Will you continue your stupid-amazing hospital alarkling au?
Let it never be said that just because I’ve let an ask sit for years means it won’t be fulfilled. Chapter 1 is here, this is chapter 2, and it’s still half crack, so let’s not take any of it too seriously, shall we?
*
Alina had just finished buttoning up her white coat when she saw Dr. Morozova striding down the hallway, his long legs devouring the linoleum at a distressing pace.
“How was your weekend?” she asked as she fell into step beside him, her own legs doing double time to keep up. He held out a stack of folders and she instinctively reached out to take them.
“My weekend was good,” she continued, having known from the beginning that she was going to have to do the conversational heavy lifting. “A friend of mine had a birthday party and my schedule actually allowed me to attend, which was a pleasant – what are these?” The files she held were all for surgeries that they’d done over the past couple months: nothing new, nothing to prepare.
They turned a sharp corner past pediatrics before her mentor replied. “We’re presenting at a conference this week.”
“We? Presenting? This week?” Alina couldn’t manage to put all her thoughts into a question and he closed his eyes briefly in disappointment.
“We’ll be giving a presentation at the annual surgical conference. I’ve already made the arrangements. Put together the PowerPoint this evening and I’ll review it in the morning.”
“PowerPoint?”
“Keynote is fine if you prefer.”
“Oh, great. Yeah. That was my question.”
She let him walk towards the office before propping the files between her hip and the wall to allow her to fish out her phone, scrolling through her list of contacts. Who might she know that makes presentations? She didn’t have a huge repertoire of people to choose from, so it really came down to probably not a costume designer, probably yes a lawyer.
do you know how to make a power point? Alina tapped out.
o m g starkov, Zoya texted back.
could you help me make one this evening? it’s important.
do you have ANY idea what I bill at?
I’ll provide pizza and wine, Alina offered.
and ice cream, Zoya countered.
THANK YOU!!!!!!!!! Alina exhaled and shifted the files back into her arms. Zoya’s reply was a painting nails emoji followed by a hair flip emoji followed by a middle finger.
Perfect. She could get this done tonight.
*
Zoya tapped on Alina’s laptop for a minute while Alina perched nervously beside her. “You have PowerPoint installed, so that’s a good start,” the lawyer muttered. Her hair was pulled behind her ears so that her hair fell in black curls down her back, and her makeup looked as flawless as it must have first thing in the morning. Not to mention the diamonds in her ears – whatever Zoya was having, Alina wanted it.
“When is the pizza coming?” Zoya asked.
“Half an hour. Wine in the meantime?”
Zoya snorted, a you-have-to-ask response that Alina had become familiar with during their time as roommates in college. She returned with a glass of Zoya’s favorite pinot and saw that the screen of her computer was an empty white page.
“Alright,” Zoya began. “Let’s get an outline down, then we can go back and fill in what you’ll actually be saying.”
They had an outline by the time the pizza arrived. Zoya took a slice and pulled up the first slide. “You have some kind of visual you want on this?”
Alina rummaged through the file, pulled out a photo. “This is a pretty good demonstration of the issue we ran into in the surgery–”
She was interrupted by Zoya gagging to the far side of the screen. Once she had recovered, she took a long drink from her wine glass and cut a glance back to Alina, who smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I sometimes forget what it looks like to people who aren’t surgeons.”
Zoya took another drink of wine, set it down, and looked at her friend. “You owe me so much more than pizza and wine for this.”
“That’s the spirit,” Alina replied.
*
Alina forgot the hospital doors were automatic and nearly fell through them the next morning. She caught herself before she fell – barely – and when she looked up Dr. Morozova was standing there, watching her impassively.
Of course. Of course he would be there.
“The presentation looks good.”
Alina rubbed her face. She and a grumbling Zoya had worked on it until the early hours of the morning – she’d sent it to him not so many hours ago, in fact. “Oh. Great.”
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at seven.”
“Um. Tomorrow?”
He didn’t acknowledge her response. “It’s just one night, so no need to pack too much.”
“Overnight?”
He glanced at her. “It’s a couple hours from here. I’ve booked us rooms. Be ready tomorrow at seven.”
Alina watched him walk off, looked down at the floor. The linoleum didn’t seem to be any help. A two hour drive with her supervisor, an overnight stay at a conference, and a presentation? You can do this, Starkov. “Cool,” she said, once he’d walked off. “Cool, cool, cool. Cool.”
*
At exactly seven o’clock the next morning an impossibly nice car pulled up outside of Alina’s apartment building. She didn’t know anything about cars, but it was black, had tinted windows, and looked like it was worth more than her student debt — which was saying something.
A few moments later, the window closest to her rolled down revealing Dr. Morozova, one eyebrow raised. “Are you planning on getting in?”
“Uh.” Alina looked down at her hands, wondered if she should be wearing gloves if she was going to touch the car. But she also didn’t want to keep him waiting … Just play it cool. “Yeah,” she said. Smooth, Starkov.
The door handle didn’t disintegrate under her touch and she put her bag between her feet as she settled into the passenger side. No sooner had her seatbelt clicked than he began to drive, the ride butter-smooth beneath her. Oh, this is why people spend a crazy amount of money on cars. He shifted gears and she looked out at the tinted scenery as he lead them towards the highway.
He hadn’t said anything since she got in the car. “So,” she said, cringing even as the words left her mouth, “you go to this conference often?” At least she hadn’t asked him if he drove his own car often.
“Annually.”
Another couple minutes passed in silence. She was going to have to do all the prompting, as usual, but being alone with him in a car for two hours meant that maybe she could get to know him a little better. She cast a glance his way but his eyes were on the road ahead. “Do you have any family?” she asked.
“Everyone has a family.”
She stifled a sigh. “Siblings?”
“One.”
“Brother? Sister? Older? Younger?” He didn’t confirm any of those. “Non-binary twin?”
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye before turning his attention back to the road. He signaled, switched lanes. “Sister. Younger.”
Alina looked at him, trying to imagine what his features would look like on a woman. She would probably be the most stunning woman in the world. Either that or scary as hell. “Are you close?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Why are you asking?”
“I’m just trying to make conversation.”
“Would you like me to ask about your family?”
The blow, whether or not it was intended as such, landed hard. Alina looked out the window at the scenery, fighting the lump in her throat.
The silence turned out to be a blessing, though; with the car’s smooth handling, Alina fell asleep quickly.
“We’re here.” She jerked awake, rubbing saliva off of her face, wondering if Dr. Morozova had seen her drooling. “I checked us in remotely; your room key should have been sent to your phone. I’m room 416 and you’re 485.”
He opened the trunk and pulled out a small suitcase. Black, obviously. Alina shouldered her own overnight bag. “Go put your stuff down,” he said. “I’ll meet you in the lobby in fifteen minutes.”
*
There were a lot more people at the conference than Alina had anticipated. It was possible that there were no surgeries happening anywhere across the United States and several other countries right now, because everyone who would have been performing them was in this room. It would have felt crowded in any case, but in this case in particular the attendees were all surgeons — the egos pressing together were almost suffocating.
Or maybe it was the fact that she was standing in front of all these people as Dr. Morozova gave the presentation she’d put together that made her so uncomfortable. All these people could see her. At least she didn’t have to speak.
“And this last surgery was performed by my intern, Dr. Starkov. I’ll let her explain.”
He handed her the microphone and the tiny clicker to change the slide, and Alina straight up panicked. Her palms started to sweat. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
I will not scream. I will not scream. I will not scream.
The audience was looking at her — patient, expectant. They believed she had something important to share. All because of the surgeon everyone here was listening to — because he believed she had something important to share.
She cleared her throat and forced herself to begin to explain the procedure. Once she started, she found she had a lot to say.
Once she started, she did great.
*
Twenty minutes into the happy hour, Dr. Morozova materialized at her side. “I’m going back to my room.”
“As keynote speakers tend to do when there are literal crowds of people wanting their time.” When he’d made his way over, he’d pulled a bubble of people with him, several of whom did not look like they were hoping to spend their time with him discussing surgery. “Too tired of having room keys thrown at you?”
The look he cut her reminded her of a particular type of incision that required a lot of stitches. “Nothing good happens in a room full of drunk surgeons. I advise you not to stay too long, either.”
A drink and a half later, Alina was starting to suspect he was right. “You’re Dr. Morozova’s resident?” a petite woman in heavy glasses was asking her. “Wow.”
“Lucky you,” the man next to her added.
“He’s been an incredible teacher,” Alina agreed.
“Among other things, I’m guessing.” The woman raised her eyebrows at Alina.
Alina’s mind blanked out. “What?”
“I mean … ” She looked at the man next to her who gave an encouraging nod. “All that anatomy, the long nights on call …” Her look was unmistakably suggestive and Alina finally got it.
“Oh, no,” she said. “Nope. That is not a thing that is happening.” She put down her drink. “I actually think I’m going to go now.”
“Makes sense.” The woman winked at her. “Have fun.”
“I am not sleeping with my attending.”
The man and woman looked at each other and shrugged. “If not you, I wonder who he’s with now?”
“Who he’s — he’s not —” Alina left the thought unfinished. Dr. Morozova’s sex life had never crossed her mind; sure, he was absurdly good looking, but he was her mentor. And for whatever reason, she didn’t picture him coming to a conference to sleep around.
But … did he? Were they right?
“I’m going to make this an early night,” Alina said.
“Well, ‘suture’ self,” the man replied as she walked away. He and the woman beside him both laughed hilariously.
The fourth floor hallway was quiet, and she was starting to feel a little more like herself. She passed room 416, and then she stopped. She couldn’t help herself; she walked backwards a few feet to the door and knocked.
He didn’t answer. Of course he didn’t answer. He must be out with one of those surgeons she’d seen him with earlier, or maybe out with a few of them. Alina was almost relieved; if he wasn’t here, if he was seeing people, then she didn’t have to make herself think about —
The door opened. “Can I help you?” Dr. Morozova asked.
Alina’s blush was fast and furious. She hoped he would assume it was from the alcohol. “Um. No. Nope!” she said. “I was just … checking?”
“Checking?”
“To see if you needed anything. Make sure you’re good to go. I was going to get some coffee.”
He leaned in closer to her and her heart sped up. What the heck? Why would it do that? It must be left over adrenaline from the speech, Alina told herself, well-aware that that was not how adrenaline worked.
“I don’t need coffee.”
“Great! Me neither.” What was happening? “Okie dokie, see you tomorrow.”
He squinted at her. “Are you alright?”
“You betcha.” She did little finger guns. This maybe she could blame on the alcohol, because even she wasn’t usually that bad. “See you later.”
She walked back to her room, and by the time she made it all the way down the hall, she’d pulled it together. She was his resident, that was it. She’d focus on learning everything from him that she could.
*
After a day of attending presentations, poster sessions, and eating terrible conference-center food, Alina was once again seated in the passenger seat beside her instructor, this time heading home. She was determined to not make it awkward.
“Why do you go to this conference every year?” she asked. “Just to speak?”
“Speaking is one reason.” He changed lanes. “I also come to learn.”
“You learned something at this conference?”
“I always do.” He glanced at her disbelief. “The day you stop learning is the day you die.”
“I don’t … ” Alina paused. “I mean, I haven’t been a doctor for as long as you have, but I’m pretty sure that’s not true.”
“Perhaps not.”
They passed a couple towns before he spoke again. “Have you thought about who you’d like to work with next year?”
The intern program at this hospital was two years long, and each year was with a different mentor. It shocked her to realize she was over halfway through her time with Dr. Morozova. She found she desperately didn’t want it to end, and his expertise was only half of the reason.
Oh, yipes. Where had that thought come from?
She coughed to stall for time. “Ummmm … I was thinking of maybe going for more of a specialty next year. Oral surgery?”
He gave a hum that was as smooth as the road beneath the car. “You could try it. I don’t think you’d like it.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t.”
The thought of him thinking them similar enough that their likes would overlap was interrupted by panic at what she at first feared was a medical emergency. It took her a few minutes to realize the weird way her heart was beating wasn’t anything like that.
They rode the rest of the way in silence.
*
The week after the conference had been a busy one at the hospital, and Alina had managed to avoid Dr. Morozova without making it obvious she was doing so. At least, she hoped it hadn’t been obvious.
There was a lot she needed to work out for herself – why did thinking of him increase the temperature of her internal organs? And, maybe more importantly: what could she do about it?
If she was interested in Dr. Morozova in any sort of romantic way — which she totally, totally, was not, because a) that would be a terrible idea and b) getting involved with a higher-ranking surgeon, let alone one who was managing her, was highly-unethical-if-not-strictly-prohibited — she would run into problem c): the odds that he would be interested in her as well.
A face like his would have plenty of people to choose from, if he ever left the hospital. Probably even if he didn’t.
Whatever. She couldn’t put off talking to him any longer. She exhaled and knocked on his door.
“Come in.”
He was bent over papers at his desk and she got to observe him as he read. The planes of his face, the set of his shoulders —
“Well?”
In her observation she had failed to notice he was looking up at her. Very cool, Alina. So cool. “Oh, um, I … had a question for you.” He kept looking at her in a way that made her want to cringe and somehow now also made her want to start taking her clothes off. She shut down that animal part of her brain and soldiered on.
She cleared her throat. “I have a shift next Tuesday, and my usual backup isn’t available. I’ve been having a hard time finding anyone who could take over if I’m in a surgery and something happens so I was wondering … if you could be … if I could put you down to be the one they call. Just backup.”
He stared at her hard for a few seconds, then slumped back in his chair. “Fine,” he said. “Make me your fill-in.”
Alina barely managed to not squeal her “thank you.” She was halfway to the door when he called after her. “Take that folder before you go.”
The folder was sitting on a shelf just at her chest level. “Study those tonight. Surgery tomorrow,” her mentor said.
She opened it and found a thick stack of case notes. She looked back at him and smiled. “They just happened to be sitting here?”
“I had a feeling you might come around,” he replied, making her wonder just how much of what was going on in her head he was able to see. She could have sworn there was something in his expression that she’d never seen before, though she couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
#aleksander morozova is the queen of art and the queen of sass and the queen of history and the queen of the sky AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA lowkey wanna use this as my new desc???? what a treasure
IKR it’s amazing even my new inexperienced phone understands!!! i think it’s official now, aleksander morozova is our Queen 👸🏻
okay so im kinda drunk but i just keep thinking about how the darkling *must* have read alina and mal's letters to each other and gotten more and more annoyed like "omg why is alina pining after this otkazat'sya loser" and "why is she so desperate for that first army d when i exist" and generally be all jealous and petty but tHEN
