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brookghaib-blog · 2 months ago

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Silence between hearts - IV

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Reynolds x reader

Summary: After Project SENTRY fails, Robert Reynolds is declared dead and sealed in a glass coffin to be hidden by O.X.E. Y/N, a doctor who secretly fell in love with him after a complicated path between them, refuses to believe he’s gone—fighting to save what’s left of him while grief and denial consume her, the path to look for him would ruin her, but to what extreme.

Word count: 7,1k

Warning: self-esteem issues, parental negligence, death

Chapter III

Y/N had barely slept.

She’d left Bob’s room without another word. Just a soft parting glance. The kind you give when you’ve already said too much, and anything more might make you crumble.

Now, she stood in the sterile bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror, her toothbrush hanging loosely from her mouth. Her lips still tingled faintly. Not from the pressure. From the meaning.

She turned the faucet on too hard. The water splashed.

She told herself to stop thinking about it. About him.

But the lie didn’t stick.

He’d held her like she was something he’d never been allowed to touch before. And it wasn't lust—not the kind she was used to. It was... longing. Slow, cautious. Honest.

It terrified her.

Bob hadn’t slept either.

He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall like it might provide some answers. His shirt was on now. Pants too. But he still felt bare. Exposed.

She kissed him.

And he kissed her back.

His heart had hurt. Not in a bad way. In a way he hadn’t let it feel in years.

No. Longer.

And now?

Now he didn’t know what the hell to do.

They saw each other again just after seven.

Y/N entered the lab with her tablet in hand, her hair tied back, white coat buttoned up to the collar like usual. On the surface, everything looked normal.

But the second their eyes met, something invisible passed between them.

Bob was already seated on the medical bed, legs swinging slightly, waiting like he always did for the morning checkup.

“Morning,” she said, casual. Maybe too casual.

“Hey.” His voice was low, quieter than usual.

She looked down at the file in her hands. “You slept?”

“No.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

A pause.

She stepped closer, reached out to take his pulse like she did every morning. Her fingers touched the inside of his wrist, and for a second, it was like last night had never ended. Her hands stilled.

He looked at her—not intensely, but gently.

Like he was asking: Are we going to pretend that didn’t happen?

But Y/N didn’t meet his gaze. Not yet. Her throat tightened slightly. She cleared it and moved to take his temperature instead.

Bob said nothing.

Not because he didn’t want to.

Because he knew. If he said the wrong thing now, she might retreat completely. And she was already slipping into her walls again.

Instead, he offered her something soft. Something careful.

“I, uh…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I liked talking with you last night.”

That was all.

Her hands paused. A beat of silence.

Then she finally looked up at him. And she nodded—just once.

“Me too.”

The day moved on. Tests. Readings. Silence broken by clinical terms and scribbled notes. But every now and then, something shifted:

—She handed him a glass of water and their fingers brushed just a little longer than necessary. —He cracked a joke about the ECG machine stuttering whenever she got close—and she didn’t deny it. —She sat closer than usual during their conversation at lunch. Not touching. Just... there. Present.

They didn’t talk about the kiss.

But everything had changed.

Their laughter was warmer. The silences were heavier. The space between them—the physical distance—felt charged now, like the air between magnets waiting to click.

And maybe they didn’t know what they were yet.

But they were something.

It began with a kiss. And then it kept going.

Not in declarations or confessions—those were too loud for the world they lived in. Their affection became a shadow, slipping between the cracks of duty and responsibility. Quiet, but constant. Never acknowledged in daylight, but always there—undeniable.

For days on end, Y/N and Bob carried on their secret like glass between their fingers.

It started subtly: she’d check his vitals longer than she needed to, her fingers brushing over his skin like she couldn’t help herself. Bob’s eyes would follow her when she walked across the room, his gaze soft, reverent, like she was some painting he was still trying to understand. At night, when the lab was dark and cold, they began to meet in secret.

Y/N had quietly programmed a five-minute camera loop override. It wasn’t perfect. It was dangerous. But it gave them enough time.

She never said why she did it.

And Bob never asked.

The first few nights, they only talked. Sitting across from each other, knees barely touching. Her hair would be down by then, her face stripped of the formal steel mask she wore during the day. Bob always looked at her like he couldn’t believe she was real. Like if he blinked, she might disappear.

Sometimes he would just stare at her in silence, then apologize.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t,” she always said. Even if it did. Even if the way he looked at her made her feel things she wasn’t supposed to feel here.

One night, she turned off the cameras and walked into his room, and instead of sitting on the couch, she sat beside him on the bed. It was small. Cold. Not built for comfort.

But it became theirs.

He reached for her hand like he’d done it a thousand times. Her fingers hesitated—then laced through his.

No words.

They weren’t ready for words. They didn’t talk about what they were doing. Not really.

To speak it into existence might make it too real—might make it vulnerable, and they couldn’t afford that. Not when everything else in their lives was clinical and cold. Not when the world around them was full of white walls and threat analysis and the smell of antiseptic in the air.

So they built a world inside the silence.

In that world, he told her things he didn’t know he remembered: about the time he was six and fell off a tree and cried because his dad didn’t care, about the first time he tried meth in a motel bathroom. About the months before Malaysia when he’d stayed in an abandoned building, waiting to die, waiting for his powers to consume him or the drugs to finally dull it all for good.

And she listened. She didn’t look away. She didn’t flinch.

She held his hand tighter.

She told him things too—though never as easily. She told him about the university lab where she used to work, where her theories got mocked until her father stepped in and suddenly everything she did was "a gift from a legacy." She hated how they never saw her. Just a replica of a man she didn’t even trust.

“I didn’t want to use his methods,” she whispered one night, curled under a blanket beside him. “But I didn’t believe in my own enough to stand on them.”

Bob touched her hair, brushing it behind her ear like it was instinct. “Then why did you keep going?”

Her voice cracked when she said it: “Because when I found you, I had a feeling I wasn’t wrong.”

During the day, they went back to playing roles. Doctor. Subject.

Cold. Professional.

But it wasn’t clean anymore.

Sometimes her hand would linger just a little too long when checking a reading. Sometimes he’d lean too close when answering a question. Sometimes they’d lock eyes in the middle of a room and both forget where they were for a split second.

Dr. Ilari noticed the change. He never said anything directly, but the way his eyes lingered on her longer than usual after team briefings told her he was starting to suspect. One afternoon, he passed her in the hall and said, “You seem… lighter.”

She only nodded. Didn’t offer more.

He didn’t press.

But she could feel the edge of danger now. The tightrope between what was growing and what would happen if anyone found out.

And yet she kept going back.

They were sitting in his bed again. No camera, no clipboard, no reason. Her head was on his shoulder. One of his hands played absentmindedly with the hem of her shirt. Neither of them had spoken in almost ten minutes.

“Why do you keep coming back?” he asked softly.

She lifted her head. Looked at him. “I don’t know.”

He turned his face toward hers, so close now their noses brushed.

“I think I do,” he whispered.

Their mouths hovered.

He kissed her again. Slower this time. Gentler.

The kiss deepened, and time lost all meaning.

Bob's hands, careful and trembling, held the back of Y/N’s neck like he was afraid she’d break—or worse, pull away. But she didn’t. She leaned in. Pressed harder.

Her shoes had already dropped to the floor, and now her fingers were splayed across his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through the thin shirt the lab had issued him. She could feel his heartbeat—it wasn’t steady. Neither was hers.

When they finally pulled apart, the silence was heavy. Not awkward. Just... fragile.

Bob searched her face like he was trying to read a language he didn’t speak.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he whispered, voice rough with something that wasn’t just shock—it was self-doubt, buried shame. “You don’t owe me anything.”

Y/N exhaled shakily. Her fingers lingered near the collar of his shirt.

“I know,” she said softly. “I wanted to.”

He stepped back slightly, like he needed to be sure. “Why?”

Her voice caught for a second. Then, after a pause:

“Because I think I’m starting to feel something. And I don’t know what to do with it.”

Bob blinked.

“I understand,” he said. “I thought after a couple days you go grow tired, part of him thought that maybe this...was just another psychological experiment from you.”

She shook her head. “I was scared.”

His brows drew together. “Of me?”

“No. Of this.” She gestured between them. “I don’t know what we are. I don’t know what this means. But… when I’m with you, I feel like myself. And I don’t remember the last time I felt like that.”

He looked at her, stunned. Like someone had handed him something too valuable to touch.

“I thought I ruined it,” he admitted quietly. “After what I did that day. Hurting you.”

“You didn’t,” she said, her voice breaking just slightly. “That wasn’t you. And I knew that. I just didn’t know how to separate the parts yet.”

He stepped closer again, cautiously. “And now?”

“I see you, Bob,” she whispered. “And you make it easy to forget everything else when I do.”

Something shifted in him. His hand found hers again, tentative and reverent. “So what do we do?”

She let out a breath, half a laugh, half a sigh. “We keep quiet. We don’t name it. We don’t plan ahead. Not yet.”

“And if it grows?” he asked, almost afraid to ask.

“Then we let it,” she said. “One moment at a time.”

He nodded, then leaned forward again—his forehead gently resting against hers.

“I’ve never had anything like this,” he said. “I didn’t think I’d be allowed to.”

Y/N’s hand slid up to his face, her thumb brushing across the stubble on his jaw. “Me neither.”

And then—slowly, tenderly—they kissed again.

How could everything go down so easily.

2 weeks after - New York

The heavy oak door creaked closed behind her, muffling the hum of the Manhattan street outside. The air inside the townhouse was still—unchanged from her childhood years. The scent of aged books, old leather, and her father’s cologne clung to the air like ghosts she never quite escaped.

She walked slowly down the hallway, her heels echoing against the hardwood. Every step forward brought memories she had long buried—standing by the doorway after school with trembling hands, waiting for him to ask about her grades, to see if she had earned his approval or punishment. The hallway was still lined with framed articles, academic degrees, newspaper clippings of her father’s accolades. Not a single photo of her.

“Y/N.” His voice rang from the study down the corridor. Crisp. Controlled.

She straightened her spine, walked through the doorway of the room that had once terrified her, and saw him—Dr. Marcus L/N—sitting at his desk, papers spread before him, a glass of scotch half-full in his hand. He didn’t rise to greet her. He never did.

“Father,” she said curtly.

“About time,” he muttered, not looking up yet. “You were supposed to be here yesterday.”

“There were weather delays in Singapore,” she lied. “I came as soon as I could.”

His eyes flicked up at her then. Piercing, familiar, and devoid of warmth. “Excuses. You always had those.”

Y/N’s jaw tensed. She walked forward and placed a black folder on the desk between them.

“These are the results of the latest testing. Neural response time, muscle adaptation, cognitive expansion. He’s stabilizing. The uncontrolled episodes have decreased in frequency and strength since I took over the project.”

Her father snorted, flipping through the pages with practiced speed. “Stabilizing,” he repeated mockingly. “After how long? Two months and he’s still barely showing what the serum was designed for.”

“It’s not just a serum. It’s psychological conditioning. Emotional triggers. This is a different approach.”

“A soft one,” he muttered, setting the folder down. “That’s what I read between the lines. You’ve been coddling him.”

“I’ve been rehabilitating him,” she said firmly.

“And how does sleeping in his room fit into rehabilitation?”

Y/N froze.

Her breath hitched—barely, but enough that he noticed.

“I have eyes everywhere, Y/N,” he said, with a smug look. “You really thought Valentina wouldn’t mention the inconsistencies in your schedule? The missing footage logs? You think you’re smarter than us now?”

“No,” she said, calmer than she felt. “I think I’m better than the methods you forced down everyone’s throats. You turned every subject into a corpse. I'm trying to create something alive.”

“You were always too emotional,” he said. “Too delicate. You want them to like you. That’s your weakness.”

She felt her fists clench at her sides. “He’s not just them. He’s not like the others. He’s surviving—he’s responding to this. He’s not disposable.”

Her father stood up, slowly walking around the desk. Towering, still. His voice lowered.

“And what happens when he turns on you again? When he snaps your neck in his sleep? He doesn’t love you, Y/N. He’s addicted to whatever comfort you’re giving him. You’re playing nursemaid to a weapon.”

“I don’t want him to love me,” she lied, trying not to let it crack in her voice. “I want him to live.”

Her father scoffed. “That’s why you’ll fail. Again.”

She bit down on the anger. The shame. The way his words always cut too deep.

“I’m going back in a few days,” she said. “I’ll be done with the supplementary files and analysis by then.”

“Good,” he replied coldly, already walking back behind the desk. “Try not to lose sight of your purpose, Y/N. You weren’t hired to fix broken men. You were trained to make them useful.”

She didn’t answer.

She turned and walked away, her chest tight, heart heavier than when she arrived. The house felt smaller now. Colder. She passed by the childhood photos stored in drawers.

Y/N moved up the familiar staircase slowly, her fingers trailing over the polished mahogany railing. Her father’s words still echoed in her head—cold and clinical, weaponizing every inch of her life’s work and threading it back to her old insecurities. But it wasn’t over. Not in this house.

She hesitated outside the guest room at the end of the hall—her mother’s room now. A soft classical tune filtered through the door, piano-heavy, somber. She raised her hand to knock, but before she could, the door flew open.

“Y/N!” her mother cried out, eyes wide, arms outstretched.

Y/N didn’t have time to prepare. The woman nearly crushed her in a perfume-heavy embrace—familiar and suffocating. Her mother’s touch had always been too much, clinging like guilt.

“Oh my baby, finally. I was told you arrived hours ago! You didn’t think to see me first?”

Y/N gave a tight, awkward smile, her arms barely reciprocating the hug. “I had to meet with Dad. Project work.”

Her mother pulled back, holding her face between her manicured fingers like she was inspecting a glass figurine. “Mmm. You’re pale. Not sleeping, are you?”

“I’m fine.”

Her mother clicked her tongue, eyes trailing down. “Your hair’s dull. And what are you wearing?” She stepped back slightly, waving her hands at Y/N’s plain blouse and slacks. “You look like a secretary. Not a researcher.”

Y/N resisted the urge to roll her eyes a second time. “I didn’t come here to walk a runway.”

“Well, clearly. You could’ve at least done your lips. Or something with that hair.”

“Mom,” Y/N sighed, shifting her weight. “Can we not start this?”

Her mother blinked, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying, you used to be so pretty when you tried. You used to turn heads in this house.”

Y/N gave a dry smile. “Yeah. I remember. It’s probably why Dad ignored my science awards and only mentioned my prom dress.”

Her mother laughed lightly, missing—or ignoring—the venom in the words. “He’s old-fashioned, you know that. But you were always my little star. You could’ve done anything with that face. TV, fashion, even modeling.”

“I didn’t want to be looked at,” Y/N said under her breath, almost too soft.

Her mother didn't hear—or didn’t care. “But now?” She touched Y/N’s shoulder lightly, like she was brushing off dust. “There’s still time. You just need to take better care of yourself. A few spa days, maybe a personal stylist. You could still be stunning.”

Y/N stepped back, her smile completely gone now. “I'm working. I’m building something. That’s what I care about.”

Her mother tilted her head. “Working so hard you forgot how to be a woman?”

Y/N clenched her jaw and looked away, biting back the sudden rise of heat in her chest.

She’d come here for a week. A handful of days. And she was already fighting the ghosts that raised her.

“I’m going to bed,” she said abruptly.

“Oh, don’t be so sensitive—”

“I’m not,” Y/N cut in. “Just tired. Of being dissected like one of my subjects.”

And without waiting for a response, she turned and walked out of the room.

The sun hadn't even reached its peak when Y/N sat curled on the old study chaise, papers spread around her like fallen leaves. Her laptop hummed quietly as she updated her final findings to send to the board—gene response patterns, neurological baselines, all the data from the last month. Her fingers moved mechanically over the keyboard, but her mind was elsewhere. On gold eyes. On the way his voice changed when he was tired. On the way they hadn't said a single word about what was happening between them, but couldn't seem to stop touching.

Then the screen lit up.

Dr. Ilari - Incoming Call

She blinked. Clicked. “Doctor?”

His voice came in strained, shaky. “Y/N. How fast can you get back to Malaysia?”

She paused, blinking. “Uh, I don’t know—maybe two or three days. I’m finishing the reports now—why?”

There was a long, breathless silence on the other end. Then—

“Bob lost control.”

Y/N froze.

Ilari’s voice cracked through the line like broken glass. “It just—happened. We don’t know what triggered it. Two of the doctors are dead. He—Y/N, he tore through the lab like a storm. We barely got him contained. He’s locked in his room. Still not responding. His vitals are erratic. Whatever’s inside of him... it's awake. We need you here now.”

She was already moving before the call ended.

Y/N slammed her laptop shut and scrambled to her feet, swiping all the papers off the table into her bag. Her mind was racing. This couldn’t be happening—not now. Not after everything. You promised to keep this one alive.

She grabbed her phone, throwing open her bedroom door.

Down the hallway—her parents' voices.

“Y/N?” her mother called as she appeared in the doorway, startled. “What’s going on?”

“Why are you packing like this?” her father followed behind, voice sharp. “What happened?”

“I have to go. There was an emergency—back at the facility,” Y/N said, yanking open drawers, stuffing clothes into a suitcase with frenzied hands. “Something went wrong. Bob—he—” Her voice caught for a second. “He lost control.”

Her mother gasped. “Isn’t he the subject you said—?”

“I don’t have time,” Y/N snapped. “I have to be there. Now.”

Her father stepped into the room, arms crossed. “You’ll send me the research before you go, then.”

She stopped, mid-zipper.

“I’ll email it to your lab by tomorrow. I’m done here.”

“You know that’s not how we do things. I expect a full debrief. In person.”

Y/N turned to him, eyes blazing. “You want me to sit across from you while you rip it all apart? While you tell me I failed—again?”

“You can’t run every time—”

“I’m not running,” she snapped. “I’m choosing. For once.”

He glared at her. She didn’t care.

“You’ll get your report. You always do,” she said bitterly, hoisting the bag onto her shoulder. “But this time? I’m not giving you the satisfaction of killing it in front of me.”

“You’re being dramatic,” her father said, exasperated.

Y/N looked him in the eye. Cold. Certain. “And you’re still pretending you understand what I’m building.”

She turned to the door.

“I’ll tell you I failed over the phone. That’s what you want anyway.”

And without another word, she pushed past them and ran down the stairs—out of the house, out of her childhood, out of the old world that never saw her worth—and into the storm she was now part of.

Bob needed her.

She doesn't recall how many hours she was there stuck on that plane full of anxiety, her gut was telling that everything would be okay, but at the same time, she had only gone by two days how could this happen, she would only be gone by a week.

Her mind is foggy, going on autopilot, doing all of her ride and hours it took thinking about Bob and how he's suffering. Her team had received strict orders on what to do, but she had only schedule some trainning for him, knowing even if they wanted, they could hurt him, but could understand how to make his powers manifest and how strong he was getting.

The car ride from the airstrip blurred past her window like a dream she didn’t want to remember. The moment the vehicle stopped outside the hidden entrance of the facility, she was already sprinting. Her ID badge barely scanned before she was storming through the corridors like a hurricane, ignoring greetings, ignoring protocol, ignoring everything.

Lab coats turned as she passed. Some stepped back. They knew better than to get in her way.

“He’s in Operating Room 3,” a nurse called out. “Still unstable.”

Y/N’s throat tightened. Her legs pushed harder. Faster.

When the automatic doors hissed open, her heart nearly stopped.

Bob was strapped to the operating table, wires and sensors taped to his chest, arms, and head. His body was shaking—convulsing—his veins glowing faintly gold like molten cracks in stone. His skin was slick with sweat, chest heaving erratically. He looked half there. Half gone.

A team of doctors stood around him, frantically typing into tablets, adjusting IVs, shouting measurements. Panic radiated through the room.

“What the hell are you doing to him?!” Y/N screamed.

Heads turned. Her voice cracked the sterile silence like lightning.

She stormed across the room, pushing through the cluster of scientists without care.

“Move! Move!” she shouted, yanking a man away from Bob’s side. “You’re scaring him! You’re hurting him—get the hell away!”

“Y/N, he’s seizing—” someone said.

“He’s confused!” she barked. “None of you even know what’s happening—he’s not a machine! He doesn’t respond like one!”

She grabbed Bob’s face with both hands. His eyes were fluttering open and shut, dazed. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

“Hey. Hey, it’s me,” she whispered, voice breaking. “I’m here. I’m here now, Bob. You’re okay.”

She stroked the side of his cheek. “I got here as fast as I could.”

His fingers twitched.

Then—

Flatline.

The monitor behind her let out a sharp, deafening wail.

A long, straight line stretched across the heart rate monitor.

“No.”

Y/N turned, frozen.

“Get the defibrillator!” someone yelled.

People rushed forward—but Y/N held up a hand, stepping between Bob and the rest.

“Don’t touch him!”

“Y/N, we have to restart his heart!”

“No!” she screamed, her voice cracking in agony. “He’s in there—I know he is. Just—give him a second. Please.”

“His heart stopped—”

“I SAID WAIT!”

She turned back to him, leaning down until their foreheads touched. Her tears slipped onto his skin.

“You promised me,” she whispered. “You told me I gave you a reason to live. You don’t get to leave me now. You don’t.”

She pressed her lips to his temple, desperate, trembling. “Come back to me, Bob. Please. Please, come back.”

A cold, crushing silence fell. Time seemed to freeze.

“Bob... no.” Her voice was barely a whisper, broken.

Tears welled unbidden, blurring her vision.

The team scrambled to restart him, but Y/N felt frozen, her hands still on his cold skin.

He was gone.

The man she had begun to care for, the man she promised to keep alive... was dead.

Y/N’s world felt like it shattered into a thousand pieces, the sterile walls closing in around her as she stared at Bob’s lifeless form. The frantic beeping of the defibrillator ceased, replaced by an eerie, suffocating silence.

Suddenly, the heavy doors swung open with a sharp clang.

Valentina entered, her presence commanding and cold, eyes scanning the scene with clinical detachment.

She had arrived just as the finality settled in, her heels clicking sharply against the floor, slicing through the heavy air.

Dr. Ilari had called her as soon as Bob spiraled out of control, and now, standing before the still form of the man they all feared and pitied, she wasted no time.

Valentina’s voice was low but sharp, slicing through Y/N’s panic like a blade.

“Protocol 6X. Initiate termination.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her body trembling with disbelief and rage.

“No,” she whispered, her voice cracked and desperate. “You can’t just—he’s still—”

Valentina’s eyes narrowed, her tone unwavering.

“Bob is unstable, uncontrollable. The risks outweigh any potential benefit. You know this, Doctor. The project’s safety comes first.”

Y/N’s hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms, fighting the overwhelming wave of helplessness crashing down on her.

Tears burned her eyes, but her voice was steadier now, fierce with unspoken defiance.

“He was more than an experiment. He was a person... someone I cared about.”

Valentina’s gaze flicked coldly to Y/N, unyielding.

“Feelings don’t change facts. The termination will prevent further loss.”

The lab team moved quickly, cold and efficient, beginning preparations to remove Bob’s body from the room, as if he were nothing more than a failed project to be discarded.

Y/N stumbled back, her heart breaking anew with every step they took away from her.

She wanted to scream, to fight, but the weight of the moment pinned her down, crushing hope beneath the sterile lights.

She runs, trying to stop everyone, someone, took him away from them, there's no way Bob was dead.

The glass was thicker than it needed to be. Reinforced, sealed with polymer layers, and bolted into an alloy cradle designed to survive a small war. But none of that mattered to Y/N. All she could see was him inside it.

Bob.

Still.

Cold.

Lying there like a man who’d simply fallen asleep with no promise of waking.

The O.X.E. lab—once bright, bustling, and full of scientific ambition—now reeked of sterilizer and silence. They were shutting everything down. His project had failed, they said. Too unstable. Too dangerous. Too powerful. And now—too dead.

“Project SENTRY has been terminated. Containment protocol 6X is in effect,” droned a voice over the speakers. The kind of voice that never wavered. Not for ethics. Not for grief. Not even for love.

Y/N stood frozen as technicians fastened the final clamps onto the glass coffin. Her coat, still stained with dried blood from trying to stabilize him, hung limp around her. Her hands trembled. Her face was pale. Her lips parted, as if to speak, but no sound came out.

Two security guards hovered behind her.

“Dr. L/N,” one of them said gently. “You need to let them take him.”

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she stepped forward, eyes locked on the body within. Bob’s chest didn’t rise. His face was pale, serene—eerily calm for a man who had been made of light and rage. His golden hair framed a face that once radiated warmth, now drained of it entirely.

“No,” she whispered. Her voice cracked like splintered glass. “You don’t get to box him up. You don’t get to just erase him.”

“Doctor—”

“He’s not dead!” she snapped, finally spinning on the guards. Her voice echoed through the corridor, sharp and broken. “He’s not dead, he’s not—he’s not—”

But her knees buckled before her words could finish. She collapsed to the floor, her hands catching her barely an inch above the cold tile. Her breath came in shallow gasps, each one scraping her throat like rusted nails.

The guards hesitated, unsure whether to comfort her or restrain her.

Valentina didn’t.

Her heels clicked against the floor as she approached—always polished, always calculated. “This isn’t a romantic tragedy, Doctor,” she said, arms crossed. “This is containment. He was compromised. If you’d like to keep your clearance and your career, I suggest you walk away now.”

Y/N lifted her head slowly, tears streaking her face.

“I don’t care about clearance,” she hissed. “I cared about him.”

Valentina’s expression didn’t change. “Then you’re a liability.”

The moment stretched like wire pulled too tight.

And then, Valentina gave a cold nod.

“Seal it,” she ordered.

Technicians obeyed.

Y/N watched as a final hiss of hydraulic steam sealed the edges of the glass. The lighting inside dimmed, bathing Bob in a faint blue glow, like he was being buried beneath a glacier.

They strapped the coffin to a magnetic dolly, preparing to roll him out—out of the lab, out of history, out of her reach. Like he’d never existed. Like the nights they’d spent in quiet corners of the lab, whispering about the sky and everything he’d forgotten about being human, had never happened.

Like she hadn’t kissed his trembling hands after his first breakdown.

Like he hadn’t told her he was scared of the darkness inside him.

Like he hadn’t looked at her the night before the meltdown and said, “If I lose myself, don’t let them lock me away. Just tell me you loved me once. That it mattered.”

She scrambled up, stumbling toward the coffin, arms outstretched. She never told him that loved him. Once.

“Wait!” she cried.

The guards tried to intercept her, but she ducked around them, slamming her palms against the glass.

Her voice cracked as she spoke, forehead resting against the cold surface. “Bob. I’m here. I didn’t leave. I—I couldn’t save you, I’m sorry. But I remember you. Do you hear me? I remember everything. I do love you.”

No response.

She pressed her hand over his heart, her eyes tracing the shape of his closed eyelids, the curve of his lips. She could almost believe he was sleeping. Almost.

“Please,” she whispered, softer now. “Please come back. Just open your eyes. Just—just breathe. I’ll take all of it, everything I did to you. Just come back to me. I'm sorry I went away, I'm sorry I wasn't here, I'm sorry I never told you.”

Silence.

Valentina made a gesture. The guards pulled her away, gently but firmly.

“NO!” Y/N screamed, kicking and fighting. “You don’t get to take him! He’s not—he’s not a thing! He’s a person! He was mine! He didn't get to live what...what I promised, no, we didn't have our time yet Pleasee!”

But Bob remained still, and the glass began to fog slightly with the temperature shift as the containment unit rolled toward the freight elevator.

Valentina didn’t look back.

And Y/N—struggling in the arms of men who didn’t know who Bob was, what he had become, what he meant—finally went limp.

Her voice, barely a breath now, rasped, “Please don’t leave me here without you…”

The elevator closed with a heavy clang.

Then he was gone.

The days after Bob’s death passed like smoke. Thick. Suffocating. Fleeting. Y/N found herself moving through them without weight, her steps soundless on the cold tile floors of the lab, her hands numb even as they gripped report files, tablets, clipboards—anything to feel tethered to something.

His room remained sealed, but sometimes she still stood outside of it, pressing her fingers to the keypad even though she knew the access had been revoked, even though she knew he wasn’t inside. Not anymore. The air still felt like him. The silence was heavier than when he was there. And every time she blinked, she could see his face again—bright-eyed the night she’d kissed him first, tired and grateful the mornings after their stolen moments, hollow and terrified in that final room.

She didn’t sleep. Nights had become tormenting. The moment the lab’s synthetic lights dimmed and the halls emptied, her mind rushed back to them. Sitting cross-legged on the floor of his room, laughing about stupid things. Her curled under his arm while they watched old movies from a pirated USB. Him whispering into the shell of her ear that he didn’t deserve her, and her telling him to shut up and just let it be good for once. Just let it be soft.

The bed was too big now. She hadn’t noticed how small she was until she tried to lie still, pretending it was his arm wrapped around her waist. His warmth. His breathing slowing. Her hand still clutched the bracelet he gave her one night—a silly little leather band he found during one of their “raids” of the storage closet, where they'd been looking for snack rations and instead ended up wrestling on the floor like teenagers. She had scolded him for acting like a child. He had kissed her like it was the last time.

But she hadn’t told him she loved him.

And now it was too late.

Every hallway held a ghost. Every chair, every lab monitor, every sample. There were notes in her drawer still written in his handwriting, things like: Don’t forget your coffee, boss. You get mean without it. She used to roll her eyes. Now she kept that note folded in her pocket, as if maybe, by having it on her, she could pretend he was still here. Still smirking behind her.

Dr. Ilari had tried to talk to her. Repeatedly. She hadn’t said a word. Not since the day of Protocol 6X.

Valentina had stood over Bob’s body like it was a failed machine. Cold. Ready to dispose. She hadn’t cried then. Not in front of her. Not even when she’d screamed that he wasn’t an object to terminate—that he was a man. That she loved him.

The tears only came when she was alone, curled in front of the door of Bob’s room, replaying the sound of his heartbeat disappearing from the monitors. Now she uses them to help her go to sleep, listenning to them as if he's there, somewhere. A sound that cut through her more violently than anything she’d ever known.

She hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye.

She would never again hear him laugh. Never again feel his hand in hers. Never again hear that shy, broken voice asking her, “Why would you care about someone like me?”

And now, all she had was the answer she never got to give him. That he made her feel alive. That he reminded her she had a heart. That maybe, just maybe, broken things could still love, and be loved, and heal.

She didn’t tell him. And she would regret that for the rest of her life.

The lab hummed around her like a distant storm. The world was moving on.

But she wasn’t.

And she didn’t know if she ever could.

The lights in the lab had never felt so sterile.

Y/N stood in the same office she had once stormed into, full of confidence and bright-eyed ambition. The walls hadn’t changed. The old monitor still flickered faintly on the far desk, and the whiteboard behind Dr. Ilari was still covered with scrawled calculations, doodles from late nights when they’d been too tired to keep their minds on science, but too stubborn to give in to sleep.

But now, all of it felt like an echo of someone else’s dream.

Dr. Ilari leaned back in his chair, watching her. He wasn’t smiling this time. His usual warm humor was gone, replaced by something quieter. Sadder.

“So,” he said, softly, “you’re really leaving.”

Y/N nodded, arms folded across her chest like she was holding herself together. “I already booked my flight. I should be back in New York by tomorrow evening. My father... he’s expecting me. There’s a position open in his lab.”

Ilari sighed, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Of course he is. And I’m sure he’s thrilled to hear his daughter’s project failed. He always struck me as the ‘told you so’ type.”

A hollow smile tugged at her lips. “He said he’d keep the seat warm.”

“Is that really what you want, Y/N? To go back to him? To... that lab?” Ilari’s voice was still gentle, but the concern in it was unmistakable. “After everything, after what you built here... you’re really going to let him pull you back?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her fingers dug into her sleeves as she looked down at the floor, her voice strained. “The project’s done. Labeled ‘infeasible’ and ‘dangerously unstable.’ It’s over. And honestly, I can’t... I don’t have it in me to start over. Not again.”

Ilari’s brows knit. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I do,” she replied quickly. “I know.”

He waited. Gave her space to speak if she wanted. And for a moment, she almost told him everything. About the nights. The stolen time. The kisses, the laughter, the soft way Bob used to look at her like she was the only person on earth who hadn’t given up on him.

But instead, she only said, “He was the first subject I chose myself. The first time I felt like the project was mine. And I ruined it. I used my father’s methods. I treated Bob like a blueprint, not a person. I was so focused on proving myself that I forgot he wasn’t just data. He was...”

Her throat closed. Her eyes burned.

Ilari didn’t push her. He just waited, his silence louder than anything he could have said.

Y/N turned away from him, pacing toward the window that overlooked the jungle canopy outside. She watched the birds in the distance—free, weightless. The opposite of everything she felt. “Bob made me feel something I hadn’t felt in a long time,” she said, finally. “Alive. Like I wasn’t just surviving for someone else’s legacy. Like I mattered. To someone.”

Ilari rose slowly from his chair, stepping around his desk. “You loved him.”

She turned to him. Didn’t confirm it. She didn’t have to. Her eyes did the talking.

“I suspected,” he added quietly, “when the cameras started glitching every night at the same time. I didn’t say anything because... I figured it was the only joy either of you were getting in that place.”

She let out a soft, broken breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He placed a hand on her shoulder—steady, kind. “I just wish you’d told me sooner. I wouldn’t have stopped it. Hell, I might’ve encouraged it. God knows that man needed someone in his corner.”

Y/N’s lip trembled, and she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“Yes, it does,” Ilari said firmly. “Because you loved. You risked it. That’s more than most people can say by the time they retire. And it meant something. Even if it ended.”

Y/N dropped her eyes. “It didn’t just end. It was ripped away.”

She hadn’t cried in front of anyone—not since the room. Not since his body went still under the operating light, while she screamed for someone to do something. But now, in front of Ilari, the tears came. Silent, hot, unapologetic.

Ilari wrapped her in a gentle hug, like an older brother or uncle—safe, understanding. “You don’t have to go back to him, Y/N. Not your father. Not that place. You can do something else. Something you want. Anything. Just... don’t let this grief turn into a cage.”

She nodded into his shoulder but said nothing.

When she pulled back, she wiped her face and gave him a crooked, sad smile. “You were always the best part of this lab.”

“Damn right I was.” He chuckled, but his eyes were misted, too. “You’ll always have a place here. If ever you decide to stop letting your dad control your career—or your life. Just say the word. I’ll make room.”

She laughed softly. “If I ever come back, it’ll be for the mango tea and your terrible jokes.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” He grinned, but it faltered at the edges. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Ilari.”

She turned toward the door, suitcase in hand. But before leaving, she paused in the hallway, just once, and looked back over her shoulder—like maybe, just maybe, he’d come walking through one more time. Laughing. Teasing. Kissing her softly like the world outside didn’t exist.

But it was just silence.

And she left.

Back to New York. Back to the city that raised her. Back to the legacy she never asked for. But this time, something in her heart had changed. Because even if she never said it out loud, she had loved someone—truly, deeply. And now that love would live in her like a scar.

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sevasey51 · 3 months ago

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Hello love! Can you do an imagine of Connor’s wife having a super bad episode of POTS and having it lead to a seizure and freaking out Jay. Who was supposed to be watching her because she was feeling off, and Connor and Will had to work an important case?

When Everything Spirals

Summary: Y/N, already feeling off, convinces her husband Connor and brother Will to head to work for an important case, promising Jay she’ll take it easy at home. But her symptoms spiral into a severe POTS episode, triggering convulsive syncope that terrifies Jay. When Sylvie and Violet bring her into Med, she crashes again—twice. The aftermath leaves everyone shaken, especially her protective husband, Connor.

It started off with a heaviness in her limbs and a strange fog behind her eyes. Y/N knew the signs, the dull throb behind her eyes, the way her vision tunneled every time she stood for longer than thirty seconds. Something was off today—but she didn’t want to say anything. Not when Connor and Will were scheduled to assist on a high-risk cardio-thoracic case they’d been planning for weeks.

Jay had already picked up on her sluggishness that morning when he dropped by for coffee. He raised an eyebrow as she curled up on the couch with Charlie nestled by her legs and her water bottle untouched on the table.

“You okay, Bug?” he asked, crossing his arms and watching her closely.

“Just tired,” she whispered, giving him a weak smile. “I promise I’ll chill today.”

Jay reluctantly agreed to keep an eye on her. He’d taken the day off, knowing something was up, even if she hadn’t said it out loud.

But things unraveled fast.

By noon, Y/N tried standing to get a drink and never made it past the hallway. Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears. The room tilted. Her legs gave out. She crashed to her knees, hands trembling violently.

Jay ran to her the second he heard the thud. He found her slumped against the wall, trying to stay upright, her eyes wide and glossy, skin pale and clammy. She was barely responsive.

“Y/N!” he shouted, catching her just as her body jerked in a seizure-like convulsion. It wasn’t a true seizure—they’d learned that term later—convulsive syncope, a terrifying mix of a fainting episode with seizure-like activity due to her POTS.

Jay panicked. He tried grounding her, checking her airway, cradling her head, calling her name—none of it helped. He immediately dialed 911.

“Please—my sister—she has a heart condition or something—she’s not responding, she’s seizing—I don’t know what’s happening!”

Within minutes, Squad pulled up. Sylvie Brett and Violet rushed into the apartment and found Jay on the floor beside her, visibly shaken.

“She’s got a history of POTS,” he explained hurriedly. “She said she was dizzy earlier and just—collapsed.”

Y/N was pale, still semi-conscious but weak and uncoordinated. They loaded her onto the gurney, fitted her with oxygen, and applied the cardiac monitor.

Her blood pressure was low, heart rate erratic.

“She’s throwing PVCs,” Sylvie muttered, glancing at the screen. “We need to go.”

By the time they reached the ED, Will was already scrubbed out and rushing down with Connor, who hadn’t even waited to hear the full story before tearing off his scrub cap.

The sight of his wife being wheeled in on oxygen with IV lines already running, her limbs twitching subtly from post-syncopal tremors, made Connor’s heart stop.

“She’s had one already,” Violet briefed. “Jay said she seized up and dropped. GCS was fluctuating. We gave fluids, oxygen, and she responded but not well.”

Connor’s hand cupped her face the second they wheeled her into Trauma 2. “Sweetheart, I’m here,” he whispered, brushing her damp hair away from her face.

Will immediately began organizing orders—labs, ECG, CT if needed, even though they suspected it was another severe flare. Connor was more hands-on. He stayed by her side while April hung fluids and ensured the cardiac monitor stayed on.

Jay appeared in the doorway, pale and shaken. “She didn’t make a sound. She just—went down.”

“You did the right thing, Jay,” Will reassured him, voice calm but clipped with worry.

Connor reached across the bed to take her hand, just as her body jerked again—violent, uncoordinated, and terrifying.

“She’s seizing again!” Maggie called, running into the room.

Connor immediately leaned over, securing her airway and shielding her head. “This is convulsive syncope. Keep the airway open. Roll her.”

“Fluids still going?” Will asked quickly.

“Yep,” April confirmed. “She’s crashing—BP’s 80 over 40.”

Connor’s jaw clenched. “Get her on vasopressors. Now.”

They stabilized her after two more episodes. She was confused, exhausted, and unable to sit up without her vitals nosediving.

“We’re admitting her,” Connor said firmly. “And putting her on telemetry overnight.”

“She’s not going to love that,” Will noted, helping adjust the IV line.

“She can be mad all she wants,” Connor replied. “She scared the hell out of me.”

Later, as she dozed under dim lights, Charlie tucked next to her on the bed thanks to a very discreet visit from Jay, Connor stayed seated at her bedside, fingers laced with hers.

“I told you to call me if you didn’t feel right,” he whispered, brushing his thumb across her knuckles. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“I didn’t want to pull you from surgery,” she murmured weakly, barely audible.

“I’d miss every surgery for the rest of my life if it meant keeping you safe.”

And he meant it.

Hey love thank you for request because of it I’m thinking of starting a mini series for it! What do you guys think? 🫶🏻

#fluff #connor rhodes #connor rhodes x reader #connor rhodes imagine #yn halstead #chicago med #connor rhodes x halstead reader #will halstead #will halstead x sister #wife! reader #jay halstead x sister #jay halstead

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taibami · 22 days ago

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✷ stay with me, hold my hand. There's no need to be brave | 856 | cw: Zenji x f!reader, mentions of death, ZENJI REAL NAME SPOILER!

🎧 I will - Mitski

Beep. Beep. Beep

The sound of a repeating beat coming from the monitor echoed across the surgery room. As you stood there, eyes staring at the flat line, indicating that the patient was dead.

Another failed surgery.

“Patient died at 3:09 am. Cause of death; perioperative mortality.”

Your coworkers shot you an empathetic look. One of them patted your shoulder as an attempt to comfort you. But you stood there, your eyes never leaving the ECG monitor with a clenched fist that your hand turned white.

You hate death. You always do.

The word alone sends you through spiralling emotions and unwanted memories creeping back to you as you try your best to push it away. But the more you push it away, the more it haunts you till your sleep.

Sometimes, you think, maybe it's karma that's catching up to you. After you failed to save a person and watch them die in your very eyes─who has relied on you and had high hopes of getting saved and making it out of the hospital alive. the family and friends who’re waiting for them outside the operating room─clinging on to their very last hope, only for it to be crushed by heartbreaking news.

You sat outside the operating room after changing out of your scrubs. From the distance, you can hear the muffled sobs from the family of the patient you just lost. It made your heart twist and ache in the worst way.

‘Im sorry’ was the only silent words that you can offer for the grieving family.

Your coworker noticed your defeated self. He knew you've always been sensitive to the death of your patients─he knew that your weighing feelings makes it hard for you to recover from your trauma.

Bending his upper body a little bit, he hugged you and rubbed circles on your back,”it's okay, it's not your fault. The infection was unstoppable anyway… so don't beat yourself up to it” he reassured before taking his leave.

All of your pent up emotions come crashing down, as tears fall in your hands that's muffling your sobs. It hurts. Everything hurts. Your heart feels heavy─it's grieving─at times like this, you would always seek comfort from someone. Someone who could ease and carry the heavy weight of your feelings.

But that someone simply doesn't exist anymore. So, whose arms are you going to run now?

Your sobbing and gasps filled the hallway of the hospital. The wind feels nothing but a cold embrace to your skin. As if no one's there for you but only yourself.

Suddenly, you heard a strum of biwa playing.

Your eyes widen at the familiarity of the tune, as the vivid imagery you wanted to push away slowly comes back.

─

♪ ….~~♪ … ~ .. ♪

The sound of the rain and the strumming of biwa brings you a sense of comfort. feeling your mind enter in its peaceful state as you lay your head on your lovers’ lap, who's humming a lullaby.

“Feeling better now my dear?” Taro looked down at your serene state, his warm hands engulfing yours. Giving it a slight grip to reassure you that he's here with you. resting with you in his chamber─the place you always run to when you need peace of mind.

“Mhm” you hummed, nuzzling your cheeks against his touch on your cheeks, enjoying the warmth it's giving aside from the cold wind.

“can you.. hold me like this until I fall asleep?” you murmured, glancing at Taro whose eyes are already gazing at you with a curled smile.

“Of course, doll. I'll hold your hand and chase away the bad dreams!” He exclaimed, earning a chuckle from you, shaking your head in amusement.

“You're turning into a bad dream hunter now? Don't leave me alone here in the physical world.”

Taro shook his head, using his other hand to play with your hair.

“Wouldn't dream of doing that, dear.”

─

“Why must you come back now?” you muttered, voice raspy due to crying.

After reminiscing about your past lover, you stared at the white ceiling. In attempts to push the tears back into your eyes. Your eyes hurt, you're not in a mood to cry anymore─not after you spent hours weeping alone until you feel like you can't cry anymore.

Your heart yearned, crave for his touch again. To see him again even if it's just his faint spirit.

But you know you can't see him anymore. He's gone for a year─there's no hope of being with him again.

You felt something touch your hand, you looked down to see a doll with dark purple hair, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing that looks similar to what Taro wears.

Its eyes bore to you, despite its emptiness, you felt a sense of comfort and warmth through it.

The same feeling you get when you're with him.

Pursing your lips into a thin line, you gritted your teeth as you held the doll in your arms, using it to muffle your anguish cry. and before you know it, you slowly drifted to sleep, letting the darkness fill your vision.

You faintly sense what feels like someone clasping your hand, sending you to deep sleep, where joyful memories awaits for you.

an: goodnight

#💬 @𝗍𝖺𝗂𝖻𝖺𝗆𝗂 #ending is based on 5.7 archon quest #that quest broke me sm </3 #i miss zenji sm #i MIGHT write pt 2 but you'll never know heh #tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker x reader #zenji kotodama #zenji x reader #zenji kotodama x reader #taro kirisaki #tkdb x reader #tkdb #tokyo debunker x mc #tokyo debunker angst

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specialmedicalcentre · 1 month ago

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Rosina's Rapid Rhythm, Part 1.

"Doctor, can I borrow you for a minute?"

Cate looked up from her notes, tapping away on the tablet in her lap. Nurse Teri was leaning down towards her, a friendly look on her face but with an expression that implied urgency. "Yes, of course," she got up from the chair, "…what have we got?" They began walking together through the busy ward.

"Something on one of our FCs. Looks like a weird rhythm I thought you should see." Teri motioned with her head to the other side of the ward, and Cate nodded.

As they walked, Cate mused about the day's events. SMC's First Cardiac promotion was turning out to be a complete success, more patient interest than anyone had suspected. It seemed that among posters, word-of-mouth, and piquing the interest of young folks, the public ward was full - and more were coming in. Cate looked over the rows of exam chairs, each with their tidy stack of cardiac monitors, each occupied by an eager patient getting hooked up for what in most cases was their first ECG. The admit staff were starting to run out of printed heart camisoles, Cate thought with amusement.

Cate couldn't help the spontaneous smile that formed on her face. Was this move unusual? Unorthodox? Of course it was. But at SMC, that's just good medicine, she thought as if by rote. And the patients were enjoying themselves! Of course, in some cases, they found something that needed attention. And that was also the point of First Cardiac.

Quickly they approached a patient in her exam chair, hooked up like all the rest. Teri quickly summarized as they approached. "Rosina is a caucasian female, 19 years, said her friend convinced her to some in today. She's visiting - Italian national, on vacation. She needed some convincing but eventually sat for an exam. BP 102 over 70, but variable, borderline hypo. HR peaked at 122 and didn't really come down, though, and the waves look a little…weird. Thought you should have a look. Oh, and I'd already marked her for follow-up, before I saw you at the table."

Cate nodded again as they arrived at Rosina sitting in the exam chair. Looks a little scared, Cate thought, but that's to be expected. The girl wore the surgical bouffant awkwardly, almost as an afterthought. That was a nice touch, Cate thought, even thought it wasn't strictly necessary. An inexpensive detail to give patients a 'real feel' for things. She introduced herself. "Hi there, I'm Catalina Palomo, Chief of Cardiology here at SMC. You can call me Dr. Cate if you like. What's your name?" She asked, but Rosina just looked at her nervously. The 5-lead electrodes looked big on her small frame, and she sat stiffly in the chair.

"Hi," the girl said. "I am…Rosina." Obviously the nametag should have told Cate that, but the introduction was more of an icebreaker. The girl had a strong Italian accent, and sounded nervous. "Is something - something wrong?" She asked. Cate now noted the "EXTRA" label that Teri had already placed on the sticky nametag, indicating for the staff that follow-up was recommended.

Cate had already glanced at the monitor when she arrived, but now she looked at it with some intent. "We just want to be sure we're looking at everything closely today, Rosina. That's why we're glad you came in for First Cardiac." Cate saw right away the borderline tachy rhythm as well as the mis-shapen waves. She suspected something real, not just anxiety. HR was now 115, and resps were a little high, too, at 22. "Rosina, are you having any trouble breathing today?" Cate placed her stethoscope in her ears and pressed it to Rosina's chest, right above the neckline of her tanktop.

"No, is okay." Rosina shook a little when Cate pressed the bell to her skin.

"Sorry, honey; it's cold. Not out of breath at all? Feel like your heart is racing?" Cate said, moving the bell around.

"…racing?" Rosina asked.

Cate shook her head briefly, as if to clear it. "Ah, sorry," she smiled. "Do you feel your heart beating fast?"

Rosina seemed to think about that as Cate pressed the steth below her left breast, against the fabric of the tanktop. "N…no, not fast. It's…same all the time."

"Okay, Rosina." Cate looked at Teri for a moment, and the nurse seemed to shrug with her eyes.

"Okay, honey. Breathe deep for me, please." Cate said, listening to the indrawn breath. "Again." Rosina continued to take deep breaths as Cate moved the steth around her chest, eventually lifting the tanktop slightly and slipping the now-warmed bell underneath for better contact. The ECG wires brushed her hand as she manipulated the steth. Eventually she drew back. "Just relax for me - I'm going to check your pressure. Teri, can you…thanks."

Nurse Teri had anticipated the request and her finger was already on the menu button. With a whirr almost muted by the sounds of the open ward, Rosina's cuff inflated against her pale skin, the straining velcro revealing the growing tightness. Rosina grimaced quietly as the machine beeped, the cuff quietly deflating. 105/72, and this was probably high due to anxiety, Cate thought. Cate touched Rosina's hands. "Do you feel cold, honey?" She reached down to touch her feet, could only feel her ankles.

Rosina looked down at Cate reaching for her feet, which struck her as odd. "No, is fine...in here."

Standing up again, Cate leaned in, looking into Rosina's frightened eyes. "Are you on any medications, Rosina? Even over-the-counter. Anything?" Gently, Cate positioned Rosina's face so her pupils were clearly visible, then carefully felt for the girl's carotid pulse and began to palpate her neck. "Look up for me, please…yes, thank you."

Rosina, craning her neck, responded briefly. "No. No medications. Ah - maybe…ibu-profen?"

Cate, nodding, gently relaxed Rosina's head. "Mm-hmm, ok. Are you on you period?"

"Not...yet. Soon."

Cate nodded, looked at Rosina, then at the monitors again. "Any drugs, honey? We need to know this." The question was curt and delivered with authority.

Rosina looked alarmed…or was it insulted? Cate thought. "…no drugs." The girl said, flatly.

Cate stood straight; turning to Teri, "I'd like to check something - can you place another BP?" Teri nodded, moving quickly and efficiently. To Rosina: "Honey, I'm going to put another blood pressure cuff on you, just for a moment. Just checking everything, ok?" Rosina nodded as Teri got the second cuff wrapped around the girl's arm and hooked up to a spare monitor channel. In a few seconds, it was also inflating.

A beep soon signaled. 98/65. "Mm-hmm," Cate mumbled, thinking. She patted Rosina on the thigh. "Rosina, honey, just relax for a bit, ok?"

Cate moved a few feet from Rosina, facing the monitors, and turned to Teri. "Let me tell you what I notice." She casually motioned to Rosina, who still sat stiffly, as if the monitors attached to her prevented her from moving. "Cool extremities. Resting tach, persistent hypotension. Slightly elevated resps, but no frank hyperventilation. Do you agree?"

Nodding, Teri signaled agreement. "Uh-huh, yup. She's also agitated, right? So BP might actually trend lower."

"I'd expect so." Cate nodded approval.

"And…" Teri thought she was interrupting a thought, so she hesitated. She knew Cate was a good, but firm teacher.

Cate looked expectantly at the junior nurse. "What is it?"

"It's…weird that she isn't aware of her tachycardia, right?"

"Let me ask you a question." Cate was in teaching mode. "How sure are you that she would admit it?"

Teri looked as if she would blush. "Right, ok. How do we get that answer, then?"

"Sometimes we can't. So we use the data and trust instinct." Cate said, as if quoting from a book. Which she probably wrote, Teri thought with amusement.

"Okay, so what else?" Cate asked. "Take a look at her ECG and give me your first impression. Remember anomalous waveform training, and look at Lead II."

Always teaching, Teri thought. She stared at the waveform display, even blurring her eyes a little, just to get an overall sense. She adjusted the display to feature Lead II. It took a short bit, but something occurred to her. "Oh! There's…QRS narrowing." Teri was pleased to remember the term. "Wait. And…ST depression?"

Nodding, with - a satisfied smirk? Teri wasn't sure - Cate said, "Great, you see it as well. Yes, and that makes me suspect some sort of tach syndrome - there are a few to investigate. But we can't do it down here."

Cate turned back to Rosina, who obviously was able to see, but probably not hear their dialogue over the din of the ward. She sat on a portable stool that was set up next to the patient chair. "Rosina, honey, I'm really glad you came in today. I'm seeing some things in your ECG that we should take a closer look at.

Rosina's eyes were large as she looked straight at Cate. "But I…feel fine. Feel ok." The young patient stammered slightly, and Cate could tell that she was anxious. As if by instinct, Teri gently placed her gloved hand on Rosina's shoulder.

"I know, honey - that's good." Cate also made contact with Rosina, placing her hand on the girl's knee. "That's why it's really great that you decided to have your First Cardiac with us today. Sometimes these conditions don't make us feel sick right away. You have a kind of rapid heartbeat - we call this tachycardia - and it's there even though you might not be aware. Do you see that number on the screen? The green one?"

Cate motioned to the patient monitor, on a rolling stand next to the chair. The HR indicator now glowed 125 next to a dense forest of QRS complexes bouncing away as Rosina's heart clattered in her chest. Rosina turned her head stiffly to look, squinting her eyes a bit. She looked somewhat confused, so Cate looked at Teri, and nodded subtly.

Teri looked kindly at Rosina, and spoke softly. "These electrodes are sensing your heartbeat and we're reading it out on the monitor." The nurse gently touched the micropore electrode on Rosina's nearest shoulder. "For your age and body type, and considering your general good health, that number should read more like 72. So this is rather fast, and that's why we want to look closer. Do you see?"

"Mm. Yes." Rosina said, quietly.

Cate nodded approval. "Thank you, Teri. Now Rosina, without more tests I can't be sure of the cause. It may be simple - sometimes these things clear on their own." She paused, glanced briefly up at Teri and back to Rosina. "…but it could be a kind of arrhythmia - er, a 'rhythm mistake' that we may have to correct."

"Correct?" Rosina turned away from the monitor - she looked almost fascinated by it, Cate thought - and looked from Cate, to Teri, and back.

Cate patted her knee. "Let's take it one step at a time, honey. First, I'd like to have you come up to Cardiology and we'll have a closer look. Does that sound ok?"

"My…my friend is here. I need to…" Rosina was craning her neck, trying to look around the ward.

Teri spoke up first. "We'll all find your friend before we go up, and let them know what's going on. Does that sound ok?"

After a pause, Rosina looked down at herself. She seemed to take stock, lifting both arms slightly, still wrapped with the cuffs. "…is ok."

"Great," Cate said, smiling, quickly shifting gears. She stood, speaking rapidly to Teri. "I'm going to order a 12-lead and get the stress lab prepped. Can you bring her up in a few minutes? We'll admit her once we're there. If the friend wants to join us, that's ok for now."

"Consider it done. Would you like my help upstairs?" Teri asked.

"Of course. Please." Cate nodded definitively. Turning to Rosina, "Rosina, I'll see you upstairs. We'll get things figured out, ok?"

Rosina looked at her plaintively, and with some resignation. "Ok."

=====

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https://specialmedicalcentre.myflodesk.com/

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justmeinadaze · 1 year ago

Text

Little Girl Gone Part 4 (Steddie X You)

Warnings: Officer Steve harrington/ Gangster Eddie munson & Doctor fem submissive Y/N, SMUT, degrading, some spanking, LOTS of dirty talk, handcuffs, slight overstimulation, after care of course.

ANGST, Jason causing problems before the meeting with his dad. Mentions of explosions and shooting. Eddie being sexily intimidating <3, Steve's dad makes a cameo and undermines the readers profession like a dick. Slight cliffhanger ending...I guess. Idk lol

Word Count: 5993

Last Chapter Here

“Last chance, sweetheart. Are you sure you want to do this?”

Your hold on Eddie’s arm tightens as you exhale out your nerves. This entire week had been rough not just on you but them as well. You were ready for it all to be over so you could just enjoy being with the new men in your life. If this is what you needed to do for that to be done so be it.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

As you smile up at him, he leans down to kiss your lips making you laugh as you quickly wipe away the lipstick that lingered on his mouth.

Both your demeanors hardened as the door to the venue was opened and Eddie led you inside.

***

The gangster ran into the hospital room with you trailing behind, glancing at the chart that was attached to the wall as Steve stood by Chrissy’s bed side.

“What happened?!”

“Witnesses say they don’t know. Just, suddenly, her store was fire.”, the officer relayed with a sigh. “It’s all gone, Ed.”

“It says here she should be fine…physically at least.”, you add as your sad eyes shift towards the unconsciously girl in front of them.

“We-we can rebuild her store. That won’t be an issue—”

“EMS found a note pinned to her sweater.”

Steve handed him the slightly charred piece of paper that Eddie read aloud.

“No, Kiddo, this moment…this is me at my most masochistic.

Three.”

“The fuck does that even mean?”

“It’s a quote from Kill Bill. Everything but the three. I don’t know what that means.”, you answered, trying to hide the fear and worry.

Placing his hands on his hips, Eddie begins to pace.

“I really think you two should stay in my apartment until we get this resolved.”

“You and I both know I can’t do that.”, Steve murmurs as his face scrunches in thought. “And we both know she’s not because of her patients.”

A knowing smirk flashes along your features as you shrug.

“I don’t like this. I still think—”

“I know what you think, Ed, and I’m telling you no.”, the officer cut him off. “You already went and attacked him once and look what’s happening.”

“I feel weak, Steve. Like I’m letting him get away with this bullshit.”

“You’re not weak. If anything, he’s weak for reacting this way.”, you respond as you wrap your arm around his waist and in response he kisses your forehead.

“I just… I’m still going to have some of my guys watching over you two. Y/N, Gareth will be in the clinic with you and Steve, Jeff can linger out of the way so he isn’t seen.”

#########

“Jesus, ALL of Hawkins High Society is here.”, you murmur as you two enter the garish ballroom style area where extremely well-dressed people had gathered.

Eddie had taken you shopping and bought you a beautiful (expensive) red evening dress that flowed to your ankles but had a slit up to just below your hip. He had bought you some equally expensive jewelry to match except for the bracelet around your wrist.

“I know it’s not as lavish as what Tony Montana here got you but I saw it in the store and it made me think of you.”, Steve blushed as he hooked the bracelet to you and spun it around. It was a simple silver chain but in the middle was what looked like a heartbeat reading you see on ECG machines at work. “Since you, ya know, stole the other half of my heart.”

“Wow, Steve Harrington. That was smooth.”, Eddie chuckled. “Um, here. Here’s MY other half as well.”, he grinned softly as he slides one of his rings onto your finger.

“Yeah like you said before, ‘rich people trying to make themselves feel better.’.”

Eddie insisted you both should stand out so not only would people see you together and know you’re his but it would draw the eye of Mr. Carver so he’d hopefully come talk to you two. His suit matched your outfit with a red button up but every other piece on him was a crisp black that made him seem even more handsome.

While your hair was down around your shoulders, his was up and pulled back so you could see his face a bit more. Occasionally during the car ride, you would lean over and kiss his cheek just because you could making him beam over at you as he squeezed your hand.

Leading you to the bar, he ordered you both a glass of champagne making you giggle as you watch him chug it down and ask for another.

“Nervous?”

“Uh a little but not for the reason you might think. I’ve never met Steve’s parents. I’ve heard stories and of course they don’t know about us but for some reason I still want them to kind of like me.”, he playfully winces making you laugh harder.

“That’s normal, baby. You love him so you want them to like you; to approve.”

Grinning in your direction, Eddie leans down to kiss your cheek while you were taking a sip from your glass.

“What was that for?”

“I’m just so glad we met you. I wish it was under different circumstances but—”

“One bourbon, straight, please and thank you.”, Steve sighs heavily as he leans over the counter waiting for his drink. “My parents are on their bullshit tonight.”

“I’m sorry, honey.”, you whisper with a smile as he thanks the bartender again and knocks back his drink.

“Steven, I thought you were bringing everyone back something.”, a man practically whined as he came up behind him.

“I was. Dad, this is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N and—”

“Edward Munson, sir. Nice to meet you.”, Eddie greeted as he enthusiastically extended his hand for him to shake.

As the officer turns to grab the drinks and hide his smirk, you subtly bumped him with your hip.

“Hm. I’ve heard your name around town. Very prominent young man. What do you do exactly?”

“Management you could say sir.”

“And you young lady? Are you a real doctor or just one of those professor types?”

“Um, I own my own clinic and treat patients.”

“Oh yeah? Where?”

“It’s Hawkins Virtue Clinic on the lower west side.”

“Ah on the crime riddled side of town where people can’t even afford napkins from a restaurant let alone healthcare.”

Your gaze shifts to Steve who tilts his glass towards you in a cheer gesture with a little smile as he knocks back its contents.

“I guess you could say that. That’s why I don’t charge them more than they can afford.”

“How do you make money then?”

“It’s not always about money. For me, all that matters is people can live long healthy lives.”

“Not in Hawkins, honey, but it’s a cute dream. Come on, Steve, your mother is waiting.”

“I’ll see you peasants later.”, he teases as he winks and follows his father.

“Well, that was a good test run.”, you joke as you turn to face Eddie.

“Yeah, hopefully George isn’t that cynical.”

#############

“Thank you for keeping an eye on me these past few days.”, you beam at Gareth as you both walk to your car.

“Of course. It’s actually been oddly exciting. I learned that green is never really a good color especially on or IN your skin unless its vegetables, obviously.” He grins when you laugh. “I also learned that sick kids are VERY loud and nurses deal with way too much.

“They really do. I try to give them raises as much as I can to show my appreciation but it’s hard with my lack of funds.”

“I’m sure Eddie could help if you asked.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t impose.”

Your guard paused, holding his arm out to stop you as well.

“Stay here.” Drawing his gun, he slowly walked forward towards your car, scanning the interior and around the side. Noticing a note tapped to the door handle, he carefully pulls it off and reads the contents before his wide eyes meet yours.

“Y/N RUN!”

As he starts sprinting your way, you suddenly feel heat and a strong wind that knocks you off your feet as your car explodes.

***

Eddie’s tires skid as he slams on his breaks when he arrives at your clinic. Bypassing all the fire fighters and EMS, he entered the building hunting for you.

“What happened?! Baby, are you alright?”

Silently, Steve grabbed his partner’s arm and dragged him off to the side. Digging into his pocket, he handed Eddie the note that was taped to your car.

“I'm not gonna kill you. Your job will be to tell the rest of them that death is coming for them, tonight. Two.”

“I looked it up, it’s a quote from another movie involving revenge. And I’m assuming—”

“He’s counting down.”, Eddie interrupts. “I’m going to fucking kill that son of a bitch.”

“No, hey. We have a plan, remember? Right now, she needs you.”

After coming back around the corner, Steve shoos the EMS people away as he sits beside you in your waiting area with his pencil and pad pretending to take your statement while the gangster takes a seat on your other side.

“Princess, look at me. Are you ok? Did you get hurt?”

“Uh, no. Gareth, he, um, he did though.”, you respond as your tear-filled eyes meet his. “I tried to do what I could, Eddie. H-He was badly burned. I-I-I don’t have stuff here for those kinds of burns.”

Tilting you against him, he presses your head to his chest as you sob.

“EMS said that he will most likely be ok and if you hadn’t been there he would have died. Honey, you saved him.”

“H-He saved me, Steve.”

“You’re both staying with me. No arguments.”, Eddie announced as you nodded.

“I have to go in and fill out my report—”

“Steven…”

“I know, I know. I’m probably next but there’s nothing I can do, Eddie. I have to go in and do this. Plus, I have Jeff and a station full of cops. I’ll be ok.”

############

“I’m going to go smoke a cigarette, sweetheart, ok? Don’t go far.”

You nod as you watch him reach into his pocket and pull out his pack as he disappears out on the nearby patio. Glancing at all the people around you, you suddenly feel extremely isolated completely unsure of what you should be doing.

“Don’t let them see you crumble.”, an older man chuckles as he steps closer to you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I know what it’s like to walk into this sea of rich people and feel completely out of place. When my father and I moved here, we had nothing but a few pennies in our pocket but he knew how to finagle. Networked his way to his first 100K and used that to start an empire.”

“That’s amazing. My, uh, my grandparents were the same. They said personality goes a long way in any business. My grandma opened a tutoring center on the east side and helped so many underprivileged kids go on to college. My dad thought she was ridiculous. ‘You’re barely making ends meet, ma!’”, you roll your eyes.

“Ah, one of those.”, the man smiles. “I inherited my father’s company and then gave it to my son. Did your grandmother do the same?”

“Oh, no. She got sick pretty early on in her life and I moved in with them to help take care of her. It’s what actually sparked my interest in medicine. I’m a doctor and I run my own clinic, Hawkins Virtue.”

“Oh! I’ve heard of that place. You help a lot of people who are struggling.”

“I try.”, you grin, happy to meet someone who seems to genuinely find interest.

“Do you need funding? I’d love to come by and see what you do.”

Shifting your gaze, you notice Steve watching you intensely from beside his parents.

“I would like that very much. I’m Dr. Y/N Y/L/N.”, you introduce as you offer him your hand that he takes and kisses the back off.

“George. George Carver.”

***

Steve sighs as he heads out of the police station to go home. Placing the ear bud in his ear, he taped his phone to immediately call Eddie.

“What’s going on?? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, babe. I’m fine. I’m on my way now.”

“Ok, stay on the phone with me till you’re almost here.”

“Heh. I love when you get protective.”

Eddie listens to every footstep with anticipation as the officer heads towards his car.

“You’re my Paladin, babe, but I’m the Master. I can take care of you to.”

“You’re such a nerd.”, he chuckles, pausing at the sight of the note on his windshield.

Trying not to startle his boyfriend, he carefully removed it as he backed away from his car.

“Killing's got to be accepted. Murder was the only way that everybody stayed in line. You got out of line, you got whacked. Everybody knew the rules. One.”

Something suddenly whizzed passed him, shattering his driver’s side window.

“Fuck me.” As soon as he hit the ground, multiple rounds of gunfire went off around him. Steve could barely hear Eddie in his ear as he crawled behind a nearby vehicle and waited.

“STEVEN! ANSWER ME GODDAMN IT!”

“I’m ok! I’m ok!”

Pointing his gun towards the car, he fired a few rounds before it disappeared around the corner.

***

Eddie paced as you cleaned the cuts on Steve’s hand he had received from all the glass on concrete. The gangster was on edge since he had to wait for police to scope the scene and take the officer’s statement.

“Fucking asshole. Steve, I’m sorry but I can’t let this slide. Two of my friends are in the hospital and he almost killed you two.”

“No. He wants to kill us in front of you remember. This was just to toy with you and us.”

“I don’t like the casual way you said that.”, Steve teased as he pokes your nose with his free hand.

“Excuse me. Not a joke here!”

“You’re right, baby. Talking with his father won’t be enough. He crossed a line but we need to focus on this first to keep Y/N safe. After we handle that, then we can handle him.”

“I may have an idea that won’t upset his father IF we get that approval and will get your message across.”, you announce as they give you their attention.

############

“Mr. Carver.”

“Ah, Mr. Munson or should I saw Edward. We don’t want to confuse you with your father now do we?”, the man laughs light-heartedly as your gangster circles a protective arm around you. “Do you know Dr. Y/L/N here?”

“Oh, please, sir. You can call me Y/N.”, you beam trying to remain as calm as possible.

“Yes, sir. I met Y/N when she saved me from a nasty wound I got. I had heard of all the things she’s done for the community so, of course, I had to get to know her better.”, he grins as he pulls you closer.

“That ‘nasty wound’ wouldn’t have been inflicted by my son per chance?” Eddie stiffened a bit beside you as the man gave him a once over. “Yeah, I know you and Jason don’t get along but that doesn’t give you the right to invade his turf and kill his best friend.”

“If I may, Mr. Carver, is there a private place we can talk?”

“No, you may not. Whatever is going on between you and him doesn’t involve me. You two are in charge now. Handle it.”

As he starts to walk away, you reach out to grab the man’s bicep.

“Please, sir. So many innocent people have gotten hurt just in this week alone. Your son is throwing a tantrum over something he started and is upset because Eddie didn’t let it go like his father used to. Please, just listen to what he has to say. We don’t want anything in return or anything like that. Just…listen.”

Jason’s father sighs as he glances you over.

“You would even decline the generous donation I was thinking of giving to your clinic? That’s a lot of funds that could help a lot of people.”

“This will help more.”

At your sentence, he blinked and stood up straighter.

“Ok. Ok, Mr. Munson. Let’s talk.”

***

Jason exhaled as he took off his tie and laid his gun on the kitchen counter with his keys as he headed towards his living room.

“Long night?”

“Jesus Christ, dad!”, the man jumped as he clutched his chest. “You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. I thought you were going to the fundraiser event tonight.”

“I was busy.”

“I hope you weren’t busy with anything involving the Munson crew.”

As his father rose to his feet, Jason stood up straighter.

“I told you. That asshole killed Andrew—”

“After you broke into his girlfriend’s house and pulled a gun on him?”

“He killed Patrick and my friends!”

“AFTER you kidnapped his friend WHO IS A COP and beat him up! You stupid idiot!”, his dad growls as his son flinches. “What’s this I hear about you starting fires, blowing up cars, and doing shootings outside of a police station?! And leaving these moronic notes like this is some gangster movie!”, George shouts as he grumbles the papers he was given and tossed them his way. “This is not how we run our business, Jason.”

“Edward Munson needs to be taken out.”, he seethes.

“Edward Munson will be left alone and so will his crew. That includes Steve Harrington and Y/N Y/L/N. Do you understand me, son?”

“Are you kidding!? He just gets away with killing my friends?!”

“BE GLAD I DON’T KILL YOU! Sit down!” Jason cowers at his father’s anger as he sits on the couch. “If you weren’t my son, I’d have gotten rid of you for how sloppy you’ve been. That being said you still need to understand that there are consequences to your actions.” Looking past him, George addresses the darkness behind his son’s ear. “He’s all yours.”

Something sharp stings the gangster’s neck as his world begins to spin.

“I trust whatever you come up with, Mr. Munson, the punishment will fit the crime.”

As you and Eddie come into view, Jason’s world goes dark.

#################

“Good morning, sunshine.”, Eddie jests as Jason’s eyes flutter open. “I wouldn’t wiggle too much if I were you. The view up here is pretty great but not when you’re falling down eight stories.”

The rival gangster’s eyes finally adjust to see the other man in front of him with you and Steve on either side. He tried to move but soon realized he was bound to a chair with duct tape over his mouth, completely at your mercy as he was perched near the edge of a tall building.

“You know, I’m a fan of movies myself. The one thing my father and I could connect on was The Godfather trilogy. Did you ever see those, Jason?” The man’s only response is trying to tug at his restraints. “No? That’s ok. The third one is utter garbage but that second one. Oof…so good. There’s one line in there that always stood out to me. ‘Chiedi di me ai tuoi amici del quartiere. Ti diranno che so come ricambiare un favore.’”

Stepping forward with his hands in his pockets he continues.

“It’s Italian. ‘Ask your friends in the neighborhood about me. They'll tell you I know how to return a favor.’”

The rival gangster’s eyes widen as Eddie kneels to his level, balancing on his heels as he speaks to him again is a soft tone laced subtle venom.

“You crossed a line, Carver. If it were up to me I would have killed you and your entire enterprise after hurting Steve and threatening Y/N. After the stunts you pulled this week, I almost did. You can thank this young lady here for talking me out of it.”

Jason’s eyes flick to your angry ones before looking at the other man again.

“She also suggested we talk to your father which was a brilliant idea. He’s very levelheaded and kind of funny. Right, guys?”

“Hysterical. He thought what you did at the police station was so amusing he recommended I take you in and throw you in a cell with Allen since you miss him so much.”, Steve quipped with a smirk.

“After blowing up my car and breaking into my apartment, he thought I should use some of things I learned at medical school as a punishment. Oddly enough, castration was the first thing to came to his mind. I told him I didn’t think you had any balls to remove since you were acting like a five-year-old.”, you add making Eddie’s smile widen.

“He also suggested we make the punishment fit the crime thus you’re ours for the next week, buddy!” As the gangster lightly taps his face, Jason starts to cry. “But, Carver, I’m not going to do that. Do you know why? I’m not my father and I’m not like you. I don’t kill for pleasure and I don’t like hurting people. I want this to stop. But make no mistake…” Eddie reaches for Jason’s throat and squeezes it between his ringed fingers. “If you ever threaten or hurt these two again or even fucking think of coming on to my side of Hawkins, I will burn your side to the ground and make you regret ever being born let alone taking your father’s mantle. Am I being clear?”

Ripping away the tape his lips, the gangster squeaks as he continues to cry.

“Yes! I understand. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Eddie.” After tapping his cheek again, Eddie turns taking your hand in his as you three head for the door to leave the roof of the building. “Hey! What about me?!”

“Oh, we’ll call the building super in the morning. Just…don’t lean back.”, Steve answers with a sarcastic thumbs up as the door closes behind him.

##################

You giggled in Eddie’s arms as he held you to him, kissing your lips with vigor as he carried you up the stairs with Steve trailing right behind.

“You…are…amazing.”, he cooed between each breath as he fell with you onto the bed.

“You really are.” Steve added as he threw himself beside you and began sucking on your neck.

Ringed fingers glided hastily up the slit in your dress, moving the silk blocking your core, and effortlessly pushed into your entrance, pumping in and out so quickly the sound of your arousal filled the room.

“Fuck, Eddie.”

“You got me so hard, sweetheart, watching the way you took control talking to George. Jesus and in that beautiful fucking dress.” Your hand floated down to cling to his as his digits inside of you moved at a relentless pace. “I had to keep telling myself to focus because all I wanted to do was push you against that wall and fuck you till you couldn’t walk straight.”

Steve gripped your chin turning you so your lips could meet his as the gangster’s head fell into the nook between your head and shoulder.

“You’re a bad girl now, baby. OUR bad girl.”

“Tr-treat me like one.”

The officer chuckled at your needy tone as you panted into his mouth.

“Yeah? You want us to show you how bad girls get treated?”

“P-Please…please. Fuck I’m gonna cum.”

“Ask nicely, Y/N.”

Leaning your head against the gangster’s, you murmured consistent pleas, begging for relief that he granted as the coil snapped and you practically screamed his name. Offering his fingers to his partner, Steve licked them clean before leaning over you so their lips could mingle together.

After digging in one of his drawers, Eddie produced some handcuffs and passed them over to Steve who took hold of your wrists restraining you to the headboard.

“These are my own set so they should feel more comfortable on your skin than his steel ones.”, Eddie grinned as he kissed your lips.

“Babe, you forgot to take off her dress.”

“Fuck, silly me.” Grabbing the slit in the fabric, he yanked it apart tearing it up the middle till it split in half and fell away. “There we go.”

“No bra, honey? Definitely bad girl behavior.”

“Eddie told me not to wear one.”, you whine as Steve’s gaze shifts his way.

“What? I like her tits. Sue me.”

While Eddie removed his suit, the officer yanked down your panties and tossed them onto the floor while he kissed your lips.

“I bet you want to suck my cock, don’t you dirty girl?”

“I do. Please.”

“I like that. Keep beginning me like that.”

Jumping back into bed, the gangster took hold of one of your legs and lifted it over his shoulder before guiding his cock into your entrance.”

“Oh my god.”

Fingers circled tightly around your neck as your eyes met Steve’s anger filled ones.

“I said beg me for my dick, little girl.”

“P-Please, Steve. I wanna—fuck, Eddie—I wanna choke on your cock. Please! I need it!”

Quickly, he unbuckled his belt and shimmied down his pants enough to free his length, allowing it to hover over your lips.

“Tap three times loudly if you need to stop, ok?”

“Yes, yes sir.”

“Oh, look at that, Eds. Little girl found her manners.”

Eddie smirked as he continued to slam his hips into yours at a rough pace, his thick fingers digging into your thigh as he used it for leverage.

Opening your mouth, you prepared for some the things they had been teaching you. Flattening your tongue you waited, mewling when he finally gave you what you were begging for. As his cock slid down your throat, his fingers tangled in your hair and you focused on the feeling as he slowly thrust his hips.

“Good…good girl. That’s it. Shit, baby. That’s it. You’re almost taking all of me.” Feeling your body tremble, Steve holds you still, allowing you choke and gag around him as you cum. “Yes! You’re ok, baby. Just a couple more seconds.”

Tapping once, you signal you need air and he immediately pulls out to pet your head, murmuring praises as Eddie slows his rhythm to almost a complete stop as he caresses your leg comfortingly.

“Good girl, honey. You did so fucking good. It took all my energy not to cum to but I want to cum inside your tight pussy, pretty girl. So beautiful. What color are we at, Y/N?”

“Green, baby. Green.”

At the word, the gangster lifts your other leg, pushing them together as he slowly thrusts his cock deep inside you.

As your eyes roll back and you moan, Steve kisses away your tears before murmuring against your lips, “Do you still want my dick, baby girl? Do you want me to fuck your pretty little throat? Feel us both deep inside you. I wonder if I can feel myself here.”, he coos as he gently places his hand on your neck. “I know I can feel Eddie fucking you so good. Right, honey?”

His large palm trails down your skin till you feel him press on your lower belly making you whimper louder as your back arches and you tug on your restraints.

“Yeah, he’s right here, nice and deep.”

Eddie grunts as his pace hastens, his partners words amping him up as Steve smiles. Lifting up on his knees once more, the officer holds his tip just above your lips, chuckling as your tongue needily reaches for him.

“Don’t forget what we talked about. Tap if you need to breathe or stop, baby. I’m gonna fuck your throat hard, ok?”

“Y-Yes. Please—fuck—please.”

Sliding his dick into your mouth, your eyes squeezed shut as he did what he said, constantly hitting the back of your throat over and over as the obscene sound of you gagging and drooling filled their ears. Both men became almost feral at the noise, Eddie shaking the bed as he pounded into you and Steve tugging harshly on your hair while mumbling under his breath.

“That’s it, little girl. Jesus. Your mouth feels so fucking good. Atta girl. Choke on my cock, you dirty little whore making a fucking mess. Mmm!”

Your legs abruptly hit the mattress as Eddie fell on top of you, wrapping his arms around your back as he rolled his hips into yours. The officer pulled back, stroking himself with his hand as he watched you both cum together. The gangster laid still trying to catch his breath as Steve reached down to play his hair.

“Fuck me. This pussy is too good.”, Eddie groaned as he sat up and lightly spanked your behind. “I’m glad it’s ours.”

After pulling out of you, both men shared a passionate filled kiss as they switched places, Steve wiggling underneath you so your back was on his chest. While the officer ran his palms over your breasts and along your sides, Eddie took hold of his partners cock, spitting over the tip before running it between your folds, teasing you both as it grazed your clit.

“Please.”, you whine.

Smirking, he did what you asked as the two of you groaned. Steve’s hands gripped your thighs, holding your legs open as he planted his feet into the mattress and thrust up into you.

“Fuck.”

“God, sweetheart, I wish you could see you both from my angle.”, the gangster moaned as he watched his boyfriend’s cock disappear inside you as he stretched you open. “Fuck me. Stevie didn’t even have the patience to take off the rest of his clothes.”, he chuckles, faltering the man’s rhythm as Eddie tugs his pants that had been pooled at his ankles the rest of the way.

Dropping your legs, one of Steve’s hands pulled your hair back as his other roughly kneaded your breast.

“Move your hips.”, he growled as you mewled, trying your best to bounce and roll your waist. “Harder, little girl. Make yourself cum again.” He continued to grumble with a rough tone in your ear, commanding you to move faster repeatedly while smacking your tits with his palm. Screaming his name, you stopped moving as your body shook against him and you pulled hard on the cuffs above you. “Atta girl. Fuck, I can feel your pussy quivering around me. You’re gonna give me one more and I’m gonna cum with you.”

“I…I can’t.”

“Color, princess?”, Eddie whispers as he presses his nose to your cheek.

“Green.”, you mumble as the tears stream down your face.

“Yeah? Fuck you look so beautiful like this with your make up running down like this. Fuck, baby. You can do it. You can give us one more.”

Steve starts moving again with purpose knowing he won’t last long and you most likely will spent after this. After licking his fingers, the long-haired man places them on your clit, rubbing circles into your nub as your sweaty head leans back while the other man clings to your waist.

“There you go, Y/N. Come on, baby! One more. You can do it!”, Eddie encourages, both men moving so fast you don’t even realize it’s coming till your orgasm hits you like a freight train. “Good girl! Good fucking girl.”

Circling his arms around you, Steve’s pace becomes sloppy till you feel him warm your insides as he grunts in your ear.

“Please…please…no…no more. I can’t.”

“No, sweetheart. You did so good. I’m going to uncuff you ok?” You nod as the gangster releases you from your binds and you wince at your sore muscles as you slowly bring your arms down. Steve carefully turns you both onto your side before pulling out of you, mumbling soft apologies as he tries not to hurt you. “Whenever you’re ready, we’re going to take a bath, ok? It will feel good on your body.”

After a few minutes of them smiling tenderly at you as they caressed and kissed parts of your skin, you signaled you were ready and Eddie lifted you into his arms as Steve ran the water. Doing what had become the norm, the gangster lit a cigarette as he sat behind you on the edge of the tub with his feet in the water as he began to clean you. What was new was when the officer pulled a wet wipe from a bag and kneeled beside you to clean your face.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, um, makeup remover. I bought it a while ago before all the bullshit happened for when you spend the night with us. Chrissy said this was a good brand for girl’s skin but if you have another just let me know.” It took him a moment to realize you two were staring at him with small smiles on your lips. “What? Hey, I’m a nice guy!”

“Yes, you are, pretty boy.”, Eddie coos sassily as he leans over to give him a peck as the man rolls his eyes.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

His eyes remain downcast as he throws it away and places the bag on the counter.

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. WE want to…want you to be comfortable…and happy. Are you? Happy I mean.”

Tilting his chin, you kiss his lips as well making his smile grow.

“I am happy. Thank you for everything. It means a lot to me.”

Eddie’s already prepared when you lean your head back to kiss his lips as well making you giggle when he lingers making a loud mwah sound.

“Just because we settled the stuff with Jason doesn’t mean I’m out of danger does it?”

Both men freeze in place as they blink before Steve climbs into the bath in front of you and Eddie slides in behind you.

“No, it doesn’t. There’s always going to be people that want to challenge me and just because we scared Carver doesn’t mean he won’t fuck up again.”

“And like I told you before, now that people know you’re with Eddie, it may cause some ears to perk up with the police which may put more eyes on you than you’re used to.”

“But, sweetheart, we promise you we will do everything we can to keep you safe. I’d hurt or kill to protect you just like with Steve.”

“And, honey, I would hide evidence or lie to anyone in the department to protect you. Not just from people but any kind of jail time.”

“You’re ours, Y/N, and we will take care of you no matter what.”

You can feel their eyes penetrate you as your own remain off to the side as you absorb what they are saying.

Gently, fingers grip your chin, turning you to meet Steve’s soft honey hues.

“You can still leave if you want to. We can come up with a story to explain the party if you still want to have some…semblance of normalcy.”

“Whoa. Steve Harrington is breaking out the big words.”

You laughed at Eddie’s joke as the officer narrowed his eyes in playful annoyance.

“I don’t want to leave. I…”

You want to say it so bad. You want to tell them that you love them. But it’s only been a couple of months and they’ve been together for almost a year. No. You don’t want to scare them away after everything they just did to keep you safe. No…

“I…I trust you both.”

When you flash them a smile both men grin back as Eddie hugs you against his chest and Steve kisses your forehead.

##############

@5tud10-54r4h @munsonzgf @eddiesguitarskills @supraveng

@lilaclazer @ima1986 @micheledawn1975 @foreverminliv @corkadymu

@lemme-slytherin-that-dick @joannamuns9n @dashingdeb16 @sashaphantomhive @corrodedcoffincumslut @aactuaaltraash @nailbatanddungeon

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trishxtrix · 2 months ago

Text

The Bench Across the Street

AO3

Part 1 | Previous | Part 13 | Next

Summary: What if Abby is hurting and forcing Frank to take benzos to “control” his ADHD?

What if few hours after the argument, Frank is brought to the ED on a brink of an overdose and some unexplainable injuries.

TW: Abuse, Overdose, Suicide Attempt

——————————————————————————————————

Frank

“It’s Langdon’s son.”

The world tilted sideways.

I didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

It took a full second—maybe two—for the words to hit.

Langdon’s son.

Tanner.

My Tanner.

Someone called out for the trauma bay to be cleared. Nurses started moving faster, shouting for peds consults and crash cart.

The noise in the ER sharpened and blurred all at once.

I was still standing there, coffee dripping from my hand, forgotten on the floor, when Dana appeared by my side. “Frank,” she said quietly, touching my elbow. “Go.”

That broke me loose.

I ran.

~~~~~~~

The ambulance bay doors swing open with a crash.

The gurney wheeled through. Small form strapped down, oxygen mask covering most of his face, pale arms limp at his sides.

Tanner.

Tiny. Motionless.

The paramedics rattled off numbers as they pushed him into the trauma bay.

BP 72/38

HR 50s

RR 13 and shallow.

“Collapsed after snack time. Teacher reports clumsiness, weakness over the past week. Down for about 3 minutes before EMS arrival. Oxygen saturations in the low 80s. Glucose normal. No witnessed seizure activity.”

I moved without thinking—snapping gloves on, shoving past the nurse reaching out for the monitors.

I had to touch him.

I had to be sure that he was still breathing.

“Langdon!” Robby’s voice, cutting through the chaos.

I didn’t stop.

I squeezed Tanner’s tiny wrist between my fingers, felt the sluggish thud of his pulse.

“Langdon!” Robby barked again, stepping in front of me.

I tore my eyes off Tanner long enough to glare at him.

“You know you can’t,” Robby said, quieter now. “You know you have to step back.”

The rules.

The stupid, goddamn rules.

I stared at him, breathing like I’d ran a marathon.

Logic warred with instincts, hot and brutal.

I could save my son.

I could fix him.

If I just—

No.

No you can’t.

You’re not his doctor.

You're his father.

Slowly, mechanically, I peeled off the gloves. Dropping them on the floor. Stumbling backward, feeling like I’d been ripped out of my own skin.

Dr. Shah had already arrived—peds attending, PICU trained and steady as stone—took my place immediately, issuing orders, seamlessly taking over the case. “Two litters by weight, wide open please!” Shah ordered, “Start second line access. Blood draws for labs—CBC, CMP, ABG, LFTs. Someone call CT. We need to get his head checked. Can we also get radiology in here for x-ray, please? Add an ECG to the order. ”

He wasn’t shouting.

He wasn’t panicking.

The team around him moved efficiently.

Doing everything right.

Doing everything I should have been doing.

Tanner’s teacher hovered near the door, crying into her hands.

I didn’t hear a word she said.

I fumbled my phone out of my pocket.

Mia.

I had to call Mia.

It rang once.

Twice.

“Frank?” She answered, immediate and alert.

“It’s Tanner,” I rasped, voice breaking. “Collapsed. Bradycardic. Hypotensive. I—Mia, please.”

“I’m coming.”

I didn’t have anything left to say. I just stood there, watching the team work over my son.

~~~~~~~

They were clearing him out of the trauma bay when I saw her.

Mia.

She was wearing hoodie and sweats, hair pulled back in rough twists, moving fast but sharp, eyes sweeping around the ER.

She caught sight of me, frozen just outside the peds room they’d just wheeled Tanner in.

Her steps barely slowed. She didn’t call my name. Didn’t ask questions. Just brushed her knuckles against my sleeve, steady and sure.

“Come here,” said said quietly, steering me towards the peds room. The walls were painted in bright cartoon forest scenes. Foxes curled under the tree. Bears smiling from behind the bushes. Deer with wide, glassy eyes.

It should have been comforting.

It made my stomach twist.

The nurse was adjusting the fluids.

The portable monitor beeping sluggishly.

The tech was setting up the mobile x-ray as we stood just inside the door.

Dr. Shah scanned through the early blood work orders, typing quick notes.

“Vitals still unstable but improving slightly with fluids. Oxygen holding at 90%. Well start with basic pannels and imaging before considering expanded tests.”

I clung onto the doorframe, watching every twitch of Tanner’s body under the blanket.

Mia stayed by my side, arms crossed, calm as stone. Holding me in place when the world wanted to tear itself open.

Mia guided me to a chair shoved by the foot of the bed.

Not speaking.

Just pressing me down with one hand on my shoulder until I sat, knees wide, elbows on thighs, hands dangling uselessly between them.

I stared at the floor.

At the pattern of cheap tiles, scuffed and dirty.

At the rubber wheels of the IV pole.

anywhere but Tanner.

Because looking at Tanner would break whatever scraps were holding me together.

The clock on the wall ticked loud and slow.

Every second scratched too long.

Every breath scraped raw against my ribs.

Mia sat next to me, close enough to feel the heat of her body, solid and still.

She didn’t speak.

She didn’t move.

She just stayed.

An anchor in a storm too big to survive.

~~~~~~~

A nurse came and went, checking the monitors.

Another tech drifted in with the portable ECG, electrodes sticking to Tanner’s tiny chest like spider legs.

The beep of his heart echoed through the room.

Too slow.

Too fragile.

~~~~~~~

I didn’t know how long we sat like that.

Thirty minutes?

Ten minutes?

Time lost meaning when every second weight a thousand pounds.

I didn’t speak.

Mia didn’t push.

The only thing moving in the room was the slow, sluggish drip of fluids into my son’s veins.

~~~~~~~

The door creaked open.

I didn’t look up.

I couldn’t.

But I heard Robby’s footsteps crossing the tiles.

He cleared his throat once—awkward and brittle. “Mia,” he said first, like he wasn’t sure who he was speaking to, “Frank.”

Mia tilted her head acknowledging him.

I stayed silent.

Robby shifted his weight

“The hospital contacted Abby,” he started quietly. “Standard procedure. The school also called her too, before we even got the ambulance report.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

Of course they had.

Of course.

I stared at the tile a little harder, willing it to crack open and swallow me.

Robby lingered like he might say more. Then he gave up and left, pulling the door shut behind him with a soft click.

~~~~~~~

Mia stayed with me.

Waited.

She didn’t offer comfort.

She knew better than that.

She knew there was no comfort left.

Only the waiting.

Only the dread.

~~~~~~~

The bloodwork came back next.

Dana came into the room, holding the tablet containing Tanner’s chart.

I stood up, barely stopping myself from snatching the tablet from her hands.

CBC – normal.

CMP – normal except slight hyponatremia.

LFTs – mild transaminitis.

ABG – mild metabolic acidosis.

ECG – normal sinus rhythm, slow but stable.

No answers.

Nothing that explained why my son was lying unconscious in a bed under painted trees.

I gave the tablet back.

My legs gave out a second later.

I dropped back into the chair.

Mia moved closer—but not touching—but close enough that I could feel her breathing alongside mine.

The door stayed closed.

The machine kept beeping.

The walls pressed closer.

Every cartoon fox. Every smiling bear.

Watching.

Waiting.

The air felt too thick to breathe.

I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to stop the burning.

Trying to stop the scream building low in my throat.

Trying to survive the next second.

And the next.

Because if I stopped even once.

I knew I’d never start again.

~~~~~~~

I didn’t want to leave the room.

Every cell in my body told me to stay planted next to Tanner’s bed, to watch the slow rise and fall of his chest, to measure the gap between each monitor beep like I could predict what would happen next.

But I still had my job to do. I’m still part of the ER team until 16:00.

And even if I wasn’t cleared to treat my son. I still had to do my shift handoff.

So I stood in the hallway outside the peds room, barely upright, going through the motions while Samira reviewed the final updates on the triage board.

I nodded at the appropriate times.

Maybe.

I think.

I honestly couldn’t hear half of what she said.

My eyes kept darting back towards the peds room behind her.

Every breath felt like a countdown.

Samira was kind about it—gentle even—but I could see the discomfort in her eyes.

She knew.

Everyone knew.

That my son was on the other side of that glass door.

She reached the end of the board and paused, tapping softly on the tablet. “That’s everything,” She said softly, “I’ve got everything from here.”

I nodded, swallowing down whatever the hell was caught in my throat.

“Thanks.”

She didn’t say anything else.

Just gave me a careful look and turned down the hall.

I barely had the time to breathe before I heard the echo of fast steps coming up the hallway.

I turned already knowing.

Already feeling it in my gut.

And there she was.

Abby.

Coat flung open, shoes loud against the tiles, purse bouncing at her hip.

I didn’t breathe.

Didn’t blink.

Just stared at the glass door of the peds room, where Tanner lay still under too many wires.

And waited for her to reach me.

She spotted me the moment she turned the corner.

Her face tightened immediately. Not grief. Not worry.

Something colder. Sharper.

“What the hell happened?” She snapped as soon as she was close enough.

I stepped forward, blocking the door out of instinct—a move so small, so quick, I barely knew I was doing it until we were shoulder to shoulder.

She stopped abruptly, eyes narrowing.

“I should’ve been called the moment it happened,” she hissed “Why didn’t you call me?”

My hand was on the door handle.

Not turning it.

Not letting it go.

She reached for it, but I didn’t move.

“Abby.” I said, voice too thin.

She paused.

A flicker of suspicion passed through her face.

And in that single beat, I realized just how badly I didn’t want to be alone in that room with her. How much of me still didn’t know what she is capable of. And just how terrifying that is to truly admit.

“Frank,” she started slowly, “move.”

“He’s barely stable,” I managed. “They’re running tests. They’re—he’s okay for now.”

She stared at me like I was speaking a different language.

“He’s my son,” she snapped. “Let me in.”

“I’m not stopping you.” My hands tightened around the handle, contradicting the words. “I just–need you to be calm, Abby. Don’t make this about us. Just be his mom.”

There was a moment

A breath of silence between us, just long enough for the air to thicken.

Then she nodded once, too sharp to feel genuine.

“I’m always his mom.”

I stepped back.

Let the door open slowly.

Abby entered the room without another word and went straight to Tanner’s bedside.

I didn’t follow her in.

I couldn’t.

I hovered near the threshold, caught between panic and disbelief, every inch of my body poised to intervene if she so much as shifted the wrong way.

Abby leaned down over Tanner’s bed, brushed his hair from his forehead and whispered something I couldn’t hear.

She didn’t scream.

Didn’t lash out.

Not yet.

But I watched her with the kind of attention I usually reserved for unstable trauma patients.

Waiting for a sign of escalation.

Waiting for something to crack.

Mia’s voice came softly behind me, “I need to step out. Make some calls.”

I turned toward her, barely able to nod.

She lingered for a beat longer than necessary. Eyes sweeping Abby. Then me.

Then she left, the door hissing quietly shut behind her.

And I was alone.

With Abby.

With the pressure in my chest mounting like a collapsed lung.

It wasn’t long after Mia had left that I felt the air shifted.

I could still hear her steps echoing down the hallway, then nothing. Just the quiet buzz of machines, the beep of the monitor, the near silent his of Tanner’s oxygen.

And Abby, sitting perfectly still beside him, like she’d never moved from that spot.

She adjusted his blanket softly.

Methodically.

Like it was something she had done a hundred of times— like there were eyes watching and she needed to be seen doing the right thing.

She didn’t look at me when she spoke.

“You must’ve been so scared.”

I blinked.

Wasn’t sure if it was a question or a trap.

I gave her nothing.

She turned just slightly, enough to just glance over her shoulder.

“I know I was.” She added. “When the school called. My heart just dropped. I was already halfway out the door before they even finished the sentence.”

Still watching me.

Waiting for something.

“Did he seem off to you this week? Before this?” She asked, voice light.

I swallowed.

Hard.

“I didn’t really–he was with you.”

Her smile was small.

Too small.

“Right,” she said, nodding slowly, “of course.”

She turned back to Tanner.

Brushed his hair from his forehead with the back of his hand again.

“I guess he didn’t mention anything to you. About not feeling well. Or being dizzy. Or tired.”

I couldn’t tell if she was asking or accusing.

My throat was dry.

“No,” I said. “He didn’t say anything to me.”

“Strange,” she murmured. “He usually tells you everything, doesn’t he?”

My stomach twisted.

She kept her eyes on Tanner, her voice soft and syrupy.

“They said he collapsed after snack time. That he’d been acting clumsy, weak, off. All week.”

Her fingers played with the cuff of his hospital gown.

“I guessed you missed it.”

I flinched.

Just barely.

But she saw it.

Of course she did.

Her smile returned—barely a curve of her mouth.

“I mean, I don’t blame you,” she said. “You’ve been under a lot of stress. You were even—what was it? Admitted for seventy-two hours?”

I felt heat crawl up my neck.

My heart pounded too fast.

She stood up slowly, like she was rising from something sacred.

“I only bring it up because maybe…you’re not seeing things clearly. That happens sometimes. After something like that.”

She moved towards me.

Not quickly.

Not threatening.

Just enough to close the space.

She lowered her voice, pitched it like a secret between old friends.

“And I know how much you love him. I do. So if you're worried—if you think something happened—you should tell someone. You should be honest.”

I opened my mouth, but the words died there.

She reached out.

Touched my arm, gentle as wind.

“And if it was something at school,” she added, “or even something he got into at our place—no one would blame you.”

That was it.

That was the knife.

Wrapped in silked.

Pressed just deep enough to make me bleed.

I stepped back.

Barely breathed.

“I didn’t—“ my voice cracked, “I would never—“

She nodded, serene.

“I know,” she said, “but you’ve been…struggling. We both know that.”

She turned back toward the bed.

Sat down again.

Took Tanner’s hand like it belonged to her.

And smiled like she hadn’t dismantled me with a dozen perfectly measured words.

The room was still vibrating with what she said.

The sound of her voice clung to the corners like smoke.

I stood frozen by the sink, one hand gripping the counter so tightly my knuckles burned. Tanner’s monitor beeped on—slow and steady—but my own pulse was too fast.

She didn’t say I did it.

She didn’t have to.

She said enough to plant the seed, coat it in sympathy, and leave me to drown in the silence that grew from it.

Then-

A knock.

Soft.

The door creaked open.

“Hey,” Dana said, stepping in with her usual calm, like a storm could never touch her. “I’ve got to grab the second round of labs. CT’s holding. Result’s not back yet.”

Her voice was casual.

But her eyes-

Her eyes moved like scalpels.

She looked at Tanner first, then me.

Paused for just a second longer than usual.

Then shifted her gaze to Abby—sitting upright, a little too composed, like she knew how to sit in grief but not feel it.

Dana’s mouth pressed into a neutral line.

“Frank,” she said gently, “Mind giving me a hand real quick?”

I blinked.

She wasn’t asking for help.

She was giving me an out.

Abby straightened.

“Oh- do you need him?” She asked quickly. “I’d…I’d rather not be alone right now. Frank’s his father. And I’m scared. I haven’t even gotten to speak to the doctor treating our son yet.”

Her voice just trembled—just enough.

Not too much.

Practiced.

Polished.

Dana raised an eyebrow.

Didn’t speak for a second.

Then turned to me.

“You can stay,” she said. “Up to you. Just thought I’d check.”

The offer sat there.

Thick in the air.

I looked at Abby—sitting like a glass doll perfectly arranged.

And at Dana—waiting, quiet, knowing.

My voice barely worked.

“I’ll stay,” I answered because I didn’t know what would happen if I left.

Dana nodded.

But she didn’t drop it.

Her eyes locked on mine for a moment longer.

Not pushing.

Just steady.

Seeing.

Then she turned back to the bed, snapping gloves on as she prepped the vials.

Abby leaned in and brushed her thumb over Tanner’s hand again, like she was painting the image of a mother.

But Dana didn’t look at her again.

She only looked at me.

And I knew—

She’d seen it.

All of it.

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fagsystem · 9 months ago

Text

Top surgery today. I am the first up today and my surgeon begins in an hour. I am going to be having top surgery in an hour.

I was so scared last night but genuinely after I used the magic eraser tool in my photos app to see sort of what it would look like, I have been doing completely fine.

I am not looking forward to the drains. It is the same as with piercings, I have things about having things piercing through my body, but I'd much rather have it than not.

Sorry post interrupted, they're showing food on the TV in the waiting room. Cruel. Cruel

But anyway, I also may get stressed about going to sleep, as I also have Things about that. But according to my friend who had his like 5 weeks ago, I should get something to make me a bit more relaxed before the anaesthetic. And it's not the same issue as sleeping where I get stressed about it then I can't, I can. I don't need to try.

And I'm not looking forward to 6 weeks at least off of my hobbies. I'm very physically active.

Post interrupted again by having an ECG to make sure everything is alright, due to the POTS.

It is now around. 45 minutes until my surgery. Although I am likely to be collected in about half an hour.

I thought I'd be terrified because I truly was last night. Well and truly. Honestly I was wondering if I'd be able to go through with it.

But I am going to.

I am going to be fine.

At least it happens only once in your life.

After this I'll have no more tits.

Oh my gods by the time I would have had lunch at work today if I had gone, I will be titless.

This is it it's happening. It's finally happening. I'm going to cry.

And I'm going to be okay. I have chronic pain and illness and handle it all so well, this surgery is going to be nothing to me.

My friend who had his about 5 weeks ago will be there when I get discharged, so will my mom.

I'm not even nervous I'm ready.

I'm so excited.

This is it.

Also, I have a friend with me for now.

#top surgery #trans #transsexual #transgender #ftm #ftm transsexual #genderqueer #genderfluid #genderfuck #long post #live blog #liveblog

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ertrauma · 3 months ago

Text

Becky’s car crash (Part one)

It was a rainy afternoon and Becky leaves her company after a stressful day. She is tired and want to go home as soon as possible. She drives off and her thoughts are still at work. But sudden on the Country Road she loose shortly the control of her car and she crashed on a tree.

A loud bang and suddenly everything blurs and she lost her consciousness.

When she came to, she feels any pains and hears sirens at the distance. On the driver side stand a police officer and tried to open the door. But he cannot open the door.

"Stay calm, help is on the way" the police officer calling.

Becky is yelling loud "Help me, oh no it hurts, I want to get out of here."

Now she is realizing that she had an accident and she cannot out of the car and her pelvis, neck and chest are in pain.

The sirens are louder and on the road arrived a fire truck and an ambulance. The paramedics are running to the car where Becky is trapped. The police officer tells them that he cannot open the door. The door is still closed, and the firefighters prepare her equipment to extricate Becky.

The paramedic talks to Becky: “We are here to help you, what’s your name?”

“I’m Becky, please help me” she answers with tearful voice.

On the time a Firefighter is on the driver’s door with a hydraulic spreader and he spreads the door open. The metal creaks as the door spread open. Now the paramedics has access to her and they can take the first treatment.

“Hey Becky, I’m Steve and we help you now. Can you tell me if you feel any pain?” says the lead paramedic.

“My chest, neck and pelvis are in pain” mutters Becky.

“Okay, we get you out of there. Please don’t move.”

The lead paramedic bends over her and he cut through the seatbelt.

“Get me the neck brace,” commands he to his colleague.

"I'm going to put a neck brace on your neck to prevent other injuries."

Becky is groaning as he put the neck brace on her.

"I am going to check your vitals and then we try you get out of here," he says.

The lead paramedic called to his colleague:" Get the stretcher with the spine board with head blocks and the portable ecg too."

The lead paramedic cuts open the sleeve of her shirt and he put a bp cuff on her arm. And he searches a vein to set an IV and he started inserting a needle into it. He is inserting a painkiller. Then he is shining in her eyes to check her pupil reactions.

The other paramedic rolls up with the stretcher. On the stretcher lies the spine board with head blocks and the portable ecg and the oxygen set.

When Becky saw that suddenly panic washed over her as she realized the severity of her situation. Her breathing and her pulse get faster.

"Stay calm Becky, you have to breathing slowly and deep,“ said he.

The lead paramedic takes his stethoscope and listen her lungs and heart.

He said to his colleague: "Pupils are equal and reactive, bp is 95/70 and the pulse is 110. Pain in her chest if I touch possible rib fractures. Give me the O2 sensor and the ecg pads"

Meantime the firefighters has cut the car windows out.

"Becky I am going to cut open your shirt and I put some ecg pads on your chest and I put a O2 sensor on your finger."

Becky is moaning quiet as he cuts her shirt in the middle. He put some ecg pads on her chest and connected it with the portable ecg. The O2 sensor is on her finger and shows a saturation from 93. The paramedic puts a O2 mask on her face that she can better breath.

Becky looks wild around and starts yelling: "Get me out, I am dizzy and I feel sick."

We get her out tells he to the firefighter. I think we cut of the roof and we pull her from the back seats onto the spine board.

Okay we do this so, said the firefighter.

"Becky we get you out now, I cover you up so you don't get any splinters." tells the lead paramedic.

The firefighters start to cut off the roof. It creaks and crunches as the hydraulic cutter sliced through the metall. The roof is off and put aside and the firefighters bring the spine board on the back seats.

They bring it in position and the paramedic looks if her feet are free.

"Okay legs and feet are free and on three we lift her out," the paramedic instructed.

"Okay Becky you are out soon, and one..., two... three!"

A synchronized teamwork form the paramedics and firefighters and Becky is lifted up from the wreckage and placed onto the spine board. They carried the spine board onto the waiting stretcher.

Now she lies on the stretcher and the paramedics start a fast body check. The ecg is beeping and the paramedic palpates her body from head to toe.

Her head is additionally fixed with the head block on the spine board.

"Tell me you feel any pain if I am touching you."

Becky moans as he touches her shoulder and chest and pelvis.

"Can you move your feet?" asked he.

Becky moved her legs and feet.

Now they fixed the straps on the spine board.

The stretcher is lifted up and they roll her into the ambulance. The door is closed. "Can you breathe well?"

The other paramedic starts the ambulance and drives off to the local trauma centre.

The lead paramedic looks on the monitor to check her vitals. Bp are 92/62 and the pulse is 115. O2 saturation 91.

"I have a little trouble breathing." Becky whispers.

"Okay I give a little more oxygen." He turns the oxygen amount a bit up.

Then he calls the local trauma centre: "We come in with a female, 25 years old after car crash. Possible blunt chest trauma and pelvis trauma. Unstable vitals and the O2 saturation are 91. Not intubated and ventilated. We arrive about in 2 minutes."

A short time later the ambulance drives into the ambulance entrance at the hospital.

To be continue

#ecg #accident #ambulance #paramedic #spine board #neck brace #head block

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love-and-deepspace-wiki · 7 months ago

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Helloooo your blog is a liver saver for lore enthusiast like me! You know, although infold hadn't release much info on certain crucial aspect in the game but I was wondering what's your take or theory on how Protocore Syndrome works? Is it just another name for a Heart failure Disease or something more? Would love to read more of your fanon idea on it! And thank you for creating this amazing wiki blog! 💕💕💕

Ayyyy lore enthusiasts gang~ And of course! Thank you for reading! Sorry this took SO long to reply to. Had to do some major studying for this one lol.

I want to start off by saying that medical knowledge is not my area of expertise, so this is purely a layman's best interpretation based on everything I could learn at Google University 🤣 I managed to decipher her electrocardiogram (ECG/EKG) report results. But as for what irl diagnosis those results indicate, I simply lack the expertise required to deduce that answer. Even though I couldn't answer the second part of your question (believe me, I tried so hard 😭), I hope this post is still useful to you! To any medical or med school folk out there, now is your time to shine and save the day (pls 🙏).

How Protocore Syndrome Works?

The basic in-game description of Protocore Syndrome is very rudimentary and doesn't really give us a lot to go off of. But here's what we know:

Protocore Syndrome: From the "Deepspace Messages" section of the in-game Spacepedia resource, we learn that it is a unique disease caused by Protocores. There are different types, and they harm the human body in various ways. Currently, the known types are A, E, and Y

Type Y Protocore Syndrome: From the description given in the World Underneath story "No Morning", we learn that it is a heart syndrome that involves that hides in various organs and systems, with a long latency period, and slow progression. By the time it's detected, it's often too late. There is currently no known cure.

Still digging for concrete information to confirm the protaganist's diagnosis, but the story seems to infer she has Protocore Syndrome. (If you have any screenshots or resources that definitively identify her condition, pls dm me and I'll credit you).

From Zayne's statements during her chapter 1 appointment, we learn that she has Protocore fragments in her heart. He goes on to specify the following symptoms:

Heart arrhythmia

Premature ventricular contractions (PVCs)

Heart murmurs

The game shows us glimpses of her medical paperwork too. We are shown her ECG report and summary. After covering her report, I'll explain some potential discrepancies (emphasis on "potential" since I'm nowhere near an expert lol).

ECG Basics:

We're going to get a little technical here. But I think we'll get the most value from the analysis once we understand what we're looking at. The ECG shown in-game is a standard 12-lead report, producing 12 individual strips.

Leads:

There are the six limb leads: I, II, III, aVR (augmented vector right), aVL (augmented vector left), and aVF (augmented vector foot).

Then, there are the six chest leads: V1, V2, V3, V4, V5, and V6.

Intervals & Waves:

For the report details to make more sense, here's a quick reference to aid in the interpretation of different waves, wave interval, gain settings, and speed settings.

And, based on the gain and speed settings detailed below, each small square on her chart represent 40 milliseconds (ms) and each large squares represents 200 ms.

ECG Report Analysis:

Gain, Speed, and Heart Rate:

Gain: 10 mm/mV

Gain is a setting on an ECG machine that controls the size of an ECG trace. The standard gain setting is 10mm/mV, meaning that 10 mm on the screen represents 1 millivolt (mV) of voltage. It appears that Akso Hospital's ECG adheres to this standard.

Speed: 25 mm/s

Speed is the paper speed setting on an ECG machine. So, the Akso Hospital's ECG machine is set to 25 mm/s (meaning that each small square on the chart represents 0.04 seconds).

Heart rate: 85 bpm

Pretty self-explanatoty, but this measures how many times her heart beats within one minute. For women, a normal resting heart rate is considered 60-100 bpm, and hers is within this range.

PR Interval: 138 ms

The PR Interval (or PQ Interval) is the distance between the start of the P wave and the start of the QRS complex. A normal PR Interval is between 120 - 200 ms. Since hers is 138 ms, she falls within the normal range.

QT & QTC Intervals:

QT Interval: 347 ms

The QT Interval is the time between the start of the QRS segment and the end of the T wave. It measures the electrical activity of the heart's ventricles. For a heart rate of 85 bpm, a normal QT Interval would generally be 380 ms or less. So, hers is normal.

QTC Interval: 411 ms

The QTC Interval is the corrected QT interval (thats what the "c" is for). It represents the time it takes the heart's ventricles to contract and relax. It is calculated by adjusting the QT interval for heart rate. A normal QTC interval for women is usually less than 460 ms. Since hers is 411 ms, she's within the normal range.

P, T, and QRS Wave Axes:

P Wave Axis: 38°

The P wave axis tells us the net direction of the P wave. A normal P wave axis is usually between 0° and 75°. Since hers is 38°, it falls within the normal range.

T Wave Axis: 65°

The T wave tells us the net direction of the T wave. A normal P wave axis is usually between 15° and 75°. Since hers is 65°, it is within the normal range.

QRS Axis: 35°

The QRS Axis tells us the average direction of electrical activity in the heart during ventricular depolarization. A normal adult QRS axis is between -30° and 90°. Since hers is 35°, she falls within the normal range.

SV1 and RV5:

SV1: 0.94 mV

SV1 represents the voltage of the S wave from the V1 lead. It is used to detect ventricular hypertrophy. A normal SV1 is considered to be less than 2.5 mV and hers is within this range.

RV5: 0.85 mV

The RV5 represents the voltage of the R wave from the V5 lead. It is used to measure electrical activity in the left ventricle. An RV5 reading is considered normal if it is less than 3.5 mV and hers is within this range.

QRS Interval: 71 ms

The QRS Interval the interval between the start of the Q wave and the end of the S wave. Represents the time it takes for electrical impulses to spread through the ventricles. A normal QRS Interval is 70-100 ms. Since hers is 71 ms, she's within the normal range.

Potential Discrepancies:

Okay. So, I thought it was a bit strange that all of her ECG readings were within the normal ranges. But I genuinely don't know if a patient can be diagnosed with an irl heart condition despite having an ECG that appears normal. Maybe its a diagnosis determined by other criteria we aren't shown?

Additionally, I looked up ECG strip examples of both cardiac arrhythmias and premature ventricular contractions (PVCs). And comparing them with her charts, I don't see indications of those symptoms in there.

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lokislittlesigyn · 6 months ago

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Hello!

I'm reaching a point of desperation. Asking for some help/advice regarding orthostatic intolerance .. If you know about this or know about people who'd be willing to discuss it, I would be extremely grateful for any help I can get. It's starting to feel hopeless. Shares are appreciated. ;;

I want to make sure I'm understanding something. I'm autistic, so sometimes words don't quite translate to me: a sentence written a specific way may be difficult for me to interpret.

With that in mind, TL;DR: What is the diagnostic criteria for POTS? Is it that you have to have a 30bpm increase from a resting heart rate (or over 120bpm) AT ANY POINT upon standing in a 10 minute period, or SUSTAINED FOR A FULL 10 MINUTES?

Why I'm asking (VERY long under the spoiler):

I've been experiencing worsened symptoms upon standing for the past several years, ever since I got COVID. I've always had some weirdness in my body - of various kinds - but it's never been this severe. (For instance, I've been "cold-natured" and had cold hands and feet and my hands/legs would turn purple when I was young, and I'd get winded when exercising, maybe "uncomfortable feelings" (which I think now is blood pooling?) in my legs, but I wouldn't struggle to the point I am now.) I'm experiencing:

Dizziness and lightheadedness, sometimes feeling like my head is spinning, upon standing. I usually have to stop and wait for my head to feel less dizzy before I can walk, a solid few seconds, then I'm okay Enough to get going.

A severe increase in heart rate upon standing, especially if I was lying down (30-60 bpm from what I've monitored), but it happens if I was only sitting down/squatting too.

Blackened vision bordering on loss of vision, sometimes loss of hearing, upon standing

MUCH more fatigue with general tasks despite the fact I've been consistently exercising, doing HIIT workouts to keep my body conditioned, daily, for the past 4 years!!!

Extreme shortness of breath and dizziness, sometimes to the point of wondering if I'll faint in the shower. (today I took my heart rate while in the shower and it was over 150bpm. I was just standing there. Shaving.) I haven't fainted yet.

Significantly worse symptoms in the morning vs the evening or at night. At night I actually have energy!

Sluggishness, lethargy in the mornings, often leading into the afternoon

Issues with prolonged standing - I have to wear 20-30mmhg compression socks to be able to stand or have long days out, like when I'm selling things for my job or going out for an active day with friends.

Everything gets worse when I'm menstruating. :))))))

This has had a significant impact on my life. And from what I can gather, it sounds like POTS. I've been pursuing a diagnosis for two years. Doctor after doctor has addressed other concerns: we've done blood tests, heart monitors, ECGs, ultrasounds - my heart is physically healthy. I went to a cardiologist who specializes in POTS, and he looked me in the eye and said "I think you have POTS." MULTIPLE TIMES.

And I do already do what I can with this. I exercise (again! Literally four years of decent exercise! 45 minutes a day! And I recently started walking an hour a day so I get nearly 2 hours of focused activity!!!), I ONLY drink water and plenty of it, and I eat salt on my food. I already do everything.

I'm worried this is affecting my outcomes. Specifically, I'm worried since I've been essentially doing the "treatment" for this type of thing, that my result are better than they would be otherwise.

The tests:

I've actually done the gold standard tilt table test, and apparently I didn't have the numbers necessary to diagnose me with POTS. I was diagnosed with orthostatic intolerance (the heartrate issues) and vasovagal syncope (which is the issue with vision/hearing upon standing, I guess). But given my symptoms, I feel very strongly my body is exhibiting signs of POTS. That's .. a big reason I'm making this post.

My "official" tilt table test results (taken last year) were, to make it brief:

Baseline: 59 bpm

Tilted 30 degrees: 60 bpm

Tilted 45 degrees: 76 bpm, then 64 bpm

Tilted 70 degrees: 78 bpm. It hovered around the high seventies/low eighties for a bit, then at the thirteen minute mark, went to 94.

My heart rate didn't go below 80 for the rest of the test, which was about 20 more minutes. The lowest it got was 82 but it would waver between 85-87 and 94 mostly; the highest it got was 101, when my blood pressure dropped significantly and I had to ask to be laid down so I wouldn't fall down off the table.

The people running the test said they got enough information even though I ended the test early, and every doctor insists the tilt table is the "gold standard" test - the absolute best - for detecting POTS, even though it doesn't EVER take you to 90 degrees? It slowly tilts you up, which allows your body to adjust? And I had to hold myself up, the straps holding me down were just for positioning I guess??? What do you mean this is a better test for something that impacts me when I'm going from lying down to a full 90 degree upright position within seconds?????

I've done two "poor man's tilt table" tests, or standing tests, at home. Below are the numbers. The first time I did it (2023), I didn't know you should take it at intervals for 10 mins, so I only did 5.

BP: 124/69 hr: 72 - laying down (This was after 5 minutes of lying still, not speaking, and actively trying to relax)

BP: 124/80 hr: 139 - first stand up (I stood up "normally," I didn't rush to stand or jump up)

BP: 123/89 hr: 131 - 5 minutes after (I stood still, and made sure to not lock my knees too much)

The second time (2024), the person helping me with the test didn't understand we needed a full 10 minute reading, so we only got up to 8 minutes. Still, these were the results:

Resting: 66 bpm

Standing: 131 bpm

2 mins: 96 bpm

4 mins: 95 bpm

6 mins: 97 bpm

8 mins: 95 bpm

Doctors look at my symptoms and remind me well, we treat POTS ad Orthostatic Intolerance the same. They don't think it matters if I technically have a specific diagnosis or not.

I know this. I have been told this so many times. I want the validation of a diagnosis I fit the criteria for. I want to be able to explain to people what's going on with me. I want, since I'm at the ripe old age of twenty five and can barely shower in the mornings, the bare minimum of having a name for what I have to deal with every single day.

But I'm really worried. I'm worried I've ruined my chances of this being caught by exercising/"treating" it too much, or I'm misunderstanding the diagnostic criteria, or I'm just stupid in general, being overdramatic and should give up because I've been told I have orthostatic intolerance, what does it matter if it's POTS specifically?

But this looks so much like POTS. This sounds so much like POTS. And I am getting the numbers necessary, or else ones a WHOLE lot like them, at home. And that's what's bothering me?

If I wasn't taking standing tests and finding such high bpm increases, which again, seemingly fit the diagnostic criteria, I wouldn't be bothered. But I am.

This past week I went to nurses that work in a specific doctor's office, the doctor who apparently "diagnoses everybody with POTS." I was hopeful they'd listen. They did a standing test in the office.

My heart rate started around 70 when resting. (there's multiple reasons it was higher than what my "actual" resting rate is, but I won't explain that; this post is too long already) I stood up and it went to around 125. And then within a few minutes, it went down to 80 or 90, I wasn't checking exact numbers.

They couldn't diagnose me based on those numbers.

i can't shake the feeling if i'd been able to relax fully, or had just gotten my body to unwind, i might have had a resting rate of 60 - closer to the baseline when i was allowed to rest before the tilt table - and could've gotten diagnosed.

i feel like a failure.

Advice, information, all is appreciated. If anyone understands the diagnostic criteria, or has a similar story, I'd really love to hear. Thank you.

#sigh #being brave and forcing myself to post this #disability #pots #pots syndrome #orthostatic intolerance #health #chronic illness #i hope these tags are okay to use #im trying to extend reach #please im just #... i just feel like giving up #i am so close to giving up #personal #sigyns body works well (fake)

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sserrated · 3 months ago

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Second time in my life I’ve had to fight doctors for years and years being told im just anxious (which don’t get me wrong I absolutely do have health anxiety as well really badly however…) to be finally told I have a FROM BIRTH DEFECT.

First it was my brain condition (Chiari Malformation I) and now, finally, like I’ve been begging them to listen to for years, my heart.

Only took having another serious SVT episode for them to take notice 🫠 Finally they found Wolff Parkinson White Syndrome (it’s been present on my ECGs since 2016 and only now a cardiologist has flagged it) mind you I’ve had full echocardiogram’s and they said everything was fine when in front of their eyes I’ve had a congenital defect.

BOTH conditions require procedures. BOTH could have been done when I was far younger and recovery better. And saved me years of anxiety and thinking I’m going fucking crazy.

I admire the fuck out of the NHS but there is a deeply entrenched issue with under diagnosing physical issues and over diagnosing anxiety as the main symptom causing issue.

I’m also fully aware this is NOT an issue with the staff, it’s issues with govt funding and guidelines. The PEOPLE of the NHS are hero’s and I ain’t blaming them.

#sserrated #wolff Parkinson white #health

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help-im-a-medstudent · 2 months ago

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Hi! I was wondering if I could ask you for advice about OSCE prep? I'm a final year medical student and one area I've noticed I've struggled with is time management during OSCE stations? Eg, I find that I take a history and by the time I have to do a management plan, the OSCE station time has finished. One area I also struggle with is how to structure a management plan of the level of a first day FY1. I'd be extremely grateful is you could give advice? Thank you in advance!

Hi anon! apologies I didn't see this in my inbox, I hope I'm not too late with this reply

My final year exams were MOSLERs so we had a little more time and they were split so we had a specific amount of time for the discussion afterwards and were told to move on, but we did have to manage a history and examination in the time so I hope these help

If your medical school publish the generic mark schemes for OSCEs look at them and look at what you have to cover and how many marks each part is. For example, there may be only one point to ask about medication and allergies, but more for digging into the history of presenting complaint, but it's important not to forget those small things as they can be easy marks to pick up with just one question.

Practice getting a balance of open and closed questions - if you're asking lots of closed questions you're taking lots of time up asking them, whereas something broader to cover more things lets you get more information with only one question. "Are you having any other symptoms" is better than "do you get x, y, z"

Practice with a timer, over and over. There's resources out there with cases so you don't get bored of the same things, but practice with someone, and only do the history part and try and get it down to less than the osce station time. Then you'll get a better sense of how long you're taking on the day and be able to move on through the questions.

In terms of a management plan I would think of it as bedside investigations, bloods, imaging and treatment and this will help you structure it - bedside are tests like urinalysis, peak flow, ECG - bloods - think about why you want them rather than just reeling off all you can think of - will the one you're asking for help with the treatment or diagnosis - imaging - again why are you getting it, justify why are you getting a chest XR for cardiac sounding chest pain? etc - treatment - this depends on what the case is, if it's an emergency case then using the ABCDE structure and treating what's wrong in each part is usually the best way to go, if it's more of a chronic disease then it's going to be disease specific, but don't forget more holistic things such as giving an asthma plan, or referring to a specialist nurse/physiotherapist

I don't think we had to describe management plan of a first day F1 in our exams, but if you want my advice generally for starting out as an F1 and how to make a management plan my advice would be:

If you're on a ward round the question you need to think is how does this person get home? It might not be that day, but what are we aiming for? they need to be off IV treatments onto oral, they need to be at a mobility and independence level that they can get home, and they need to have follow up organised if it is needed. So think: is this patient ready to step down to oral antibiotics? Do they need physio/occupational therapy?

Or alternatively - is the current treatment working? are their bloods getting better, do they feel better? if not, how can we change the management or do they need more investigations?

I know this all sounds really overwhelming and you won't be doing it on your own, and you won't cover everything when you first start but that's ok! You're there to learn and I would encourage you to make suggestions. It feels horrible if the consultant disagrees and even now 5 years in I don't like writing my management plan before the consultant has seen the patient because 'what if it's wrong' but often it's not 'wrong' just not quite what that particular consultant would do, and another consultant might do things completely differently (it's very frustrating)

Hope that's helpful with my hazy memory of exams at med school haha. If anyone else has advice then feel free to add! and good luck anon :)

#medblr #asks #answers #med school tips #uk medblr #exam advice #medicine #med school #anonymous

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begitalarcos · 8 months ago

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Life Update

Hey Guys

I know I said I was coming back, and I fully intended to. Then I injured my back... badly

I ruptured a disc in my back on one of my lowest vertebrae and now have lost most of the feeling in my left leg :(

In the next week here I'm being scheduled for spinal surgery.

Strangely I'm doing okay. Since my last post a lot of things have gotten sorted (mostly family drama) which has taken a huge weight off of me. Then I fell on the stairs. I only fell down two steps but Ianded hard on my butt and then hit my back against the stair.

This was almost 2 months ago, and I was going to physio for it until my disability decided not to cover it. I was sent to an "Impartial" specialist who had the nerve to tell me that most of my pain was likely "Psychological" haven't had that kind of flippant disrespect about my health in awhile.

On the 30th of October I went to lay down for a nap, when I woke up just the act of sitting up left me in agony. My wonderful husband then spent the next few hours with me using hot and cold compresses and trying to help me get through the pain because the hospital said it was probably just sciatic pain... Halloween rolls around and I've lost all feeling in my left thigh.

I decided "FUCK IT" and went to emergency, where after a good 9 hours I finally saw a doctor who would take me seriously. And by that time my entire left thigh, part of my calf, and most of my back end and groin were completely numb. They took my sock off and my foot was grey. It was pretty scary.

The doctor there did a battery of tests for everthing he could think of, he did manage to get a bit of feeling back into my calf and foot with an injection. But everything else was still pins and needles. I had an MRI and well.. as you can see the lower disc was pushed so far out it was impinging on all the nerves to my left leg.

I spent Halloween and most of the next day in emergency. Had a lovely panic attack, got mildly sedated, there were no beds so I was stuck in a shitty recliner in a corner between two drug attics. One who wouldn't stop complaining and then throwing fits and the other who had some kind of blood borne illness with open sores. It was fucking terrible.

Today I had to drive almost 2 hours to another city to see a neurosurgeon who was also livid no one had done anything for me in over two months and said that even with surgery I may never get full feeling back in my leg (cries) This then followed more X-rays, blood work (7 vials taken oi vey) and an ECG.

Turns out I also have a rare heart defect - that only one other person in my family has - that causes my heart to skip a beat every third beat. They also (because I'm anemic) had to go through the process of signing a ton of forms for the possibility that I may need a transfusion during or after surgery....

This was supposed to be a short post I swear -_-

Thursday I have to go for a full physical and do even MORE paperwork, and then drive again 2 hours away to another city to have my surgery.

FML

So yeah, I still very much want to be creating and posting I just haven't been able to sit or concentrate much as I am taking pain killers (that do not want to work with my antidepressants) so I've either been completely out of it or just stuck doing one thing and one thing only (which has mostly been just riding around in RDR2 hunting, fishing and exploring) I also finished the new Zelda game cuz... well I've been laying down a lot.

Holy Jeebs have I been bored. In between that I've also been trying to keep GiraffeBarn active and get into a few local stores again.

2024 has been hectic and chaotic.

I'm hopeful that the new year will bring me some much needed peace and clarity.

So yeah, I'm not gone, I'm still lurking about and I still plan to post again (when I can)

I miss you all so very much (especially my wifey <3)

Hope you all are well

much love

#begita #life update #medical nightmare #tw: hospital

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nagichi-boop · 1 year ago

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I appreciate the fact that my mum has been more supportive of my health issues recently, but today reminded me that she would still always believe a doctor over me.

I am pretty sure I have POTS. My echocardiogram, two xrays and two ECGs have all been normal. I have done many poor man’s tilt table tests at home with my Apple Watch, and they always show 30+ bpm increase from laying to standing that lasts for the full 10 minutes (in fact, it’s actually more like 40+ bpm) - or when I haven’t tested for the full 10 minutes, it’s because I get nauseous/dizzy and have to lay down.

My mum has made comments in the past like “you can’t say you have autism without a diagnosis” and such. I know that a diagnosis is important, but believing that a doctor knows everything about every condition and is never ever wrong is not helpful. I thought she had gotten over that mentality recently, but I was wrong.

She mentioned to me that someone we know suspects they have POTS. I asked her if she had told this person that I have it, and my mum said something like “well, I said you were being tested for it and that your tests so far have been inconclusive.” This is just not true. As I said, the tests on my heart came back clear, but those aren’t to assess POTS anyways. I have had two ‘stand tests’, but they were done incorrectly both times. A quick internet search shows you that a stand test for POTS involves laying for 5 minutes and checking your heart rate, then standing for 10 minutes and measuring your heart rate after 2, 5 and 10 minutes. When I’ve had a doctor do the test in clinic, my ‘resting’ heart rate was taken immediately after I had just moved from one room to another (aka not my resting heart rate) and then I was immediately made to stand up and have my heart rate tested. Then of course they say there’s not much of a change in heart rate.

To an extent, I could justify this attitude. But you know what makes it worse? My dad somewhat recently told my mum and me that he believes he has ADHD. No plans for a diagnosis, just that he thinks he has it. I figured my mum would not pay any attention to this. But then one time after my dad did a task that involved a lot of focus, my mum was like “you did so well considering it must have been hard with your ADHD.” Like wth? She never accepted me as autistic when I told her I was sure I had it, even though I am seeking a diagnosis. She doesn’t believe my POTS either. I assume she won’t until I’m diagnosed. But my dad just randomly announces he has ADHD with no plans to be tested and the whole family is just…on board with it? Why??

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veephoenix · 2 years ago

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Chapter tags & trigger warnings: angst/hurt, intoxication, patient in recovery, panic attacks, mentions of substance abuse. | Word count: 1.5k | Series masterpost. ✧.*

General trigger warnings: This work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction and violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised.

The world we live in is one that teaches you to fear death since you’re a child, but as we grow up, some of us realize that we’re not really scared of dying; we’re scared of losing the ones we love the most.

Twenty-four hours after I held Lia in my arms, I called grandma. It was 5pm in Japan.

“Grandma, it’s Lia. She’s… she’s in the hospital. I don’t know what to do.”

I didn’t know what else to say, either, and there was nothing she could say to change the situation.

Lia lay in an uncomfortable bed, and IV line connected to her right arm. Her black tights and the oversized shirt she had been using as a dress were gone, replaced by a whitish gown. Underneath, ECG leads were attached to her chest to keep track of her heart. Her feet were naked under the cold sheets. The hardest part to look at was her face. She was pale, her lips chapped, her hair greasy, and there was an NC connected to her nose to provide her with oxygen.

Her eyes were closed. I couldn’t see her light.

I couldn’t bear to see her like that.

I was sitting in the single uncomfortable armchair that was in the room, looking at her with my chin rested on my intertwined hands. My elbows pressed on my knees. My body was bent forward, toward her. There was nothing I could do but stare at her benumbed body.

I had touched her hand before, but the cold startled me, and I had to leave the room for a while before I succumbed to another wave of panic.

The first panic attack came when we arrived at the hospital, right after the paramedics carried Lia’s numb body in a stretcher towards the ER. The air was thick with urgency as they talked to a group of people covered in white clothes: nurses and doctors. One of them turned her gaze toward me, and a few seconds after, the woman was standing in front of me. She asked me who I was to Lia. I didn’t know what to say. Her best friend, her only family, her lover? Luckily for me, Jolly was standing by my side, and he gave an honest and valid reply, sparing me from the struggle. With a nod of acknowledgment, the doctor asked for an insight into Lia’s history, her problems. They wanted to know what had happened, why it had happened…

Then I started panicking. I didn’t know where to look, where to go.

Jolly must have managed the situation. The doctor nodded, jotting down a few things on a sheet of paper, and went back to where Lia had been taken; a secluded corner where she was out of my sight the moment they moved a curtain to separate her body from the rest of the patients and people in the emergency room.

There were too many people. Too many accidents. Too much pain and death.

I shouldn’t be there. Merely four hours ago I was standing on a stage, controlling a crowd of over six thousand people. Now, I couldn’t get a hold of myself.

My breaths grew ragged, the noise around me transforming into an unbearable symphony. Tightness gripped my chest. I was suffocating. I pressed a trembling hand against my chest as I moved somewhere in search of support. I heard a few voices behind me, some calling my name. Then there were a few nurses approaching us, one of them said something about not being allowed in those premises, that we had to wait outside. I couldn’t wait, didn’t they understand? I needed to know that Lia was going to be okay. They wouldn’t shut up. Someone called out my name, louder than before, the voice breaking through. Following that, I felt a hand gripping my shoulder.

Nicholas.

I looked up to find him, and I collapsed in his arms as I let out a cry and the tears started flowing.

He held the weight of my body as I emptied myself of everything I’d been carrying for the last few months: the guilt for not realizing sooner that Lia was being abused by the one who was supposed to adore her, the guilt for not gathering the courage to tell her what I felt, the anger for every time Lia refused to talk to me, the anger at every time she decided the pills were better than my shoulder, then, every other mistake until this very right moment, when I didn’t know if I would ever get the chance to hold her in my arms and see her smiling up at me, her eyes shining with anticipation as I bent down to kiss her.

A nurse approached us and suggested that I lay down in one of the beds. The promise of care and a calming remedy seemed tempting, but all that I could mutter was a harsh “fuck off”. I didn’t want to hear about any fucking pill that would calm me down. Nicholas raised a hand and gestured towards the nurse to give me some space.

It took me a grueling thirty minutes to calm down, and even after that, I still couldn’t stand straight without my legs shaking and my chest hurting. My eyes would burn until Lia opened hers.

I didn’t sleep that night, and neither did I the next one.

I remained awake, by Lia’s side. At times I drifted between reality and dreams. There were moments when I drifted into a hazy realm, only to be abruptly pulled back into the real world. In those instances, I would jolt awake gripped by the haunting illusion that Lia had woken up, that she was awake and was calling my name, asking for my hand to pull her out of the water.

She was still unconscious.

As the hours ticked away, the room started getting filled with flowers and bouquets that our friends brought as they came to see her, check on her. Jolly stayed with me for hours and insisted that I go to the hotel and take a shower, get changed into clean clothes and eat something while he looked after her, but I denied over and over again, relenting only when he managed to coax me into sipping on a cheap disgusting coffee fetched from the hospital’s cafeteria.

I saw him crying for the first time in my life when he entered the room shortly after they had settled Lia into the bed.

Folio didn’t even dare to come in. He was terrified, and I learnt days later that he had endured a series of nightmares the night following the incident.

As I looked around and took in the colors filling the room, I wondered if the number of flowers was intended for Lia or perhaps meant as a collective gesture to instill hope in me, a silent illusion that would make me believe that Lia would recover.

I had lost track of time.

I had seen the sun rise twice since I settled in that sterile room, which meant I had been there for two days and that Lia had been asleep for forty-eight hours, at least. I had only eaten two bites of a cheese sandwich that someone brought. I couldn’t recall if it was Matt or Bryan. Maybe, Jolly. Who cared.

I saw them all coming in and out of the room constantly the first day. The second one, it was just me and the closest to me and Lia. The rest of the team flew back home because life didn’t stop, even if it had for her. Even if it had for me.

My mind was filled with a void, but every once in a while a question would pop up, or an image. They were so random, varying from one happy scenario to a very tragic one. I saw Lia as a kid, when grandma used to do her hair and braid it at her back, then I saw her falling of my bike, but she looked older. I saw myself drowning in the same lake where we had swum all those summers ago. I saw Lia kissing a boy who wasn’t me in the lake’s deck. Then I saw her wearing the same dress she had worn the day she graduated from high school. The image transitioned to one in which she was wearing a white dress. I was waiting for her at the end of the desire path, ready to marry her. In the next one, I saw her playing with a huge dog somewhere in the mountains, her body covered by layers of clothing and a thick scarf. She smiled at someone, and I realized it was at me. She called me to go to her, and I did, but as I reached to grab her hand, she faded away.

I opened my eyes in a halt, again. I sat upright in the armchair and grabbed the front of the hoodie I was wearing. I was breathing hard, and I could feel a drop of sweat sliding down my back.

It was a dream.

Then, I heard what I had been waiting for two eternal days, and there was no telling it wasn’t real.

“Noah?”

Lia’s voice calling my name.

Author's note: This is the end of Koi No Yokan. From this chapter we move onto Zutto (or a Promise of Forever) where I promise there will be less angst and more fluff and love between Lia and Noah 🥹

Thank you to every one that's been reading and commenting on this story :') It means a lot.

READ ZUTTO CHAPTER ONE HERE

#noah sebastian fic #bad omens fic #noah sebastian x ofc #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens fanfic

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