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janeykath318 · 4 months ago

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No Gold Allowed (Kirk x Reader)

You arrived on the Enterprise just before the rebuilt ship departed the Yorktown Starbase. The joy of getting back into space was mixed with the eagerness to escape all vestiges of the scandal that had caused your abrupt exit from your previous ship. You’d gone through years of therapy, which had definitely helped boost your confidence in yourself again, but the emotional scars you carried were always going to be there.

The number one rule you’d given yourself was

No Getting Involved With Gold. Never Again. The command types were attractive, but also ego driven, cocky, and susceptible to infidelity, as you’d discovered to your deep shame.

Nevertheless, you were awestruck by the beauty that was the Enterprise as you prepared to board her.

“Wow!” you breathed.

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” murmured a voice beside you.

You looked around to see a man, gazing up at the Enterprise with an even dreamier expression on his face than you had had.

“Very much so. I look forward to getting to work on her famous engines,” you said. “Keep me nice and busy and hopefully far, far away from anyone in a gold shirt.”

The man cocked his head toward you with a rather startled expression.

“Oh? Not a fan of command?”

“I prefer to keep my distance. I have a lot of respect for Captain Kirk and I know he’s a great captain, but I can do the respecting from a professional distance. Preferably long distance.”

“That’s fair,” the man chuckled. “He’s kind of a lot. Makes his friends crazy sometimes. Just ask Doctor McCoy.”

“I honestly look forward to meeting the doctor,” you said. “He sounds like an interesting character.”

Your unknown companion laughed, lighting up his attractive face.

“Oh, he is,” he confirmed, blue eyes twinkling at you. “A stubborn, grumpy, genius character.”

“Good to know,” you said lightly. “I can deal with grumps. I can’t deal with fakes.”

Something flickered in his eyes for a second, but he didn’t say anything. You stood there in silence for a few moments, then you sighed.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you on the Enterprise,” you said.

“Probably from a professional distance,” he said, slightly apologetically.

“Ah. Too bad,” you said, lips quirking up as you turned away. “You seemed kinda nice, too.”

Your fresh start on the Enterprise was off to a good start three weeks in, as you’d quickly adjusted to the new routine and made several friends in both engineering and medical. Your new boss was incredibly awesome and every bit the eccentric genius of his reputation. You’d already learned quite a bit from him and greatly enjoyed the after shift drinking and tall tale telling sessions.

The only slight blip on your serenity had happened the second day out from space dock. You were eating in the mess hall and a familiar looking man in a gold shirt smiled and nodded at you on his way to his table. When you saw his rank stripes, your eyes widened and you realized you’d been talking crap about command gold to Captain Kirk of all people. He’d taken it in surprisingly good stride, considering what you’d said. You wondered if he’d call you out on it, but as the days flew past, he kept the professional distance that you’d declared you wanted, other than the smiling and winking he did whenever he saw you in the mess hall.

Scotty caught up to you one day as you were finishing up a routine maintenance procedure.

“Lieutenant Y/L/N, I hate to break it to you, but your turn has come up for your personnel meeting with the Captain. I can’t put it off any longer. Jim gave me THE FACE.”

You sighed and wiped the oil off your hands. “It was inevitable. Gotta put on my big girl pants. When does he want to see me?”

“Tomorrow afternoon. I’ll confirm the exact time in a moment,” Scotty answered, typing into his PADD. “And don’t worry. Jim just likes to get to know his crew a bit.”

You were still wary, but you braced yourself and showed up in the Captain’s ready room a few minutes early. The interviewee before you walked out with a smile on their face and body language that gave off relaxed vibes. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

Then Kirk was directing you to come in and you sat down across from him at the big table that took up most of the room.

“We meet again, Lieutenant,” Kirk began, smiling at you. “I know you’re not a fan, so we’ll try to make this as quick and painless as possible. First off, how is the new ship treating you?”

“Very well, sir,” you answered. “The engineering staff is awesome and Scotty is in a league of his own.”

“They’ve been welcoming to you?”

“Very much so. I haven’t felt this comfortable since my very first post on theYorktown.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Kirk approved. “No gold shirts cause you trouble?”

“Surprisingly, No. I did learn not to try to out drink Ensign Chekov,” you admitted, provoking another grin from Kirk.

“We all have to learn that the hard way, I think,” he admitted, with a rueful smile.

He asked you a few more standard questions which you answered easily and then you took the opportunity to ask one of your own.

“Captain, I’m assuming you read my personnel file since we first talked that day and I wondered if you heard about the…….mess that precipitated my transfer from the Excalibur.”

You dropped your eyes for a second, feeling a bit vulnerable in wondering how he’d react. You shouldn’t care, but somehow you did.

When you looked back up, Jim’s face had turned serious.

“I did. Your husband lost his command for conduct unbecoming. Being cheated on and having your name dragged through the mud would make me feel strongly about command types, too.”

“I’m still working through the emotional fall out,” you admitted. “But I shouldn’t have made that remark about fakes. You’re the last person who could be considered a fake.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve been called a lot worse,” Kirk said wryly.

“Ben was such a charmer. I’m still embarrassed by how I fell for his act,” you sighed. “I hate that it wrecked my trust in people, I really do. A lot of people rave about how charming you are and it put my hackles up.”

“So, why did you accept the transfer?” he asked curiously.

“My need for a fresh start overrode my suspicion of charming captains,” you told him honestly. “It helped that you weren’t one of Ben’s friends and I felt I would at least be treated fairly. When I tell you that last month on the Excalibur was hell, I’m not exaggerating.”

“His buddies blamed you and retaliated?”

“In every way they could short of getting caught,” you told him. “I won’t willingly set foot on that ship again.”

“Please inform me if you encounter one of that kind on my ship. I will not allow that kind of behavior to go on on my watch.”

Kirk’s gaze bored into yours intensely and you could see he was fired up about the wrongs you’d experienced.

“I appreciate that, Captain,” you said gratefully. “So far, I haven’t met anyone who knew Ben, but I’ll be on my guard.”

After you’d left, Jim sat and thought about the situation for a long time. He’d clashed with your ex a couple times and hadn’t been very surprised to hear of his dishonorable discharge. It would have to be a complete scum to cheat on you, he thought hotly. Jim had liked you from that first anonymous conversation and he wanted nothing more than to win your trust.

A couple months went by and on the surface nothing appeared to have changed, but you’d started waving back when he greeted you during meals. He thought your smile was stunning, rare though it was.

You’d finally met Doctor McCoy and were definitely a fan, finding a sympathetic listener to your ugly experience when you explained the reasoning behind your no gold allowed stance.

“Hey, I swore off women for a long time after my divorce,” he commented. “Learning to trust again was a journey. But I can tell you, it does get better. I’ve heard you’ve hung out with Chekov, so it sounds like you’ve already loosened the rule a tad.”

“He’s a kid,” you shrugged. “Doesn’t really count.”

“Oh, don’t let that innocence fool you. Chekov can flirt with the ladies quite naturally,” McCoy chuckled. “I’ve seen him at it.”

“I think he prefers them a little younger,” you laughed.

Your first trip to the bridge occurred when Scotty was knee deep in one of the panels and could not be spared for the Captain’s request to check out an issue with the lift. He pulled out the full pleading face that you could never resist, so you grabbed your kit and headed up, surprisingly calm about the prospect.

When you emerged onto the bridge, it bustled with activity and seemed like just another normal workspace. Your gaze flitted briefly to the captain’s chair, which you’d expected would be a trigger source, but the back you saw in the chair was not the big burly one of your ex, but Kirk’s. He turned around when he heard the Lift door open and looked very surprised before he walked over to you.

“Lieutenant Y/L/N reporting, Captain. Scotty sent me up here to look at a lift issue?”

“Oh, yes. The doors on the other lift seem to be malfunctioning, Lieutenant. Doctor McCoy and I were stuck for a few minutes. But how did Scotty convince you to come up here?”

“Oh, you know. His pleading Scottish terrier eyes and promises of a bottle of his favorite scotch. I do admit, though, it’s a gorgeous bridge.”

Kirk beamed at you and you felt like you’d just had a ray of sunshine pass through you.

“I think so, too,” he said fondly, looking over his crew with the affection of a proud papa. Another difference between him and your ex.

You asked him some mechanical questions about the lift door malfunction, which quickly allowed you to diagnose the problem and get to work on it. In about twenty minutes, you had it back in order and after making several tests, you confirmed the doors were working properly again.

“She’s all good, Captain!” you reported. “Tests were successful.”

“Thank you, lieutenant! One less thing for Bones to complain about.”

You laughed. The doctor’s rants were well known on the ship, even down in Engineering.

“Glad I could spare you from that,” you chuckled. “See ya around, Captain.”

This time, you winked at him as you walked away and Jim’s jaw dropped a bit. Was he making a little bit of progress with you?

Jim started to make occasional trips down to engineering, ostensibly to chat mechanical stuff with Scotty, but really to see you in your natural environment. He was more and more impressed with your skill, knowledge, and delightfully warped (pun intended) sense of humor.

You still only came up to the bridge if it was an actual necessity, but not because you wanted to avoid Jim. It was the potential for gossip, which you’d been a victim of in absolutely brutal fashion. It made you mentally panic when he asked you to sit with him at lunch one day. Seeing the look on your face, he hastened to assure you it was fine if you didn’t want to.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, Captain,” you explained, “I’ve just stumbled across something else I need to talk to my therapist about: crippling fear of gossip. Ugh. When will I ever be able to get past it?”

You facepalmed in frustration.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m not upset,” Jim assured you. “Healing takes time and you’ve been through a lot. I just want to know one thing. Would you object to spending some time with me if there wasn’t any possibility of gossip?”

“No,” you whispered, amazed that you were able to say that. But there was something in your heart that told you it was okay.

“That is very good to know,” Jim told you, eyes twinkling again. “Have a great day, Y/N.”

He went and sat down by Bones, and you finished your meal in a bit of a daze, unable to keep from frequently glancing his way.

“He’s a pretty one, isn’t he?” Scotty chuckled from beside you.

“That he is,” you agreed. “And really nice. I never would have expected it.”

“James Tiberius Kirk may be a bit of a mad bastard, but he has an absolutely good heart. I’ve watched him mature a lot over the years and let me tell you, there is no other captain in the fleet that I’d rather serve under. You thinking of changing your mind about the No Gold Allowed rule?”

You gave him a look that was part exasperation, part terror and he gave you an encouraging pat on the back.

Meanwhile Jim was confiding his hopes and plans to his best friend.

“You’re really into her, aren’t you?” Bones asked, eyebrow raised.

“I am,” Jim admitted. “I kinda feel like it’s two steps forward, one step back sometimes.”

“Yep,” Bones confirmed knowingly. “It’ll be like that. Remember how prickly I was to you that first semester at the acedemy?”

“Oh, do I!” Jim laughed. “A cactus would have been softer. But a friendship with you was well worth the occasional prickle AND the obnoxious hypos.”

“I’ll remind you of that the next time you’re whining in my Medbay,” Bones retorted, giving his bestie a smirk. “But seriously, Jim, just keep on being patient with her. I think your interest is definitely returned, judging by the looks she shoots you.”

Life continued on for a few weeks and Jim didn’t try to ask you again, but he did ask if he could message you. This turned out to be a great gateway for you and you found out that Kirk was even more thoughtful and brainy than he usually showed. You found it wasn’t hard to open up to him and you quickly came to rely on your daily text exchanges.

Scotty noticed you were smiling a lot more and even joking around with your fellow engineers.

Bones noticed you were less stressed and tense.

Spock complimented you on improved efficiency and professional expertise.

Uhura praised your skills when you fixed her console.

“Don’t look now, but the Captain’s got the major heart eyes for you,” she whispered, as you finished putting things back together. You felt your face heat in a way it hadn’t in a long time.

“Does he?” you replied, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, yeah. Jim’s not great with the poker face to begin with and reading people is my job, so I can see it from a mile away.”

You let a small smile escape.

“Good luck, lieutenant,” Uhura said softly.

“Thank you,” you replied gratefully.

You’re awesome.

Just doing my job.

Well, you’re really awesome at it.

Thanks, Jim.

You whistled as you headed back to engineering and Spock suddenly had a realization, looking from you to Jim, who was grinning like a loon watching you leave.

“Fascinating,” he commented.

“Oh, it’s very fascinating, Commander,” Uhura grinned.

Your unconventional romance prospered, though it certainly confused people. Word did spread around that the Captain was seeing you, but clearly, Jim commanded enough respect that even if tongues did wag, you didn’t hear it.

Your heart skipped several beats the day you accidentally brushed your fingers against his while leaving the mess hall together.

“Sorry, Captain,” you apologized.

“Don’t be,” Jim said, with a smile that plainly showed he was the opposite of sorry. “I feel some sparks flying, Y/N.”

“Yeah. Me too,” you admitted. “I hope we didn’t scandalize Spock. That was pretty spicy from his perspective.”

Jim chuckled. “Spock’s already gone back to the bridge, so no worries there. I honestly wouldn’t care even if he was scandalized. I like you a lot, Y/N. Maybe we’ll be eating together next time?” he added boldly.

“I’d like that,” you said warmly. As you reached the lifts and prepared to part, Jim gave your hand a quick squeeze.

“I’ll look forward to it.” He said, blue eyes locking with yours with decided intent before he stepped into the lift.

Now I know how those Old Earth regency era heroines felt. You thought. I’m coming undone from a hand touch!

Unfortunately, the promised lunch was delayed by a disastrous away mission.

You were commed by Scotty in the middle of the day and the seriousness in his voice made the snarky comment you were about to make die in your throat.

“Lieutenant, you need to get to Medbay. Jim’s been hurt.”

“How badly?” you managed.

“Leonard wasn’t even swearing at him,” Scotty sighed. “Which is not a good sign.”

“The Captain and I aren’t really official,” you admitted. “But thank you for calling me. I’ll be right down.”

“Lass, you may not be official, but you clearly have Jim’s heart. I hope he’ll man up and tell you soon. Scott out.”

You closed your comm, emotions in a whirl. This was it. A true test to see if you could handle the stress of loving a captain again. There was a knot in your stomach as you headed to sickbay, wondering if Jim would be a scary patient like your ex and if Bones would even tell you anything.

The look on the Doctor’s face when you walked in had you petrified, but you forced yourself to walk over beside Scotty.

“What happened?” you croaked.

“Jim ended up on the wrong side of an old fashioned gun,” Bones said grimly. “Some welcoming planet that was.��

“Oh, dear. Will he………?” You couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence.

“Yes, but it was a close one. I didn’t have time to call anyone before rushing him into surgery. He was asking for you, though.”

Bones gave you an apologetic look, but you were hung up on the last statement.

“He was asking for me?” you said, voice cracking.

“Yes. You can see him, but I’ve gotta warn you, he looks pretty rough and he probably won’t wake up for a while.”

You nodded and took a steadying breath.

“Yes, I’d like to see him.”

You had to cover your mouth with your hand to choke back a horrified sound when you saw Jim.

He was ghostly pale, except for random purple bruises across his face and torso, which was mostly covered in bandages.

“You want to rant at him, be my guest,” Bones grumbled. “I just sprouted two more grey hairs today.”

“He seems to have a way of doing that,” you agreed, with a weak smile. “But he certainly has a way of worming his way into your heart and making you break all your own rules.”

“He does, dammit,” the doctor sighed, looking fondly at Jim. “Well, I’ll leave you be for now.”

He left the room and you sat down next to Jim, grateful to see the steady vitals on the monitor.

“Hey, Jim. You need to hang in there, okay? We never got that first date. I don’t care what anyone says, I want to share a million meals with you, honey. I told myself I’d never fall for a captain again, but there you go stealing my heart like the maverick rule breaker you are.”

You chuckled and wiped a tear away.

“I swear, James T. Kirk, you’d better get better, you hear me? I freaking love you, you ridiculously pretty man.”

It was some time before Jim woke up, but when he did, you were still there, holding his hand.

“Y/N. You’re here,” he croaked. “Sorry about lunch.”

More tears ran down your face and you gave a chuckle that sounded more like a sob. Loopy and bruised as he was, the sight of his crooked little smile brought the emotions out.

“Jim, I take back all my nonsense about professional distance. I love you and you make gold look beautiful to me again.”

“Oh, Y/N,” Jim sighed, eyes lighting up with a happy spark. “I love you, too. I wish I was up for a little less professionalism, if you know what I mean.”

He winked and smirked at you, bringing heat to your cheeks and another chuckle from your throat.

“Now that sounds like the Kirk I heard about,” you teased him. “But hopefully, you’ll use it as motivation to follow Bones’s directions so you heal properly. We’ve got a lot of shenanigans to get into, professional and otherwise.”

“I like the way you think, Y/N.” Jim approved.

#star trek aos #james t kirk #james t kirk x reader #fem! reader

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