Tumgik
#neworleansspecial
punksarahreese · 3 years
Text
Act now, feel later | Marjan Marwani
Canon storyline; Marjan runs into trouble when the crew isn’t there to help
CW: Car accidents, injury, stitches mention, blood/medical gore
For @neworleansspecial’s 911 Lone Star premiere flash event
***
“Look out, Austin, we’re in for another storm this weekend! The forecast is calling for 35 mile per hour winds and heavy rain; time to postpone those family barbecues.”
The radio host’s words made Marjan sigh, it didn’t rain often in Austin but when it did it was always an event. She imagined it would be a long weekend, the rain already coming down enough that it was obstructing her vision. She had left home early that morning for that exact reason, assuming the highways would be a bit backed up due to the weather.
Backed up would be an understatement, though, because it took Marjan about 15 extra minutes to get through a jammed road. She was just turning the corner of a quieter backroad, one she had started to use as a shortcut to work after Mateo showed it to her, when she came across an unexpected sight. It had her slamming on her brakes, throwing her car into park without a thought. Swinging the door open, she called out and hoped she would get a response.
Across the road, balanced precariously on the shoulder, was a minivan. The front half of the vehicle was pretty crushed, rammed into a tree like it had been the one thing to stop it from rolling further off the road. There was another car stopped and someone was waving her over, their replies barely heard over the rain pelleting the ground. Marjan felt her heart sink as she got closer to them, hearing the terrified cries of a child from within the vehicle.
“Did you call 911?” she asked the man standing there, who looked just as worried as Marjan felt. She had just barely had the forethought to grab her small first aid kit from the backseat, though she guessed it wouldn’t be much help in this situation.
“Y-yes,” he looked alarmed when she immediately thrust the kit into his hands, dropping to her knees in front of the flipped vehicle. She winced at the wet feeling seeping through the fabric of her pants as she kneeled on the cold asphalt, hoping she wouldn’t accidentally catch some glass in the process. She leaned towards the shattered driver’s side window first, peeking in at the driver.
“Sir, can you hear me?”
She could see that the man had a head wound that was bleeding profusely, hoping it wasn’t as bad as it looked. He stuttered out a reply and looked as if he was going to turn to look at her, which had Marjan reaching in to stop his movement.
“Don’t move,” she said quickly, “You might have a head injury. Can you take a deep breath for me? I’m a firefighter, okay, I’m going to try to help you.”
“Are… m-my kids..?”
“How many kids were in the car, sir?”
“Two,” he replied, “Elliot is five… Isla is one. God, please... tell me they’re okay.”
Marjan told him to stay put, asking the man who was watching idly to ensure the father didn’t move until EMS arrived. She had heard whimpering in the back seat while she was talking to him, and the cries from earlier had been from another voice. That told her both kids were still alive, though she wasn’t sure in what shape.
Unfortunately, no matter how hard she tried, the back door would not open. Grunting a little under her breath, Marjan gave up after a second and went around to the other side of the car. She managed to get the passenger side sliding door of the vehicle opened a bit, though it took her a good two minutes of forcing it open.
“Elliot? Can you hear me?’
“D-dad?”
“Your dad is in the front seat, sweetie,” Marjan answered, “My name is Marjan, I’m going to help you out so you can see him, okay?”
“O-okay…”
“Is Isla okay?” Marjan asked, trying to keep the boy talking as she shimmied into the van. She could see him by that point but the toddler’s seat was rear facing, obstructing her view of the other baby. Elliot’s face was tearstained and had a few cuts but he was surprisingly alert, which was reassuring. Sniffling, he glanced over at his sister.
“She’s sleeping.”
That had Marjan pursing her lips, whispering a little prayer for Allah to protect this baby while they waited to get them out. A quiet baby was never good in an accident, especially since she had heard Isla crying when she had gotten out of her own car, which made her silence deafening. She was close enough to reach out to Elliot, wincing a bit when she felt something dig into her arm. Marjan probably should have been more careful but the searing pain barely registered as all she wanted to do was check on the kids.
“Does anything hurt?”
“A-arm. Head ouchie too, where’s daddy?”
“I’m going to get you out to see him,” she promised, “Can you unbuckle your seatbelt for me?”
As Elliot fiddled with his seatbelt, his injured arm clutched to his chest, Marjan reached across to check on Isla. She craned her neck, seeing the toddler was indeed unconscious like her brother said. Her dark hair was in her eyes, no sign of blood but she was unresponsive to touch. Pressing on the inside of her elbow, Marjan couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when she felt a rapid pulse through the baby’s sleeve. She was just about to ask Elliot if he was ready to go when she heard a familiar voice.
“Marjan?”
It was TK, his face appearing from the other side of the car as he glanced through the shattered window. His helmet hid his face partially but he looked concerned to say the least, trying to wrench the other door open so he could help her.
“TK, I have never been more happy to see that pretty face of yours,” she let out a shaky laugh to ease her own nerves, “That door is jammed. Elliot here says his arm and head hurts but he seems pretty okay otherwise. I have an unresponsive toddler over here, she has a pulse but I’m worried about head trauma.”
“Okay,” TK disappeared from the window and she just barely heard him shouting to the crew over the sirens. She hadn’t even registered the sounds around her until TK said something, before her whole mind had been intent on keeping these kids alive until someone got there. She felt a hand on her shoulder, glancing behind her to see her captain in his full gear looking at her incredulously.
“We wondered why you were late,” Owen said, “Can you get to the kids?”
“I think I can reach Isla, she’s strapped into a rear-facing harness seat so it might take a minute. Elliot could climb out from the other side if someone helps him or gets that door open.”
“Copy that,” she heard Paul’s voice from where TK had been moments before, gloved hand making sure there was no glass sticking out from the already destroyed window. With the others actively taking care of the rest of the family, Marjan could focus on the baby in front of her. She was still breathing, thankfully, but she didn’t stir when Marjan started yanking at the straps of her carseat. She tried to work quickly, loosening them enough to get the buckle undone. It was a tight squeeze in the vehicle, with the side airbags having gone off and glass and metal littering every free space. She eventually got the seat undone, shimmying even closer to pick up the baby without jostling her body too much.
“I got her,” she called out, trying to carefully shift backwards so she didn’t move Isla too much. She wasn’t sure why the toddler was unconscious but a head injury was as good a guess as any, so the less movement the better. Glancing behind her, Marjan stepped out of the van and almost bumped into TK who appeared behind her.
“She okay?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, “Where’s medical?”
He led her to where Tim had parked the rig, Elliot already wrapped in a blanket and sitting on the seat across from his dad. The man had a C-collar on but was babbling away to Nancy, probably asking about his daughter. Michelle met them halfway, taking the baby from Marjan, who was a bit reluctant to let go.
“One year old female, unconscious and tachycardic,” she breathed as she followed after the paramedic, worried. She stumbled a bit as her foot caught a downed branch, “She was conscious when I got here but went quiet soon after.”
“We’ve got her,” Michelle promised as Rosewater took the infant from her to check her stats properly, “Marjan?”
She looked up, brow furrowing at Michelle’s concerned look. She wanted to ask why she wasn’t helping with the patients, instead she gestured for the firefighter to follow her to the side of the rig. A bit more sheltered from the rain, Marjan looked at her quizzically. The other woman reached out to grab gently at her arm, apologizing when she yelped a little.
“You’re bleeding.”
True enough, Marjan’s sleeve was ripped up her forearm and the side of her arm was bleeding. Upon further inspection, she winced when she noticed a particularly sharp piece of glass protruding from the wound. She hadn’t really felt it before, adrenaline running too high, but now that it had been pointed out she was aware of her pain. It stung, a lot, and she imagined it would be a nuisance at work that day. She blinked harshly against the raindrops that had started obscuring her vision, trying to look at Michelle for answers as she surveyed the wound.
“You’ll need quite a few stitches,” she said matter-of-factly, “Can I take the glass out and wrap it until then? The last thing I need is you bleeding out on me.”
Marjan wanted to protest, to claim she was fine because she could feel the crew watching. It's not that she thought they’d judge her, of course not, it was just that she hated appearing weak. She didn’t want them to worry about her or ask if she was okay, to her that would be embarrassing. It was a pride thing, which was shameful to even admit to herself. Still, she felt herself getting a bit dizzy, using her good arm to grab onto Michelle for stability. Her adrenaline was crashing, now that the victims were all safe and being taken care of.
“Careful,” Michelle’s voice was soft like always, “C’mon.”
Accepting the help, Marjan let herself be led to the other ambulance, not bothered by the hand Michelle kept on her back to steady her. She was attentive, always was, and Marjan was grateful for that. The one person besides Paul who saw through her confident façade was the paramedic, who more often than not would stop to ask her how she was doing before she left.
Aside from the fact that she was an adrenaline junkie, it was clear to Michelle that saving people was the reason she did things without considering her own safety sometimes. She knew Marjan got a bit more emotionally attached to calls than she wanted to admit, which was the cause of her frequent insubordination and fearlessness. She was desperate to help people and not afraid to put her own life on the line for it. The firefighter felt so much but didn’t let herself show it, which often led to her crashing when everyone else had gone home.
Alone in the back of the rig, Michelle pulled on a pair of gloves as she sat across from her. Watching idly, Marjan wasn’t as prepared as she thought for the pain she would feel. It was burning, feeling like she was ripping her skin open more with a smouldering blade. This was a time where she wished she had been wearing her gear, the thick jacket would have prevented this wound all together. With one quick move of the forceps, Michelle pulled out the glass with a gentle apology. Pressing a piece of gauze to the wound to staunch the blood, she looked at the other woman seriously.
“You’ll come to the hospital with us and get this looked after,” she used her free hand to grab the bottle of sterile saline from the shelf, “And then you’ll take the day off.”
“Michelle, I-”
“No arguments, Mar,” the nickname was said sternly but she knew there was affection behind it, “You helped them, let yourself be helped now.”
Marjan couldn’t help but squeak a little as the saline burned when it came in contact with her wound. She felt tears sting her eyes, much to her chagrin, and just nodded when Michelle looked at her again. She didn’t want to cry, even though she was sure it would be warranted given her discomfort. Gritting her teeth, she tried to keep her tone even.
“Okay…” She watched idly as Michelle packed the wound, winding sterile gauze around it with practiced ease. She was being gentle, probably worried about her accidentally passing out. After the excitement of a call wore off and the pain set it, injured first responders would often hide their discomfort until their bodies couldn’t take it anymore. What with the way she had been dizzy and the slight tremor of Marjan’s hands, Michelle wanted to keep an eye on her and maybe check her blood pressure. When she was done with the wound care, she patted Marjan’s knee and studied her pained expression for a second.
“Hey, you did well; even if going in there on your own was foolish.” Her tone was half teasing as she continued, “You’ve played the hero enough today, now let me take care of you.”
35 notes · View notes
neworleansspecial · 3 years
Text
Why, it's my favorite cocktail!
1 note · View note
911giftexchange · 3 years
Text
Happy New Year Everyone!
Sorry this is slightly delayed, but we wanted to include all works, especially those done by out marvelous pinch hitters who took on an extra person late in the game! Thank you so much to everyone who participated in our first 911 / 911 Lone Star Holiday Gift Exchange. It wasn’t always easy, and we certainly learned a few things along the way, but overall it was a success and we look forward to running more events similar in the future! 
Here is the masterlist for all of the content posted for this event!  Use the bolded links to access the orginal post or the “ao3″ link to read any works posted there.
911 Fanfiction:
“This Is My Winter Song To You” by @doctornineandthreequarters for @benjaminrussell //  ao3 
[untitled] by @maddieandchimney for @oneawkwardcookie 
“A Christmas Buddie Fic” by @fangirl-activist for @fyeahbuddie 
“Most Joyous Christmas” by @acejuddryder for @maddieandchimney // ao3
“Red and Black” by @oneawkwardcookie for @madamewriterofwrongs // ao3
“I’m Not Alone (’Cause You’re Here With Me)” by @doctornineandthreequarters for @siriuslyjamie​ // ao3
“Top of My List” by @madamewriterofwrongs for @strandtk​ // ao3
“Look After You” by @reyescarlos​ for @bombera // ao3
“The Buckley-Diaz’s First Christmas as a Couple” by @backofftubby for @agentlemuse​
[untitled] by @911whatsgoinon for @justagalwaygirl 
“Getting Some (Distraction)” by @siriuslyjamie​ for @neworleansspecial // ao3
“Better Days” by @moviegeek03 for @florenceandthemachine // ao3 (*also includes Tarlos and Owen from 911 Lone Star*)
“Of Mistletoe and Champagne” by @agentlemuse for @doctornineandthreequarters // ao3
“Winter to Summer to Winter Again” by @florenceandthemachine for @brcttshvghes // ao3
“Shore Up” by @bombera for @buckleysjareau // ao3
911 Lone Star Fanfiction:
“Live Forever” by @sneetchestoo for @firefighterstrand // ao3 
“Experience” by @neworleansspecial for @moviegeek03 // ao3
“Drawn to the Flame” by @benjaminrussell for @tkxcarlos // ao3
“Oh My Love, Don’t You Worry” by @sunshinestrand for @reyesstrand // ao3
“Let Your Heart Be Light” by @reyesstrand for @tkstrrand // ao3
“SRK pt. 4″ by @mtnofgrace for @harvestleaves // ao3
“Mistletoe and Marriage Proposals” by @harvestleaves for @reyescarlos // ao3
“Ice in My Veins, Fire in My Heart” by @howtosingit for @morganaspendragonss​ // ao3
“Crime and Punishment” by @buckieys for @mtnofgrace // ao3
“As Tall as a Sunflower” by @curliehairedgirl for @straightoutoffuckstogive // ao3
“Been Searching for a Trail to Follow (Again)” by @morganaspendragonss​ for @curliehairedgirl // ao3
“Do All Things with Love” by @tkstrrand​ for @howtosingit // ao3
“All Through the Night” by @reyescarlos​ for @buckieys // ao3
Gif Sets and Edits:
Prismatic (Buck and Athena) by @fyeahbuddie for @yorit1 
Buddie + Red White and Royal Blue by @strandtk for @herodean
Tarlos and the solar flare by @brcttshvghes for @evanbuckleys 
Madney by @herodean for @911whatsgoinon 
Tarlos + social media by @evanbuckleys for @sunshinestrand 
Michelle Blake by @buckleys-diaz for @sneetchestoo 
Buddie + “It’s You” by @strandtk for @backofftubby 
Buddie + André Aciman by @herodean for @acejuddryder
55 notes · View notes
crockettmarcel · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media
thanks for tagging me @justanotheronechicagofan !!!
pictured is the fool - ryn weaver, vessel - top, sempiternal - bmth, and three cheers for sweet revenge - mcr
this has made me realise how many playlists I listen to instead of albums akdjkssjsk
you can make yours here!!
tagging: @punksarahreese @intergalxtic @neworleansspecial @morbid-apricots @firefighterstrand @alleenzamer and anyone else that wants to do this!!
12 notes · View notes
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
chicago med icons pt.2
For @neworleansspecial’s chicago med flash challenge 💗
first time making icons so i’m nervous to post but here it is ;) the pictures aren’t the standard 128x128 size but i tested it out and tumblr resized them on its own so hopefully it’s okay (lmk if not and i can resize them)  please like/reblog if you use them ♡
12 notes · View notes
kelleyr · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media
Whiskey taste is on my breath
Part of me is scared to death
What if I told you the truth?
But I chase you down with 90 proof
For 'It's No Good if the Pain Doesn't Make You Feel Like You Earned It'
by Joy_In_The_House and @minervanorth
----
@neworleansspecial
@somethingofhome
----
7 notes · View notes
padfootprongslet · 3 years
Link
title:  getting some ( distraction ) fandom: 9-1-1 genre: general pairings:  hen wilson/karen wilson rating: mature links: ao3 warnings/triggers: near vaginal fingering word count: 1,112 words summary: Hen bakes, Karen distracts.
notes: written for @neworleansspecial as part of the @911giftexchange.
read here on ao3
6 notes · View notes
punksarahreese · 3 years
Note
✓: waking up either adorably confused or painfully scared 🐝
Anesthesia | Murmur
✓: waking up either adorably confused or painfully scared
@neworleansspecial
***
“Her stats are good and things went smoothly,” Vivienne wasn’t quite able to place the voice, though somewhere in her brain she knew it. She couldn’t force her eyes open just yet, the harsh lights sending shooting pains through her head. She tried to reach out, searching for one of her mums because the last thing she remembered was falling asleep between them, but her fingers only grasped weakly at cold sheets.
“M-mummy?” she choked out hoarsely, not sure why the word had her chest aching, “Mama?”
There were cold fingers pressed to the side of her neck, making the child want to flinch away. The voice was back, speaking in what must have been a reassuring tone but Vivi couldn’t even begin to understand his words. She tried again to open her eyes, blinking harshly to combat the stark difference from the darkness of sleep. She looked up to see two faces looking down at her, ones she recognized but they weren’t the people she wanted to see.
“Hey, Vi,” her uncle Connor, that’s who the voice belonged to. He was wearing the fancy cap that mummy said they had to wear in surgery and the icky gloves were on his hands too. Vivi didn’t like that, even though she knew he was her doctor, he looked a bit scary in her mind at that point. She didn’t know why, though Sarah would later explain that the medicine they use to put her to sleep reacts funny with her body sometimes.
“Mum!” she called out, ignoring him even when he tried to soothe her. She didn’t want Coco, she wanted her mums and that was it. They never left her alone after a surgery, they were always there, the fact that they weren’t there scared the child beyond belief.
“Mum was working,” Connor explained gently, “Your mama just went to get her.”
“W-want mama-mummy!” Vivi cried, tears stinging at her tired eyes as she got too frustrated. The machines monitoring her heart started going crazy, the loud beeps only making her more upset. She knew she must be at the hospital but she didn’t remember getting there, not to mention the fact that her chest ached more than it had in a while. She couldn’t breathe, not when she started sobbing, and her babbling only made her choke on the phlegm caught in her throat.
“Vivienne, you need to calm down,” the nurse on her other side was saying, “You’re going to rip your stitches.”
“No!” she screamed, tugging at the leads stuck uncomfortably to her skin as she tried to wiggle away from the woman, “Don’t t-touch Vivi!”
“Connor?” A concerned, accented voice broke through her tantrum, just barely. Her heart was still beating rapidly, already stressed from the graft surgery that had just been performed 6 hours prior. Vivi couldn’t hear much over the multiple voices and her own sobbing, terrified because she never woke up in this much pain without her mummy there. She just cried when hands fell on her warm cheeks, trying to push the person off of her.
“Vivi, baby, it’s mummy,” Ava’s voice was there again, clearer this time, and the child blinked away her tears quickly. She relaxed a little, still shaking like a leaf, as her mother spoke gently to her. The railing on the bed was let down with a startling click and then Ava was there properly, sitting as close as she could without jarring the IV in her arm. Vivi let out a relieved sob when Ava pulled her close, finally feeling her fear ebb away with her mum there. She felt another hand on her hair and saw Sarah standing beside them, looking at her in concern as she pushed sweat-dampened curls from her eyes.
They were here, she could relax, her brain told her. Still, nothing was okay, her chest ached again and there was a mean pain stabbing behind her eyes. Trying to stay alert, Vivi heard Ava saying something to Connor as she peeked at the bandage on the child’s sternum. Something was wrong, she guessed, because her mummy looked worried again. She was too tired to think and the pain was getting too much, just wanting to relax into Ava’s arms and go back to sleep.
Through the fog of pain, she heard them saying something about blood and stitches. If she had been more alert maybe Vivi would have noticed the concerning amount of blood starting to stain her hospital gown. She couldn’t feel it, though, because in seconds she was slumping heavily against her mother’s chest, unconsciousness hitting her again.
17 notes · View notes
punksarahreese · 3 years
Text
Accident | 4 mg Ativan
Nosdecember day 9 | @neworleansspecial
Anxious!ava; Ava oversteps by accident and Connor’s reaction causes problems
CW: fighting, panic attacks, cognitive distortions
Repost because I’m a clown who accidentally deleted the original post
***
"Ava," Connor was mad, Ava could hear it in his voice even before she saw his face. She was just trying to make coffee, back turned to the door as she fought with the machine that wouldn’t cooperate. The way the door closed less than gently and the footsteps coming up behind her made her stomach drop a little. She hated that tone, hated the way her name sounded when someone said it with hostility. It made her want to run, but this was real life and she couldn’t do that.
"Connor," Ava tried to keep her tone level, pretending her voice wasn’t trembling a little as she turned to look at him.
He was mad, tablet in hand as he glared daggers at her. Ava hated that look, when his ego was clearly seeping through and one little thing that didn’t go his way made him act like this. He was about to throw a tantrum, she was sure, and usually that would make her more annoyed than anything. However, the way he had her borderline backed up against the counter made her feel more intimidated than she liked.
"Why was my surgery postponed and my patient allowed to break her fast?"
Ava raised an eyebrow, "Latham asked me to cover your pre-ops since you didn’t bother to show up for rounds this morning."
"That doesn’t answer my question, Ava."
"I’m not here for you to demand things of me, Connor," she retorted as she forced herself to stand her ground, "She’s diabetic."
"So?"
"So her white count and blood sugar were low," Ava rolled her eyes, "A bloody med student would be able to tell me why we had to postpone her surgery."
"We didn’t do anything! You ruined my operating schedule."
"She would have gone into hypoglycaemic shock, Connor. She definitely wouldn’t have made it off that operating table and if she did her risk of post-op infection was too high!"
"That’s not the point, Ava!" He spat and the anger in his voice made her jump a little. He was overreacting, she knew that, but this was getting to be too much. She had been overwhelmed all morning, after sleeping through her alarm and having to rush through her routine to get to work on time. This was proving to be yet another change in her schedule that was only stressing Ava out more.
"Then what’s the fucking problem, Connor?"
“You are,” he was clearly referencing more than just her meddling with one surgery, even if she had good reason. He was mad at her, for whatever reason, and was using this as an excuse to lash out at her. Ava just stared at him, both because she was waiting for him to elaborate and because she did not know how to respond. Usually an argument with Connor was no big deal, since they argued on the daily, but since she was already overwhelmed this was way too much already. She wanted to run, to leave and go find Sarah because she would be able to keep her calm, but she couldn’t. Ava never backed down from a fight, especially not when Connor and her job were concerned, and she definitely was not going to let him win now.
“All you ever do is get in the way,” Connor spat, “I have a system and this was an important surgery, now you’ve gone and messed it up. You meddle too much, Ava, and it’s getting ridiculous.”
“Excuse me?” her tone was incredulous because, really, he was making no sense, “Since when do you have a system? You’re the most erratic and trigger-happy surgeon I have had the displeasure of meeting.”
He didn’t validate that with a response, choosing instead to glare at her more, which only made Ava more upset. Him and his goddamn “holier-than-thou” attitude would drive her crazy one day. He was being entirely unfair too, since she had, in this case, done just was what required for the patient’s safety.
“Why are you on my ass about this all of a sudden? Last time I checked you were the one on Latham’s bad side today because you didn’t show for your pre-ops. Besides, I was thinking about the patient here.”
“Were you, Ava?”
The accusatory tone did not sit right with the other surgeon at all, “What are you insinuating now?”
“Were you thinking about the patient?” his question must have been rhetorical because he didn't let her answer, “Or where you just trying to get me back in the doghouse with Latham?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Connor, what the hell? Why would you even accuse me of that?”
He just scoffed, as if her shock was ridiculous to him, “I wouldn’t put anything past you, Ava.”
Ava stared at him in confusion, honestly hurt that he thought that lowly of her. They may have their differences but they have worked together long enough to know when the other was joking or just being difficult. Connor was serious now and it was so frustrating, he knew Ava would not put a patient in danger like that just to mess with his surgery.
“Just stay out of my way, Ava,” he turned to leave and only looked back at her dismissively, “Don’t mess with my surgeries.”
When the door to the CT lounge slammed shut again, Ava found herself shakily letting out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. She set her coffee cup on the counter again, realizing her knuckles had turned white from how tightly she was gripping the mug. Her head was reeling, trying to take in everything that had just happened. Connor’s accusations were ringing in her head, making her question where the hell this thought that she would sabotage him like that for no reason even came from.
Before she was even completely aware, Ava found herself sliding down the cabinet and landing less than gently on the floor. The ugly hospital linoleum was cold through the thighs of her scrubs, making her shiver both out of anxiety and the temperature drop. Her mind was racing, all of Connor’s words hitting her way too hard all of a sudden. She could usually brush off his comments with an eye roll and a reminder that he was just being egotistical, but this time they stung.
Maybe it was because she was already overwhelmed, the morning had been too stimulating and too many things were out of place. Whatever the reason, Ava’s anxiety decided to hit full force the second she was alone. She couldn’t breathe, it was all too much and guilt was hurting her like a rolling wave.
Why was she even guilty? There was no reason for her to feel this way, because she had absolutely done the right thing. She even clarified with Latham afterwards and he agreed that he would have done the same. Ava did what was in the patient’s best interest, Connor’s accusation was completely misplaced and ridiculous.
So why was this hurting her so much?
It was his anger, the way he yelled at her and had her cornered like that. Connor wouldn’t hurt her physically, she knew that for certain, but it still scared her. Her anxiety was never rational but when it came to conflict it was inconsolable. She could only hold on to her façade for so long before she broke, which is what this was. She didn’t mean to upset him, didn’t mean to make him angry. It was all an accident; she didn’t mean to.
“S-stupid Connor,” she muttered, “S-stu...stupid God co-complex.”
Her breath was coming out in ragged gasps by this point, short nails digging into her arms to ground herself. Mind racing, she tried so hard to focus on something, anything, but she couldn’t. His words were ringing in her head like a shrill shriek, not letting her ignore them. They began morphing too, into other distortions her brain insisted were real.
All you ever do is get in the way.
You meddle too much, Ava.
You’re the problem.
You.
You’re not worth it.
You’re selfish.
You did this.
Fraud.
Nuisance.
Disappointment.
Her hands clapped over her ears like she could block out the intrusive thoughts from the outside. She was shaking like a leaf, panic overtaking her completely. Stomach rolling, Ava felt like she was going to be sick with how overwhelmed she was. The fluorescent lighting made her feel way too hot and brought tears to her eyes along with the panic. Her head was reeling, too much going on and no Sarah or Ativan or any of her comfort objects to calm her down.
All of her coping mechanisms went out the window in that moment, slumped over knees and breathing rapidly. Her hands were over her ears or on her neck, nails digging in deep because it was the only way she could ground herself. Pain stims aren’t healthy, she knew that, but in that moment all she knew was she felt like she was suffocating. She deserved this, her brain insisted, the pain was the least she deserved in that moment.
All you ever do is get in the way, Ava.
22 notes · View notes
punksarahreese · 3 years
Text
Service | Restart
Nosdecember day 20 | @neworleansspecial
Med student!Sarah, Fellow!Ava; Sarah’s cardiothoracics rotation lands her on Ava’s service
***
“Sarah! Where are you headed?”
The medical student turned to see April running after her, catching up just before she passed the ED entrance. It felt weird not going straight through to put her things in the lounge and ask whose service she was on. Apparently April wasn’t aware that she wouldn’t be down in the emergency department that day either.
“Upstairs,” Sarah stopped so she could talk to her friend, “Cardio rotation starts today.”
“You’re leaving us so soon?”
“Unfortunately. I’m surprised at how quickly the ED grew on me, I thought I’d be happy to leave.”
“Rude,” April’s voice was teasing because she knew what Sarah actually meant, “Cardio is a big jump.”
“It is, I’m honestly nervous.”
“You’ll do just fine. Try to get on Doctor Downey’s good side if you know what’s good for you. Also Connor’s up there, so you’ll have a familiar face.”
The student nodded, “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks, April.”
“Of course. Hey, come visit whenever, okay?”
“I will,” Sarah accepted the hug offered to her, “We still on for drinks at Molly’s Friday night?”
“Absolutely.”
***
“Oh, how nice of you to join us,” a stern, accented voice spoke when Sarah stepped into the skill’s lab, “Miss…”
“Oh, uh… R-Reese,” she stuttered as she took a seat beside one of her classmates, “Sarah.”
“Well, Miss Reese, first impressions are everything, aren't they?” Doctor Bekker’s gaze was unwavering as she watched the student fidget in embarrassment, “Do try to be on time from now on, okay?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Lovely. Now, if we’re done with interruptions, I would like to start this introduction before you all waste any of my surgery time.”
Sarah couldn’t help but roll her eyes, already knowing that cardio rotation would be the longest five weeks of her life. April and Doris had already told her all they knew about the other CT fellow and Sarah knew she was a bit no-nonsense, but this was unexpected. She had only had one interaction with Doctor Bekker before and she had seen that she was very case oriented and gruff but she didn’t think too much of it at the time. They were in the ED and she had been called down because Connor was in surgery, Sarah could tell the other surgeon was out of her element in the emergency room. She didn’t blame her, she hadn’t been too fond of the ED either, so she assumed Ava was just trying to get things over with. Still, maybe she did fit the unfeeling, mean surgeon stereotype better than Sarah had hoped. Calling her out in front of her classmates for being late was a bit of a bitchy move, if she was being honest. Especially since it wasn’t Sarah’s fault, some patient had asked for directions to the community lab and she had to help him find his way. She would have tried to explain but something told her the other woman wouldn’t have wanted to hear it anyway.
“So, who can tell me the reasons an angiogram would be performed?”
Sarah sighed, getting out her notebook as quietly as she could. She didn’t even have an interest in surgery, much less cardiothoracics, so this would be a painful rotation. It was more focused on the process and anatomy, which was a nice contrast to the chaos of an ED trauma, Still, she didn’t feel prepared for this at all, especially since she was stuck with a mentor who probably hated her already.
“Miss Reese? Care to answer the question?”
Looking up from her notes, Sarah knew she must resemble a deer caught in the headlights for the second time that morning. She flushed when she realized everyone was staring at her, though her gaze was stuck on the doctor who was slowly walking towards her table. Why did she have to be pretty and have a dangerously distracting accent? It was downright cruel, especially since it made it hard to hate her. Sarah knew that was foolish of her to even think about, but she figured anyone who looked at Doctor Bekker would have to agree with her. Still, she was insanely intimidating and the way she kept targeting Sarah had her anxiety about this placement rising even more.
“Oh um… An angiogram is done to observe b-blood flow into the heart, pinpointing any problems with coronary arteries. So… angina or suspected CAD would be a reason to perform this exam?”
“Is that a question or an answer, Miss Reese?”
“Answer...” she mumbled, “Coronary artery disease or unexplained chest pain is often the reason for angiography.”
“Better,” she didn’t miss the tiny flash of what must have been a smile before she turned away, “Now, can someone else walk me through the process?”
The morning passed slower than Sarah had hoped. Doctor Bekker didn’t stop calling on Sarah, making sure she was paying attention and actually knew the content. She did her best to answer as confidently as possible but the eyes on her and knowing she had already gotten on Ava’s bad side was anxiety inducing. By the time the doctor dismissed them for their scheduled lunch, Sarah was ready to run down to the ED and beg April to save her from this disaster. She didn’t get the chance though because the second she turned to leave the Skill’s lab, a voice called after her.
“Miss Reese, a word?”
Sarah hated that, the way she addressed her by last name. She knew it was commonplace, since she was still a student and she was, in a way, her new teacher. Still, she disliked how formal it sounded and it wasn’t long before she had persuaded the majority of the ED staff to refer to her by first name. That wouldn’t happen with this Doctor, though, she was sure of it.
“Yes, Doctor Bekker?” Sarah turned and walked back to where the surgeon was standing by the desk, scrolling on her tablet. She didn’t look up at Sarah right away, instead letting herself be distracted by whatever chart she was reading. The student waited quietly, though she really just wanted to leave.
“Apologies, I have a pre-op to get to,” she finally said before setting the device down, “I wanted to clarify, you do understand that punctuality is the most respectful quality in a good doctor?”
“Yes ma’am,” that felt a bit out of place, since the other woman wasn’t much older than herself, but it was probably best when speaking about respect. As much as Sarah had begun to dislike her new mentor due to her attitude, she hated to be disrespectful.
“I know those emergency room doctors may have given you the wrong idea, but we are punctual up here in surgery, understood?”
“Of course, I was simply helping a patient find the lab and lost track of time. It won’t happen again.”
“Good. I will see you after lunch then? I have a CABG surgery scheduled and I’m allowed to have three students observe.”
“I- really?”
“If you would like,” she nodded, “Your intelligence and knowledge put you above some of your peers, miss Reese; it’s obvious. I think you would benefit from observing the practical application of skills.”
“Oh… thank you?”
“Indeed. You do lack any sort of confidence, though, which is a shame.”
Sarah didn’t know how to answer that, it felt like a bit of a backhanded compliment. She knew she was apprehensive and didn’t trust her gut enough, but it still annoyed her to have it pointed out. Observing a surgery wasn’t her biggest wish like some of her classmates would have but she certainly wouldn’t turn down any sort of kindness from her new mentor. She couldn’t exactly get a good read on this woman, as her attitude seemed to switch depending on who was in the room with her. She was going to be quite the person to get along with, Sarah assumed. She just hoped she could fix the ruined first impression she gave, though it seemed like Doctor Bekker wouldn’t be letting go of that any time soon.
“I really must go get my patient prepped. I’ll see you at half past, do make sure to be punctual this time.”
18 notes · View notes
punksarahreese · 3 years
Note
!: that classic collapse into someone’s waiting arms 🐝
!: that classic collapse into someone’s waiting arms
Collapse | Recurrence
Cancer!AU; Ava starts feeling lightheaded at work and she should have listened to her gut
@neworleansspecial
***
Ava should have known something was wrong the second she woke up with chest pain. As a cardiothoracic surgeon and a cancer survivor, she was aware that sudden onset of angina was never a good sign. Still, she had pushed the thoughts away and took a couple ibuprofen, assuming she had just strained her costal joints when she helped lift an elderly patient onto a bed the day prior.
That’s what she told Sarah anyway, when her girlfriend had hugged her from behind and she flinched without thinking. The brunette had been worried, apologizing and gently touching the space where her fourth and fifth ribs should have been. Ava just shook her head, reassuring Sarah that she was fine and pressing a kiss to her lips to punctuate her point.
She had been fine, during consults and even throughout a whole surgery with Sam; a trauma involving a burst aortic aneurysm. Well, she had claimed she was fine, though Sam had probably noticed how she wasn’t speaking very much. To Doctor Zanetti she may have appeared to be in a bad mood but the truth was Ava couldn’t breathe properly. The ache in her chest had only gotten worse, not to mention the rattling sound that she could hear vaguely every time she took a breath. Pneumonia signs warranted a chest x ray, especially in her remission, but she persuaded herself that she was fine.
“Hey, Ava!”
Connor caught up to them as they left the scrub room, hand gently catching Ava’s bicep so she turned to look at him. He had a tablet in hand and promptly asked her if she could take a look at a case. Sam stopped to bid them goodbye, claiming she was taking her lunch and would see them around. With that, Ava let Connor babble away about his patient as they continued in the other direction, going back towards the OR floor nurse’s station.
“So I was thinking if we go in through a sternotomy-” his words cut off as he looked over at his coworker, “Ava? You okay?”
“What? Oh, y-yeah, I’m peachy keen.”
“You’re really pale,” he said but shrugged, “Anyway, if we make our cuts in the muscle here-”
Ava was trying her best to listen to his idea, leaning heavily on the wall as she walked because her vision had started getting wobbly. She knew this was bad, something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t speak up. She hated appearing weak, especially around her colleagues, so she just wanted to get out of there. If she could just make it to the hallway with a bathroom she could make an excuse and disappear for a moment, she just needed to sit down and catch her breath.
“Woah, Ava,” she hadn’t even noticed that she stopped walking, her body slowly sliding down the wall. Connor caught her before she fell completely, not even minding that the tablet that had been in his hands hit the floor with a clatter. Ava couldn’t answer him, her ears ringing and her chest still clenching painfully. This felt worse than when she had gotten viral pneumonia as a teen, which had left her on an oxygen tank for weeks after her recovery. She couldn’t breathe and that was made clear by the raspy gasps she made with every inhale. Connor leaned down to hook a hand under her knees, lifting her with only a little struggle due to the deadweight of her body.
“Ava, stay with me, okay?”
His words and calls for a nurse only faded into the background as Ava’s eyes fell shut. She couldn’t help it, the movement of Connor’s steps sent horrible pain through her ribcage and she couldn’t focus on anything. She felt like she was being held underwater, every breath burning like it was tearing her lungs apart. All she could do was cling weakly to Connor, unaware that she had begun sobbing from the excruciating pain and subsequently caught the attention of half the OR floor.
18 notes · View notes
punksarahreese · 3 years
Text
Grey | 4 mg Ativan
Nosdecember day 25 | @neworleansspecial
Anxious!Ava; Ava’s comfort sweater
CW: sensory meltdown/overload, dermatillomania mention, self injury stim (hitting)
Merry christmas to anyone who celebrates ❄️💙
***
Ava woke up on this particular day and immediately wanted to go back to bed. Everything felt wrong, slightly off in some way, but she couldn’t figure out why. The first indication that it was going to be a bad day was the overwhelming sense of dread that she felt from being under the plush comforter. Usually blankets helped her feel safe, her favourite place to hide when she was anxious, but this morning she found herself kicking them off in frustration. She was glad Sarah wasn’t in bed at the time because she didn’t want to disturb her, she just needed to get the feeling to go away. She never wore pants to bed for that reason, hating the way things felt against her legs, like she was being constricted. Due to this, pants were a sensory nightmare for Ava but unfortunately they were necessary in everyday life.
She didn’t notice the way she immediately started toe walking on her way to the bathroom, heels never touching the floor. It was a habit she had had since she was a child, never knowing it was a symptom of sensory issues in adulthood, and was the primary cause of her recurrent ankle strains. She hated the way most floors felt and wanted her steps to be as quiet as possible, so she was almost always walking with her weight on her toes. It didn’t stop her from flinching at the feeling of the cold linoleum on her feet though, she hated the way it squeaked when she moved too quickly.
It took her awhile to do her hair, every gentle brush sent little shocks across her scalp, like a million pinpricks. She hated this feeling, the way it made her head fuzzy and feeling like someone was doing acupuncture against her will. It wasn’t supposed to happen, she knew that, but it did and she couldn’t make it stop. She decided that curling her hair wasn’t an option, settling for a quick french braid even though the feeling of her own fingers in her hair made her anxious.
She managed to brush her teeth and wash her face with no issue. The discomfort arose again when she tried to get dressed, though. She crept back to the bedroom, flinching when her braid brushed against her neck in a way that didn’t feel right. That day would be hell, she guessed, unsure of how she would even manage to handle putting on shoes let alone surgical gloves. She had set out a pair of scrubs the night before, folded neatly on top of the dresser, but Ava didn’t even want to pick them up at that point. She managed to pull the offending fabric up her legs, hating the way the scrub pants clung to her hips. She already wanted to cry, frustrated with her own mind for being so dramatic.
Sarah had been in the kitchen, going over case notes from that week and nursing a cup of coffee with way too much Splenda. She was tired, it had been a long four days, and she was looking forward to her day off that Saturday. She still needed to get through Friday first though, but she was waiting on her girlfriend so they could carpool to work. She had heard Ava in the bathroom, assuming she was just getting dressed, but she seemed to be taking longer than usual. The surgeon liked to be punctual so Sarah decided to check on her, intending on reminding her of the elective surgery she had that afternoon.
Sarah wasn’t shocked to happen upon the sight she did, though she felt her heart sink a little. Ava was on the floor in front of their full length mirror, clad in her scrub pants but still topless. The shirt in question was in her hands but she was holding it away from her as if it would bite her, which in Ava’s state of mind the concept was believable. Her girlfriend must have caught her reflection in the mirror because she turned to look at Sarah, frustrated tears welling in her eyes.
The psychiatrist was on the floor with her in seconds, taking the scrub top from her gently. When the hated fabric left her hands Ava couldn’t hold back her tears, shaking out her hands aggressively as if it would help her forget the texture.
“Avey, breathe,” Sarah reminded her gently, knowing she was probably way too far in her head at that point.
“T-too much…”
“I know,” she agreed, gently taking her hand when she saw the way her fists kept clenching and unclenching. That stim usually indicated that Ava’s derma was kicking in, the surgeon trying her hardest to avoid scratching at her skin. When her sensory issues acted up any texture could make her feel like she was covered in bugs, the only remedy her brain could come up with was to scratch until her skin was raw. It didn’t help, usually it only made the bad feelings worse, but in the moment she found it almost painful fight the urge.
“Hey, look at me,” Sarah coaxed her to meet her eyes, “What do you need, Ava?”
“D-don’t know…” Ava mumbled and tried to focus on the soothing feeling of Sarah’s thumb running over the back of her hand, “Need to… w-work.”
“Baby, we both know that won’t be a good idea today,” she replied gently, “This won’t get better if you push yourself.”
Ava huffed, annoyed once again that her sensory disorder was getting in the way of normal life. The last meltdown she had before a surgery had landed her in Goodwin’s office after she was discharged, the other woman chastising her for trying to work while not stable. She was trying to get Ava to agree to occupational therapy, even threatened to suspend her if she had another meltdown; as if Ava could control that. She knew therapy would probably help but she hated the idea of it. She was already seeing Doctor Charles every month, any more would feel suffocating and like she was admitting defeat. She didn’t like appearing weak, even though that’s all she felt as of late.
“S-sweater?”
Sarah nodded, “You want your sweater? I think it’s in the closet.”
The crewneck they were referring to wasn’t even Ava’s, not originally. It was Sarah’s, one from her medical school days, but Ava had immediately taken to it. It was grey, with the school logo in the centre, but it was the softest fabric either of the women owned. It always smelled like Sarah’s perfume, probably because she made sure it did since it kept Ava calm. More often than not it was the blonde who was wearing the thing anyway, affectionately dubbed her comfort sweater or just “her sweater”, it made her feel safer than anything else. Whenever she had a bad sensory day, that sweater was one of the only articles of clothing she could handle. It reminded her of Sarah and that made Ava feel better on even her worst days.
After a few moments, Sarah had coaxed her onto the bed again. She helped her out of her scrubs, knowing the pants would only make her more agitated if she left them on. The second Sarah handed her the sweater she adored so much, Ava pulled it over her head, fingers clinging to the cool-grey fabric tightly. She couldn’t help but smile when she visibly relaxed a bit; it wasn’t much but it was a start.
“I’m going to go call in, okay?” Sarah told her gently, “Then we can sit or take a nap, whatever you need.”
Ava nodded, mind still a little fuzzy. She didn’t feel okay yet, she knew it was never that easy, but the familiar soft fabric helped. She ran her fingers up and down her arm, a repetitive, self-soothing motion that kept her occupied. She was scared to lay down, afraid the invisible bug sensation would return if she tried to get comfortable. So she just stared at the wall, waiting for Sarah’s comforting presence to return.
Unfortunately, something still wasn't right. All of a sudden, a sinking feeling of dread hit Ava again and she felt like she was suffocating. Her hands immediately went to her throat, searching for any exposed skin because she needed to feel in control of something. She stopped herself before she could scratch or pick at the delicate area though, frustrated because she knew if Charles saw any wounds at her next session he would try to up her medication again. She still couldn’t control herself completely, needing to do something to get this horrible feeling to go away. Before she even thought of the consequences, Ava’s hands found her head and she hit herself repeatedly, as if she was trying to beat the thoughts away. This never ended well, knowing self-injury stims were all bad and only fed the anxiety, but she couldn't help it.
“Ava, no,” Sarah’s voice was barely audible to her though, not even noticing her there until she grabbed her hands. Ava tried to fight it, yanking against her hold and whining in both frustration and pain because she felt like she needed to stim like this. Her girlfriend didn’t waver though, holding onto her wrists loosely as she spoke firmly but not in an unkind tone.
“You know I can’t let you hurt yourself, Avey. I’m sorry, just breathe. The urge will pass.”
“No!”
“Ava, my love, look at me,” it took a bit more coaxing before the other woman could make eye contact. She was crying again, upset with herself and completely overstimulated. Everything was way too much and she didn’t know how to stop it. Her head ached from crying and from hitting herself and she was ashamed of her behaviour. She just wanted it to end and she told Sarah that much.
“I know,” she answered carefully, “But hurting yourself doesn’t help anyone. Do you want to lay down?”
After a bit of hesitation, Ava nodded, loosening the tight fists she had her hands clenched in. She let Sarah lay her down, gently tugging on her wrist to let her know she wanted her to stay. She was still crying, cheeks red and she was shaking a little, but Ava wasn’t showing any more anger with herself. She was exhausted and probably well on her way to a shutdown, so Sarah wanted to make sure she was as comfortable as possible.
“Is this okay?” Sarah asked carefully as she laid on her side of the bed, keeping space between them initially so she didn’t overwhelm Ava.
There was a lull in any response, leaving Sarah unsure if Ava was going nonverbal or just trying to think before she answered. Ava did turn her head to look at her, reddened eyes blinking rapidly to force herself to focus. Her girlfriend gave her a reassuring smile, which widened when she reached for her hand.
“B-blanket?”
“Which one do you want, love?”
Sarah was confused when Ava shook her head, “No.”
“No?”
Another tug on her wrist and a mumbled, “You,” made Sarah understand, unable to stifle a small laugh. Ava had a weighted blanket for situations like this, where she was overwhelmed and needed to feel secure. The gentle pressure did help sometimes but she often complained that the beads inside it dug into her skin or the silky blanket was too cold. Sarah knew Ava just preferred to have her be her “blanket” instead, calmed by the close contact and even pressure of Sarah laying on her. She never complained of course, anything to make her girlfriend feel better; besides, it was comfortable for her too.
Climbing across the mattress, Sarah giggled when Ava tugged her down. She teased her for being impatient, settling down on her girlfriend so she wasn’t putting too much weight on her in one spot. She felt Ava relax a little under her, cold hands snaking under her Gaffney fleece to keep warm and also hold Sarah closer.
“Better?”
Ava nodded slowly, breathing out as if she was trying to regulate herself again, and offering Sarah a weak smile. Sarah just leaned down to kiss her cheek gently, reassuring her that she was doing well. The blonde did feel better, though there was still that nagging anxiety in the pit of her stomach. That wouldn’t go away for a while, she knew that, but being with Sarah did help. When her girlfriend rested her head on her shoulder, drawing repetitive patterns over the soft grey fabric covering her side, Ava felt safe. Slowly she relaxed enough to let her eyes fall shut, exhausted from the sensory overload that had decided to plague her before the day even began.
“Take a rest, baby,” Sarah said softly, “I’m not going anywhere.”
16 notes · View notes
punksarahreese · 3 years
Note
✿: feeling so out of it, they need constant attention 🐝
Attention | Bloodletting
✿: feeling so out of it, they need constant attention
Occult!AU; Barely escaping the Rhodes pack after they once again beat her half to death, Sam goes searching for Connor
CW: blood, torture/abuse, talk of death
***
Just a few more steps and then you can rest
You’ve made it this far, keep going
Don’t you dare die in this forest alone
That was only a snippet of what was going through Sam’s head as she dragged herself through the undergrowth of the forest. The werewolf wasn’t sure how long she had been walking for before she had collapsed, her body too weak to support its weight. She couldn’t stop, though, so she just dragged herself across the cold dirt, feeling spruce needles digging harshly into her knees and rocks tearing at her skin. She was still half turned, too exhausted to change back, but her claws came in handy as they allowed her to grip at the dirt for stability. She knew being in wolf form only expended energy but she was also glaringly aware that she probably wouldn’t survive anyway if she changed now. Her human form would be too weak to handle the pain and she could still feel blood seeping from the deep gouge in her side; without her lycanthropy boosting her healing, Sam would be better off dead.
She didn’t have much memory of the past few weeks, the only things she could remember were painful and hard to focus on. Ever since the death of their leader, the pack had gotten violent. With Connor on the run, the werewolves who idolized the late leader of the Rhodes pack had to take their grief and anger out on someone else. Sam was the obvious target, seeing as her insubordinate behaviour was the reason he was dead in the first place.
They had kept her in one of the empty caves, back in chains like she had been merely days before. She was still a new wolf and the treatment didn’t help her adjust, the enchanted silver of her restraints burned at her skin and left her writhing in constant discomfort. She was scarcely fed, thrown only bones and the rare piece of scraps if they were feeling especially kind. Sam was no stranger to their hate, she had never really been accepted since her turning anyway, but this was even worse than she could have imagined. They beat her every day, letting the younger fighters use her as a training dummy just as Cornelius had wanted before he died. At sundown she would be thrown roughly back in her cave, her wounds full of rocks and her body unable to heal because it was so weak. Sam couldn’t do anything but weep, praying to the universe that someone would just put her out of her misery.
This day had been different, though. One of the pups was in charge of putting her back in chains, heaving her limp body across the camp to lock her away again. He didn’t want anything to do with this job, that was clear, and he didn’t make certain that the restraints were tight. He left and it took Sam a few hours to work up the strength and courage to slip her scarred wrists from the loose chains. Knowing this was her only chance, Sam waited until she was sure no one was awake, praying that they didn’t come check on her that evening. It took all her willpower to keep quiet, wanting to cry out with the agony she felt as she hobbled as silently as possible. She was limping, pretty sure one of her ankles was shattered at that point. Still, the second she reached the edge of the camp, Sam took off in a sprint; knowing someone would catch her scent soon enough.
Unsure of where she was or how long she had been running for, the blonde knew she was lost. She hoped that would mean no other wolf would find her, though she didn’t know how in the world she would survive this. The sun had begun to rise slowly to the east, letting her know it must have been about 6 hours since she started running. She was running on fumes, barely able to drag herself without feeling like she would throw up, though it would be only bile by that point. When her weak wrist finally gave out, a sickening crack echoing through the forest as she failed to catch herself, Sam could only whimper. She rolled herself over partially, curling into herself in the mud because she knew this was it. She would die here, alone and in absolute agony, but at least it wouldn’t be by the pack’s hand.
“Connor,” she mumbled weakly into the empty air, “I’m so sorry.”
That was when her vision went dark, surrendering to the promise of peace found in unconsciousness.
***
“Oh dear, you poor thing.”
An accent that she didn’t recognize, childish yet sounding ancient all the same. Sam couldn’t open her eyes, a blinding light casting painful shapes behind her eyelids. This must be the end, she figured, the voice belonging to whatever would end her suffering. She didn’t know if werewolves could even go to Heaven, probably not, but she just hoped Purgatory would be less painful than the alternative.
“Mama won’t…” the voice just barely broke through her haze, “... I can’t leave her…”
Excruciating pain shot through Sam’s body soon after, making her cry out. Well, she assumed she did, though she couldn’t hear herself at all. Every fibre of her being was begging for it to end, pleading with whatever was torturing her to just let her die. Those were the only words in her mind just before she blacked out again.
Please, let me die.
***
Cold hands, hushed voices, the feeling of something pressing into her wounds. It all just brushed at the edge of her consciousness, making Sam feel like she was in a dream. She must be, she figured, but she didn’t dare open her eyes. Waking up would mean being a punching bag all over again, the last thing she wanted to feel again was the razor sharp fangs tearing at her flesh. She couldn't live through her second family turning on her, over and over; she didn’t want to wake up to that ever again.
“Poor pup,” Sam wanted to flinch at the freezing fingers that trailed down her bruised face, “... in such a state.”
There was more conversation, both voices carrying the same accented tone that made her feel in a foreign place. She couldn’t place their words, as if they switch languages mid sentence and her brain couldn’t tell one word from another. Nothing felt real, not even the searing pain when her ankle was snapped back into place with a crunch that shook her whole leg. Nothing felt real, of course it didn’t; she was dead after all.
***
“Hey, c’mon, pup.”
Sam whined, the lights were once again too bright and her eyes refused to open. She didn’t know where she was and the freezing touch was back on her skin again. Clearly she wasn’t dead, not yet, despite what she had previously thought. She had been in and out of consciousness a few times, roused by the same low voice and the promise of painkillers or water.
“You need to drink something,” the voice pressed and a hand was on the back of Sam’s neck, “Would be a shame if dehydration kills you, after all of this.”
She didn’t fight when a glass was pressed to her lips, the hand cradling her head so she didn’t choke. She hadn’t noticed just how thirsty she had been, not until her dry throat was finally met with the water offered to her. It made her cough a little, relieved to have some fluids but it still shocked her body, and that earned her a soft chuckle from her caretaker.
“Careful,” the glass was removed when she had her fill and her head was guided back to the pillow, “Are you ready to join us?”
Sam didn’t answer, she couldn’t, because her head was pounding. She wanted to escape back into the minor peace she found in sleep, the one place away from all her pain and fear. She could only whimper a little when her body was jostled, an apology murmured as something soft was tucked around her.
“Alright, rest then.”
***
“She barely stirs,” her caretaker’s tone was matter-of-fact, “I am surprised. Lycanthropy-induced healing is incredibly agonizing.”
“Ava?” a new voice, an american accent that Sam swore she had heard before; not in this life but in her human one.
“What is it, Darling?”
“Where did she come from?”
“Tia found her,” the reply was gentle, “Half dead in the woods. The child has never been good with death, she begged me to save her. I couldn’t let the pup die, not on our land, so she may rest here until she regains her strength.”
“She is lucky to have you.”
Sam took a shaky inhale, scenting the air as best she could. This was the most alert she had been in days and she finally realized that her caretakers were not of the species she assumed. Well, she wasn't quite sure what she expected, but the scent of a vampire was not it. The other person was just that, human, though she reeked of vampire too. As much as her instincts told her this was the enemy, that she was in danger, she knew that wasn’t true. This vampire had been nothing but caring since she was brought here and she had certainly had a fair amount of chances to kill Sam before then. She was safe here, far safer than anywhere else in that moment.
“She grows stronger each day,” the vampire, Ava, continued, “Could you let the mongrels know, Darling? They may know of her, if they’d come take a look.”
“I will,” the American woman agreed, “Connor said he would drop by later, I’ll ask him then.”
That had Sam’s attention in seconds, unable to stop herself from gasping softly as she spoke for the first time in days, “C-connor?”
14 notes · View notes
punksarahreese · 3 years
Text
Separation | A Chance Meeting (Twice Over)
Nosdecember day 19 | @neworleansspecial
Teen!AU; Years after Sarah had to cut off contact with Ava
CW: brief narcissistic abuse mention
***
“So,” April started as Sarah came up to the nurse’s station. Sarah rolled her eyes playfully; she knew that look all too well. Nurses loved their gossip and her friends in the ED were no exception. If Sarah wanted to know about someone or something, April or Maggie would be the person to ask.
“So?”
“There’s a new CT fellow,” April nodded in the direction of the doors that led to the hallway, “And someone is pissed.”
Sarah followed her gaze, watching Connor speaking to Will with a rather annoyed look on his face. He was ranting, or so it seemed, and he looked even more disheveled than he had before. Of course, new competition would be a big hit to Doctor Rhodes’ ego, even Sarah knew that. Plus everything that was going on with Robin at the moment, she could imagine he was feeling overwhelmed to say the least.
“Poor Connor,” Sarah sighed, “He was Doctor Downey’s protégé. He’s used to being the only CT fellow, right?”
“Yeah. He’s mostly pissed because Latham doesn’t treat him like a prince, I think. Also this new fellow? She was his first choice so I think he feels threatened.”
“She?” Sarah smiled a little at that, it was nice to know there were more female doctors around. Surgery staff especially were lacking in gender equality at Gaffney, so it was always pleasing when new, talented female doctors stepped up in the ranks.
“Mhm,” April was typing away at the computer but still kept up the conversation, “She’s from somewhere pretty far apparently; really pretty accent.”
“Oh, interesting.”
Maybe April was going to say more but before she could, Natalie tapped on Sarah’s shoulder. She apologized lightly when that made the resident jump, forgetting how easily startled she could be.
“Hey, just wanted to check in. How is Robin doing?”
“I was just about to go check up on her,” Sarah replied once she regained her composure, “If you wanted to talk to her yourself.”
***
Sarah was just leaving Robin’s patient room in the CICU, thoughts focused on going home for some rest. The day had been long and hard for everyone, though she knew Doctor Charles and Connor had the worst of it. She wasn’t too close with Robin, obviously as her doctor that wouldn’t be recommended, but she cared about her. This whole situation was tough and scary, while she was glad to see a physical explanation for her psychosis she was still worried about her prognosis. The episodes could still come back and Sarah wasn’t sure how much more Robin could handle psychologically.
She mustn’t have been paying enough attention because one second she was walking down the hall and then next she was on her ass. She heard annoyed muttering before a hand was held out to her, tugging her to her feet before quickly letting go.
“What is it with residents in this hospital not watching what they’re doing?”
That made Sarah a bit peeved, smoothing down her coat before looking up at whoever this woman was. She was looking at Sarah with an unreadable expression and the psychiatrist couldn’t figure out if she was expecting an apology or a thank you. Her dark blonde hair was pulled back from her face and she was clad in the black scrubs indicative of a CT staff member. Paired with her low and admittedly beautiful accent, Sarah realized this must be the new fellow that April had told her about.
“Maybe we should both pay more attention, Doctor…”
“Bekker,” the hand was held out again, this time for a shake, “Ava Bekker.”
That had Sarah stopping in her tracks, not letting go of her hand but unable to properly shake it. It couldn’t be her; not here, not now. This had to be some kind of joke. How did she not recognize her? Staring at her now, Sarah realized how obvious it was. She still had that confident posture and unwavering smug smile. Her voice hadn’t changed, still alluring and music to Sarah’s ears. Not to mention she still wore the same perfume, a familiar lilac scent that Sarah hadn’t realized she missed so much.
“You are?” She was watching Sarah in confusion, trying to prompt her to reply. She didn’t recognize her; of course she didn’t, it had been ten years. Ava probably moved on and would want nothing to do with her. Not after Sarah cut off contact so suddenly.
“Um, Doctor Reese… Sarah.”
The realization must have hit Ava because she pulled her hand back, shock crossing her sharp features. She searched Sarah’s face silently for any indication of a lie but found nothing. The resident didn’t know how to reply, what could she even say in this situation?
Before she could even think of how to continue, Ava had grabbed her hand and dragged her across the hall to the CT lounge. She was confused and maybe a bit anxious; actually more anxious than she had been for years. The girl she used to love more than anyone was here and was holding her hand again, ten years later and in a whole new city.
“Ava, I-”
Once again Sarah didn’t get a chance to speak. This time it was because she was suddenly yanked into a hug, something she hadn’t properly had in ages. The way Ava wrapped an arm around her shoulder and the other hand came up to protectively cradle her head made Sarah want to sob. This was what she needed so badly a decade prior, the comforting promise that Ava wouldn’t let go of her. Even now, when they might as well be strangers, something felt so right about being in her arms.
“I thought…” The way her voice wavered surprised Sarah, “I thought I lost you.”
The simultaneous pain and relief in those words had Sarah almost crying for real; the last thing she had wanted was to hurt Ava. She couldn’t respond right away, instead just tightening her arms around her waist and holding her even closer. In that moment it didn’t even feel like months had even passed, let alone ten years. Everything felt right again, like the world had finally continued turning after it stopped back with her mother’s manipulation and abuse.
“I… I’m s-sorry,” Sarah’s words were muffled by Ava’s white coat but the older woman heard her just fine. She shushed her gently, promising it wasn’t her fault. She wanted to believe Ava, she really did, but Sarah had yet to be able to heal from the years of gaslighting. Everything was her fault, it had to be, her mother never let her believe otherwise.
“It was,” Sarah shook her head, “I was careless and mom found my letters. She burned them, I didn’t- I couldn’t read your last one.”
That answered the one question that had plagued Ava for ages and the amount of relief she felt was overwhelming. She had been terrified that she had scared Sarah off or upset her in some way. That last letter she sent had taken so much courage to even seal shut, much less send it. They had spoken about feelings before but that was the first time Ava officially asked Sarah to be her girlfriend. When no reply came after two weeks, she began to worry. When it reached two months of silence, Ava was convinced Sarah hated her. She never did get an answer and it left her distraught for years. She hated knowing Sarah was most likely punished for their letters but knowing she didn’t ghost her on purpose was the most reassuring thing Ava had ever heard.
“Sarah, it wasn’t your fault,” she promised, “I’m so sorry you had to live with her. I should have figured out how to get you back to me when I had the chance.”
“You couldn’t have known,” Sarah reasoned with her, “Besides, we were both young. It was a messy situation.”
“I couldn’t protect you. I should have, I hate that couldn’t be there.”
“I know, but I’m okay now,” Ava couldn’t help but melt into the hand that rested reassuringly on her cheek, “I’m out of there and it’s okay.”
Ava nodded, though Sarah could tell she wanted to apologize regardless. They fell into silence, still standing in a half hug in the middle of the cardio lounge. They both knew someone could walk in and be utterly confused at any moment but they didn’t care. This was what both women had wished for for over a decade, just one more hug and a promise that things would be okay.
“Has it really been ten years?”
“Yeah, too long.” Sarah sighed, “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” the shyness that crept into Ava’s voice was unlike her and it brought a smile to the other woman’s face. Oh how Ava had missed that smile, so unlike the sad, angsty teen Sarah had been when they met that first day on the beach. She hoped Sarah was happy now, at least, safe from her mother and well on a path to a good life.
“You work here now?” Sarah knew she must be the new fellow but some part of her brain was insisting this was still a dream.
“Yes,” Ava nodded, “Doctor Latham invited me. I’m finishing my fellowship here.”
“This can’t be happening,” Sarah breathed, still shocked that any of this could be real. It felt like the universe had been against them since day one. They shouldn’t be together, Sarah had thought back then; she was only toxic for Ava. Yet here they were, grown adults in a new place, colleagues. This must be a chance to restart, to be close to each other again. Had the universe finally stopped working against Sarah? Did she have a chance at happiness again?
“It doesn’t feel real,” the blonde agreed, “But I promise I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re not… mad at me?”
“Sarah, don’t be daft,” the words made her smile despite herself because they sounded so Ava, “None of this was your fault.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you…”
“I know.”
Sarah sighed again, feeling like her head was spinning with everything that had just happened. She let Ava pull her close again, knowing they both needed the quiet comfort and reassurance that the other was really there. She relaxed into the hug, hearing how rapidly Ava’s heart was beating when she leaned against her shoulder.
“Can we go somewhere to talk? Unless you’re still working but I just… We should talk, I think.”
“Yeah,” Ava’s hand smoothed down her unruly curls as she spoke, “That’s a good idea.”
“You could come over, if you wanted.”
Sarah wasn’t expecting the teasing look she received but the low laugh that accompanied it was enough to make her think she fell in love all over again. God how she had missed that laughter; the borderline giggle contrasting Doctor Bekker’s seemingly no-nonsense attitude.
Ava pulled back a little, nodding, “Well I certainly can’t turn down a pretty girl inviting me to spend the evening with her, now can I?”
16 notes · View notes
punksarahreese · 3 years
Text
Birth | Bloodletting
Nosdecember day 21 | @neworleansspecial
Occult!AU; a look into Ava’s rebirth into vampirism
CW: Pet/master dynamics, abuse mention, murder, blood/scars, gore
***
“Will you ever stop fussing over them?” Ava’s voice held no annoyance, instead she was just watching Sarah with soft eyes. The human had been tracing the scars on her shoulders for minutes, something she had developed a habit of since getting closer with the vampire. It had been six months since they met, long since Sarah became a frequent, almost daily visitor of the big house in the forest. Estia was attached to her, excited to learn about life growing up as a human, and Ava herself had become quite fond of the woman too.
She wasn’t sure how she grew to trust the human so quickly. Maybe it was because Estia had no qualms about her, Ava trusting her daughter’s insight more than anyone’s; she had been with her for almost 40 years by then of course. Maybe it was because April and the wolves loved her, the promise that she had made respectable friends within the forest so she couldn’t be a threat. Ava supposed it could have been Sarah herself. Her behaviour, the way she instantly wanted to nurture and help anyone who needed it. A doctor through and through, Ava could tell, she just wanted to make people feel better. She had told Ava about her past, as if she thought opening up about her own trauma would make the vampire trust her more. Maybe it did, but she was still worried about Sarah learning her truth.
“They’re like little stories,” the human answered like she always did, “They tell me what you can’t, like how this one was inflicted by a dull blade; probably an old knife.”
“Smart girl,” Ava hummed, leaning into her touch as her fingers danced across her collarbone. She hadn’t felt this warm in almost a century, the heat of her body long since sapped by immortality. She hadn’t had much physical contact since becoming a vampire, definitely not by anyone as alive as Sarah. She had been surprised that the scent of her blood wasn’t always at the forefront of her mind, like so many elders had told her it would be when around a human. Instead, Ava was distracted by the gentleness of her touch, the warmth transferring to her own icy skin, and the care she took to be as delicate as possible. No one had been this attentive or caring in decades; Ava wasn’t sure how to react.
They were in Ava’s study, which was more of a library than anything. The walls were bookcases upon bookcases, covered in novels and nonfiction in every language imaginable. Sarah had been so excited when she realized Ava had a whole section dedicated to medical books, which she had told Sarah she could read at any time. She had been reading that day, curled up on the couch near the fireplace with Ava by her side. She only ever lit the hearth when Sarah was there, since neither her nor Estia needed the heat in their cold home. She didn’t mind it though, especially since it meant Sarah would stay for a large chunk of the day if the study was warm. It was a quiet, comforting escape from her cottage with Natalie and Autumn always there and April or the wolves asking to stop by. She loved her friends, she did, but sometimes she needed quiet time and Ava understood that the most.
Like so many times before, Sarah had gotten distracted when Ava passed her another book, catching her scarred hand before she could pull away. She was so fascinated by the vampire’s history, though she still seemed apprehensive to speak about it, and she wanted to know everything. She had been a psychiatry resident before she had to quit her job after her mother’s murder, so Sarah knew that Ava was hiding something and it was eating her away inside. She wanted to help, wanted the other woman to feel safe enough to trust someone; to trust her.
Ava didn’t protest when Sarah focused on her scars, she knew she meant no harm. Sarah was curious, that’s all, and Ava’s scars were a part of her eternal body. She had long since made peace with most of them and she certainly wouldn't complain about the attention. She trusted the human, she really did, but she wasn’t too sure if she trusted herself.
“Ava?”
Another hum was her only reply, though she did smile at Sarah when she went to brush a loose curl off her shoulder. She didn’t miss the way the vampire immediately stiffened when her fingers brushed her carotid however, and she couldn’t hide her own flinch at that. Still, when Ava didn’t make a move to pull away, Sarah let her hand gently rest against the left side of her neck, warm palm resting against the biggest scar there.
“You know I would never hurt you, right?”
“I feel like that’s a question I should be asking you,” Ava mumbled and the other woman knew she was deflecting. Sarah had long since inferred that this wound was how she died, since the vampire seemed void of any actual turning mark, but she never was able to get the answers from her. She didn’t want to push Ava if she wasn’t comfortable but she knew keeping it hidden for a hundred years wasn’t helping anyone.
“Why do you wish to know so badly?” Ava’s own hand came up to rest affectionately on the human’s cheek, “You’re a bit of a pain, you know that?”
“So you’ve told me,” Sarah smiled at her, knowing she was trying to distract her with the touch, “You would feel better if you talked about it.”
“I don’t… you shouldn’t have to hear the horrors of it all, Sarah. It’s something no one should ever have to endure, I wish to protect you from even the thought of it.”
“Ava… Please?”
“I-” the blonde sighed, “I’ve never talked about it, not out loud.”
“Not even with Estia?”
“Gods no, she may be older than you mentally but to me she is still a baby, my baby. She had her own traumatic turning, the last thing she needs is to know how much I endured before even having the relief of finally meeting death.”
“Ava, I’m sorry… You don’t-”
She shook her head, thinking for a moment before answering, “You asked and I do suppose it’s time I answer your questions. You deserve to know, though I will warn you it’s quite gruesome. I did not… have a pleasant end.”
“I didn’t think you did,” Sarah said apologetically, “Only if you trust me and feel comfortable, I would like to know.”
“Sarah, darling, I trust you more than anyone.”
***
Ava had been a nurse in a hospital in the poorest area of her hometown. She hadn’t wanted to become a nurse, rather she wanted to be a doctor, but female doctors just weren’t commonplace in the 1920’s. She spent the majority of her twenties working with women and children in poorhouses, coming to the aid of those who were harmed in war or domestic disputes. She was apart of a underground feminist movement in Cape Town as well, something her parents had long since stopped arguing with Ava about but hated all the same. She was reckless, they said, this would only hurt her reputation. How was she going to meet a respectable man to marry if she wouldn’t stop the suffragette nonsense? Little did they know, Ava had no interest in getting married, especially not to a man.
She was walking back from dropping her little sister off at some birthday party, Anikka had been so excited to give her friend a new teddy bear that Ava had helped her sew some little clothes for. The party would run for a few hours, so the woman figured she could kill some time by shopping for groceries and perhaps pick up a couple books to help Anikka learn to read.
It wasn’t even dark out, certainly not the time for a middle class, white woman to be too worried about walking around main street, though Ava realized she probably should have been more attentive. She was just passing between two stores, taking a familiar shortcut through an alleyway to avoid a group of soldiers doing a photo-op near a statue of the King. She didn't even have time to react when a rough hand grabbed her by the wrist, couldn’t bring herself to scream before another ice cold palm clapped over her mouth. The one thing she remembered before she blacked out was feeling the seam of her new coat ripping and the sharp pain of something jabbing into her shoulder.
When Ava woke up she was more than disoriented. The nurse in her said she must have hit her head at some point, as her eyes couldn’t comfortably adjust to the dim lighting and her mind was struggling to catch up. The room she was in was cold, empty except for a small cot pushed up against the wall and a bucket across the room that she didn't want to know the intended purpose of. She tried to get out, scrabbling at the rusty door hinges and tugging on the locked handle until her fingers bled. She cried, even though she hated herself for it, all she could do was cry and beg hoping her captors would hear her and have mercy.
Ava didn’t know how long she had been in that cold, damp room before someone showed up. She had cried herself to sleep at one point, curled up beside the door because the cot seemed too far away. She woke up when the door opened, hitting her in the back harshly. A voice chastised her for being in the way, demanding she stand and follow him. Ava tried to resist but was yanked to her feet, stumbling because she was beyond dehydrated and her head was spinning. She asked this man who he was, where he was taking her, and what day it was. She only got silence in reply, a harsh tug of her wrist almost landing her face first on the cold marble floor. That was when Ava realized she was barefoot, her coat and shoes were gone and her stockings had been ripped from the knees down. She was freezing, hands still bleeding from trying to escape, and she just wanted to go back to sleep. She wanted this to end before it got worse, she wasn’t sure what would happen to her but Ava assumed it wouldn’t be good.
Before long she was shoved into another room, the door slamming shut behind her. Ava assumed she was alone again, deciding to explore her new location since it was very different from her previous one. The room was decorated lavishly, way more modern than her current apartment that her father had bought her since she still refused to marry. A large piano was situated in the one corner of the room, overlooking a large curtained window that appeared to lead to a balcony. She ran an injured hand over the expensive leather of a comfortable looking couch, wondering who with all this money wanted anything to do with her. Sure Ava’s parents had money but she hardly believed they would pay any large sum for her ransom. Besides, these people appeared to have more money than her family ever would, so they probably didn’t need any ransom from her.
“Oh, you’ve finally calmed down; how lovely.”
Ava jumped at the deep tone, accented in a way that told her the man wasn’t from South Africa. English, she first assumed, and she turned to come face to face with a tall man who looked her father’s age. He was sitting in a chair near a fireplace, though it was not lit, and he had turned to look at Ava with amusement. What concerned her the most was his eyes, that tracked her anxious movements in a cat-like way. They were red, deeper in colour than the wounds of any injured person she had even seen. She wanted to scream, to run, but she feared for her life if she did.
“Now now, do not look so frightened, pet.” He stood, walking over to Ava even as she flinched away. A rough hand caught her face, squishing her cheeks as he gave her a once over with an unreadable expression. Ava had begun to cry silently, tears tracking down her already makeup-stained face and he wiped them away in distaste.
“So dramatic,” he crooned, “I hope you will learn to behave and keep yourself presentable in the future. Crying is unbecoming of a woman, especially one as pretty as you.”
“W-what… what do y-you want from me?”
“Oh, she speaks!” he laughed to himself, “What are you on about, pet?”
“I’m not you pet,” Ava spat in a sudden flare of rage, appalled at his behaviour towards her, “Is it money? Do you not have enough as it is? My family will not pay ransom for me, I hope you know.”
“Oh no, dear, you’ve got it all wrong,” Ava tried to fight off the hand that still had a hold of her but he only moved his hand down to wrap around her throat. He ignored the way her hands scrambled to tear his hand away, her nails not even making dents in his skin. The man grinned at her and if she had been able to Ava thought she would have screamed, where his incisors should have been were long, sharp teeth that could only be described as fangs.
“You, my pet, are mine. For eternity.”
***
“Is that when he…” Sarah was close to tears, holding tightly onto Ava’s hand. She saw the way her friend was shaking, whether it be out of fear of reliving her memories or anger at what had happened decades before. This was hard for her, Sarah felt horrible for even asking Ava to tell her what occurred.
“Gods no. Sarah, he kept me for over a year before his fangs ever broke skin.”
“What?”
“I was a walking blood bank for them…” she gestured to her countless scars inflicted by sharp objects, “They never bit me deep enough, not for the longest time. He said he would be the one to do it when the time came. They would cut me and collect my blood, sometimes he would… let them lick it off me instead.”
Anger flared in Sarah’s stomach at that, seeing how uncomfortable the memory made her. All she could do was stare at Ava, unsure of what to say. She just wanted to hug her in that moment, to hold her and promise no one would ever touch her again, but she didn’t want to overstep.
“It wasn’t all bad… they kept me well fed at least. I had to be of course, a malnourished person doesn’t produce good blood. My master,” she spat the title out like it burned, “He gave me everything a girl would have wanted back then. I had all the clothes and makeup and books I could want.”
“But you weren’t happy.”
“Of course not, I hated it there. I would pray for the day they would accidentally cut too deep or one of the fledglings would lose control and rip my throat out before he could stop them.”
“I’m sorry, Ava…” Sarah blinked away tears at the thought of everything she had had to endure, “You didn’t deserve any of that.”
“I got my wish, though,” Ava laughed bitterly as she traced the largest scar, “That day… I thought it was the end.”
“What… happened?”
A fledgling had a knife, she was supposed to be collecting from me that day,” she answered, letting Sarah tug her own hand away from her neck. She gave the human a sad smile when she held her hand tightly, grateful for her comfort.
“She hit your carotid?”
Ava nodded, hiding a flinch at the memory, “I barely recall what happened except for the searing pain. There was so much blood, she was having trouble holding back and I could tell. I blacked out in seconds but the last thing I remember was collapsing into her arms and… I wish it had been the end. The next couple weeks were Hell compared to what had happened before.”
Sarah couldn’t help but ask, “Why did they wait until the last moment to turn you?”
“I was their toy… their pet, Sarah. They had me exactly where they wanted me for a year. They gave me just enough of their venom to keep me loyal and tied down, I couldn’t fight because my body wouldn’t let me. If they turned me I would have been more powerful and they couldn’t keep me a useful prisoner anymore.”
“Then why bother turning you? If you were already bleeding out and wouldn’t be what they wanted after?”
“He… said he couldn’t live without me. He wanted me to be his wife, I refused countless times. He was my master so I couldn’t leave but I refused to ever be his submissive in my afterlife. He tried, for decades this man tried to win my favour and still treated me like I was his. I would never accept his advances though, which angered him. He may have taken my life and my blood but there was no way in Hell that man was taking my body too.”
This was taking a big toll on Ava, though she couldn’t physically cry Sarah could see in her eyes that she wanted to. The human apologized softly, opening her arms without saying anything else. Ava hesitated but allowed herself to melt into the comfort, feeling safer than she ever thought she would again. She wasn’t sure why Sarah made her feel so safe, especially since Ava herself was naturally supposed to be a threat to her. Still, the way the woman held her close and brushed her hair gently behind her ear made Ava feel seen and cared for for the first time since 1920.
“He’ll never hurt you again, Ava.”
Ava couldn’t help the tiny smile that fought its way onto her face, “He can’t. I killed that bastard the second I got the chance.”
12 notes · View notes
punksarahreese · 3 years
Text
Gloves | 4 mg Ativan
Nosdecember day 14 | @neworleansspecial
Anxious!Ava; Ava’s sensory issues get in the way of a surgery
CW: hospital trauma gore, panic attacks, sensory overload, self injury stims
***
“Ava!” Connor’s voice was barely audible over the chaos of the emergency department. It didn’t help that Ava was majorly overwhelmed, trying her hardest to focus on the task at hand so she didn’t have time to panic. It took a gentle nudge from April’s elbow meeting her ribcage before she was able to look up from the central line she had been doing.
“Go help him,” April ushered her out of the treatment room, “I can get a student to do this.”
Ava nodded, too much going on for her to be comfortable to respond. She slipped out of the crowded treatment room, pulling off the pair of gloves that had been making her increasingly uncomfortable. The ED was packed, chaos unfolding as Maggie tried to get the disaster protocol in place. A train accident had all hospitals in the area absolutely swamped with patients and Gaffney was getting the brunt of it due to its proximity. Ava and Connor had been called down to help with the traumas and assess any cases that would need surgical intervention. Connor was pleased; well, as pleased as a trauma surgeon is in such a morbid situation. He enjoyed the chaotic, fast-paced environment of the emergency department when it was experiencing a mass trauma. Ava, however, disliked that exact environment completely. She preferred the predictable, familiar OR where she was in charge and the only thing she had to worry about was finishing the procedure she could often do completely from muscle memory.
To say Ava was uncomfortable was an understatement. She hadn’t seen Sarah in a few hours, since the psychiatrist was jumping between the ED, the waiting room, and upstairs. Connor and her hadn’t been on great terms since their altercation in the CT lounge, especially after Ava had emerged from the room with makeup streaked down her red cheeks and other evident signs of a major panic attack. He didn’t apologize for making her meltdown and she didn’t ask for it; they just fell into some kind of silent cold war. No conversations had come up between them unless it involved work or faux-pleasantries to avoid confusing Latham. Since then, Ava had been increasingly more uncomfortable in Connor’s presence, so the last thing she wanted to do was go help him with a trauma. This meant she didn’t have a single person in her general vicinity to give her some semblance of security, which only worsened her anxiety.
“Finally,” Connor didn’t look up when Ava walked into Baghdad, which meant he missed the death glare she halfheartedly directed at him. He motioned for her to come closer, making her realize how much of a predicament this patient was in.
A large metal rebar was protruding from the upper chest of a teenage boy, whose clothing was bloodied and the rest of his body didn’t look much better. This was unfortunately something Ava had seen more than once since moving to Chicago. From the placement of the bar it looked like it would be a tricky surgery, though not one that Connor couldn’t do with the help of a resident. She wasn’t needed, not really, so why did he call her in here?
“Rebar to the anterior chest cavity, not through and through, pretty sure the bar snagged the left subclavian.”
“Where do you need me?” She tried her best to settle into her surgical mindset, ignoring the way the erratic beeping of the heart monitors was getting to her.
“I don’t think he can make it upstairs,” he was saying as he looked over the labs that Monique handed him, “You’ll need to go to the hybrid OR.”
“That doesn’t answer my question, Connor,” Ava gently lifted the gauze packed around the bar to check the wound, “You don’t need me, not for this. I could be helping with the other surgical candidates.”
“You’re going to do this, Ava,” Connor looked at her for the first time, “I have other patients already prepped upstairs.”
Ava’s heart sank. Not only was he forcing her to operate in an unfamiliar OR, he wouldn’t even be there for it. Usually Ava hated sharing her surgeries, especially with Connor, but today was just not a day for that. She hated traumas, was uncharacteristically unsure of things like this, so the thought of doing it without a trauma surgery assist sounded like a bad idea.
“Connor, no.”
“Ava, you’ll be fine,” he was already taking off his gloves and heading to leave the room, “The team’s already prepping, just get the bar out and repair the artery.”
“Connor!” He was already halfway past the nurse’s station by the time she had tried to stop him. Ava was painfully aware of the amount of eyes on her, the staff around her looking to the surgeon for clarification. She tried to take a deep breath but her lungs felt like they were in a vice, panic slowly setting in. She shouldn’t be this nervous, she tried to reason with herself, it was just another surgery. Everything was too much though; this was too much change at once.
“Doctor Bekker?”
“Right, uh,” Ava blinked rapidly as she looked over at the nurse, “Get him to the hybrid OR then. I’ll go scrub.”
She could do this.
She had to.
Five minutes later, she was scrubbing in. She didn’t like this at all, the OR in the emergency department was so different. It was new, yes, and very nice but it wasn’t her ORs. The huge glass windows looking into the ED only worsened it for Ava. She felt like a changed animal being watched at a zoo, except she couldn’t even pace to make herself feel better. She was on display and could see the chaos outside too, it was too much.
“Ready, Doctor Bekker?” some resident whose name she suddenly forgot asked from beside her. The young woman didn’t like Ava very much, probably because she thought she got in her way of Connor, but Ava could not care less. Residents were the least of her worries, especially now.
“Uh, yeah. Give me a second.”
She left the scrub area, going to get her gown and leaving Ava in silence. She got distracted by staring out the window, eyes tracking Natalie as she ran across the ED when a code blue sounded over the speakers. Ava didn’t realize how hard she had been scrubbing her hands until she looked down and saw how red her skin had become. Her anxiety was getting the better of her, making her revert to old compulsions in an attempt to soothe herself. She hadn’t been so obsessive about cleaning since med school, but she found herself washing her hands for a second time because something just felt off.
By the time Ava nudged the door to the OR open with her hip, her adrenaline was so high she wanted to run. Somehow it felt like her heart was going to jump from her chest, as anatomically incorrect as that might be. She was focusing on deep breaths while the scrub nurse helped her into her gown, but when she held open the first glove Ava knew this would be a problem.
Nitrile gloves were a sensory nightmare when she was anxious, as ironic as that was. Yes she was a surgeon and yes surgical gloves and the consistent beeping of heart monitors could trigger sensory meltdowns. Ava didn’t know for sure why and she had spent years forcing herself to ignore the anxiety that ate away at her stomach whenever she felt those gloves touch her skin.
Today was different though.
The second she had both gloves on she wanted to scream, the feeling of the material tight against her hands more uncomfortable than ever. She couldn’t stop herself from immediately reaching to touch her collarbone, a self-soothing stim she had since she could remember, subsequently breaking her sterile field when her hand brushed her neck. Cursing under her breath, Ava apologized and explained to the staff that she would need to go rescrub.
She ran to the sinks without thought, ripping the gloves and gown off her body the second she was out of the operating area. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts, heart rate probably above 160 if she had to guess. Everything was too much and even after tossing the offending gloves into the waste bin she felt like they were still there. The awful feeling of bugs crawling along her wrists and the powdery residue left behind from the nitrile made her want to gag.
Before she could stop herself, Ava clapped her hands over her ears. The yelling from the ED, the hum of the air conditioning, and the constant beeping of different machines was finally getting to her. The gloves had been her last straw though, bile rising to her throat at the thought of having to put them back on. Even when she scrubbed at her hands roughly with the harsh anti-microbial soap again she still felt them, the sensation making frustrated tears pop up without consent.
The next thing Ava knew she was on the floor. She couldn’t handle it anymore; everything was so much. She was crying, she knew it, but she couldn’t hear herself or anything else over the flood of thoughts that suddenly hit her. The rough texture of her scrubs was at the forefront of her mind, a constant reminder that she couldn’t exist without one thing touching her. Every tactile sensation was too much in that moment and a harsh sob left her throat.
All she could think about was what Connor said in the lounge that day. All of the intrusive, hateful thoughts that morphed themselves out of his words erupting in her head. Even though most of them weren’t ones Connor had actually said out loud, Ava’s anxiety took his anger poorly and had a hayday with the self-deprecation fuel.
All you do is get in the way, Ava.
Were you even thinking about the patient?
You’re so selfish.
This is so childish.
You’re not cut out to be a surgeon.
Ava was so far in her head she didn’t hear the nurses yelling, trying to get her attention. She didn’t hear Connor’s voice as he was asking her what the hell she was doing and what was wrong. All she could do was sob, short nails digging into her biceps with as much force as she could muster. She was so overwhelmed and everything was too much. She was hyperventilating, the room starting to spin, she was supposed to be doing a surgery. Why wasn’t she in surgery?
The next thing Ava knew she was waking up, disoriented because she didn’t remember falling asleep. It took her a few minutes of confused staring at the white ceiling before she realized she was in a patient room. Panic set in almost immediately, concern for the patient flooding her more than any concern for herself. She felt an immense wave of guilt; what had she done?
The rapid beeping of a heart monitor signaled her increasing tachycardia and that immediately caught someone’s attention. Sarah was there in seconds, hands landing cautiously on Ava’s cheeks to soothe her. Ava didn’t resist because she knew immediately that it was Sarah, relaxing into the touch but unable to make eye contact. She was still overwhelmed, despite the amount of sedatives undoubtedly circulating her system. The mental toll was just as bad as the physical and all she wanted to do was melt into Sarah’s arms and weep.
“Avey,” the pitying look that her girlfriend gave her sent guilt gnawing away at Ava’s stomach again, “Why did you push yourself this far?”
19 notes · View notes