summary: Emery Walsh is a private person, few know her beyond her role as surgeon at PTMC. Everything changes when her wife and daughter walk thought the doors of the ER and someone tries to flirt.
warnings: blood, a bit of angst, perv men, harassing, Ogilive or whatever his name is present, is implied that Nurse Kim is reader’s best friend.
notes: there's not much Emery material out there, so I wanted to contribute to making more of it. I'm not a good writer (it’s obvious), and English isn't my first language either. I hope you like it! any constructive feedback is welcome! <3
thanks to @jeffbuckleylover21 for helping me ❤️
tags: @tpwklizzie
It’s perfectly normal to hate hospitals. Who doesn’t? There’s no color and it’s filled with that sterile, clinging scent that settles in the back of your throat; a strong mix of industrial bleach and cheap disinfectant.
There’s a cruel irony in it, really. Your wife is one of the top surgeons in Pittsburgh, yet you can’t step into her workplace without feeling like you’re going to throw up.
So, it was safe to say you weren’t exactly thrilled to be walking into the ER at 6:07 AM. You had a throbbing gash on your forehead, a wrist that felt like it was pulsing in time with your heartbeat, and a sobbing three-year-old clinging to your neck.
To top it off, your phone was dead, and the waiting room was already packed with people coughing into their hands. Definitely not your lucky day.
“Mommy.”
A small, damp hand tugged insistently at your collar. “Mommy.”
“Yes, pookie?” you murmured, the pet name coming out strained as the fluorescent lights stabbed at your headache.
Little Gila wrinkled her nose, making the exact same face of pure disgust Emery made whenever you used that word. Nine months in your womb, and she still had the audacity to be a carbon copy of your wife.
“Kissy?” Gila asked, her lower lip wobbling as she stared at the dried blood on your temple.
“No, sweetie. Not until the doctors fix Mommy up.”
Gila paused, her dark eyes flashing with the sudden spark of an idea. “Want me to call Mama? If she gives you a kissy, you’ll get better.” She said it with the absolute, unshakable confidence of a child.
“Why do you say that, honey?”
“The prince saved Snow White with a kiss of true love,” Gila explained, nodding solemnly. “Maybe Mama can save you like that.”
You opened your mouth to give her the "real world" talk; to explain that while her Mama’s kisses were magic, they couldn’t exactly close a laceration. But a voice cut through the chaos of the waiting room, stopping you cold.
It was the voice of the woman you loved most in the world (though you’d never tell Gila she was tied for first).
Emery was already in her street clothes, her coat slung over one arm, looking effortlessly beautiful even at the end of a grueling double shift. She was heading for the exit until she spotted you.
“What are you doing here?” Emery’s voice was soft at first, then it sharpened into a concerned one. “What the—?”
She was at your side in a second, dropping her bag and squatting down to your level. Her fingers were cool and steady as she lifted your chin. “Who did this to you?”
You tried to shake your head, but the movement made the room spin. “No one. I just... I tripped in the kitchen.”
Gila gasped, pointing a tiny finger at you. “Mommy, don’t lie! You’re gonna be Pinocchio! Your nose is gonna grow big!”
Emery’s eyes narrowed, shifting from your face to your daughter. “How did it happen, princess?”
“It was a big, ugly man,” Gila whispered dramatically, leaning in as if sharing a state secret. “He was very ugly and he smelled bad, like Uncle Abbott.”
You bit your lip to keep from laughing. Emery shot you a look that before turning back to Gila.
“And what did the man do?”
“He said bad things.” Gila’s voice dropped even lower. “He said things about Mommy’s... Mommy’s booty.”
Emery’s jaw tightened. She didn't look away from you, her gaze burning with a sudden, protective heat. “He did, did he?”
Gila nodded vigorously. “Then Mommy said ‘Excuse me. I’m married, and that’s rude.’”
You sighed, leaning your head back against the hard plastic chair. You knew that look on Emery’s face; it was the quiet, dangerous stillness she got when someone touched what belonged to her. Although it was scary it was absolutely hot.
“Then he grabbed Mommy’s arm really hard,” Gila continued, her voice small and sad. “I told him he couldn't do that. Taking her hand is mine and Mama’s job. And then he called me a... a birch.”
“He called her a bitch.” you clarified tiredly.
“That!” Gila agreed. “Then Mommy went Pum! in his pew-pew!” She mimicked a kick with her little leg, giggling through her lingering tears. “And then Pam! in his face!”
“Mommy did that?” Emery asked, a ghost of a smirk finally tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“It was so cool! But I cried because he called me a birch,” Gila paused, looking confused. “Mama, what is a birch?”
“A bad word. We don’t say it,” you answered quickly.
Emery stood up, her hand lingering on your shoulder. Her demeanor had shifted from 'worried wife' to 'surgeon in charge' in a heartbeat. “Let’s get you two settled. Come on.”
She scooped Gila up and led the way toward the nurse’s station, bypassing the intake line entirely.
“Oh, honey, what happened to you?” Dana, the charge nurse of the day shift, asked as she caught sight of your face.
“A perv. She kicked him in the nuts,” Emery said shortly, her voice clipping each word. “I’m taking her to North 13. Send a doctor up.”
Dana nodded, already reaching for a chart. “I’ll send McKay as soon as she’s clear.”
Lena, the night shift charge nurse, stepped forward to take Gila. “Why don't you come with me to the breakroom, kiddo? I think Auntie Kiki is in there with some crackers.”
Gila’s eyes lit up at the mention of her favorite "aunt," and she happily hopped into Lena's arms. Even tho Nurse Kim was not family, she was your best friend so Gila saw her as her aunt.
You waved a shaky goodbye as Emery steered you down the hallway.
The exam room was quiet, the air-conditioned chill biting at your skin. Emery helped you onto the bed, but her movements were stiff. “What were you thinking? Why would you do that?”
“Defending myself and our child?” You raised an eyebrow, wincing at the pull on your forehead. “What was I supposed to do, Emmy?”
“You should have walked away. You shouldn't have played the hero.”
“I couldn’t walk away! He wouldn't let go!” You held up your wrist, a sharp whimper escaping you as the joint protested.
Emery’s eyes softened instantly. She moved closer, her hands trembling just a fraction as she inspected the bruising. “It looks bad.”
“Feels worse.”
“And your head?”
“In my shoulders.” You chuckled.
Emery pulled the supply cart over, her professional mask sliding back into place to hide her worry. “Let me see.”
She brushed your hair back, her brow furrowing. “This is deeper than I thought.”
You flinched as her thumb brushed the edge of the wound. “Easy, Doc. Be gentle.”
“I’m always gentle with you,” she murmured, soaking a gauze pad in antiseptic. “This is going to sting. Sorry.”
You hissed as the cold liquid hit the raw skin, biting your lip until she finished cleaning it. She worked with the steady, practiced grace that made her the best in the city, her hands never wavering as she placed a few neat stitches.
“Almost done,” she whispered.
The door swung open, and Dr. Cassie McKay stepped in, followed by a tall, young man im scrubs. He didn't just look at you;he stared, his eyes wandering in a way that made your skin crawl.
“Already kidnapping my patients, Walsh?” Cassie teased.
“I don’t trust her with just anyone,” Emery snapped, not even looking up from your stitches. She threw a sharp glare at the med student. “Especially not a student. She isn’t a practice project.”
You glanced at the kid's badge: James Ogilvie, MS-IV. “Excuse her, Ogilvie,” you said, trying to lighten the mood. “She’s just... protective.”
The student nodded, a smug little smirk playing on his lips. “I get it. Friends have to look out for each other. Especially when one of them is such a pretty lady.”
Cassie coughed into her hand to hide a laugh. Emery stopped what she was doing, her entire body going rigid.
“Are you here to learn, or are you here to flirt?” Emery asked, her voice dropping an octave.
Ogilvie tilted his head, clearly thinking he was being charming. “I’m here to learn, of course. But I can multitask.”
Emery crossed her arms. “Learning starts with respect. Not hitting on patients in ER.”
Cassie stepped forward to check your wrist, giving you a sympathetic good luck look. “He’s a bit of an attention seeker.” she noted.
“I’m sure you’re used to the attention.” Ogilvie said, his eyes lingering on your face again.
“Do they teach this in college nowadays?” Emery’s voice was like ice now. “How to harass a married woman?”
Ogilvie’s smirk faltered slightly. You pointedly lifted your left hand, letting the light catch the diamonds on your ring finger.
“Oh,” he muttered.
“Yes. Oh.” Emery mimicked, her sarcasm dripping.
The student cleared his throat, trying to regain his posture. “Understood. Though I have to admit, your husband is a very lucky man. You’re clearly very beautiful.”
You rolled your eyes so hard it actually hurt your head. Emery let out a low, dangerous hum in the back of her throat.
Emery stepped toward him, her height seemingly doubling. “Then start by observing the exit if you say one more word to my wife.”
The kid froze. “Your—?”
“Wife,” Cassie finished with a delighted chuckle. “Tough break, kid. You picked the wrong one today.”
summary: After an intense week, your daughter is clingy towards you.
warnings: talk of sickness, Robby is mentioned.
note: the most mentioned thing about “Pretty Girl” was our beloved Gila…so here is more of her.
You’d been feeling unwell for several days. Nausea, fatigue, and a mild stomach ache. You attributed it to Gila being sick a few days ago.
You were lying on bed when Gila stomped into the bedroom. Lately, she was obessed with being by your side 24/7, which caused her to throw scenes every morning before going to school or when she had a soccer practice. She was obviously your wife’s daughter. She was wearing her Bluey’s pink pajamas with her capybara-shaped slippers, the ones she insisted she wanted because they looked a lot like her mama. Emery denied the resemblance, so Abbot bought them just to annoy her.
You let out a small sigh when you saw her wearing her toy doctor kit. She had insisted she wanted one for her birthday to match her aunties and uncles. And like the whipped mother she was, Emery bought it.
Gila glanced at you and smiled, her eyes shining.
“You are so pretty, Mommy.” the little girl said sweetly, but then she frowned again. “I mean... Good afternoon, Mrs. Mommy.”
You let out a small giggle, which caused a tiny smile to appear on your daughter’s face, though she quickly wiped it away to put on her best serious expression.
“Good afternoon, Dr. Walsh.” you whispered, trying to forget how much your body hurt.
“I’m here to cure you.” Gila announced harshly, stepping closer to you. “Don’t worry, Mommy, it's me. I’m just talking like Uncle Robby.”
You looked at her with a dopey smile.
“Open your mouth, stick out your tongue.” the girl ordered as she took an otoscope out of her backpack.
“I don’t think that’s for the mouth.”
Gila shot you a look, proving she was truly Emery’s twin. “Are you the doctor, or am I?”
“Sorry doc.”
Gila scowled, muttering about how rude patients had become in recent years, and how in her forty years as a doctor, she had never seen such a bad patient. “If you keep still, I will give you some chocolate that Mama has hidden behind the cookie jar.”
You looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Mama has a what hidden?”
“Oopsies.” Gila muttered. “Open your mouth.”
She observed your mouth with a serious look, muttering some incomprehensible words.
“What do you see, Dr. Walsh?”
“It's very obvious.” she started solemnly. “I have never seen anything like this.”
“Tell me what i have, I’m dying?” you asked dramatically.
“Mommy, no!” Gila said, a little too loudly. “You are pregnant. I saw three kids.”
You froze. “I am what? I have what?”
“Three babies.” She jumped on top of you, putting three kisses on your stomach. “But you can get better. You just have to give me kisses.”
“So that’s your game, eh?” you started to tickle her. “You lied to Mommy just so you could get kisses.”
Gila laughed, squirming around as she tried to escape your grip. You showered her face in kisses, causing her to kick her legs to get away. But when her little leg made contact with your stomach, you let out a sharp groan, making Gila stop with a worried frown.
“Mommy?” She asked with her lip wibbling.
You didn’t answer at first. Your hand went automatically to your stomach as you groaned; the pain was so sudden and intense, it felt as though a bunch of cars had just run right through you.
Gila’s eyes widened with genuine panic as she scrambled off the bed, her toy stethoscope clattering to the floor. "Mommy? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to kick the babies!"
Despite the throbbing ache in your abdomen, a soft, breathless laugh squeezed out of you. "It’s okay, sweetie. You didn't hurt any babies. Mommy just has a really bad tummy ache."
Before Gila could offer another apology, the heavy click of the front door unlocking echoed from the hallway, followed by the familiar call of your wife.
“Mama!” Gila called out, her little voice full of worry.
A moment later, Emery appeared in the doorway, her jacket half-unbuttoned and a look of concern. She took in the scene: you clutching your stomach, the scattered plastic doctor tools, and Gila standing there looking like she’d just been caught sneaking to the kitchen to eat cookies.
“What's going on in here?" Emery asked, immediately walking over to press the back of her cool hand against your forehead. "You look pale. Did Dr. Walsh here give you a bad prognosis?”
“Mama!" Gila interrupted, pointing a dramatic finger at you. "Mommy is broken, I hurted the babies.”
Emery froze, her hand pausing halfway to your forehead. She chuckled softly, assuming it was just another one of Gila's imaginative games. “Babies? Did Dr. Walsh perform an ultrasound today?”
“I saw three!” Gila insisted, her lower lip trembling as she looked at you, still clutching your stomach. “But then I kicked her tummy by mistake. I’m sorry, Mommy.”
“It’s okay, sweetie, you didn't hurt anything.”you managed to breathe out, though the deep, pulling ache in your abdomen made it hard to catch your breath. You forced a reassuring smile for your daughter, but internally, your mind was whirring. “Mommy is just sick. She is with nausea and some fati-“
In that moment, everything clicked for you.
The word died in your throat. Nausea. Fatigue. The mild, constant stomach ache you had spent days blaming on Gila’s school bug. Your hand, still pressed against your stomach, suddenly felt incredibly warm.
Months ago. The sterile clinic room. The quiet, the nervous whispers between you and Emery. The IVF transfer. In the absolute whirlwind of the weeks that followed; juggling Gila's soccer schedule, your wife’s killer night shifts, your chaotic work deadlines, and the subconscious fear of getting your hopes up. Some how you and Emery had completely forgot the whole thing. You had torture yourself up for the possibility of a negativo result that your brain had simply locked the memory away.
You weren't fighting off a stomach flu.
Your eyes snapped up, locking onto Emery. The playful, teasing smirk on your wife’s face now replaced by confusion.
“Hey.” Emery murmured, sitting on the edge of the mattress and taking your free hand. “What is it? You look like you just saw a ghost. Or worse, Abbot without a shirt.”
You swallowed hard, your heart suddenly hammering against your ribs. “Em… when did we… when were we supposed to check?”
Emery blinked, her mind frantically trying to bridge between your current stomach ache and what you meant by check. Then, all at once, her entire posture went rigidly still.
Emery’s mouth fell open, her eyes darting from your face down to your hand on your stomach. “No. No way. The transfer was… oh my god, it was months ago.”
“We completely forgot.” you whispered, a breathless, tearful laugh bubbling up. “Emery, I’m not sick.”
“Wait…” Emery stammered, her hands starting to shake as she gripped yours tighter. “You thought you caught Gila’s bug!”
“I did!” you said, your heart racing. “But it’s not a bug. It’s… it’s the...”
Gila looked between the two of you, her little eyebrows furrowed in deep confusion. “Is Mommy still broken?”
Emery instantly dropped to her knees by the bed, pulling Gila into her side while keeping her eyes locked on yours. Leaving a kiss in the little girl’s curls. “No, sweetie. Mommy isn't broken at all.”
“So…” Gila puffed out her chest, pointing her plastic otoscope at you. “Dr. Walsh was right? There are three babies in there?”
Emery let out a watery laugh, looking up at you with wide, emotional eyes. “Well, I don't know about three, Dr. Walsh. But you might have just made the biggest medical discovery of our lives.”
“Three!” Gila clapped her hands, jumping up and down on the bedroom rug. “I knew it! My doctor eyes see everything.”
Emery laughed, wiping a tear from her cheek before looking back at you. “Three might be too much, doc. Let's start with a pregnancy test first.”
“No, they need names right now.” Gila insisted, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Since I’m their older sister I want to name them Bluey, Bingo, and Muffin.”
You groaned playfully, leaning back against the pillows. “Sweetie, those are cartoon dogs.”
“Okayyy. What about Elsa, Anna, and Honeymaren?”
Emery snorted, trying and failing to hide her laughter behind her hand. “I love how she only says girls names.”
“Of course!” Gila said confidently, crossing her arms stubbornly. “We are all girls. Why would we want boys in the family? It’s dumb, duh.”
You shot Emery a sharp look. “See? She is a little you. She hates men.”
“I don’t hate boys, i have a boyfriend.” Gila piped up as a sudden blush crept over her cheeks.
You and Emery both froze, your eyes locking for a fraction of a second before you both snapped your heads around to look at your daughter.
“You have a what?” Emery asked, her voice dropping an octave as her protective mama instincts instantly kicking.
“A boyfriend.” Gila repeated casually, playing with the tubing of her plastic stethoscope. “His name is Carter. He sits with me during reading time and he shares his crackers with me.”
notes: this is re-upload from a deleted fic of mine, most of it it’s changed :) Thanks to @prettyghostsdrinkvodka for listening all my shit, love you sis!🫶🩷
Six months ago, Summer Brower and Laleh Dirbaz were rushed into the PTMC. They arrived with shattered pelvises, multiple fractures, and bodies so wrecked that no one expected them to survive the day.
Luckily they did.
In a silent pact, both girls threw themselves onto the train tracks. All because some parents cannot accept that their 12-year-old daughters are not the way they expected.
Why would anyone have children if they weren't going to love them unconditionally?
You still remember the physical nausea in your throat when you first saw them on the gurneys, and the cold anger that followed when the truth finally surfaced.
Summer’s parents had found out that she was a lesbian and that she was dating her supposed best friend.
They threatened to send her away. Some conversion camp, somewhere far away. Somewhere meant to “fix” her.
So the girls made a choice. If they couldn’t live together they wouldn’t live at all.
That day not only changed the lives of those two families, but also yours.
When you opened an on-call room and saw Emery Walsh there. The tough head of surgery. She had red eyes. She had been crying.
The next thing you remember of that moment is her head between your legs and your hands tangled in her hair.
“A penny for your thoughts, sweetheart?” The charge nurse’s voice pulls you back to the present.
“Just... thinking, Dana.”
“Mm.” Dana gives you that knowing look. The one that says she knows something is off, but she’s professional enough not to snoop. “Okay. Where’s Walsh? She didn't come?”
“Why would I know about that?” You ask too fast. You’re sounded too defensive, and you know the blonde nurse noticed it.
The woman just laughs, leaning into you. “I assumed you knew, Abbot said you and Walsh were pretty close.”
“Abbott? Why I’m Not surprised.” You chuckle giving a sip to your drink. “Emery and I had a big fight days ago, about the family car crash.”
Dana raises an eyebrow. “Those days ago are…five years ago.”
“Yeah, true.” You murmur, trying to sound calm. “Her little brother, Josh, recently became a father,” you say quietly, hoping to end the interrogation.
The nurse chuckles, sending you a warm smile. “You know her brother?”
"Yes, I've spoken with him several times. As well as with his wife, Megan."
“Oh, interesting."
“Em is four years older than him.” you add, taking a small, nervous sip of your drink. “I met them at her mother’s birthday two months ago.”
Dana raises her eyebrow with a smirk.
“You know a lot about her.” the charge nurse replies.
“Not really.”
“Yes really.”
You roll your eyes, but when you look past the nurse, you see her. Emery. She is by the door, talking to Yolanda.
“And now you’re smiling.” Dana teases.
You don’t answer her. You just start walking towards the door, a dopey smile in your face.
“Hey.”
She looks at you with that famous smirk, the one that makes your insides feel like they’re on a roller coaster. “Look at you, pretty girl.” She devours you with her eyes, and you feel your cheeks getting hot.
That's Yolanda's sign to leave, only after patting her friend on the back.
“Is that for me? You’re so lovely.” Walsh says, effortlessly taking the cup from your hands. She takes a sip from the exact spot where there is a faint mark of your lip gloss.
She knows perfectly it’s not for her. But you don’t say anything. Why would you? She loves to tease you and you love when she does that. It’s hot.
She is hot.
“Dana…”
The voice of Abbot interrupts you. “Here are my favorite lesbians.” Abbot wraps his arms around the two of them and Emery pushes him away from her with a disgusted face.
Robby is besides him, scanning the room. Looking for someone? Everyone knows he is fucking Dennis.
“We are not dating.” you snap.
“No one said you were.” Abbot comments, laughing as he glances at his friend. “Did i said it?”
“Nop.” Robby says, popping the ‘p’.
“Not directly.” Abbot chuckles at your words.
“Not really, kiddo. Just said you are my favorite lesbians.” Abbot continues and Emery sighs.
“Parker isn’t going to be happy when she finds out.” Emery gives a sip you her drink. Well, yours.
——
Despite that you probably outed yourself more than once trought the afternoon, it is a really nice party. A very calm one, the King twins know how to put a party.
Mel and Becca were never a big fan of alcohol, so is mostly juices and water, though somehow Shen has his Dunkin’ coffee. Such a King move from him.
“Girl, I need you.” Santos grabs your arm and drags you toward the mini stage set up for karaoke. “You can sing, I can sing. You don’t like Yolanda, I’m mad at Yolanda. Let’s sing together.” You stare at him, seeing nervousness in his eyes. “You’re her best friend’s girlfriend, you’re the right person.”
“Emery and I didn’t—” You don’t finish your sentence; there’s no need. “What song?”
The Filipina sighs. “Silver Springs.”
Garcia must have hurt her pretty badly of she wants to sing THE yearning song.
“Count me in, babes.”
Throughout the song, Trinity is looking directly at Garcia, her voice raw. Trinity has never acted this way before, never so openly. She must be deeply hurt. When it ends, you give your friend a quick hug, and once you're sure she is okay, you walk over to Emery.
“I don’t like how Evans is looking at you.” Emery rasps. The vibration in her voice makes you sigh with a sensation in your core so strong you feel like you might jump her right here. “I don’t like people checking out what’s mine.”
“I think she knows.” you whisper. “Or she suspects. About us, I mean.”
“Then let’s confirm her suspicions.”
Before you can ask what she means, she grips your hips. Her soft lips meet yours in front of everyone.
“Okay, okay, okay!” You hear Perlah laughing alongside the rest of the group. You don’t say a word. You only feel Emery take her left hand off your body to playfully flip off the group, her lips never leaving yours.
The kiss lingers just long enough to make your head spin before Emery pulls back, though she dosn’t let go of your waist. The room is a chaotic blur of laughter, but her focus remains entirely on you.
“You thing they know?” she whispers, her thumb tracing the line of your hip.
“You think?” you breath, though your heart hammers against your ribs. “Shen is never going to let us live this down.”
Emery lets out a low, melodic laugh that vibrates against your side. “Let him talk. At least now he has something interesting to talk about.”
Across the room, Abbot is grinning, nudging Robby as if he’d just won a bet. Even Cassie smiles, slightly surprised, from one of the tables with Javadi. The secret is out, and strangely, the weight you’d been carrying since for 6 months feels a little lighter.
"You're still thinking about them, aren't you?" Emery’s voice drops lower, losing its teasing edge.
You know who is she refering to.
"There is no day i don’t." you admit, leaning your head against her shoulder. "Seeing everyone here... happy... i just hope they have their happy ending."
Emery squeezes your waist, her expression softening. "They will. And also Garsantos. Good performance, pretty girl."
You look back at Dana, who raises her glass to you from across the room with a wink. You don’t roll your eyes this time. Instead, you tighten your arm around Emery’s back.
"Come on.” Emery says, tugging you toward the door. "Let’s go before Yolanda answers with another song."
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