Chapter Text
Donuts. Dummies. Massive balls of disrespect.
That was all Dana had really overheard about this new attending. One look at the woman in passing wasn’t enough to gauge how much she’d grow to hate her. Would it be a mild irritation or a full blown, teeth-cracking, grinning resentment? Only time could tell.
Time was always a strange thing in the Pitt. It passed fast, and there was never enough of it, but it bent in ways that made it feel as though folks you’d seen for perhaps an hour and a half were people you’d known your whole life. The tiny RN she’d adopted beginning of shift would morph into an increasingly adept young nurse, Emma. The asshole stray, Langdon, returning as a stranger without his sweaty palms and shitty attitude would be the golden-hearted doctor she knew him to be once the sky fell dark outside of the fluorescent hospital. People died. People lived. And Dana was still there, taking care of each and every one of them.
The Pitt was a place like no other.
Today, the Fourth, brought out the best in the Pitt. It reeked of BO and booze from their intoxicated patients’ collective waft, and because apparently every other hospital in the tri-state area decided today would be ideal to implode, they had triple the load. Gurneys lined either side of the halls. As Dana strutted through them, mentally calculating who would need what from her, furries and rednecks alike groaned in pain. One requested a sandwich, which Emma was quick to handle. She would have loved to order herself lunch- maybe DoorDash some delectable salad or cold sammy- but all systems were down.
The bullpen was accordingly chaotic. Dana couldn’t stand seeing Princess flail about with a Redbull in hand as Perlah made smartass comments in Tagalog. The farm boy turned doctor seemed to have the nippy med students under control, her sassy girl Santos was curled up charting, and Mel was moping about as she had been before she left to handle the sexual assault victim’s examination. Memory of it still lingered heavy in her heart, but she was strong enough to hold weight for it while holding up the ER.
Princess nearly wept when she told her she was dismissed from playing charge nurse. Distantly, there were the sounds of Robby taking that awful, terrible, no good stern tone of voice he got when he was in an argument. It wasn’t authoritative so much as it was obnoxiously condescending.
Nurse Evans had only freshly arrived back at her post when Little Miss Lululemon made her way over. She tried to look busy, to maybe avoid the gaze of the woman in hopes of having a second to herself to get a grip on the whole analog situation.
No luck there.
Dr. Al Hashimi pushed through the doors of one of the trauma bays, turning to Robby to theoretically finish whatever it was she’d been saying, but he just sanitized his hands and walked broadly away from her.
She looked…irritated wasn’t the word. Dana had only met her briefly, and she knew the woman had only introduced herself as a formality. This wasn’t a woman who got pouty and offended. Dr. Al Hashimi had a certain steel to her that Dana recognized. All of the female physicians she’d worked with as a younger nurse had donned a similar grit beneath their soft scrubs. Never too emotional so as not to be brushed off, always starting with reason before rhyme. Dr. Al Hashimi bore the rigidity of someone with little room for error.
Dana frowned to herself, gripping her clipboard tighter. Maybe she came in a bit hot with the whole patient passport and AI thing, but helping was all they could do. Robby treating that as a cardinal sin was a bit overdramatic.
She was about to offer a quick check in, “You okay, hon?” but the sound of a feminine scoff beat her to it.
“Everything I’ve done in my career is an effort to improve the system,” came Dr. Al Hashimi’s terse voice, “Just because you know it's broken, doesn’t mean you stop trying.”
Dana stared at her as she spoke. She was a whirlwind, grabbing new gloves and setting off as soon as she was sterile. It was a surprisingly poignant thing to be the first legitimate thing she heard out of her mouth.
She looked determined.
Not frustrated, though one could say there were elements of that within her tense demeanor, but more so pointed. Focused. The Pitt was hell for most, rough for some, and a challenge for a newbie. She would take it as such.
The only thing special about today was that the excessive amount of patients were decked out in red white and blue to go with their injuries and ailments. It was another day that change could be made.
After her assault, that was a hope Dana hadn’t realized she’d lost. The world felt like a vague mass of badness that she was wading through, handling as best as she could. Her divorce, her healing nose, her daughter’s new evil boyfriend (“Cece, babydoll, do not bring that man to my house after you called me in tears because of him. Just because one mean right hook got the best of me doesn’t mean I won’t whoop that kid backwards and forwards.”), Robby’s not so passive ideation. Everything sucked.
Not this, though. Not her.
Dr. Al Hashimi stood in the glass room of a trauma bay, her posture a thin line of perfection. It was as though she was gliding when she walked. Every step was planned. Every stride purposeful. Dana found herself admiring her eyes as they inspected every little detail of the wound, not flinching from the sight of gore. Without Robby, she was immaculate. Brown eyes read the writing on lines of sinew, gorgeous lashes fluttered when Garcia sauntered in with her surgical cockiness and made a bold remark. Though she was too far to hear, the small, measured quip Dr. Al Hashimi replied with made the room laugh. She smiled to herself, clearly proud.
Was she perfect? No! She was fucking annoying and presumptuous and Robby would hate it if she spoke kindly of his replacement and yet, Dana was charmed. Dr. Al Hashimi had a few things to learn about how the Pitt operated. But the prospect of having someone who might have a bit of light to shine on this department didn’t repulse Dana as much as it should’ve.
Also, helpfully, she was fucking hot.
A throat cleared dramatically behind her. Monica. She was blatantly in the phoned in clerk’s way as she ogled the new attending. Who the hell was she, Javadi? This wasn’t Utah, for Christ’s sake! Get a grip, woman.
“My bad,” Dana chuckled, patting Monica on the shoulder and excusing herself to go check on the patients she’d worked with today.
“Making sure that the new lady’s behaving herself?” Monica asked lightheartedly, cocking a brow at her.
“Something like that,” Dana muttered in response. She thumbed her gold cross, then tucked beneath her scrubs.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿
Baran watched the nurses titter to themselves as Dana passed by, wondering what could be fueling their excitable Tagalog rambles. Their gazes were locked on Dana as she entered the room of the incarcerated patient.
“Ladies,” she addressed smoothly. “May I help you with something?”
Princess and Perlahs’ faces dropped rather quickly.
“No, Dr. Al Hashimi,” Perlah piped up, giving a polite smile. “Just…discussing patient care.”
An amused smirk curled her lips and she shook her head. “Of course. I’d hate to interrupt a work-related discussion as riveting as the one you two were having. Please, continue. Medicine is such a vibrant field, with no shortage of material to converse about.”
The two nurses smiled at that and continued, and Baran passed without further remark.
That was, until the monitor in her incarcerated patient’s room began to go haywire. Out came a calm, but concerned charge nurse. “His pulse ox is dropping,” she informed, making her way out. Robby trailed after, frowning. Baran was quick to join Princess and Perlah in the response. As she made her way towards the scene, Dana shot her a wink. It was so discreet she thought she’d hallucinated it at first. There was no time to linger on whatever that meant. Robby was already cornering her in the nurse’s station, interrogating her.
Baran only knew that the patient was going to get the care he truly needed now. While she would never encourage malpractice…she might encourage awareness of loopholes and how to work them. This Dana, as she had come to know her, was renowned for her excellent patient care and generally lovable attitude. She shared traits with every charge nurse ever- tough, stubborn, competent. Baran wondered if there was more than that to her as she watched her evade Robby and smile to herself while tapping on her keyboard. Devotion was attractive, especially when it was at war with the system. She recognized her own devotion to improvement in Dana. Funny. Given how sarcastically she spoke of the job to her colleagues this morning, she hadn’t struck her as the type.
Baran had been wrong before. She was pleased to be wrong again.
As the nurses wheeled the inmate upstairs, Dana and Baran found themselves in a cautious duet, both trying to get a feel for the other.
Newness was a drug.