#empitthy

[stilloves-arc1]

asked by Samira Mohan : can I tell you a secret?

strap of bag is tossed over shoulder and crossing over chest, yoga pants pulled on and a too big hoodie that belonged to some old ex is dragged on. she has definitely felt better. as in way better. right now it feels like someone has chewed her up, spit her out and ran her over with a semi truck just to be sure. she imagine that is how this feels like at least. closing her locker with a soft clink, dark gaze lift to samira and there's hint of a smile ghosting across features. always loved gossiping perhaps a little too much, but mostly about other people. never cared for drama in her own life. that's why her hoodie belongs to an ex, and not to a current boyfriend. he knew who she was when they started dating, when he asked her to be his boyfriend . . . and he still complained about her hours. why she studied so much. spent so much time here and not with him. became an ex boyfriend pretty quickly after that. a soft hum leaves her, two protein bars are pulled from the sidepocket of her bag, handing one of the two over to samira before pushing the door open from the lockerroom. " is it a good kind of secret ? are you gonna swear me to silence ? " smile grows ever so little as she turns, walking backwards to fully watch her, sticking her hand up, pinkie out. " do we make pinkie promises ? "

@empitthy

[cursedbirth]

genevieve stood at the sink, scrubbing with surgical precision, though her face remained untouched by urgency. her movements were efficient, elegant; there was no telling that less than thirty minutes ago, a man who should’ve died from blunt force trauma to the chest was now breathing evenly in room 14. no coding, no resuscitation. no explanation. and it wasn't a miracle; just a little of her blood, slipped into the iv bag when no one was looking. she dried her hands and reached for the crisp white coat to her right, making her way down the hall until she reached the breakroom. 'dr. mohan,' genevieve greeted softly, appearing in the doorway like a shadow coaxed into form. 'you stayed late again,' there was no judgment in her tone, only observation — a habit from a lifetime of watching humans. her voice was calm, with that faint, unplaceable accent that curled around her words like silk. she crossed the room, her steps quiet, her features inscrutable. 'i have to wonder when it is you sleep. i cannot imagine it is very often,' @empitthy.

[klarsynt]

@empitthy sent: asking if they’ve eaten today

            is it that obvious? he cannot help but wonder the moment she poses the question. have you eaten tonight? with a creature like him, it's a bit of a pointed question isn't it? she hasn't even taken a shower yet. he towers over her, a hand curled into the hem of her shirt as if to ground the both of them. he can still smell the hospital on her. antiseptics. cold metal. traces of sweat. something so chemical it would almost make him wrinkle his nose. but he doesn't. because he can smell something sweeter, stronger, thrumming just beneath her skin, coursing inside her veins.

❝ no, ❞ he confesses as he presses a kiss to her temple. he inhales the scent of her hair. emil tilts his head and kisses her cheek as well. his hand is at her neck, rubbing his thumb back and forth along the soft skin. ❝ i tried, ❞. he whispers, his mouth close enough to hers now that their lips brush when he speaks. ❝ i followed...so many people. none of them deserved it. ❞ emil moves his hand, curls his fingers beneath the strap of her backpack so he can gently ease it off her shoulder for her. ❝ have you? ❞

[respondsfirst]

samira mohan ( @empitthy ) : reunites with jay in a hospital room.

he'd been shot, and honestly - the whole thing was a bit of a blur. it went to the side of his vest, he doesn't remember the logistics. all he knew was - he was going to be a dad, and now he might be dying. he manages to say her name, letting them know who to call. she was his next of kin. but he wasn't sure they'd check - and he didn't want the first call to be to his brother, but the girl he was going to marry. the person he would spend forever with. the mother of his kid. so he goes into surgery, having more to fight for than he's ever had. so he does.

waking up, his head feels so damn groggy - but he knows that squeeze of his hand, albeit, it's tighter than it ever has. she was there. so before he even opens his eyes, he's smiling. he made it home - back to his family. "hi beautiful," he whispers through a hoarse voice, weakly giving her hand a squeeze back. "hey," tilting her head with his eyes open. she looked so tired, and sad. one look he was used to, and one that he decides he hates. one he wants to change into a smile or laugh as soon as possible. "i love you. come here," holding out his other hand, the one hooked up to the iv - but he wants his girl for cuddles. "i don't care what your doctor brain thinks, come get your cuddles, sami." tapping the bed once as he scoots - with a wince.

[oncalls]

   ✱   [ comfort ]   . . .   @empitthy tries to comfort lucy chen .

DOD : 120919 . . . it wasn't just a series of letters and numbers. it was a day of death. it was supposed to be lucy's day of death. and now it was etched into her skin, a permanent reminder of the worst day of her life, that would haunt her every time she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror when she was changing clothes, right there on her ribcage in jagged black writing. caleb's handwriting. she had the hospital gown pulled up, fingers ghosting over the bumpy skin when a doctor walked in. no, not just any doctor. it was doctor mohan. lucy didn't play favorites, especially not the hospital. they were all doing incredible work day in and day out to save lives. but usually she was there as a police officer, not as a patient. if she did pick a favorite, it would be samira.

she tugged the dressing gown down, like that could make the letters and numbers go away. like every doctor and nurse working in that emergency room hadn't heard what happened to her, like they weren't all out there at the nurse's station whispering about her tattoo. arms wrapped around her middle, making herself smaller. maybe if she shrunk herself enough, she could just . . . disappear. maybe she wanted to. she was happy it was samira that came to check on her this time. "i'm fine," she lied, looking at the monitor like she knew what any of the lines or numbers meant. it was easier than looking at her . . . maybe doctor mohan wasn't her friend. they didn't know each other outside of passing in the hospital. but she was so friend shaped. she stared at the monitor too long and the only numbers she saw on it were 120919. so she looked at samira instead.

[grumpycops]

samira mohan ( @empitthy ) : imagine fumbling lucy chen.

imagine fumbling lucy chen. she wasn't wrong ... he just didn't expect to be called out like that. at a damn breakfast for the first responders. blinking once, twice, thrice. "i um," he usually wasn't a man of many words. but he didn't freaking stutter either. usually tamara was the one to get him speechless - but samira's words don't even come with an honorary 'joke!' following them. shaking his head once, because she was right. twice, because she is right. he fumbled.. ( what does that even mean? ) his future. the one he was going to spend forever with.

"doctor mohan, have you tried the breakfast mimosas yet?" maybe she was off duty. maybe she was tipsy - this seems, out of pocket for someone so polite ... someone who bleeds empathy daily. but maybe he deserved it. ( he knows he does ) and maybe he's actually happy for it. happy that lucy has a friend who would come to honors in the middle of a damn breakfast.

[allhunts]

eileen slipped through the side entrance of the er just after midnight, her hoodie zipped up to hide the blood seeping through her shirt. she moved like someone used to pain — efficient and silent, a little too calm. when she spotted samira down the hallway, her shoulders eased by a fraction. no questions, no raised eyebrows — just help; that's what she needed, right now. eileen approached, tugging the edge of her sleeve up to sign, < got clipped. silver blade, not mine. can you take a look? > then, with a faint, tired smile, she says, 'and maybe not put it in the system this time?' @empitthy ; liked.

[squadthree]

samira mohan ( @empitthy ) : samira holds kelly's face while inspecting an injury he's got.

"i'm fine," he assures her - but despite his words, that soft and skilled doctor hand still touch his face, while she's checking out the temporary bandage he got at the scene. "acid burn. they washed it a bunch, still had to come here and get checked out. no need to fuss -" but he knows he's speaking for deaf ears. he knows she's going to fuss. that she won't get him another doctor - she was now wife and doctor. maybe even a little more the latter. "how's the girls? did you see them at daycare?"

maybe it was a bad thing to bring up their kids right now. the same ones who'd look at his booboo and possibly cry. he could not handle the triple sets of doe eyes looking at him like that. impossible. so he tilts his head, leaning in to kiss her forehead. no curl out today. which meant it might've been a quiet day so far. "i saved a kid - it was worth it." it wasn't a hero trick, he hadn't just been reckless without a cause. he'd saved a life - a life of someone who was devi's age - and if that wasn't worth it? he doesn't know what is.