An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
He was unto me as a bear lying in wait, and as a lion in secret places
Ga on headed back to the van, his shoulders the drooping line of a willow branch. He knew the Professor was right – of course he did – but if anything, that just made him more unhappy. It wasn’t that the Professor didn’t trust him, no, it was that he couldn’t trust himself. Knowing what he did, how could he look at Kang Yohan now without seeing Do Yong choon’s rancid grin? Without wanting to carve the man open and feel his blood, slick as pig fat, between his fingers, to squeeze his heart until it stopped? Ga on didn’t need any further temptations and so, he would leave.
One of the things Crockett had missed the most in Chicago was having a garden. Growing up, he’d spent hours in the garden with his siblings, screaming and laughing as his brothers chased him with a water gun, or on quieter days, helping Jo, his older sister, tend to the flowers they’d so carefully grown from seeds.
There was a pool in his apartment building, and a gym, but no garden, so he’d had to make do with what he had. His balcony was a good size, and he’d filled it with so many plants he was sure it was going to fall down. It had started with just a couple of ferns, something to add a bit of green to the otherwise bleak view out of his window, but had quickly turned into something more. Within a few months he had a little herb garden, growing almost everything he needed to cook with, and a strawberry planter in one corner that he took care of the way his mother had taught him. The rest of the space was filled with an assortment of random plants - fuschias, roses, petunias, and a series of succulents that somehow kept dying despite everything he did.
The balcony was his happy place.
Then Lolly had been born, and he only had time for her. Every waking moment was spent feeding or rocking or changing her. He slept when she did, and if by some miracle she was awake and happy to just lie on his chest or in her crib, he’d spend that time making arrangements for his move back to New Orleans.
There was almost no time left for his balcony, and it broke his heart watching it slowly die back, knowing he couldn’t do anything. He tried to water the plants when he could, and pruned them once or twice, but he didn’t have the hours to dedicate to them like he used to.
Their new house had a garden though - he’d made sure of it. It wasn’t as big as the one he’d grown up with, but it was enough. Lolly would be able to run and play as she got older, and there was space on the lawn for a swing set or a climbing frame, if she wanted one. He had plans for a new herb garden, bigger than the one on his balcony, and if all went well, he wanted to try his hand at growing vegetables as well.
Once the two of them were settled, his mom and Jo came round to help with the garden. It took them a couple of afternoons, but he couldn’t have been happier with the results, and he sent both of them wine and a tin of homemade beignets as a thank you.
From then on, whenever he had free time, he’d take Lolly out to the garden with him so she could watch as he planted and watered and tended an ever growing collection of herbs and vegetables. When she was still little, she’d lie on a blanket and play by herself while he gardened, but as she got bigger and learned to walk, she started wanting to help. He’d dress her up in her little sun hat and denim overalls, and the two of them would spend the day in the garden together.
There was nothing he enjoyed doing more, and every time she’d toddle over to him and produce an assortment of herbs from her pocket, his heart would swell with pride.
“Good job, darlin’,” he’d tell her, and the smile and giggles that followed were his favourite things in the world. Olivia was perfect, and he couldn’t imagine life without her.
It was freezing out, the coldest day of the year so far according to the app on Ava’s phone, and she had no problem believing it. The walk from the hospital to her car wasn’t a long one, but by the time she’d sat down and put her seatbelt on, her fingers were numb. Sarah had told her to take gloves, but she was stubborn and had refused. She was paying for it now though, as she alternated between rubbing her hands together and holding them in front of one of the vents to try and get some feeling back.
They’d warmed up after a couple of minutes, and Ava began the short drive back home. The sky was darker than it had been even an hour ago, and heavy in the way that said snow was coming. She hoped it would be during the night, because neither she nor Sarah had work in the morning, and a day spent building snowmen in the park and drinking hot chocolate in bed was exactly what they both needed right now.
Their apartment was on the second floor, at the front of the block, and as Ava walked from her car to the door of the building, she could see Sarah’s silhouetted figure dancing in the kitchen. She hadn’t done much of that recently, not the way she used to, so seeing her looking like her old self was a good sign, and Ava couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face as she made her way upstairs.
Her keys were buried in the bottom of her bag, as they so often were, and she struggled for a minute or so trying to find them before the door opened in front of her. Sarah was standing there in leggings and one of Ava’s baggy sweatshirts, her curls pulled up in a messy topknot, and she looked more at peace than she had for a long time.
“I saw you pull up outside,” Sarah explained, before taking Ava’s coat and bag from her and placing a gentle kiss on her cheek.
Ava nodded and returned the kiss, then allowed Sarah to lead her through to the kitchen. The whole apartment smelled of garlic, and something else Ava couldn’t quite put her finger on, and Carly Rae Jepsen was playing from the speaker on the countertop. It was unlike Sarah to be listening to something this upbeat, but with the way things were at the moment, she was doing whatever she could to bring her mood up. If that meant listening to LA Hallucinations on repeat while she chopped potatoes, then that was what she was going to do.
Sarah had set out their meal on the kitchen table, instead of leaving it on the side so they could grab what they wanted and eat on the couch, and she’d even gone as far as to light some candles and open a bottle of red wine. (Technically she wasn’t supposed to drink with her antidepressants, but if they hadn’t stopped her from chugging half a bottle of vodka when she was seventeen, she wasn’t going to let them stop her from enjoying a glass of wine with her girlfriend at twenty-seven.)
Everything looked perfect, and Ava snaked her arms around Sarah’s waist as she told her exactly that.
She’d started cooking properly during her suspension, and now that she was on medical leave she had even more time to indulge in her new hobby. It was relaxing (despite the meltdowns she’d had the few times things had gone wrong), and it managed to ground her more than any of the techniques she’d learnt in therapy. The repetitive motions - stirring a pot, dicing vegetables, sieving flour - were what helped most when she was stressed, and by the end, she had something to show for it.
“I hope you like it. I found the recipe online, so I’m not sure if it will be okay, but-”
“Shh. It smells and looks wonderful, my love. You’ve done a great job.” She pressed a kiss to Sarah’s temple, then sat down and took a sip of her wine.
The food did look good - rosemary and garlic butter steak, with crispy little roast potatoes and grilled vegetables - and Ava was so proud of Sarah for it. She’d come a long way in the last couple of months, in almost every sense, and even though she still had a way to go, things were looking up again.
They talked while they ate, Ava updating Sarah on all the hospital drama she was missing out on (although she managed to avoid repeating the things some of the nurses had been saying about the crazy psychiatrist), and Sarah telling Ava about her day. She didn’t do much, save for her cooking and some mindfulness Dr Charles had insisted she try, but she always seemed to have funny stories about their neighbours, who, Ava had to admit, were some of the weirdest people she knew.
Once they’d finished eating, Sarah grabbed two spoons and a pint of chocolate ice cream from the freezer, and the couple made their way over to the couch. They had a collection of blankets and throws, and as soon as they’d sat down, Ava pulled the fluffiest one on top of them and snuggled up to Sarah.
Neither of them was sure how long they stayed like that, cozy and safe under the warmth of the blanket, sharing Sarah’s favourite ice cream between them, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that was important was the two of them holding each other, content to just be together as the snow started to fall outside their window.
Sarah had only signed up for the staff Secret Santa because of Maggie. She’d wanted to avoid it for this year, while she was still new and didn’t really know anyone, but Maggie had insisted that they do it together; if anything, it would help Sarah get to know at least one other member of staff.
It turned out to be Nat, a math teacher Sarah had only seen in passing, and Maggie was more than happy to help Sarah choose a gift for her (while remaining completely silent about who her own Secret Santa was.) Ava and April were the same - they both refused to reveal who they were buying for, claiming that it would “ruin the magic”, and it wouldn’t be secret if they told her.
“You’re exempt, because you don’t know anyone and you need us to help you,” Ava had explained, and April simply nodded along in agreement.
All the gifts were left in a basket on one of the tables in the teachers’ lounge to be handed out on the last day, so a couple of days before that, Sarah had arrived earlier than usual to drop hers off without being seen. With Maggie’s advice, she’d chosen a scented candle simply named “Winter”, that cost more than any candle should, and a little bottle of what was, according to Maggie, Nat’s favourite champagne.
It was all wrapped up neatly in brown paper covered with tiny Christmas trees, a feat that had taken Sarah well over an hour to achieve. Every other year before now, she’d managed to wrap each gift in just under five minutes, but Olivia was one now, and constantly wanted to see what her mom was doing; she’d grab and pull at all the paper, and put bow after bow in her mouth, no matter how many times Sarah took them off her.
In the end, Sarah had decided to wait until Olivia was asleep, but by that point she was willing to shove the presents in a little gift bag with some shredded tissue paper and call it a day. That felt wrong though, so she’d forced herself to wrap the gifts the way she wanted to originally, with the promise of an early night once she was done.
On the day of the gift exchange, most of the staff had gathered in the teachers’ lounge after school - not just those who’d participated, but others who wanted to come along for the fun of it. Jimmy was standing on a table, looking like a completely different person in an ugly light-up sweater instead of a suit as he announced each person’s name, and a couple of people managed to get pictures before he noticed.
Nat seemed to like her gift, which was a big weight off Sarah’s shoulders, and she thanked Maggie for her help. Ava unwrapped a wicker basket filled with bottles of hot sauce, and Sarah wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her this happy. It wasn’t what she’d expected from her, but she had to remind herself that despite their near-constant flirting, they didn’t know all that much about each other.
Sarah was one of the last people to get her gift, and was so distracted by Ava and her hot sauce that it took her a moment to register Jimmy calling her name for the third time.
She didn’t hesitate opening her present, and she could feel Ava’s eyes on her as she peeled back the wrapping paper to reveal a pair of suspenders and a bow tie. They were both dark green, the suspenders not too different from a pair she already owned (and loved), and the bow tie was covered in tiny white chromosomes.
They were perfect, and she told Ava this as she tried to separate the bow tie from the cardboard it was attached to.
People started filing out of the room once everyone had their gifts, and Ava followed Sarah back to her class, as she so often did after school. It had become their little routine by now - fifteen minutes (sometimes more) spent in one of their rooms at the end of the day, catching up over coffee before they went their separate ways.
The last day was no exception, and Ava was almost giddy as she perched herself on one of the front row desks. This was the last time they had together until school came back, unless one of them was brave enough to invite the other somewhere, and Ava wanted to make the most of it.
“Are you going to try it on?” She motioned towards the bow tie that had been set down on Sarah’s desk, and the other teacher nodded.
“I can help, if you want?”
It was a pre-tied bow tie, one that Sarah could put on with her eyes shut, but she somehow found herself saying yes, and handing it to Ava.
What came next was something she didn’t think she’d ever be prepared for.
She was leaning on the very edge of her desk, her legs slightly apart, and within seconds Ava was standing between them, closer than she ever had been before. Sarah’s breath caught in her throat as Ava lifted the collar of her shirt and removed her Christmas bow tie, carefully setting it down on the desk to Sarah’s left before bringing the new one up to her neck.
“This really suits your skin tone,” she told her as she fiddled with the clasp at the back. It was harder than she’d thought, doing it on someone else, but after a couple of attempts it finally seemed to have worked.
She pulled back, admiring her handiwork, then quickly reached forward to straighten the bow tie. Sarah’s cheeks were slightly flushed, an adorable rosy colour that made Ava want to lean in and kiss her, and it was all she could do not to.
“Does it look okay?”
“It looks perfect,” Ava said with a smile. “Have a nice Christmas, Miss Reese.”
The use of her title instead of her first name caught Sarah off guard, and she tried to ignore the warmth pooling between her legs as she watched Ava leave. She wanted to believe that she knew what she was doing - getting close to her like that, fingers gently brushing her skin as she struggled with the clasp, then calling her Miss Reese in a tone she hadn’t heard for well over a year - but she couldn’t help thinking that Ava was just like that.
She wanted this to go somewhere, but she needed to know if Ava did as well.
It’s dark when Crockett and Nat finally get back to Med, and late enough that Lolly should be at home, having dinner. She isn’t though, Crockett notes as he allows himself to be led to a treatment room from the ambulance bay. Her little pink puffer jacket is hanging on the back of a chair by the computers, and he knows Sarah would never take her outside without it, especially not in this weather.
He’s suddenly hyper-aware of his own coat, bright blue but stained red, just like his hands are, and he stops abruptly, letting Maggie walk on without him. The coat’s squeezing his lungs, making it harder for him to breathe, and he’s sure that it’s only a matter of seconds before his lips are the same shade as the fabric that’s killing him.
“Crockett?”
Maggie notices him, finally, and he can tell from her reaction that he’s not dying. Still, he can’t understand why his lungs have suddenly stopped working, and why every breath takes more effort than the last.
“Too tight,” is all he manages to get out as he tugs at the zip. It won’t undo, and the more he tries, the more it seems to resist him.
“Hey, you’re okay.” She moves closer to him, holding a hand out to offer her help. “Let me.”
He nods, and watches as she unzips the coat in one smooth motion, then pulls it off him just as easily.
“Lolly, she- she’s little.” He gestures helplessly at the bloodstains, and Maggie nods.
“I’ll find somewhere for it where she won’t see, okay?”
He thanks her as best he can when half of his mind is still trapped in the back of that van, then watches as she walks away and leaves him standing alone in the middle of the ED. There’s a room ready for him, and he can see Monique standing outside it, looking around for him, but he can’t get himself to move.
It feels like forever before Ethan appears in front of him, though logically he knows it’s been a minute at most, and it’s the safest he’s felt since Jim pulled a gun on him and Nat. Ethan’s eyes are red-rimmed, and just the thought of the man he loves crying because of him makes Crockett’s heart ache.
“I didn’t know if I was going to see you again.”
“I’m here now.”
Ethan pulls Crockett towards him, one hand resting between his shoulder blades and the other on the back of his head, gently running his fingers through his hair. Crockett tries to resist - he can’t touch Ethan, not when his hands are still sticky with blood - but being this close to him feels more like home than anything else, and within seconds his head is in the crook of Ethan’s neck, and his hands are hovering just a few inches from his back. It’s as much as he can do, but it’s enough.
Neither of them wants to break the embrace, but eventually Ethan does, urging Crockett to go and get checked out. Monique’s still standing in the doorway of the treatment room, waiting expectantly, but she knows to give Crockett space.
But he does as Ethan says, and makes his way over to the room. Monique tries to get him settled on the bed and hooked up to the monitors, but he just thanks her and tells her she can go. He’s fine - he knows he’s fine - but his hands are still dirty, and everything about the sensation of the dried blood is getting to him.
There’s a little sink in the corner of the room, as there is in every treatment room, and he gets to work washing his hands, the same way he does before surgery. He doesn’t have a brush, so by the time he’s done there’s still blood caked under his nails, too difficult to remove without it, but he feels better, even with the way his shoulders don’t feel quite right.
“Daddy!” A voice interrupts his thoughts, and he realises he’s been watching the water wash down the sink for at least a couple of minutes. It’s clear now, but last he remembers, it was still brown from the blood.
Lolly’s hovering by the open door, and as soon as Crockett sees her, his face breaks into a smile. He’s not sure how much she knows, if anything, so he simply picks her up and carries her over to the bed with him, wincing at the strain on his shoulders.
“Lost?” She points to Jay, who’s waiting by the nurses’ station, and Crockett just smiles. She still remembers him from a couple of months ago when she went missing while they were Christmas shopping, so as far as she knows, Jay helps find people when they’re lost.
“Daddy wasn’t lost. I just had to do a special surgery outside the hospital.”
She frowns. “But Jay?”
“He’s just here because the person having the surgery was a bad guy, and it’s his job to make sure the bad guy doesn’t do any bad things, yeah? But everything’s okay, ma belle.”
This answer seems to satisfy her, so she turns her attention to the embroidery on Crockett’s scrubs, carefully running a finger over each letter.
“Doctor Daddy,” she announces with a smile.
“Is that what that says?”
Her curls bounce up and down as she nods. “Yeah! Doctor Daddy.”
She’s grinning up at him, the gap where she lost her first tooth somehow even cuter than it was that morning, and Crockett finds himself on the verge of tears. He hasn’t even been her dad for a year, but she was his first thought when he was shoved in the back of the van with a gun in his face. She was the thing that kept him going throughout all of it - he had to make it out for his baby. He wasn’t going to leave her and Sarah again, the way he had all those years ago. He couldn’t do that to them.
“Hey sweetheart,” he says, his voice catching in his throat. “Why don’t you go and find Papa and get some food, yeah? It’s almost dinner time, and you’re probably gonna get pretty hungry soon if you don’t eat.”
“Okay! Love you, Daddy.” She kisses his cheek then jumps down off the bed, barely waiting for a response before running off to find Ethan.
It’s only once Crockett’s sure she’s far enough away that he finally lets himself cry.
It was almost nine am when Sarah finally appeared in the living room, her hair still messy from sleep, and mascara from the day before smudged under her eyes. She’d been too tired to take it off before she fell asleep, but didn’t really feel any better now, and she couldn’t help wishing she was still in bed.
Ethan was on one of the couches with Harper in his arms, and Sarah mumbled out a soft hello to the two of them before curling up on the armchair in the corner. There was a blanket folded on one of the arms, and despite how warm it already was, she pulled it over herself and closed her eyes, hoping she’d be able to get back to sleep.
A few minutes passed in silence, broken only occasionally by Harper’s gentle cooing, before Crockett came in carrying Willow and a bag of milk for her. This was enough to get Sarah’s attention, and she watched the two of them as Crockett carefully attached the bag to the end of Willow’s NG tube.
After a consultation with Connor and Dr Grant where it had become apparent that she wasn’t gaining anywhere near as much weight as she should be, the family had decided that the tube was the best way forward. It was only temporary, until she had her surgery at six months, but without it, she was burning too many calories trying to feed, and the effort she put in often meant she wasn’t getting enough oxygen. Before the tube, it had become a regular occurrence for her to lose consciousness after a feed, and although her parents were constantly expecting it, it never got any less scary.
They’d all become experts with the NG tube now, more so than their colleagues, and Sarah couldn’t help but admire the way Crockett set everything up so effortlessly. He was a good father, Ethan too, and it was obvious how much they both loved their daughters. Sarah couldn’t think of anyone else she’d rather be doing this with, and as Crockett did one final check of the tube, she let her mind wander to the memories they’d made together over the last few years.
“Do you want to feed her?”
She was dragged out of her thoughts by Ethan’s voice, and it took her a moment to register what he was asking.
“What?”
“Harper. I can do it if you want, but-”
“No, that’s okay.” She held her arms out for the baby, smiling as she was reunited with her daughter for the first time since the night before.
“Hey there, angel. Did you miss Mommy? Yeah?” Harper stared up at Sarah as she placed a kiss on her forehead, then quickly latched on, settling down against her mom’s skin. She was always calmest when Sarah fed her, when she could feel her heartbeat against her own tiny body, and it was almost enough to make Sarah cry. Almost.
Sarah focused all her attention on Harper while she fed, only looking up when she could sense that she was almost done.
“Is everything okay with Lolly?”
Crockett frowned. “Yeah, why?”
“She’s been really quiet all morning, and that’s not like her at all.”
The two men exchanged glances, and Crockett had to bite back a laugh. “Ava took her out to buy breakfast,” Ethan explained, and it suddenly occurred to Sarah that she hadn’t seen her fiancée at all since she’d woken up.
“Oh.”
She was about to say something else when Crockett’s phone beeped loudly - he always forgot to put it on silent - and both twins started fussing at the sudden disturbance. He passed Willow over to Ethan so he could calm her down before she started crying, then frowned as he read the message.
“They should be home in five minutes. Lolly didn’t have a good time.”
“Meltdown?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Ava says to be careful with Lolly though, so who knows.”
The room went quiet again, and stayed that way until the front door opened and Ava announced their return. Lolly quickly pushed past her and beelined for Sarah, forcing herself into what little space was left on the armchair and burying her face in the crook of Sarah’s neck. No one said anything, but Ava quickly set the two brown bags down on the coffee table and took Harper, returning Sarah’s whispered thank you with a smile.
She explained which food was for who, then sat back on the other couch with Harper lying on her chest as Ethan passed it all around, content in this moment she was sharing with her family.
Rainy days were Sarah’s favourite. She loved the way the city looked, grey and dark, the lights reflecting off the wet streets. There was hardly ever anyone out, and it made Sarah feel less alone, knowing she wasn’t the only one trapped inside. On days like this, she could pretend that she was living a normal life, that she was stuck in her apartment because she didn’t want to go out and get wet, not because she couldn’t leave.
Over the last five years, she’d grown more and more familiar with the view outside. She knew it like the back of her hand, knew which windows would light up first in the morning, and which would go dark late at night. Planes often flew over, and she knew when to expect them, and which airlines they were from (if she could manage to get a glimpse of them).
But the view was all she knew.
She’d only been in Chicago for a few months when she was killed, when the future she’d worked so hard building for herself was taken from her. Most of that time had been spent in class, or holed up in her apartment, studying. She’d tried to go out with her new friends, to get to know the city that was going to be her home for the next four years, and maybe even longer after that, but she was there to become a doctor, not for the nightlife.
She hadn’t missed out on everything - she’d seen The Bean, of course, and Navy Pier, and she’d been to the Art Institute enough to justify buying a membership (because she was planning on going back). She’d even been to a few bars and clubs with her friends, and stayed out later than she ever would without them.
If she’d known, she’d have done more. There were other things she wanted to see, that she’d decided to leave until the spring and summer when the weather would be nicer. But she hadn’t made it that far. The last thing she’d done was a trip to the Christkindlmarket, where she’d bought too many Christmas decorations that would only be used once. She often wondered where they were; she guessed that her mom had been given her things, but she had no idea what she’d have done with them.
Part of her liked to think that they were safely stored away in the attic in their house in Connecticut, that her clothes and books and everything else were kept in boxes, only to be looked at occasionally. The Christmas decorations would be the only things to see daylight, being brought down each year as a way of remembering her.
But she knew it wasn’t likely. Her mom had probably just donated her things and done her best to move on. Maybe her room would be left the way it was when she left for college, but she doubted it.
It seemed like everyone but her had moved on. She could still remember after she died, constantly hearing her name on the news in her neighbours’ apartments. They talked about how she was a “promising young girl” with a “bright future ahead of her”, and she wished more than anything that her neighbours would just turn the volume down. There’d been at least one reporter outside the building for weeks afterwards, but now there was nothing.
And why would there be?
Her case had gone cold, the apartment was occupied, and she’d been laid to rest. No one was thinking about her anymore.
Everything had kept moving without her, and as she looked out at the city, at the cars below, driving along the wet road, she was reminded that things would keep moving forever. Soon, there would be nobody left to remember her, but she’d still be here, gazing out at the same skyline she’d been looking at for years.
Sarah wasn’t sure how long the funeral had lasted. There was a start time on the order of service, and she’d checked her phone, but her brain was so foggy that she couldn’t work out how long it had been. Her guess was a few hours, but it was probably less.
All she knew was that it had felt like forever.
Days seemed to have passed since she’d zipped herself into the only black dress she owned, since she’d been driven through the rainy streets of Chicago to a church she’d never set foot in before today, but it had only been that morning.
So much had happened though that it could well have been a week. She’d heard speech after speech from people in Crockett’s life, all of them talking about how great he was and how he was taken too soon, and somehow hearing that other people were mourning him made it worse. The eulogy his older sister had given was beautiful, but it was followed by Will talking about how he was a wonderful friend and colleague, which angered Sarah in ways she couldn’t describe.
He didn’t know Crockett, not really, not the way Sarah and his family did. He wasn’t mourning the loss of a brother or son, or the one person who had always felt like home. He wasn’t a five-year-old trying to understand that Daddy wasn’t coming home again, and Sarah’s heart broke all over again thinking about how Will would move on, but Lolly would carry this with her forever.
After the service came the burial, where Sarah was forced to accept that this was her reality now. The man she loved was in a wooden box six feet underground, and no amount of wishing or crying or pleading with God was going to bring him back.
Crockett was gone.
Everything from then on was a blur. Aria and Dee had come home with her so they could help set up the food for the wake, and at some point she’d changed outfits, presumably because she’d got drenched standing outside in the cemetery, but everything else was starting to blend into one awful, painful memory. There were lots of people in her house, eating and telling her how sorry they were for her loss, but none of them were Crockett, so she struggled to care.
He’d have made the situation better. He had the best jokes, and always knew how to cheer people up, no matter the occasion. This thought struck Sarah more than once throughout the afternoon, and she was even sure she could hear his laughter ringing around the kitchen, the way it did on early weekend mornings when he’d make beignets with Lolly.
But there was no one there of course, and Sarah suddenly realised it was just her in the kitchen, surrounded by trays of finger food and feeling more alone than she ever had before.
