#✮ mended bones & midnight calls ˏˋ°•⁀➷ int: soren ✮

[steelxheartx]

the door clicked softly shut behind them, muting the low hum of monitors and the barely-there shuffle of the patient settling in. for a long breath, dalia just leaned her weight slightly back against the wall, arms loosely folded in front of her, gaze not quite meeting søren’s yet. she wasn’t the kind of person who let exhaustion show. usually. but tonight… tonight, it had cracked the surface a little. his voice, that steady lilt of warmth and practiced empathy, settled into the quiet like a balm — and it caught her off-guard. the joke, the gentle praise in front of the patient, she’d taken it with a flicker of a smile, one hand lightly touching the base of her throat like it could steady her heartbeat from the inside out. but out here, just the two of them, something shifted. ❝ …you ever feel like your empathy tank’s running on fumes? ❞ the words came out softer than she intended. almost like they’d been sitting too long, waiting for a moment to stretch. she glanced over, finally meeting his eyes. there wasn’t anything guarded in her face. just tired honesty. she gave a small, breathy laugh — not bitter, just weary — and reached up to run her fingers through her ponytail, the elastic snagging slightly on a strand of dried blood she’d missed. ❝ it’s not the patients. it’s never the patients. i can handle the blood, the trauma, even the parents screaming at us because they’re scared and don’t know how to say it. but some days it’s the in-between that gets me. ❞ her voice didn’t crack, but it dipped lower, like it wanted to. like maybe, if he hadn’t asked, she wouldn’t have said any of it. ��� today it was a kid with a fever we couldn’t bring down and a grandma trying to tell me it was because of 'bad vibes' in the house. a teenage girl who OD’d because her boyfriend ghosted her and the best thing her mom could say was, at least she’s pretty. ❞ her arms tightened a little across her chest. ❝ and then that boy earlier — the nosebleed panic attack? he apologized for crying. like it made him less brave. ❞ her jaw clenched, just for a second. she looked down the hallway, not really seeing anything, but willing herself not to feel too much, not all at once. ❝ i just… sometimes i wish we had more than band-aids and platitudes to give them. ❞ another beat passed, and then her shoulders eased, just a little. a sigh slipped out. ❝ but yeah. i’m okay. not great. not falling apart either. just — stuck in the in-between. ❞ her lips pulled into a crooked smile, faint but real, as her gaze flicked back to him. ❝ you didn’t sign up to play therapist to your staff, dr. holmström. ❞ and yet, somehow, she was grateful he did. ❝ …but thanks for noticing. ❞ she added, this time a little quieter. a little more vulnerable. and then, because she wasn’t quite ready to sink too far into that space — she bumped her shoulder lightly against his as she turned toward the room again, voice gentling into something lighter. ❝ come on. let’s see what we can do for our mystery man before the break room runs out of halfway decent coffee. ❞ her armor wasn’t all the way back up, not yet. but her hands were steady again. and her heart had calmed — just enough.

it   didn’t   take   long   for   søren   to   realise   that   something   was   up.   whether   dalia   was   just   exhausted   or   whether   it   was   something   else,   her   forlorn   expression   caught   his   eye   the   moment   he   approached   the   waiting   patient.   becoming   a   doctor   had   never   been   about   anything   else   other   than   helping   people.   it   was   what   søren   was   made   for,   what   søren   was   good   at   —   despite   the   fact   that   dalia   didn’t   have   any   broken   bones,   he   knew   that   his   calling   for   that   day   was   to   put   a   smile   back   on   her   face.   it   was   his   responsibility   being   the   consultant   on - call,   the   deciding   vote   on   big   decisions,   to   make   sure   everyone   else   on   the   floor   was   being   looked��  after   — patients   and   doctors   alike.   “yes,   fantastic   idea   — thank   you,   doctor castellanos.   now,   i’ll   tell   you   something   —   ”   søren   turned   to   the   patient   as   he   helped   the   man   to   his   feet,   a   clear   limp   in   the   patient’s   gait,   “   —   i   wouldn’t   want   anybody   else   overseeing   my   care.   i’d   trust   doctor   castellanos   with   my   own   daughter   and,   believe   me,   i   don’t   even   trust   myself   fixing   dinner   for   her   sometimes   just   in   case   my   cooking   does   any   real   damage.”   there   was   a   charm   to   his   bedside   manner,   something   smooth   and   silky   —   the   scandinavian   way.   he   guided   the   patient   into   the   quiet   room,   ensured   he   was   safe   and   comfortable   on   the   examination   bed,   then   gestured   to   dalia   to   meet   him   outside.   “just   one   moment.   i   need   an   extra   pair   of   gloves ! ”   he   called   back,   closing   the   door   softly   behind   him,   allowing   a   beat   to   pass   before   speaking. “it’s   the   quiet   ones   you’ve   got   to   be   wary   of,”   he   began   slowly,   “the   ones   that   bury   their   pain   deep   down.   the   screaming   is   hard   to   deal   with,   the   physical   manifestations   of   pain   …   but   those   that   bite   their   tongue   and   deal   with   it ? ”   a   passing   quiet.   søren,   for   the   last   twenty   four   years,   had   been   the   father   of   a   girl,   and   he   saw   a   lot   of   signe   in   dalia’s   eyes.   “they're   the   ones   that   need   help   the   most.   the   ones   that   need   a   listening   ear.”   his   head   tilted   and   he   gently   smiled.   “are   you   okay ? ”

[steelxheartx]

the hum of fluorescent lights and the soft shuffle of nurses moving across linoleum had become white noise to dalia — background static she’d long learned to tune out. her shift was supposed to have ended twenty minutes ago. of course, supposed to meant very little in a place like this. her scrub top was still damp near the collar, a thin smear of dried blood across the cuff of her sleeve from a child’s nosebleed that had turned into a full-blown panic attack. she'd handled it, like she always did — calm voice, steady hands, reassurances stitched between sterile gauze. but now she was perched at the nurses’ station with a half-drunk coffee growing cold in her hand, debating if she had it in her to document one more chart. the lobby’s glass doors whispered open and shut again, and she barely glanced up. another late-night arrival, probably. maybe a sprained ankle, maybe worse. she wasn’t on intake anymore, though — not tonight. so when she heard dr. holmström’s voice — that calm, even tone that somehow carried through the hum of chaos — it tugged at her attention. she looked up from the computer just in time to see him pause, turning back toward the figure seated quietly near the entrance. "do you want to come through to the consulting room and i can check you over?" her brow lifted slightly, not out of suspicion, but recognition. holmström rarely wandered the floor unless something caught his attention. after months of working here, she knew was starting to recognize that look — the pause, the subtle tilt of his head, like his instinct had picked up on something unspoken. and despite how exhausted she felt, despite the ache starting to settle in the base of her neck, dalia set her coffee down and stood. ❝ i’ll join you. ❞ her voice was quiet but certain, sliding easily into the space between. she stepped around the station and toward the hallway, brushing past the lobby doors before gently nodding toward holmström and the patient. ❝ if you don’t mind. two sets of eyes never hurt. ❞ she gave the patient a small smile — soft around the edges, warm in a way that didn’t push. an invitation, not a demand. dalia never liked pressuring people, especially not when they already looked frayed around the edges. her gaze flicked to their hands, to the way they were sitting, subtle signs of strain or pain that might get missed in the first glance. ❝ we’ve got a quieter room down the hall,❞ she added gently, nodding in the direction of the side corridor. ❝ no pressure, but it’s a little less fluorescent-light interrogation and a little more private. ❞ she turned her attention back to soren then, a faint arch of her brow like a silent question — what are we dealing with? — but she didn’t say anything. not yet. not until the patient spoke. she knew better than to rush it. this was the part that mattered most — the moment before the questions, the first sliver of trust. and if they’d waited this long to be seen, if something about them had caught his attention, dalia knew enough to be ready.

「  ✱  」  STATUS  ﹕  open  .  「  ✱  」  LOCATION  ﹕  seaglass hospital  .  「  ✱  」  WITH  ﹕  søren   &   utp  (  @palmviewstarters )

doctor   holmström   had   been   working   at   seaglass   hospital   for   close   to   a   decade,   and   there   were   still   days   that   surprised   him.   those   days   he   preferred   spending   evenings   with   his   wife   —   or   with   their   daughter   when   she   was   home   for   an   evening   —   but   every   few   weeks   he   was   scheduled   for   the   emergency   department,   and   it   was   one   of   those   nights   where   the   hours   would   stretch   into   the   early   morning   and   he   would   likely   return   covered   in   questionable   bodily   fluids.   it   was   when   he   was   walking   back   to   check   on   the   junior   doctors   that   he   paused,   backed   up,   and   turned   to   the   figure   waiting   in   the   lobby,   straightening   his   name   badge   and   approaching   …   “have   you   been   seen   yet,   or   are   you   waiting   for   anyone ?   do   you   want   to   come   through   to   the   consulting   room   and   i   can   check   you   over ? ”