💟 i write and draw sometimes. read most of the time. think about fictional characters all the time.
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#jaye rambles (me talking about whatever)
#jaye writes (fics i have written which can also be found in the masterlist below)
#jaye draws (my bad attempts in creating digital art)
#fanfic rec (fics i have read and recommend)
#answered (answered asks)
#q (queued post!)
💟 things i wrote can be found here and in AO3: MASTERLIST
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sony cutting off physical discs while also implementing a system that doesnt allow you to actually own ur digital games due to that 30 day verification whatever not to mention outside of gaming for the past few years sony has stopped producing on physical formats which is insane because THEY developed nearly every format every company uses( dvd, bluray, cd, etc ) so they have the biggest hand on production leaving a vacuum now that theyve stopped plus being absolutely shady with their digital marketplaces most recent example w/ pulling studio canal conent & the funimation / crunchyroll merger still has missing anime never added back to the app the shut down of multiple studios + the end of destiny 2 despite wanting to focus on live service which is just code for focusing on gta6's online mode & nothing else like adding the years upon years upon years of extra added shady sony horsepiss not just playstation but sony as a whole the fuck am i expected to spend a SINGLE dime with them again
adding to the "you dont hate sony enough" they also announced today they are shutting down the ps3 & psvita digital marketplaces so fuck preservation of games for older consoles ig !!
Oh boy, a complex character who's a woman! I love messy characters who hurt everyone around them and continue the cycles that hurt them!! Can't wait to share this joy with fellow fans– why's everyone calling her a bitch
Summary: When you applied to be the new attending in Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, you didn't expect to see an old friend from twenty years ago.
Pairing/s: Cassie Mckay x New Female Attending!Reader
Tags: Possible medical inaccuracies, ex-friends to lovers, pining, yearning, tackles cassie's addiction, mention of robby's implied suicide (sorry)
Word Count: 4.3K
A/N: This one has been sitting on my docs for a long time. Might as well just let it out of the cage that is my mind.
AO3
Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center is different from any hospital that you have worked in. It has everything. From technologically-advanced machines to greatly improved facilities to highly competitive staff. It's overwhelming, to say the least.
You mostly worked in a small coastal town, near the beach but far from everything. You managed to work with what is given by the management which is a lot less with what this hospital has. The primary hospital that you previously worked in only has three beds in the ER and an e-cart that barely has anything, just one or two of each and gets a refill once a week. Twice, if lucky.
It's not as challenging in terms of volume of patients but damn it if your critical thinking skills didn't get trained to the point of frustration. And being the only emergency doctor in a five-mile radius definitely was a pressure you wouldn't put yourself through again.
You're sitting in the nurse's station, looking around the highly chaotic environment around you. You’ve never felt this overstimulated since the last year of your residency in Mount Sinai. It's probably what drove you to take something small and calm when you moved to a coastal town that's basically not in the map unless you zoom in a hundred times.
“You must be the new ED attending,” a brown woman approaches you. She has the posture of someone who seems unforgivably professional. Curly, half up half down hair. Grey Lululemon jacket. “I’m Dr. Baran Al-Hashimi.”
“Oh, hi, Dr. Al-Hashimi.” You quickly stand up and shake her hand. You introduce yourself to your co-attending. “Gloria told me your name. I just didn't know what you look like so I don't know how to find you.”
“It's fine.” She smiles politely, hugging the iPad to her side. “I like to give them surprise drills before the shift starts,” she says when your eyes drift to a room where a group of people is coding a mannequin.
“Makes sense. Good for stimulation and review.”
“Your predecessor, roohesh shād, didn't think so but I like to do things that could improve the system.”
“I admire that.”
She tilts her head just slightly, looking at you. “Well, doctor, I think you and I will get along really well running this ED.”
A smile graces your lips. “Of course, Dr. Al Hashimi.”
“Please call me Baran.”
“Baran,” you correct yourself.
Dr. Al Hashimi - Baran - shows you around the ED. She starts by introducing you to the charge nurse, Dana Evans, and her staff nurses. Then she introduces the residents one by one. Victoria Javadi, R1. Dennis Whitaker, R2. Trinity Santos, R3. Mel King, R4.
“Oh, and Dr. Cassie Mckay, also an R4. Dr. Mckay is a valued doctor here with the highest satisfaction scores from the patients.” Baran says.
You don't hear the rest of what your co-attending says.
Could it really be…?
No. That's got to be a different Cassie Mckay.
Last time you saw your Cassie she had dirty blonde hair. This woman has red hair. And bangs. The Cassie Mckay you knew hated her bangs. She had short, uneven bangs and -
No.
The redhead pauses. Then she glances at you. Just a quick look.
No.
You know those eyes anywhere. Partially because they're the most fascinating grayish blue eyes you’ve ever laid your eyes on. And mostly because… you used to know them very well.
“Something wrong?” Baran asks you.
You blink multiple times. Then, you shake your head. “Yeah, I’m good. Shall we move on?”
Baran nods then guides you to different areas in the emergency department, starting from triage. You're listening, you swear you are. But your mind keeps drifting back to Cassie.
Cassie who you have not seen since college. The last time you spoke to her was over the phone. She was crying and high on drugs and you were too angry and exhausted from pulling her away from people that took advantage of her wild child curiosity and excitement.
Needless to say, you didn't handle it all that well and moved away after graduation. The last thing you heard about Cassie was that she was hanging around with some older guy, a notorious dealer in the university campus that never gets caught because he has some sort of connections everywhere. And that Cassie was supposed to graduate the same time you did but she didn't.
You haven't thought about her in ages. Half of your life was spent trying to forget her and you think you did.
Until now.
“So how do you wanna play this, doc?” Baran asks.
You blink. “Oh, uh, however you want. I don't mind.”
“How about I take this wing,” She gestures at the rooms on the south wing of the ER. “And you take north? Dr. Mckay and Dr. Santos are manning the north wing.”
“That's great. You don't mind if I ask questions if I have them?”
“I’d rather be answering stupid questions than fixing mistakes.”
“Good to know. Thank you, Baran.”
This ED is overwhelming. Pretty much like how the hospitals you had your residency, fellowship, and subspecialties in. You're not used to this, at least not after spending five years in basically nowhere.
You easily spot Dr. Mckay in the nurse station. She is sitting in front of a computer and charting. You wonder if you should go talk to her or wait for her to talk to you. You're not even sure if she remembers you. You changed a lot in the last twenty years and she obviously did too.
“So you're the new attending,” you hear a voice behind you. Dr. Trinity Santos. You introduce yourself and flash a smile. “Nice to meet you. Big shoes to fill.”
“I heard.”
“Yeah. Robby was a great doctor.”
Robby. Dr. Michael Robinavitch. Your predecessor. Right. You heard all about him from Gloria, and a little bit from Baran when she’s showing you around. It's really unfortunate and sad that burnout and his mental health got him the way it did.
“No pressure though. I heard you're quite the lady. Triple board certified in Emergency Medicine, Internal Medicine, and Critical Care.”
“I also subspecialize in Medical Toxicology and Hyperbaric Medicine,” you add as a matter-of-factly.
“Wow.” Santos claps, impressed. “Got the time and the money.”
“I was lucky.” It's true. Generational wealth was something you're always thankful for having. It gave you the privilege and time to do what you wanted and when you wanted it.
“Okay, then, doc, I have a patient for you.” Santos leads you to North 3. She opens her iPad and starts presenting her patient, showing you the labs, xray, ultrasound, and CT-scan.
You can already tell Santos is a great doctor. She's observant and thorough. She is one of those doctors that sees through patient's lies and has remarkable instincts that only experience can teach. She still needs to work on her snark though, especially in front of a patient.
Santos actually reminds you of a young Cassie. One that you lived with in college. She was prickly at first. She had no filter and could totally be misinterpreted all the time because of her tone and dark humor. Cassie may not always be nice but she was always kind.
“Has anyone seen Dr. Al Hashimi?”
Cassie.
You clear your throat. “Hi. Do you need an attending or Dr. Al Hashimi specifically?”
She looks up from her iPad. And from the look on her face, she knows.
She still knows you.
“Y/N?”
“Cassie,” you breathe out. Saying her name out loud feels like taking a breath after diving underwater.
“Oh, wow. Hi.” Cassie puts the iPad down the counter. “You're the new attending?”
“Yes, I am.”
Cassie lets out a whistle. “I’ve heard great things except your name. Wow. It's crazy. You're absolutely insane for being triple board certified.”
“Believe me, I almost was.”
Cassie laughs. Something tightens in your chest. You haven't heard her laugh in ages that you don't even remember anymore. But fuck, something twists in your stomach too.
“It's really good to see you again,” you say before you could stop yourself.
“Yeah. It's been a long time,” Cassie replies, almost sounding nostalgic. “I actually thought I was seeing things earlier when I saw you. How have you been?”
“Busy, mostly. Spent five years off the map until I got bored.”
“You're tanned.”
“I used to live near the beach.”
“Just like you always wanted.”
You nod your head, smiling. She remembered. “I didn't think I would get bored fast.”
“Yeah? Are you sure you don't miss the beach?”
“I do, actually. I also miss the chaos.” You pull on the stethoscope around your neck as if it would keep your balance. “How, uh, how have you been? How's… everything?”
Stupid.
“I’m in my last year of residency and looking for jobs.”
“Oh? You're not planning to apply here and stay?”
“Still thinking about it. I like to keep my options open.”
“I’m sure you’ll do whatever is best for you.”
The corner of Cassie's mouth curves upward. “The last time you saw me I was starting to make bad decisions.”
Oh, don’t you know it. No one could stop her from making those decisions. Not even you. And you tried.
“Fair enough,” you agree. “You seem better now though. I-I mean, are you? I’m sorry. I wasn't trying to make assumptions -”
“Relax, Y/N.” Cassie lets out a small laugh. “I’m twelve years sober now.”
Pride roars in your chest. Happy is an understatement for the way you feel for her.
“Really? That's great. I’m really proud, Cassie.”
“Thank you. My 14-year-old son tried to make a whole cake to celebrate it. You can imagine how it looks and tastes when the baker has no experience in baking at all.” She chuckles.
Son.
She has a son.
She's married?
“That's… that's nice. Really nice. I’m happy for you.” Fuck, why does your throat suddenly feel dry and tight?
“Thanks. How about you? Are you married? Children?”
“No.” You shake your head. “Just cats. Three.”
“My son wanted one but between residency and actually keeping him alive, I just can’t.”
“What's his name? Your son.”
“Harrison.”
“Harrison,” you repeat. “He’s 14, you say?”
“Yes.”
“That's… wow. I can't believe you have a 14-year-old. A teenager.”
“Me neither.”
“Is his father a doctor too?”
Cassie laughs, actually laughs that you think you asked something offensive. “I’m sorry. God, I just had this image of him in my head and he’s a doctor and it’s the funniest thing I thought of in a while.” She wipes the small tear from her eye. “To answer your question, he's not. He’s a douchebag and we’ve been divorced for longer than we were together.”
“Don't tell me he’s named Chad.”
Cassie bursts out laughing that everyone in the ED glances at her. “Am I that predictable?”
“He’s really named Chad?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Oh, god.” It's your turn to laugh. “I hope your son looks like you, at least.”
“Just a little boy version of me.”
“Then he’s a beautiful boy.”
“He is.”
Just like his mother.
Time only made Cassie more beautiful. The wrinkles on her forehead, the bags under her eyes, her laugh lines, and the slightly loose skin of her neck only made Cassie look more alive. She's full of life now unlike the last year you spent together where she would end up on your couch drunk and high as a kite almost every night.
“We should catch up sometime,” Cassie suddenly says. “If you want. I mean, if that's not inappropriate since you're my attending now and all.”
“No, of course not. I would… I would love that, actually.”
“Great.” Cassie smiles widely, her perfect dimples on display. “Anyway, I need you to take a look at this patient. Patient’s name is Herbie Cruz, 55, male. Lives on a farm. Covered himself with pesticides after claiming he felt and saw bugs all over him. He’s now complaining about nausea, difficulty breathing, and feeling bugs crawling under his skin.”
“What has been done so far?”
“Currently at 6 lpm O2 support. Atropine given. Also tried gastric lavage and activated charcoal.”
“Good enough so far. You might wanna refer him to psych. Could be signs of schizophrenia or something if he says he keeps seeing and feeling bugs all over him. Otherwise, it will keep happening.”
Cassie nods in understanding. “On it.”
“Good job, Dr. Mckay.”
“Thanks.”
You watch as Cassie talks to the patient and his treatment plan. You only realize now how much time has passed since the last time you saw her. You never thought Cassie was a hopeless case but she sure is complex and never in your wildest dreams did you think she would end up doing this.
But knowing Cassie, it just fits right.
Cassie, to this day, is still one of the kindest, most empathetic people you know. You remember how she keeps a snack and a small first-aid kit in her tiny sling bag in case she meets someone who might need it. She used a portion of her allowance to feed a homeless kid that she frequently met one term and how she bawled her eyes out for days when she found out that same kid died from hit and run.
Cassie was full of kindness and light before she got involved with the wrong people and made one wrong decision after another. And seeing her again, years later, finding her way back to helping people, you can't help but feel a great pride and joy for her.
You just wish you had seen her growth; seen her struggle; seen it all.
-
“Cassie, where are you going?”
“Just hanging out with Alex and Sam.”
You sighed deeply. “Cass, you know they're -”
“Selling drugs, yeah, yeah.” Cassie chuckled, unbothered. “It's not like I’m buying.”
“Cass -”
“Can you stop worrying?”
“No, actually.”
“I’m just hanging out with them, okay? I’m not doing anything.”
“You could get in trouble just by being associated with them.”
“Then, it’s my name to disgrace.”
You felt a migraine coming just from this conversation alone. “Cassie -”
“Can you stop?!” Her voice echoed in your shared room. “You're not my girlfriend. Stop acting like it.”
Your brows furrowed in hurt and confusion. “I wasn't acting like your girlfriend,” you said softly, hurt laced in your voice. “I’m sorry for caring.”
You didn't give her a chance to say anything else when you slammed the door hard.
That was one of the last times you ever talked face-to-face.
You couldn't see her wasting her life anymore. You stopped entertaining her calls and the knocks on your door. Hoping that maybe - just maybe - you were important enough for her to let go of the bad habits she's starting to get addicted to.
But Cassie only got worse from then on.
You would see her on campus hanging out with different questionable people, kissing boys that were old enough to know better, going to parties, and snorting a line in the bathroom. She barely went home anymore and stayed over at her drug dealer friends’ place.
It actually hurt watching the girl you knew faded into someone you barely recognized. Sneaking in late at night in your dorm, leaving your place a mess, smoking in the room and triggering building alarms, stealing a couple of bucks from your wallet, calling you in the middle of the night to bail her out. You didn’t know how you’d find yourself forgiving her every time.
But the last straw was your graduation night.
Cassie should have been on the stage as well but she got delayed a year for flunking a couple of subjects in her program. But she had promised to come to your graduation party.
It was midnight and people had started to go home one by one, congratulating you on your achievements, giving you gifts and hugs and throwing you good luck on whatever you do next. You remembered every single one. None of them were Cassie.
How stupid of you to believe you would be important for her to remember.
-
She remembered you two days later. She tried to call you multiple times from morning until past midnight. She sent you multiple messages, begging for you to answer her calls. It took everything in you not to.
Until she sent you a photo of her bloodied hand.
Cassie, what the hell?!
Doesn't hurt. Can you patch me up?
Send me the address.
Cassie sent you the address. A back alley of a sketchy bar. You came ten minutes later with a first-aid kit in your bag.
“You came,” Cassie sighed in relief, eyes red and puffy from crying. The dark circles around her eyes had gotten darker the last time you saw her. Even in the dim light, you could see how flushed she was. Probably wasted and most definitely high.
You didn't ask what happened. You didn't want to know anymore. You stopped wanting to. It only hurt to know what she's been doing to herself. Instead, you quietly clean and bandaged her hand.
She looked up at you with bloodshot eyes. “Thank you,” Cassie mumbled.
“You need to get your shit together,” you told her firmly, refusing to meet her eyes by tidying up the kit. Cassie never heard you this cold to her. “I won't be here forever picking you up your ass.”
Panic set in. “What does that mean?”
“I’m moving to California.”
Cassie grew still, suddenly feeling like she was hit by cold water.
“Take care of yourself, Cassie.”
“What - what about me? You can't leave me.”
“What about you?!” You huffed in annoyance, heart beating out of your chest in anger but mostly in disappointment. “You're not my responsibility but I kept picking you up and forgiving you because I thought you would change, that you would be the Cassie I knew again! But you're fucking hopeless and selfish and I’m so, so tired of feeling like a dog begging for scraps, Cassie.”
Tears streamed down your cheeks fast, breaths failing to catch up, and Cassie tried to reach out to wipe your cheek but you flinched. You never flinched when she touched you.
Were you scared of her now? Had she become something you didn't even want to breathe the same air with? Did she become someone you hate?
Cassie felt her own tears wetting down her face, her shirt growing damp. She stood up and tried to wrap her arms around you, beg for your forgiveness, but you stepped back, shaking your head.
There were no words needed. Even when you were still standing in front of her, Cassie knew she already lost you.
-
The Pitt, as Baran indifferently calls it, is a big adjustment from your last job. But you're very adaptable and in the first two weeks of being an attending, you had managed to exceed expectations from everyone.
In a particularly busy shift, the residents have learned to depend on you. Especially Trinity Santos, one of the most curious - nosiest - doctors you’ve ever known.
“Do you and Mckay know each other?” Trinity's voice pops behind you. You're unfazed, typing something on the computer.
“Well, yes, Dr. Santos. I happen to know Dr. Mckay because she's a colleague.”
“Technically she's below you like I am but that's not the point,” Trinity folds her arms and looks at you. “There's a history there.”
“You're a historian now?”
“Oh, come on. I see the looks. Give me something. Mckay won't give Crash anything and I thought she could sweet talk it out of her ‘cause Mckay has a soft spot for her -”
Your head snaps to her. “She does?”
A smug smile appears on the resident's face. “Oh, yeah. Mckay is Crash’s mentor on her first day here. They're very close. Sometimes she babysits Harrison.”
“Isn't he fourteen?”
“Mckay is a boy mom,” Trinity says with a huff. “But the kid’s great.”
“You met him?”
She nods. “I let him beat me in Mario Kart.”
Everyone seems to know Cassie beyond these hospital walls more than you do.
No big deal.
“You two go way back, don't you?” Trinity presses. “College perhaps?” You don't answer. “You know Cassie before her addiction then? Or during?”
That hit a nerve.
“Dr. Santos,” you say sternly. “Whatever my relationship with Dr. Mckay is - or was - is none of your business.”
Trinity puts up her hands and backs up. “Geez. So serious.”
“Get back to work.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
God, you hate Santos sometimes.
You try to focus, you really did, but your eyes keep darting to Cassie and Victoria talking to their patient. They're right in front of the station, you reason. That's all.
But Cassie gives her a ‘good job, Vadi’ and squeezes her arm and the younger woman smiles up at her. She clearly admires Cassie and while you don't know the extent of their mentorship, knowing Cassie, she's always been capable of teaching.
Cassie is her mentor. That's all.
Mentor.
But Victoria is giddy, holding on to the ends of the stethoscope on her neck, and walking back to the station to chart.
You're not concerned. It's none of your business what your residents are up to out of the ER or whatever they are to each other -
“Dr. Javadi?” Fuck. It's your mouth with her own mind again.
The younger doctor turns her head to you.
“How's your patient with Dr. Mckay?”
“She's stable now,” she answers. “We're preparing her for transfer in the ICU.”
“Good.” You nod. “That's… good.”
Victoria doesn't miss the slight hesitance in your voice. “Is there a problem?”
“No,” you shake your head. You pause. “Actually - you know what - it's nothing important.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, yeah. I just need a snack or something. Can you tell Dr. Al-Hashimi I’ll be back in ten minutes?”
Victoria nods. “Sure. Just a heads up, the cafeteria is terrible. But there are vending machines near the main lobby, you can't miss it.”
“Uh, thanks.”
This is all Dr. Santos’ fault.
-
The shift ends earlier than usual. You always make sure to not leave before the entire morning shift does, usually just a few minutes after Baran.
You grab your things from the locker and take one more look before heading out. As you wait in the bus stop, you hear a beep. A red pickup car stops in front of you. The window rolls down.
“Get in,” Cassie offers.
“I’m fine. I’ll wait for the bus -”
“Come on. Get in.” She opens the passenger door for you.
Without another thought, you get in the car. “You can drop me on the nearest -”
“I’ll drive you home.”
“You don't even know where I live.”
“I’ll take you home anyway,” Cassie insists. She starts driving, smooth and easy, eyes focused on the road. “Put in your address.”
You punch in your address on her GPS.
The drive is mostly quiet aside from the soft rock music playing on the radio and the occasional sounds of the car horn.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Cassie says after a while.
“About what?”
She lets out a shaky breath. “I owe you an apology.”
“Cassie -”
“Just let me say it. Please.”
You glance at her. Her eyes are still on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel harder than she should. She takes your silence as a sign to continue. “It's been years and I… I still think about our last… the last time we saw each other. It's burned in the back of my mind, really.” Cassie takes a deep breath. “I was awful to you. I hurt a lot of people… including you.”
“It's a long time ago, Cassie. I don't…” You swallow thickly, looking at your hands fidgeting on your lap. “I’ve forgiven you long before I received an apology.”
“You were always nice. So caring and understanding and - and I was terrible. I was mostly high on something when I went home and I wasn't - you shouldn't have had to deal with that, with me.”
“You were my friend,” you remind her. “I will always care.”
Cassie slows down and parks on the side of the road. Then, she turns to you. “I was a bad friend.”
“Not all the time. The end wasn’t all that we had.”
“I wasn't the best.”
“You were my best friend.”
Cassie loses a rebuttal. How can you still see the good in her after seeing the worst?
“You're not your mistakes, Cassie,” you add.
Cassie knows that. Years and years of therapy and AA meetings have taught her that. But somehow, she still finds it hard to believe, especially coming from you, someone she hurt deeply, someone she lost once and thought would never see again.
“How can you forgive me so easily?” She asks.
You don't really have an answer other than the obvious truth that you’ve concealed for a long time.
A truth that remains true twenty years later.
“Because I love you,” you say softly, not quite meeting her eyes, afraid of what you’ll find.
Cassie, for her part, feels almost as if she drove into a speeding train and hit with an impact she never felt before. She stares at you for a moment, both in disbelief and hope.
“Everyone knew except you,” you continue, looking out the window. Your eyes drift on nothing but the darkness outside. “Our friends wanted me to tell you but I… I was too much of a coward then. I was afraid to lose you.”
But I still lost you.
Cassie’s heart beats wildly in her chest. Her breathing turns shallow. And before she could overthink it again, she unbuckles her seatbelt and makes a quick work of yours too. You don't have the time to ask questions. Cassie kisses you.
Oh.
Cassie is kissing you.
Cassie pours everything in the kiss. Desperation. Apology. Adoration. Devotion. You feel it all.
I love you too.
You can barely breathe, barely able to respond. Cassie is all over you; you feel her on your skin, in the air you breathe, in the sighs of your lips. It's all Cassie.
