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[ SMS, @natahlie, 6:32 PM ]: have you eaten today ?
[ SMS, NAT QUINN, 7:01 PM ]: i had some time between surgeries ── grabbed a sandwich from the cafeteria at one. [ SMS, NAT QUINN, 7:05 PM ]: you free for dinner ? i heard belinda's working downstairs tonight & she makes a mean chicken parmesan. [ SMS, NAT QUINN, 7:06 PM ]: by far the best in a half a mile radius.
@natahlie gets this plotted devastating thing we discussed based on this meme!
violence against healthcare workers is a nationwide crisis. they've all riffed off that line a thousand times, and pretty much every staff member in the pitt has been assaulted by an unruly, unhappy, or unstable patient. even him. jack's just been dreading the day that it's natalie's turn. it comes and he's a thousand times less collected about it than even he anticipated being. jack always protects the nurses, PAs, staff members, transport team, and ducklings, he always puts himself in between them and the danger. he's not quick enough this time, though, can't get to south 16 with enough haste. instead, jack hears about it from donnie. he finds her bloodied and drops to a knee, hands holding her jaw. thumbs press her cheek bones, inspecting for facial fractures. ❝ which patient was it, nat? tell me.━donnie, get ahmaud. ❞ he's insistent on security. examines her neck, her eyes. his eyes, though, have darkened with a protective glaze.
"I don't feel so cold now. Because you're here."
❝ you're never gonna be alone, nat, ❞ she looked cold, so jack'd joined her outside, on the curb in the ambulance bay. peeled off his jacket and rested it over her petite shoulders. arm extends to pull his niece in close to his chest, cheek to chestnut brown hair. ❝ you have me. ❞ jack probably reminds her of this fact once a day. or at least once a week. the poor kid's been through so much. she's his favorite nurse, favorite seat at those bullshit functions, and favorite breakfast compatriot. natalie has even saved jack on more than one occasion. ❝ i love you, sweet pea. ❞
@natahlie asked what else was i supposed to do ?
wasn't that the million dollar question of their career ? always a burden of the mind, heavy in the way it bogged them down until they were nothing but the role they were trained to play. fucking up wasn't just something they could brush onto the ground & move on from quickly ── it was sometimes the very delicate line between life or death & it almost always had to be made within seconds. they found ways to cope, to shoulder the decisions they made no matter the outcome ── what else was i supposed to do ? was just another way of carrying the weight.
free hand comes to rest on her shoulder, delicate kindness breaking down involuntarily reinforced walls that carried him through his day. " don't do that to yourself. " that was a pit ... one that was easy to fall into & harder to climb out of. trust him, he was intimately familiar with the details of crashing out. he'd only been kicked down it hundreds of times before ( & would continue to fall into it until he stopped practicing ). " it was a tough call either way, " he wasn't sure he'd of made a different one if that counted for anything. but he wouldn't say that because that wasn't what she needed to hear. instead he'd choose to allow the compassion normally reserved for patients & a gentle squeeze of the shoulder he still touched guide him through the next bits of their conversation. " you made the best one with what you had. "
natalie said to mel, "we can dance, if you want." // @natahlie
"Oh, no." Mel shakes her head, putting her phone down in a sign of politeness. Not shame. She doesn't care who sees her phone screen flashing bright, calming colors. Her music choices, however, are uniquely her own and she'd prefer to avoid people's judgement there.
She doesn't like dancing, just like she doesn't enjoy driving. The latter, however, is something Mel must do. Just as she must go to the gym - muscles increase bone density, exercise releases endorphins, etc. She relies on logic, sometimes, when she doesn't like something.
Now, she frowns. Slight. "Is that a joke?" There is no one else in the breakroom, no one to steal a peak of and make a better guess.
@natahlie liked for a starter with uncle jack and her cousin!
❝ let's go see your cousin, ❞ determined, jack walks towards natalie's apartment for her typical breakfast services, with the baby strapped to his chest. jack jack's legs swing, he's captivated by every noise and sight and smell along the way, up until dad rings the bell. uncle jack and her baby cousin smile warmly in her direction. there are few people jack is more fond of than nurse natalie. ❝ he could not wait to see you, and he needs bites of whatever it is you're making up there. smells amazing. ❞ also, jack knows there's a ❛ best uncle ever ❜ mug up in the cabinets with his name on it. literally.
☤ ⎯ closed starter for patrick + natalie [ @natahlie ]
" you are too good at this, you know that? want to switch jobs? you take my surgeries and I will take your sanity. " he tells her, a small smile forms at the corners of his lips. " but seriously, thank you for catching that . . . that is one of those things that could have slipped right past us. "
natalie said to buck, "you're not the only one who feels like this." // @natahlie
Buck laughs, the snort bitter and sad.
He knows Natalie's being honest. Her words aren't all that different than something he'd say to reassure a distressed patient on a call. He'd remind them that they aren't alone, that the emotions they're experiencing aren't unique, aren't extreme, and that it'll eventually pass.
A bump along the road.
But to Buck, it's one bump after another. His feelings are cyclic; in every instance, he has to fight against the urge to flee.
"I don't think that makes me feel better," he replies.
