chapter 9: crack, baby (you don't know what you want)
baran al-hashimi × exgf!attending reader .𖥔 ݁ ˖<𝟑. ݁ ˖
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summary: after louie dies under your care, you run. no one checks on you. no one except baran.
tags/warnings: this is mostly just hurt/comfort!!, they finally talk one-on-one, but don't get too excited. we're still slow burning over here.
“doc looked off.”
“santos,” whitaker said, glancing over his shoulder anxiously around the still very busy er. “quiet down.”
trinity didn’t look up from the computer, fingers still moving across the keyboard. “what? i didn’t say she freaked out. i said she looked off.”
“yeah, but she’s also, like, five feet away.”
“she went down the north hallway,” mel corrected kindly, eyes flicking toward the corner where you’d vanished down minutes earlier. “she is probably not close enough to hear what we say now.”
victoria leaned back against the nurse’s station, arms folding loosely. “louie died under her care. i think she’s allowed to look off.”
“under her and robby’s care,” mel added. “if they couldn’t save him, i don’t think anyone could. i definitely couldn't've.”
whitaker pushed his hair out of his face and ran a hand down his neck. “i know. it's just— i mean… she usually keeps it together. she’s not the type to get all… like this."
“that's because she’s an attending, huckleberry,” trinity said flatly. “that is, in fact, the job.”
victoria snorted. “well, it's supposed to be. not every attending manages that.”
santos shot her an amused look. they both knew exactly who she meant. robby was being a dick today, in her opinion. “yeah, well. different baseline.”
whitaker nodded, a little too fast. “but that’s what i mean! she wasn’t even unprofessional. it was just—” he gestured vaguely, searching for the word.
javadi finally looked up. “was she harsh on someone?”
“no,” whitaker said immediately. “no, nothing like that. she was just really quiet.”
trinity arched a brow. “quieter than usual or quieter-quiet?”
whitaker hesitated. “quieter-quiet."
trinity groaned. "i can't handle two crashout attendings today. i'm serious. i can't."
victoria glanced toward the hallway again, lowering her voice. “she's probably upset because she was the one who called it. samira said she did compressions almost the whole time. wouldn’t switch out.”
mel’s brows knit. “what, for the whole twenty minutes?”
"mmmhm."
“that’s stupid,” trinity said neutrally. “he was gone even before they would’ve gotten to compressions.”
“doc definitely knew that,” victoria said, the 'obviously' dripping from her tone, “but donnie mentioned she and louie were close. she probably felt like she owed it to him, or—” she stopped, shaking her head. “i don’t know. i’m just guessing.”
from down the hall, there was a blur of movement, some patients groaning, someone shouting, the fluorescent wash of the er spilling into the corridor. the place didn’t pause for anything.
whitaker shifted, biting the inside of his cheek. “do you… think we should check on her?”
santos stared at him, disbelief clear in the raised brow. “are you serious?”
“why not?”
“because she’s an attending,” santos hit back. “and because she didn’t ask for help. if she wanted company, she would've said that to someone, and it definitely wouldn't have been to us.”
javadi’s mouth curved. “you say that like you don’t spend half your shift following her around.”
“i do not—”
“you literally do.”
santos ignored that, flipping javadi off without taking her eyes off dennis. “point is, she’s not falling apart or whatever that poor huckleberry brain is telling you. she's only been gone for like, three minutes. can you chill out? or at least be all nervous wreck-y somewhere away from me?
whitaker just levelled her with a very unimpressed look, eyes disapproving from underneath his curly bangs.
“she’ll come back when she’s ready," mel chirped. "come on. rounds. and if she’s still out there when we pass by, we can… check in. y'know. casually.”
“casually,” trinity repeated, deadpan. “you’re all terrible at casual.”
“uh-huh. remind us how you feel about your plans with garcia tonight getting cancelled?”
“fuck you, whitaker.”
—
you were very aware that attendings were not encouraged to take breaks. you were meant to be accessible at all times, ready to jump in, help out a student doctor, assist with a patient. but you just lost a friend. a real, lovely, tortured friend. so. fuck the system. fuck all of it.
you hadn’t meant to make a big show of leaving louie’s room. you honestly thought you had totally nailed the quick, calm departure. you were almost proud of yourself for that. until someone started calling your name.
your brain couldn’t even sort out who it was at the moment. samira? dana? perlah? cassie? whoever it was, it didn’t matter. you barely registered it, your body on autopilot, fingers clutching your necklace for dear life as you slammed out into the secluded hallway.
oh, louie. some time ago, he had joked about cutting back even as he couldn’t hold his hand straight, even as you and robby loaded him up on lorazepam and librium, sent him out into the world like he wasn’t a powder keg. what the fuck were you thinking?
of course, he was later wheeled right back in. sidewalk. fine wine and good. emts shrugging at his vitals. that was just who louie was. the vodka, the shakes, the stolen librium pills and his endless parade of excuses.
“i’m not a quitter,” he’d said, grinning. it felt like a lifetime ago. “just let me be, doc.”
you swallowed hard, trying not to choke—
when you heard your name called softly from behind you.
fuck.
—
baran had watched with wide eyes as you shot out of louie’s room, dana calling after you. in the five hours she’d been at ptmc so far, she hadn’t seen your composure crack once at any of your colleagues (aside from her, and your little spat.) there had been no frowns, no clenching of your jaw, no scoffs at any suggestions. it was almost stunning, your sunny disposition, your absolute refusal to be brought down by the doings of the day.
apparently, she had found your kryptonite.
according to the board, the man’s name had been louie, and according to the gossip train, he had been a frequent flyer at ptmc. she’d only interacted with him in passing, enough to know the basics: his name, age, where he was from, his usual jokes, the easy familiarity with the staff. but she hadn’t expected the depth of… whatever this was.
that seemed to be a theme today, apparently. baran would never have claimed she wasn’t a person driven by her emotions. by god, she was. everything she did, she filtered through both her heart and her brain, taking both into equal consideration. she was driven by her empathy, her need to understand others, her desperation for them to understand her in kind. she was all for being in touch with one’s emotions. but so far, this staff was doing a hell of a lot of that—and not really in the way she was used to.
people’s jobs here seemed tied not only to perceptions of their competence but also to perceptions of their character. she was not blind to the animosity between langdon and santos; she could see the gentle warmth between mckay and javadi; she could see the nervous expression that had overtaken dana’s face when you had stridden out. the ed was tight-knit, she realized. maybe the whole line gloria had given before starting—“this emergency room truly is like one big family”—hadn’t been utter bullshit like baran had assumed.
but there was something dangerous to that emotional investment. in her opinion, anyway.
suffice to say, louie must have had a greater connection to this ed more than she had understood, judging by your gutted reaction alone. she had felt her eyebrows rise when she had seen you striding swiftly across the er and disappear through the glass doors, tears in your eyes, taking a sharp turn out of sight.
this was another problem. she watched robby and dana’s reactions carefully. sure, they both looked rattled, quite a bit upset by their own right — but neither moved to follow you! for such an obvious display of anguish from someone who so rarely cracks.
and yet no one went after you.
baran was stunned.
this behavior seemed true across the board. she had seen trinity turn to whitaker, who turned to victoria, who turned to mel. they too had seen you rush out, seemed sad on your behalf, but no one made any move to go see if you were okay.
what the hell?
baran realized she’d been holding her breath. letting it out slowly, she took a small step toward the hallway, toward the direction you had gone. maybe you wanted to be alone. maybe you needed air. maybe you needed to scream. maybe you needed to collapse against the wall and let it all go. or maybe you needed company.
was she the one who should've been giving it to you? probably not, she figured. she could've grabbed mckay — you seemed close with her — or maybe even pulled dana out of where she was cleaning louie’s body.
okay, well.
who was she kidding.
from the moment you marched out those doors she knew she’d be the one to follow you.
the hallway was quiet, save for the echoing of doctors marching between flights on the staircase overhead. she paused at the corner where you had turned, spotting your silhouette ahead, head tilted back against the wall and your hand clutching something around your neck.
—
you turned, to where baran was standing calmly right behind you.
“can we walk together for a minute?” her stance was steady and relaxed, her eyes calm, showing no hint of judgment.
you blinked away the burning in your eyes, head swirling. you couldn’t make sense of her words. “i’m sorry?”
“a walk,” baran repeated patiently. “just a lap.”
“around the hospital?”
“wherever you want.”
you probably shouldn’t have been as surprised at this offer as you were. in another life, back when your life was rooted in silicon valley on a college campus instead of pittsburgh in a hospital, you would always ask baran for walks, telling her they calmed you down.
before exams, presentations, any storm of expectation, you could be seen taking a stroll, be it around the dish loop trail or simply down the hallway. when you started dating, baran started joining you.
there had been something so comforting in those steps taken side by side, the quiet rhythm of movement allowing words to pause. you had been so close at the time, the two of you walking for hours without stopping conversation, or without ever having to start it.
your hand tightened around the charm at your throat until the chain bit into your skin. it had been a rare kind of company that you two had shared. a kind of company that you had lost.
a kind of company she was offering again.
“just a lap,” she repeated softly, a gentle hand coming up to squeeze your bicep the longer her question went unanswered. “just for a few minutes. please?”
you sighed. “just one.”
baran nodded. her hand sliding from your arm to wrap around your wrist, pulling you gently off the wall — gently, so gently — somehow aware that your legs were feeling strange beneath you.
you started walking with no exact destination in mind. after a few turns you were in a different section of the hospital entirely, though baran didn’t seem to mind. the noises dulled as you moved away from the main corridor: a distant monitor, the squeak of a cart, voices from somewhere deeper in the department, discussing cases that had nothing to do with you.
the silence was punctured after a few minutes.
“do you want to tell me why you stepped out?” baran asked, very gently.
you gave her a look, though it was probably ruined by how miserable you felt. “you saw the same thing i did.”
“i saw you leave.”
“you saw louie die.”
baran didn’t argue that. she just waited, keeping her eyes on you as you continued to walk.
that was the thing about her. she could be stubborn as hell when she wanted to be. but she had an uncanny knack for knowing when not to fight.
you rubbed at your face with the heel of your hand and kept walking. “he was not supposed to be a surprise.”
baran’s brow furrowed slightly. “what does that mean?”
“it means,” you said, voice rough, “that he kept coming back and promising he’d cut down — on alcohol, he was an alcoholic — and then he wouldn’t, and we’d do the whole song and dance again. and every time i thought, okay, maybe this time. maybe this time he actually means it.” you exhaled sharply through your nose. “he, evidently, did not mean it.”
baran’s eyes danced across your expression. “you sound angry.”
“i am angry.”
“at him?”
“no. maybe. i don’t know.”
she hummed softly at your response, gaze fixed straight ahead. her fingers were still curled around your wrist, her hand warm and solid, thumb tracing small, lazy patterns against your skin. you hadn’t even noticed, eyes shooting down in shock.
she just hummed, unbothered and dropped your wrist calmly. her pace didn’t even stutter.
you reached the corner and slowed, not really wanting to go back yet, not really wanting to stay still either. baran stopped with you.
“did you know?” she asked. it was an invitation to open up about every ugly little guilt you had shoved down in the last ten minutes. to put a name to the grief.
“i knew he was sick,” you said through an aching throat. “i knew he was lying to me. i knew he was lying to robby. i knew he was doing that thing where he laughs and acts like he’s fine while his hands are shaking so badly he can barely hold a cup. i knew all of that.” your throat tightened. “i just didn’t know it would happen like that.”
baran nodded once, slow. “that is not the same thing as causing it.”
“well. feels like it.”
“i know. but it’s important you recognize the difference.”
you glanced at her then, really looked. her face was calm, but not blank — such a uniquely baran expression you had never seen anyone else be able to pull off. in those dark brown, searching eyes was genuine empathy, a real desire to connect. you could tell she wanted so desperately to help. such was her nature.
the hallway ahead of you opened into a wider stretch with fewer people passing through, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move.
baran spoke after a moment. “you did everything you could,” she said, holding up a hand before you could interrupt. “no. you did, y/n.”
you rubbed at your face again, more frustrated now than before. “he was my friend. there should have been something else.”
“something else?”
“that i could have tried.”
“oh, y/n.” she was looking at you with that same expression of steady, unflinching attention she’d had since the two of you were twenty. “i’m so sorry.”
you were quiet for a second. then, because the silence was too big and you needed something else to hold onto, you muttered, “what made you follow me?”
that made her actually smile, small but real. “call it a gut instinct.”
she looked down the hallway, then back at you. “plus, you kind of looked like you were going to make a break for it if nobody followed.”
you couldn’t help the wet laugh that bubbled out of your throat. “ugh, i wish. dana would have me back inside by the collar within the hour.”
“hm. within a minute, more likely.”
despite yourself, you smiled. it was brief. weak. but real.
baran seemed to take that as permission to keep walking, and this time you let her lead you a few steps farther down the hall. when the silence settled again, it was less sharp than before.
after a minute, she said, “do you want to go back in?”
you had made it back to the doors of the pitt.
miraculously, you found, you didn’t want to go back in. not at all.
“not yet.”
“okay,” she repeated. “walk one more lap?”
you nodded once, throat tight. mindlessly, your fingers drifted to the charm around your neck. “yeah. one more lap.”
she nodded, then started forward again, and this time when you fell into step beside her, your shoulder brushed hers.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖<𝟑.𖥔 ݁ ˖
come to talk to me over on ao3 @lieutenanttrouble !!
don’t invite me over if you have a stab wound, i’ll tongue fuck it! the raw iron panging my jaw while yours bares down on the belt situated in your mouth. i promise it’s all for you, my bubbled spit running a thread between my chin and the charming swatch of hair barely revealed by your underwear laying on your hips. offensively high up them, by the way. i’ll leave bloody kisses down the plane of your stomach until i get to taste you fully. all of you laid bare. inside turned out.
