Chapter Text
I cry softly, not wanting anyone to hear me. I am at work, after all. Staring ahead, I see my jacket on the door. Black, zip up. The extra layer so people don't see. Cold porcelain stung my legs, even through my scrubs. New cuts sting from said cold. God, that poor girl. Those scars. Why did I see her today? Must of triggered me or something. That's why I'm in here now. Tears streamed down my face, unable to be tamed. Sound of outside seeped under the door and into the cubicle. Demands of crash carts, talking, the occasional shout. I rolled up the short sleeves on my shoulder and saw them. I remember the cold metal in my hands last night. The soothing pain. Everything going quiet once I made the first cut. Through my trousers, I felt the new ones, sore and angry. Hopefully no one notices I'm gone. God, I've been at work for three hours and already I'm barely fighting the urge. I'm insane. If anyone found out, I would never be able to show my face. It's so embarrassing, hurting yourself to feel something. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, PATHETIC. As I unclick the lock on the cubicle door, I catch myself in the mirror. Puffy bloodshot eyes. Tears streaming. I walk to the sink, roughly rubbing my sleeve of my jacket on my face making it even more red. After, I turn on the tap and splash water on my face. Looking up, I looked even worse. Great. Fucking great.
Staring at the door, I suddenly want someone to come looking for me. Someone to care. Someone to notice. Fat chance of that happening. No. I don't want that. No one wants to care for me. I'm just about to break down again when I hear the door. Fuck. I jinxed it. Not be able to look at who ever stands there, I close my eyes. Waiting. Waiting for the sound of the door opening and closing. Unfortunately, it doesn't come. Suddenly, they start talking. My stomach drops as I realise who's at the door. I whip my head and see McKay standing there. The state of my face shuts her up real quick. I need to get out of here. I start making my way to the door until I feel a hand on my wrist.
"What the hell happened?"
"Nothing, I'm fine." I snap back, trying to free my wrist for her hand. Jesus, that's a strong grip. It hurts the wounds laying there, untreated. It stings. But she doesn't know that. No one knows what lies under this piece of clothing. Execpt me.
"No, we are not doing this. Something's wrong."
"Nothing's wrong!" I say, raising my voice. "Sorry."
"No, it's okay. That was a rough patient."
I say, raising my voice. "Sorry."
"Yeah. Poor girl." I say, thinking of my own scars just under my jacket. The barrier from McKay seeing them. She lets go of my wrist, giving me space. I immediately let my fingers go to my wrist, rubbing the irritated cuts. Even more than before. I turn myself to the door, so McKay doesn't see it. She almost doesn't. Almost. Just as I put my hand on the handle, she stops me.
"What are you doing? What's on your wrist?" She asks, a mixture of confusion and fear seeping into her voice.
"Nothing, I'm going back out here no-" I try but before I can register what's happening, she's grabbed my wrist and is pulling up the material of my jacket. I try to pull back, but it's impossible. And too late. As the red, angry cuts are revealed, she sighs.
"Oh, oh my god." She lets go as soon as they appear. Tears well up in my eyes again, the pure weight of it all crashing down on me. Someone who I've barely known a week has just seen my scars. No one has ever seem them. Ever. But, the worry in her eyes..it says things. It tells me she cares. Tears spill over onto my cheeks, onto my scrubs and jacket.
"Hollie..."
"It's not-" I start but I realise there is no hiding. It's out there now. I'm insane. I close my eyes again. I expect to hear her leave, wanting to get as far away from me as possible. But the next thing I feel is her arms. Around me. My head is buried in her neck, tears staining her clothes. I feel her hands on my hair. She's stroking it, careful and gentle.
"I'm sorry.." I try to say through the tears. They almost choke me with the intensity of the action.
"Shh, don't worry about it. I'm here, it's okay."
I'm here. It's okay. Don't worry about it. Words I haven't heard more than once in my life. It's been me fighting against me for too long. And now I'm crumbling, unable to fight anymore. The warmth of her body against my cold one sooths me in a way I didn't know was possible. Before I was ready to let go, it ended. I fully expected her to walk out after that and never talk to me ever again. Her next actions shocked me.
"Come on. I'll get those sorted for you."
"What? No, not out there. People will see. What will they think? A doctor with marks like these?" I say, wiping my face.
"Student. And we'll go to the break room."
Then we're walking through the ER. She keeps next to me. Someone I recognise as Santos gives me a knowing look. God, I wish. Once we are in the quiet room, she pulls out some things from her pockets. She must of taken them from the carts lying around. Bandage. Some cream. Antiseptic. Alcohol wipes. I sit down, starting to roll my sleeve up. But then I realise the extent of them and take off the whole jacket. I have never liked the feeling of rolled up sleeves anyway.
"Don't look so scared. I'm not here to judge you." She says calmly, like this is the most normal thing in the world for her. Alcohol wipes touch my injured skin and inhale sharply.
"Sorry. Got to clean them first. They aren't deep enough for stitches."
"Jesus, have you ever cleaned these?" She says, pointing to a few old ones.
I shake my head. "I run them under water and then hold toilet paper on them for a few minutes." I say, knowing I should clean them.
"You know that's insanely dangerous. Infections, come on. What is the cause of sepsis?"
"Infections."
"Exactly. Come on, you went to med school."
"I know. I just..I don't feel like it matters for me."
"Hey, it always matter for you."
"Does it?" I say, not really believing her.
She puts the bandage she was cutting down and looks at me. Really looks at me. I see her eyes, blue. Like mine. "You are a brilliant doctor. You're caring. You're observant. You have a strong sense of justice. You are incredibly kind. If we lost you from sepsis, we would be left with those lot. Just kidding. But, people like you are rare. We need you." I hear the raw emotions in her voice and I start to believe her. Suddenly, she drops her voice low. "I need you."
I just stare at her for what seems like five years, but was probably only a few seconds. "Me?"
"I really admire you."
My heart flutters in my chest as I take in her words. She starts wrapping the bandage around my arm, skilfully. Maybe I should tell her about the ones on my thighs. Or not. That would mean her cleaning those too. Maybe I wanted that. For her to be that close to me. No, no that's wrong. She's a woman. I'm a woman. Just friends. I should probably tell her. As she finishes the dressing, I start speaking.
"I have more."
"Where?" She asks, confused.
"My...thighs."
I might be crazy, but I think I see the light scattering of blush on her cheeks. No, it was the lighting. Definitely. Deciding that was inappropriate, I get up. Then sit back down. She didn't look disgusted.
"I'll do them. Only if you promise to treat them yourself after. And you try to stop. For me."
It's my turn to blush now. Deep pink scatters my cheeks. She pats my scrub trousers, innating for me to take them off. Okay. This is fine. This isn't sexual. This is her caring for me. Making sure I don't die of sepsis. I let the soft fabric hit the floor and pull them over my shoes. It was a difficult task to I take them off. I sat there for a second while she assessed the cuts.
"Again, not deep enough for stitches." She says, wiping an alcohol wipe over my thigh. Goosebumps run over my entire body and they weren't from the cold. She worked quickly. I was barely holding myself together as I felt her strong hands on my thighs. Fucking veiny hands. Jesus. She looks up at me, like she knew what I was thinking. Before long, I am fully clothed once again and ready to go out there and compose myself. Maybe not, I think looking over at McKay again.
"Thank you, McKay."
"No worries. Also, you can call me Cassie." She says, smiling. We were dangerously close now. Inches apart. I stare at her lips. Fuck. I look back up at her eyes, just to get met with her staring at my lips. Fucking hell. This moment had taken a turn. A turn I would gladly go down. No, no that was wrong in so many ways. I look away.
"You can always talk to me." She says, then she's gone.
Fuck.