Chapter Text
(then)
“Welcome to Human Physiology One.” The professor’s voice is sharp as he surveys the packed lecture hall with a beady gaze.
Brooke unconsciously straightens in her seat. Her fingers drum against her desk, a mixture of nervous energy and excitement alike.
She’s made it to the University of Toronto for Health Sciences at the undergraduate level, which means she’s one step closer to getting into U of T’s prestigious medical school a few years down the line. She’s already secured shadowing and volunteer jobs in most of the hospitals located along Hospital Row, because, well, she has to.
How else is she going to become a surgeon?
The professor continues on. “This course is going to cover all of the major bodily systems - circulatory, neurological, urological, immune systems, and more at the basic level. Enough to give you a general understanding of how they work.”
He fixes them with a beady gaze. “Make no mistake, though. The introductory nature of this class doesn’t mean that it’ll be easy like the rest of your 100 level courses. If you are expecting such, feel free to leave through the doors now.”
No one does.
“Very well.” The professor pulls up a PowerPoint. “You can read the syllabus on your own time. We’re starting on neuro.”
“Sorry, excuse me, sorry-” Brooke looks over to see her row being disrupted as a girl in an oversized jacket that brushes her thighs shuffles in towards the only empty seat left in the lecture hall. The one beside Brooke.
Brooke feels a flash of irritation. Who’s late on the first damn day?
The girl settles in, dropping her messenger bag and pulling out her laptop. She flashes a smile at Brooke, one that falters when Brooke doesn’t immediately return it.
Brooke turns away from the girl, turning her attention back to the lecture. Her hands fly over her keyboard, writing down everything that is coming out of the professor’s mouth because what if something he mentions now ends up being really important and shows up on the final exam? She doesn’t want to miss anything.
Except for the fact that the girl’s leg is bouncing up and down beside her.
Brooke’s trying to write a note about synapses and neural clefts, but the girl is twitching so much, leg bouncing on her seat, that she finds focusing on the professor’s voice practically impossible. The edge of the girl’s shirt-dress is rising higher and higher over her thighs, revealing more and more of her fishnet tights underneath-
Nope. Brooke’s gotta focus. She’s missed at least two things that the professor’s said already and it’s only the first lecture. She can’t start off like this.
Brooke keeps typing, albeit a bit slower because the girl’s bouncing leg is incredibly distracting and god fucking damn it, why can’t people just sit still in class?
But then the girl raises her hand, leaning forward in her seat and Brooke realizes that she’s missed the question that the professor has asked the class. Shit.
“Yes, you.”
“In an action potential, sodium ions rush into the axon and de-dep-depolarize it.” The girl rattles off the information like she’s fucking Hermione Granger or something, though a little less refined.
“Exactly.” The professor looks pleased. Damn it. “And your name is?”
“Vanessa.” The girl, Vanessa, looks satisfied with herself, leaning back in her seat and returning her attention to her laptop.
Bouncing her fucking leg once more, because of course she is. But Brooke’s not going to be distracted by her again. She’s going to get the next question, because that’s what she does.
Her hand shoots up before the professor even finishes speaking.
“Yes?”
“Acetylcholine is the neurotransmitter that is necessary to complete the reaction.” Brooke rattles off the information that’s thankfully familiar to her from grade twelve biology with ease.
“Very good.” Brooke feels an air of pride rush through her at the professor’s words. “Name?”
“Brooke.” Not a bad idea to make herself familiar with the professors in all of her classes from week one. Put herself on their radars.
“Excellent, Brooke.” The professor turns back to his lecture slides then, oblivious to the rush of adrenaline that’s currently going through Brooke’s system.
She’s pathetic sometimes, she really is. But hey, if it gets her the good marks that she’s going to need in the future, does it even matter?
Vanessa answers question after question and asks ones of her own that make Brooke stop and think along with the professor. Brooke has to admit to herself, albeit bregrudgingly, that Vanessa is smart. Really smart. It’s undeniable, from the way her hand pops up every five minutes.
Brooke may or may not be feeling a little threatened, intimidated by the girl beside her - how’d Vanessa get so smart? And why hasn’t Brooke thought of the questions she’s asking, like the one about hyperpolarization?
Brooke shoots another look at Vanessa from behind her hair, hoping that she isn’t too obvious. In her earlier annoyance, she’s missed how pretty the girl is. Vanessa runs a hand through her hair, pushing the dark waves out of her face and leaning forward to type notes with her other hand.
“Brooke?”
“Huh?” Fuck. She’s completely missed the professor’s question. Of course. Typical of her to do something so stupid on the first day.
Brooke starts to rack her brain for a generic answer based on the lecture slide when Vanessa nudges her. “Graded potentials. That’s the answer. Say it.”
Well. She has nothing to lose at this point, does she?
“Graded potentials?” Brooke says it loud enough for the professor to hear, though she almost doesn’t hear her voice herself from how loud her heart feels like it’s beating.
“Good.” He continues on without a second look at their row, and Brooke lets out a sigh of relief.
Vanessa truly, utterly saving her ass isn’t what she expected, but she’ll take what she can get. “Jeez. Thank you so much.”
“It’s no big.” Vanessa’s smiling at her again, one that reaches her eyes and makes them crinkle and on an unrelated note, Brooke feels her stomach flipping with what must be indigestion. “Brooke, right?”
“Yeah.” She whispers it because the professor is still talking, after all. “Vanessa?”
“That’s me. My friends call me Vanjie, though.”
Brooke wrinkles her nose. “How’d you get that nickname from the name Vanessa?”
“I didn’t.” Vanessa winks at her but then turns back to the front, lifting up a hand to answer a question before Brooke can protest.
How did she even catch the question that the professor asked in the first place?
Brooke tries her best to go back to paying attention, but it’s hard when Vanessa is beside her and some of her long hair is on Brooke’s desk, looking really soft. Brooke has to resist touching it - she’s not a creep.
Brooke’s notes during the rest of the lecture are most definitely not up to her usual standards, though she only has herself to blame for it. She’ll do better next time. She has to.
Though if Vanessa’s beside her again, she may have a problem. Not that she’s all too mad about it anymore.
Vanessa’s out of her seat the second that the professor wraps up, pulling on her oversized jacket on top of her shirt dress. She sticks her laptop into her messenger bag before turning towards Brooke, who definitely has not been watching Vanessa the entire time. Nope. Absolutely not.
“So, you this keen in all of your classes?” Vanessa has a smile on her face as she says it.
“I’m not a nerd.” Brooke’s protests are feeble because she kind of is - not that she wants to admit it.
“Didn’t say you were. It’s kinda cute, though.” With that Vanessa winks, pulling her bag onto her shoulder and heading towards the aisle to leave the lecture hall.
“This time next week?” Vanessa shouts it at her from the aisle as she leaves, and for some reason it makes Brooke flush crimson.
The lecture hall is almost empty before she realizes that she has to pack up her own books and leave, too.
(now)
“The resection is scheduled for tomorrow at 2 PM. Bar any information that we’ve possibly missed in our review just now - which is highly unlikely - the surgery should be successful, leaving Mrs. Reynolds tumour-free in no time at all.”
No members of the surgery team, not the nurses, the anesthesiologist, nor any technicians question Brooke’s words. Just how she likes it.
No one mentions that the success rate for this particular pituitary gland tumour removal is less than 10%. Because with Brooke, odds like these don’t matter.
She’s that good.
Brooke wraps up the preoperative meeting with a wave of her hand, letting the members of her surgical team leave to return to their respective duties.
She checks her watch. She has a craniotomy scheduled to take place in half an hour, then a consult with a particularly complex patient and the team at 3, then some time allotted for her research. A pretty breezy day by her standards.
Brooke heads in the direction of the hospital Starbucks next, intent on gulping down a double espresso before her next operation. Can’t be opening up a patient’s skull uncaffeinated and tired.
“Dr. Hytes!” Brooke’s head snaps up at her name while she’s waiting for her drink order to be ready. No one is usually bold enough to call for her like that except for-
“Dr. West.” Nina West, Chief of Hospital and pediatric attending surgeon, not to mention Brooke’s fellow alumni from medical school.
“I was hoping I’d catch you. Got some pretty exciting news.” Nina’s eyes are practically sparkling.
Brooke takes a sip of her drink. “The only thing that could explain that smile is if we’ve finally hired a worthy-”
“We finally have a new cardiothoracic surgery head!” Nina’s excitement radiates off of her in waves. Sometimes, she reminds Brooke of a Disney character. “Someone who is actually renowned and has appropriate qualifications and who I had to fight off St. Joe’s Hospital for. But we got her!”
“Must be someone pretty incredible to get you this excited.” Brooke is curious as to who could have gotten Nina this riled up. Brooke had declined a spot on the selection committee a few months prior, busy at the time with one of her research trials. She hasn’t heard any gossip on the floors as to who the chosen candidate could be. Not that Nina will be able to hold it back for much longer.
“I’m supposed to give her a tour of the cardio floors and the team today. She’s just moved back to Toronto, so she’s starting next week. In fact, she should be in the atrium here any moment now.” Nina cranes her neck, trying to look around the space.
“You still haven’t told me who-”
Brooke is cut off when Nina calls out, looking past Brooke towards someone behind her. “Dr. Mateo! So nice to see you again!”
Mateo?
No. Couldn’t be.
“Wonderful to see you too, Dr. West.”
There’s no mistaking that voice.
Fuck . She’s screwed.
“Have you met Dr. Hytes? Pride of our neurosurgery department. A bit separate from your cardiothoracic surgery expertise, but maybe you two have run into each other sometime at a conference before?” Nina’s grabbing Brooke’s shoulders, turning her around to face her and Brooke winces, squeezes her eyes shuts because no, no, no.
Except when she opens her eyes, there she is. In the flesh. Nearly eleven years later.
She has the same wavy long hair but has swapped her undergraduate outfits for a pencil skirt and blazer and immaculate makeup and fuck.
She looks good.
Brooke makes eye contact with Vanessa - no, Dr. Mateo - and has to resist the strange urge in her chest that wants her to bolt for the nearest door and leave the fucking hospital. Blood is rushing in her ears and it’s a bit harder to breathe and she’s pretty sure that her lungs should be at full capacity. So why does she feel like she’s about to keel over?
“Oh, we’ve definitely met.” Dr. Mateo’s voice is wry, her eyes narrowing in Brooke’s direction.
Fuck. She’s Dr. Hytes, for Pete’s sake. Neurosurgery god. She’s not going to be intimidated by a cardiothoracic surgeon, of all people, no matter their past… history.
It doesn’t matter. Brooke’s a professional. She’s the shit. Everyone in this hospital knows it.
So she puts on her best neutral facial expression, walks up to Dr. Mateo. Towers over her, naturally (like she always used to, not that it matters). Raises an eyebrow.
Dr. Mateo stares right back. Still makes Brooke’s heart flip in the same way.
Nah, probably just some acid reflux. She needs a Tums.
“Nice to see you again.” Brooke says it with a tone that implies that it most definitely is not nice to see her again, no ma’am.
Not that it’ll matter. They’re completely different disciplines. Who’s to say that they’ll even interact?
“I could say the same.” Dr. Mateo’s tone, meanwhile, implies that she most definitely cannot say the same. But considering how things ended, who can blame her?
Brooke chances a glance at Nina, who looks really fucking confused, her nose wrinkling. It makes Brooke want to laugh. Oh, Nina. Not quite privy to this part of Brooke’s history.
Who needs to know? It had happened a decade ago. She’s moved on, she’s a professional. They’re both professionals. They can act like it.
Right?
Brooke takes a final sip of her drink, turning away to toss the cup into the trash. She fixes both of them with a blank stare, lips pursed.
“Need to leave now or I’m going to be late for my 1:00. Shame.” As if Brooke isn’t absolutely itching to remove herself from the conversation, get as far away from her as possible because fuck, she really should have joined the selection committee and vetoed Dr. Mateo from the list of candidates.
“See you around the hospital, Dr. Mateo.” Brooke turns on her heel, walking away before Dr. Mateo even has a chance to answer.
Power or cowardly move? She can’t decide. But she needs the distance, needs to get away from Dr. Mateo and the memories that are rushing back to her, ones that she had locked away in the recesses of her brain because they were too much to deal with.
Brooke only lets out a breath and drops her head into her hands once she’s in a mercifully empty elevator. The closing doors feel a world away from Nina’s confused stare and Dr. Mateo’s disdainful look, neither of which she wants to deal with again anytime soon.
She’s interacted with exes before, remaining friends with quite a few of them, but something about Dr. Mateo makes her feel like she’s a time bomb, about to explode any second from the rush of memories and useless emotions that she doesn’t care for at all, at this moment.
Brooke needs to go to pre-op, get ready to scrub in and find her team, but her brain is finding it hard to focus on her plan for the upcoming surgery because Jesus Christ.
She’s fucked.