The hallway outside Pediatric Oncology felt too bright, too clean, and too cruel for what was happening. The monitors screamed like alarms in Daphne’s skull, high and sharp, as if the machines were panicking along with them. Nurses rushed past her, voices overlapping, someone calling for respiratory, someone shouting a blood pressure that sounded like a death sentence. The air tasted like antiseptic and fear.
Daphne’s hands were steady, but her heart wasn’t.
“Come on honey,” she whispered under her breath, fingers moving fast, adjusting the IV line, watching the tiny chest rise and fall in shallow, broken breaths. The little girl’s lips were turning that awful shade of blue, like someone had stolen the warmth right out of her. Her name was Abby.
Seven years old. Leukemia. Brave as hell. Daphne had promised her this morning that she’d be back with stickers when she got off shift, Now Abby’s eyes were half-lidded, glassy, unfocused. And Daphne’s stomach twisted into something sick.
“Ms. Daphne?” Abby rasped, barely audible, the words caught behind a wheeze.
She whispered, “Hey.. Hey it’s going to be okay.” Daphne leaned in closer, brushing Abby’s hair back, forcing her voice to stay soft even as her hands started to shake. “I’m right here.”
Abby tried to breathe and failed.
Her body jerked like it was fighting itself. The monitor screamed louder. The room snapped into chaos.
“ICU transfer now.” someone yelled. Daphne’s mouth went dry, she watched the doctors swarm around Abby’s bed like a storm. A crash cart was rolled in, the wheels squealing against the tile, and Daphne backed away automatically, because she’d learned what it meant when the cart came out. It meant someone was about to be taken from you. “Where’s Dr. Tannis?” Someone called out as the group of nurses sped walked behind the cart, walking into the ICU room. Tannis was the main doctor in call up at pedes.. Alas, It was four am and it was just the group of nurses huddled together, their years training flicking through their brains. One of the girls on her spectra phone, calling for backup.
A minute later a doctor she didn’t recognize burst into the room, moving like a shadow. Dark scrubs, sleeves pushed up, hair slightly messy like he’d been dragged from another crisis. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t hesitate. He walked in like the room belonged to him. And somehow, everyone moved aside.
Daphne’s head snapped up.
Later - PTMC roof, 5:22 AM
Daphne was up on the rooftop of the hospital, somewhere she’d go to give herself a sort of clarity, what she didn’t know is that someone followed her up there.
Heavy, slow yet steady footsteps came from behind her. Whipping her head around as he started speaking,
Daphne stared blank faced, absolutely not having it with anyone’s bullshit tonight.
“Yeah? Didn’t know the roof had designated seating.”
One of his eyebrows lifted slightly.
“It doesn’t,” he replied. “But you’re standing in the only place that doesn’t catch the wind.”
As if on cue, a gust whipped across the roof, sending her hair across her face.
“Then I guess I picked well,” she shot back.
Silence settled between them, not awkward, but charged. The kind of silence that had weight.
Not her body. Not her face.
The tightness in her shoulders, the way her jaw was locked tight, her hands were gripping the railing just a little too hard.
“You’re supposed to be downstairs,” he said finally.
She scoffed, “So are you.”
For a moment, they just stood there, two people who had both watched a child nearly die less than an hour ago.
Daphne turned back toward the skyline. “She’s stable?
“Yes.” On a ventilator, a breathing tube, all while being watched like glass.
Daphne nodded once, defeated.
“That’s good,” she whispered.
Jack moved closer, not crowding her, just stepping into the space beside her at the railing. Close enough that she could feel the heat coming off him.
“You think you missed something?” he said.
But it wasn’t a question.
“I don’t think,” she replied, voice sharper than intended. “I know.”
Jack’s jaw flexed slightly. “You didn’t.”
“You weren’t there all day,” she snapped, “She was laughing this morning. I checked her vitals twice. Twice!” Saying as she threw her arms into the air.
“And her labs?” he asked calmly.
“They were trending down since noon,” he continued. Not accusing. Just factual. “White count climbing. Pressure dipping. It was building.”
Her chest felt like it caved inward. “And I didn’t see it,” she whispered.
Jack finally looked at her fully.
Up close, his eyes weren’t cold. They were tired. Dark. The kind of tired that didn’t go away with sleep.
“You can’t see everything,” he said.
She kissed her teeth, “That’s kind of the job description.”
“No,” he replied. “The job is to care for them. Not to control biology.”
The words hit her harder than she expected.
Daphne swallowed, blinking fast. “She flatlined.”
Each answer was steady. Unwavering.
She finally turned to him fully.
“Does it ever stop feeling like that?” she asked quietly. “Like someone just reached into your chest and squeezed your heart?”
The honesty of it knocked the breath out of her.
He didn’t sugarcoat it. Didn’t lie. Didn’t offer comfort wrapped in pretty words.
The wind lifted a strand of her hair again, and this time he noticed the way it was curling at the ends.
“You shouldn’t straighten it so much,” he said suddenly.
Daphne blinked, straightening her brows. “Excuse me?” Catching his eye.
“Your hair,” he clarified, nodding faintly. “The humidity wins anyway.”
Her lips parted in disbelief.
“Did you just critique my hair on top of everything else today?”
A faint, almost invisible twitch ghosted at the corner of his mouth “Observation,” he corrected.
She stared at him for a second.
And then, against her will, a laugh escaped her.
It was deranged, like a giggle you’d hear from a clown. Like the hours and reality were finally catching up to her.
“See, you can always find something to laugh about when working here.” Jack said, shaking his head, looking at the view.
Daphne sniffed “You came up here after,” she said after quieting down, studying him now. “After you stabilized her.”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he looked out over the city.
“I come up here when I need to remind myself the world is bigger than one room,” he said.
She tilted her head slightly. “Right.”
“I did not run.” Seeming offended
“…Okay, maybe a little.” A smile cracked through, silence again. But softer this time.
The sun rising higher, casting them both in gold.
Daphne hesitated before asking, “Do you always claim rooftops?”
“Only when they’re occupied.”
She rolled her eyes, but there was less bite in it now.
“You’re insufferable, Doctor.”
Then, more serious. “You’re good at what you do,” he said.
“You watched me for like, ten minutes.” she said cautiously.
“I read the chart. I saw how she responded to you before she crashed. I saw how you handled the room.”
Her heart started pounding for a completely different reason now. “And?” she asked softly.
“And you didn’t panic,” he said. “You anchored the family, the nurses, that matters you know.
Daphne didn’t know what to do with that.
No one had ever phrased her softness as strength before.
The wind shifted again, gentler now.
Jack stepped back slightly, giving her space.
“You can have the spot,” he said.
She frowned. “Thought it was yours.”
yes i know jack it’s a pedes OR icu doctor… just let me live!!!!
