brendon park x daughter!med student!reader
warnings: graphic violence scene (against reader), injuries, angst and then comfort, bit of swearing
in which baby shark park gets hurt on the job and all she wants is her dad
Your day on your ER rotation has been shit.
Well, not as shit as it could be. You saw your dad, you saw part of a reattachment surgery, nobody died (yet).
But... You've also been relentlessly bullied by your fellow student about 'Nemo' and 'Sharkie' and 'baby shark'. The three of them call you Parkie the Sharkie (Sharkie or Parkie for short). Also, the whole ED now knows your Shark's kid, so that's lovely.
But whatever. You were gonna stay an extra hour to hang out with the night staff.
You liked them, and they loved you. When you were a teenager, you'd bring in cookies and cupcakes and various baked goods, and you'd make your dad leave them in the staff room as your delivery man.
Your dad, however, got off an hour ago, so he's been chatting with you while you worked with patients.
Maybe you'd only stay thirty minutes instead of an hour. You were tired.
"Dad, Trinity has to stay extra to catch up on carting. Her place is on the way home. I'll get a ride with her." You said, desperately trying to get Brendon off your back so you could walk free.
"You don't know if she can drive you." He replied, running his hand down his tired face.
"Dad. Please. I'm a grown woman. I can take care of myself. Go!" You shoved him (or attempted to, he had probably more than a foot and a fifty pounds on you). He just sighed, putting his hands up and walking away.
"Call if you need anything!" He shouted to you as he walked off.
"Goodbye, Dad!" You walked off, finally being able to wander.
You walked around the ED for about two minutes of peace (or, peace for an ED). You heard the familiar sound of an ambulance and a gurney, and pulled on gloves to go meet Abbot at the entrance.
"Incoming patient! Mid twenties male, combative. Wife called after he started yelling and breaking plates." You heard a paramedic shout.
Yeah, combative is right. You've dodged a fist and a kick so far.
"Any history of alcohol or substance abuse?" You asked, looking to Abbot, who nodded at you.
"Not according to the wife." The paramedic answered, wheeling him into trauma bay one with you and Abbot.
"Alright, on one. Three, two, one!" You, Abbot and the paramedic lifted the sheet onto the bed, and then the medic was out.
As soon as the paramedic left, he immediately jumped on you.
One moment you were trying to get a line of lorazepam in, and the next you were pinned against the wall with hands around your neck.
You gasped for breath, your eyes darting around. You could hear Abbot calling for help while he tried to pry the man off you, but you couldn't see much.
You didn't know if your eyes were blurry from tears or a lack of oxygen, but did it really make much difference the cause?
How long had it been without oxygen, and with both your carotid and jugular compressed? Thirty seconds? A minute? Fifteen seconds? You had no idea.
Couldn't have been longer than twenty seconds, right? Then you'd be out.
You tried to take a breath, but to no avail.
You could feel your body becoming weightless, your head starting to slip forward.
You thought there was another person or two pulling him off, but you couldn't see with the tears filling your eyes and flowing down your face.
And then nothing. Your vision went black.
You slowly awoke to the sound of incoherent voices, a mask around your face, and no more pressure
You tried to move your head, but it was held still by someone. You heard someone say they're gonna get an x-ray right now so make sure you didn't break your neck.
The only thing going through your head was
I want my dad. I want my dad. Please, I just want Dad.
You let out a broken sob, gasping for air.
You felt yourself being moved. Was someone carrying you? Were you on a gurney? Who knew?
"I want my dad." You hiccuped, tears still falling down your face. "Can you call my dad?"
"Dr. Ellis is working on it, Sharkie. We got you, okay? You're safe now." You're pretty sure that was Abbot. "Can you move your fingers and toes for me?" He asked, and you did, reading his face for anything negative. They continued with the questioning, getting you an x-ray.
Somebody said it was negative. That's good. Your neck really hurt though. Someone said it was bruising.
You finally felt them get the c-collar off you. At least something was going right.
"Have you called my dad yet? I really want my dad." You sniffled, trying to wipe the tears off your face.
"He's coming, Sharkie, alright? And knowing him, he's probably broken three traffic laws." You smiled a little bit at Ellis' response.
"My neck hurts." You complained.
"I bet. It's got a pretty nasty bruise already. Do you want something for it?" You nodded (or tried to, anyway. The bruise hurt!), and you watched her turn to a nurse for morphine. You felt a needle prick your arm. "Give it a minute, and you'll feel a lot better."
"M'kay." You muttered. "When can I go home?"
"We're gonna keep you here for a while, okay? We wanna make sure we didn't miss anything." You heard Abbot say. You thought he left the room. "I got your phone, by the way. Thought you might want it."
You muttered a quiet thank you. Once the room quieted down a bit, you could hear your dad talking to someone outside. "Dad?" You said, the smallest your voice has been since you could remember.
As soon as he heard your voice, he immediately pivoted into the room. His hands immediately went to the top of your head, striking your frizzy braids back. "Hey, sweet girl." He brought down the guard rails of the bed, sitting on the edge of it.
You immediately moved your body closer to his, sobbing into his shoulder and gasping for air. He just gently shushed you, wrapping one arm around you tightly and one hand smoothing your hair.
He had almost lost his little girl. The little girl who used to sit with him during lectures in college. The little girl who used to draw him pictures and show them to him. The little girl who has been his lock screen for twenty five years. The little girl who he taught to read, taught to write, taught to ride a bike.
The girl who he taught stitches to in sixth grade because she wanted to know. The girl who begged him to take her friends shopping and he always gave in. The girl who told him all the gossip in her school because she wanted to share it with someone.
He had almost lost you, because he wasn't there.
"Dad?" You whispered, looking up at him. "Can you stay?"
"Not going anywhere, sweet girl."
divider by @strangergraphics
a/n: probs gonna do a part 2 for this because i know for a fact that man slept in the hospital and his coworkers found him
