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splinteredmercies · 2 months ago

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hold for trauma

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pairing: samira mohan/original female character (eva viteri)

contains: latina original character. home-cooked meals as love language. queerplatonic vibes that might not stay platonic (it won't). no bench scene; this is my sandbox, and i dicate what goes.

word count: 2,156

author's note: almost the same note as ao3 but -- eva has been living in my drafts since february 12. i told myself to wait until the entire season was out, and lo and behold: season one of the pitt is over. / this feels really niche, but i hope some people will see the vision, lol.

After PittFest, Eva takes one look at Dr. Mohan and decides the R3 in a dire need of a home-cooked meal and a place to decompress. It’s no big deal; attendings are supposed to look after residents during perilous times, right?

“Fuck,” Eva hisses, limping into the hospital.

Rolling her ankle while walking to the hospital isn’t what she wanted to happen. Not at all. But her nose was buried in a copy of The September House, and really, what else did she expect?

She limps past Central, aiming for the lockers and staff lounge, and catches Perlah’s attention. “You alright there, Dr. Viteri?”

“Oh, sure. I’m having an amazing morning. Peachy, really.” Eva looks up at the board. It seems the night shift had a rough night. “I guess that won’t last long.”

Still, Perlah lingers, and her eyes pointedly travel down to the leg Eva isn’t holding weight on. Eva smiles and jokingly says, “Don’t walk and read at the same time.”

“Again, Eva?” Dana’s voice comes from behind her, and Eva tilts her head toward the charge nurse.

“Jesus, that was like my first month here, Dana.”

A lingering sense of shame zips down Eva’s spine, and the reminder unwillingly enters her mind. Eva would have been okay with falling, perfectly capable of getting up and brushing off her clothes as if nothing had happened. But Abbot had been the one to haul her off the ground and make her his first patient of the night despite her protests. Eva remembers that she hadn’t even worked a shift with the night staff yet, which is mortifying.

“Did I make that much of an impression on y’all?”

The contraction of “you all” falls from Eva’s tongue, sweet and slow like the honey she religiously swallows every morning. But no one says anything; Eva has been here a year, and most of the staff is accustomed to the way her voice dips into Southern tones with certain words and phrases.

“We called you Dr. Bookworm for the rest of the rotation.”

“You, what?”

Dana laughs and bumps her shoulder to hers. “If it’s any consolation, only Langdon will call you that nowadays.”

Eva’s nose wrinkles. It isn’t a surprise that Langdon still has the gall to do so. “Add him to today’s shit list.”

“It’s not even 7 am yet! You usually wait ‘til noon to add him.” Dana breezes past the point, circling back to Eva’s ankle. “Wanna start with ibuprofen or acetaminophen, hon?”

“Probably ibuprofen. I think I’ll be fine in a couple of hours. It was more a scare than anything else—the kraken is still here?” Dana confirms his presence, still waiting for a bed in psych, and Eva breathes out, “Jesus. Hasn’t it been a week already?”

“Yeah. He’s on Zyprexa. That’ll have him down for a bit.”

“Until all hell breaks loose. And then we’ll have to say our prayers.” Dana and Eva share an amused look, and Eva motions to her backpack with a twirl of her fingers. “I’ll be right back. I packed only one Celsius today! I hope you’re proud of me, Dana.”

“When you’re voluntarily reducing your caffeine consumption? Always!”

Eva restrains herself from turning around and sticking out her tongue. She’s getting far too old for those impulses. Eva drops her things in the lockers and her lunchbag in the staff lounge’s fridge; there’s some masking tape on it, hastily labeled “VITERI” with a marker from her junk drawer.

Eva returns to Central with the aforementioned Celsius in one hand and an oversized water bottle in the other. The bottle bounces loosely across her thigh as she carries it limply while walking.

“No more needles!”

Even with how busy the ER is, the shout echoes, and Eva’s eyes are drawn to the sources. She steps to the side, watching as Princess sprints behind the naked man. Perlah and a security guard quickly follow her. Eva sighs loudly and falls beside Langdon. “It is officially twenty minutes into our shift, and we’ve seen a naked man afraid of needles.”

“We’ve only got twelve hours ahead of us.” Langdon cracks open his Red Bull. “What are your thoughts on dogs?”

“Oh, I am not doing this today, Langdon. You’re already on my shit list. Bother the med students about it.” Eva ignores his astonished “Already?” and watches the board again. “Abbot’s UGI bleed is still waiting on that surgical consult. I’ll see if I can sweet-talk them to come down here sooner rather than later.”

“Better you than me,” Langdon scrolls through something, and his fingers fly over the keyboard. “I don’t know how you get the consults down here so fast. What’s your secret?”

“I pay homage to my ancestors and Mother Earth everyday, asking for abundance and good luck.”

Langdon pauses typing; his eyes narrow at her in confusion. “I thought you were Catholic.”

“I am a woman of many multitudes, Dr. Langdon.” She grabs the phone and dials the surgical department’s extension. “Which is why you should listen to me when I say that your wife doesn’t need another thing to take care of.”

“I’m going to ask Dana—”

“—She will say the same thing!”

Eva and Langdon squabble until Robby arrives with a group of fresh faces. She watches them, cataloging faces and names, as she finally gets a surgical consult to come down for the UGI bleed.

With a rolled ankle and an ensemble of medical students and residents, Eva hopes the shift will be productive, even with Robby’s personal history with this date.

Popping up from her position, Eva does not take any of the new faces to update on the UGI bleed from her successful mission of obtaining the surgical consult. There will be plenty of opportunities for them to learn today, just not at this moment.

She can’t wait to get home and knock out, preferably with Connie around her legs. Eva has never worked a shift of this magnitude before; her legs feel like jelly, even though the pain in her ankle has subsided, and she smells of sweat and antiseptics. Despite wearing her favorite clip, it tugs oddly at her hair, and with her adrenaline wearing off, a headache begins to set in by the time Eva ambles past Mohan.

“Dr. Mohan.” Eva watches as the younger doctor whirls around to look at her. Mohan is on her own special dosage of adrenaline, and Eva barely contains a sigh.

“Dr. Viteri! Where do you need me?”

“I need you to go home, Dr. Mohan, preferably before you keel over.” Mohan opens her mouth to protest, and Eva wonders when Mohan has last ate a full meal. She questions Mohan lightly, “Do you like lasagna?”

“Lasagna?”

“Yeah, like the Italian dish. I left it prepped this morning; all it will need is an hour in the oven.” Eva pauses. Mohan is still wound up, limbs drawn tightly; the R3 almost looks like a scared animal preparing for defense. “I have a cat. He’s an attention whore, if you’re interested in animal-assisted therapy.”

“I—” Mohan’s limbs sag minutely, and her eyes trail over Eva’s face. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t offer it if I weren’t. We should leave before Gloria comes down to yell at Robby about having to pay us overtime.” Mohan laughs hesitantly and seems confused at their interaction. Eva continues, “We’ll eat dinner, and I’ll take you home. You are still taking the bus, right?”

Mohan falters minutely. “You noticed?”

“You’re my resident, Dr. Mohan. What sort of attending would I be if I don’t keep an eye on you all? And I don’t think anyone should be alone after tonight.”

Briefly, the last few hours flash by Eva’s mind. So many people, crying out in pain; Eva has felt their heartbeats in her hand, felt their blood flow through her fingers. She watched how life drained from their eyes, one after the other, and can still feel the way one patient clutched her disposable white gown, begging for someone to call their mother.

Eva hasn’t left the hospital grounds yet, but she knows she will schedule a meeting with her therapist as soon as possible, even if it means paying out of pocket.

“Right…” Mohan observes her; her pretty doe eyes inquisitively travel over Eva’s face. Eva isn’t sure how to categorize Mohan’s reactions and hopes that the younger doctor isn’t taking offense to something.

“I live in Shadyside, though. Are you sure?”

It’s not an immediate “no,” and Eva smiles reassuringly. “I’m sure, Dr. Mohan. I’m going to check on one more thing. Meet me in Central when you’re ready.”

It’s odd to lead Mohan into her home.

Eva doesn’t regret her decision, nor will she, but very few people have seen her home, breathed in the air, and cohabited in the same rooms.

Valeria has been here for a night or two to attend concerts, as some of her favorite artists are seemingly opposed to playing anywhere near their family home. Ava and Logan are familiar with the cozy little corner of her living room through the lenses of Zoom, although they probably know the place just as well because it was their mother’s childhood home.

But they don’t count; Valeria is her youngest sibling, and Ava and Logan have been part of Eva’s life for years since ole’ Professor Nardi took her on as a mentee.

This is entirely different. Mohan is a coworker and her resident, but Mohan also needs a home-cooked meal more than Eva does. She needs comfort, for a willing ear to listen for an hour or two. Eva can practically hear Valeria ranting about “eldest daughter parentification in Latinx families,” but she ignores the thought and helps Mohan hang her bag on the hooks by the door.

Eva serves Mohan a calming blend of chamomile tea and makes small talk while the lasagna is being baked. It’s a lot of superficial talk; the sort of questions and answers they’ve done hundreds of times when the ebb and flow of patients slows down enough to allow it.

“Connie should be around here,” Eva tells Mohan, sliding the honey pot and dipper toward the younger doctor. “He’s a Maine Coon, so he’s very hard to miss when he’s walking around.”

“Maine Coon—aren’t those rare?”

“Yeah, I got lucky finding him—ah, there he is!” Connie emerges from the darkened hallway, and Eva coos and scoops him up in her arms with practiced ease. “Connie, this Dr. Samira Mohan, the smartest doctor we have at the Pitt.”

Mohan smiles at Connie as Eva slides him into her lap, handing her a treat to bribe him to stay. Eva turns away and begins to prepare a quick salad. They are in a quiet and comfortable ambiance until Mohan interrupts with a hesitant question: “You really think I’m the smartest?”

“Of course, I do.” Eva blinks, wondering where this question comes from. Had she not emphasized her admiration for Mohan before? Mohan is silent, and Eva peeks at her through her eyelashes. “Have I not said it before?”

“No—you—” Mohan seems to struggle for a moment, eyes focused on Connie instead of her. “You do in your own way. You don’t really single anyone out. Dr. Collins says you’re too busy trying to be fair with everyone to have a favorite.”

That’s… that’s a funny thought. Eva’s lips quirk and she busies herself with chopping cilantro.

“You know? I got a job after high school, to put myself through undergrad. I worked with a lot of younger girls who were still in high school, and more than once they said I was tough nut to crack.” She drizzles olive oil and lemon juice into the salad bowl, adding salt and freshly cracked pepper to taste. Eva continues speaking, “So, you’re not the first to say that they’re unsure of what I think of them, and you won’t be the last.”

Mohan seems to digest the information, her fingers deftly petting Connie’s forehead. “Dr. Robby told me to be more like you today.”

“He said that? To you? You have nearly perfect patient scores!”

“He was telling me I take too long with patients.” A million things enter Eva’s mind, namely complaints about capitalism and the nature of American healthcare, but she keeps her mouth shut and lets Mohan speak. “Almost everyone calls me Slo-Mo, but you don’t.”

“You never call me Dr. Bookworm,” Eva shoots back, and then sighs quietly. “Names have power, and you don’t seem like the type of person to appreciate a nickname like that. And you’re not slow; you’re careful. That’s not the same thing.”

A beat, and Mohan says, “Thank you.”

They share a smile ladened with mutual understanding.

Eva turns away and begins preparing the kitchen island for their meal. She sets the dinnerware on it, which clinks against the granite. “Since we are breaking bread together, I think you can call me Eva instead of Dr. Viteri. Outside of work, of course.”

“And you can call me Samira.” There’s a small quirk to Samira’s lips now, and she sips her tea carefully. “Outside of work, of course.”

#oc: eva maria viteri #the pitt fanfiction #samira mohan/original female character #samira mohan #the pitt

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