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#nosdecember
crockettmarcel · 3 years
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day 27 - wind
suicide tw
Sarah hasn’t been up to the terrace on the tenth floor for almost a year, not since Jason jumped. 
But she’s there now, just a few feet from the edge, staring across at the city as she imagines Jason did. She thinks about him a lot, even though everyone else seems to have moved on. She thinks about his life, about how he had so much potential as a doctor, and how if someone had noticed he was drowning, maybe he’d still be here. That thought haunts her.
 Most of all though, she wonders what his last moments were like. Did he look out at Chicago one last time the way she’s doing now? Or did he step off without a second thought? She thinks - hopes - he was at peace as he fell, but she can’t be sure, and it’s the not knowing that eats away at her.
There’s a strong wind up there, bitter like on the day Jason died, and it bites at her face until her cheeks are numb and she can’t move her mouth. Her hands are shoved in her pockets, and she knows without looking that her nails will be blue by now. 
Even so, she stays out, and moves closer to the edge, to the little wall stopping her from falling a hundred feet to her death on the concrete below. It would be so easy, she thinks, and suddenly she’s balancing on the wall, tears streaming down her face from the cold and her heart pounding at the thought of what could happen.
Her toes are hanging over the edge when her pager goes off, and she almost loses her footing at the sudden noise. She remembers Jason, or what she saw of him, the blood pooled under the sheet and splattered on the sidewalk, and wonders if that would ever be her.
Someday, maybe, but not today. She climbs back over the wall, planting her feet firmly on the ground, then looks around to check if anyone saw. The conference room is empty, and there’s no one by the elevators. It’s just her up there, alone as the wind blows her hair around her face and stings her cheeks, and she wants to cry at how much everything hurts.
She doesn’t though, can’t. Instead, she goes back down to the ED, to a job she doesn’t feel anything for anymore, to treat patients who are worse off than her, who actually need help. Later, she’ll go home with Ava, and while they’re eating takeout in front of the TV, she’ll fail to mention that she almost followed in Jason’s footsteps, that this was the closest she’s ever got. She’ll laugh at Ava’s jokes, and hold her while she sleeps, and never let on that the ache in her chest is so deep it feels like it’s splitting her in two.
Maybe it would have been easier if she’d jumped.
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neworleansspecial · 3 years
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A year ago, I ran an event on my former blog, and with some encouragement, I'll be hosting it once more!
The challenge is to create something for these prompts every day- a fic(let), art, gifs- to encourage people to create. There is no required fandom or participation. All fandoms and original content are welcome. Any amount of participation counts, even if it's just something small for one day.
(Edit: I thought this was obvious but all fandoms are welcome except racist, antisemitic, homophobic, or otherwise bigoted media. This includes but is not limited to H*t*lia)
Tag your participation with the event tag, #nosdecember so we can all see! I'll be reblogging participation as well, so feel free to tag me via @neworleansspecial or #userglow. 
REBLOG TO SPREAD THE WORD
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punksarahreese · 3 years
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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.
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antlergraham · 3 years
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Grey
It's the suit, Will thinks, that makes him look so dangerous. There is comfort and familiarity in his normal clothes, and yet, people are more afraid of him dressed to the nines with blood under his fingernails and Hannibal's mark on his charcoal grey suit. He studies himself in the mirror.
"You look stunning, my dear," Hannibal murmurs, kissing Will's neck and wrapping his arms around him from behind. "Like the blade of an expertly crafted knife, you are exquisite and deadly. And mine."
"Possessive?"
"Of all my things," Hannibal replies casually.
He doesn't exaggerate or hide his perception of Will as an attack dog he happens to find ravishing. Will knows he's being manipulated and taken advantage of. He knows he'll take the fall for everything Hannibal makes him do. But that doesn't mean he can do anything about it when Hannibal is his anchor in the vast sea.
"I think you like that I can't resist your ownership."
"You like being owned."
Hannibal's hands reach to the back of Will's head and unbuckle the clear plastic muzzle leftover from Will's days under Chilton's thumb. He brushes his hand against Will's mouth as he removes it.
"I have a treat for you tonight, Will, and I hope it satiates your needs."
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crockettmarcel · 3 years
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day 16 - nature
One of the things Crockett had missed the most in Chicago was having a garden. Growing up, he’d spent hours in the garden with his siblings, screaming and laughing as his brothers chased him with a water gun, or on quieter days, helping Jo, his older sister, tend to the flowers they’d so carefully grown from seeds.
There was a pool in his apartment building, and a gym, but no garden, so he’d had to make do with what he had. His balcony was a good size, and he’d filled it with so many plants he was sure it was going to fall down. It had started with just a couple of ferns, something to add a bit of green to the otherwise bleak view out of his window, but had quickly turned into something more. Within a few months he had a little herb garden, growing almost everything he needed to cook with, and a strawberry planter in one corner that he took care of the way his mother had taught him. The rest of the space was filled with an assortment of random plants - fuschias, roses, petunias, and a series of succulents that somehow kept dying despite everything he did.
The balcony was his happy place.
Then Lolly had been born, and he only had time for her. Every waking moment was spent feeding or rocking or changing her. He slept when she did, and if by some miracle she was awake and happy to just lie on his chest or in her crib, he’d spend that time making arrangements for his move back to New Orleans. 
There was almost no time left for his balcony, and it broke his heart watching it slowly die back, knowing he couldn’t do anything. He tried to water the plants when he could, and pruned them once or twice, but he didn’t have the hours to dedicate to them like he used to.
Their new house had a garden though - he’d made sure of it. It wasn’t as big as the one he’d grown up with, but it was enough. Lolly would be able to run and play as she got older, and there was space on the lawn for a swing set or a climbing frame, if she wanted one. He had plans for a new herb garden, bigger than the one on his balcony, and if all went well, he wanted to try his hand at growing vegetables as well. 
Once the two of them were settled, his mom and Jo came round to help with the garden. It took them a couple of afternoons, but he couldn’t have been happier with the results, and he sent both of them wine and a tin of homemade beignets as a thank you.
From then on, whenever he had free time, he’d take Lolly out to the garden with him so she could watch as he planted and watered and tended an ever growing collection of herbs and vegetables. When she was still little, she’d lie on a blanket and play by herself while he gardened, but as she got bigger and learned to walk, she started wanting to help. He’d dress her up in her little sun hat and denim overalls, and the two of them would spend the day in the garden together.
There was nothing he enjoyed doing more, and every time she’d toddle over to him and produce an assortment of herbs from her pocket, his heart would swell with pride. 
     “Good job, darlin’,” he’d tell her, and the smile and giggles that followed were his favourite things in the world. Olivia was perfect, and he couldn’t imagine life without her.
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crockettmarcel · 3 years
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day 11 - warm
It was freezing out, the coldest day of the year so far according to the app on Ava’s phone, and she had no problem believing it. The walk from the hospital to her car wasn’t a long one, but by the time she’d sat down and put her seatbelt on, her fingers were numb. Sarah had told her to take gloves, but she was stubborn and had refused. She was paying for it now though, as she alternated between rubbing her hands together and holding them in front of one of the vents to try and get some feeling back.
They’d warmed up after a couple of minutes, and Ava began the short drive back home. The sky was darker than it had been even an hour ago, and heavy in the way that said snow was coming. She hoped it would be during the night, because neither she nor Sarah had work in the morning, and a day spent building snowmen in the park and drinking hot chocolate in bed was exactly what they both needed right now.
Their apartment was on the second floor, at the front of the block, and as Ava walked from her car to the door of the building, she could see Sarah’s silhouetted figure dancing in the kitchen. She hadn’t done much of that recently, not the way she used to, so seeing her looking like her old self was a good sign, and Ava couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face as she made her way upstairs.
Her keys were buried in the bottom of her bag, as they so often were, and she struggled for a minute or so trying to find them before the door opened in front of her. Sarah was standing there in leggings and one of Ava’s baggy sweatshirts, her curls pulled up in a messy topknot, and she looked more at peace than she had for a long time.
     “I saw you pull up outside,” Sarah explained, before taking Ava’s coat and bag from her and placing a gentle kiss on her cheek.
Ava nodded and returned the kiss, then allowed Sarah to lead her through to the kitchen. The whole apartment smelled of garlic, and something else Ava couldn’t quite put her finger on, and Carly Rae Jepsen was playing from the speaker on the countertop. It was unlike Sarah to be listening to something this upbeat, but with the way things were at the moment, she was doing whatever she could to bring her mood up. If that meant listening to LA Hallucinations on repeat while she chopped potatoes, then that was what she was going to do.
Sarah had set out their meal on the kitchen table, instead of leaving it on the side so they could grab what they wanted and eat on the couch, and she’d even gone as far as to light some candles and open a bottle of red wine. (Technically she wasn’t supposed to drink with her antidepressants, but if they hadn’t stopped her from chugging half a bottle of vodka when she was seventeen, she wasn’t going to let them stop her from enjoying a glass of wine with her girlfriend at twenty-seven.)
Everything looked perfect, and Ava snaked her arms around Sarah’s waist as she told her exactly that. 
She’d started cooking properly during her suspension, and now that she was on medical leave she had even more time to indulge in her new hobby. It was relaxing (despite the meltdowns she’d had the few times things had gone wrong), and it managed to ground her more than any of the techniques she’d learnt in therapy. The repetitive motions - stirring a pot, dicing vegetables, sieving flour - were what helped most when she was stressed, and by the end, she had something to show for it.
     “I hope you like it. I found the recipe online, so I’m not sure if it will be okay, but-”
     “Shh. It smells and looks wonderful, my love. You’ve done a great job.” She pressed a kiss to Sarah’s temple, then sat down and took a sip of her wine. 
The food did look good - rosemary and garlic butter steak, with crispy little roast potatoes and grilled vegetables - and Ava was so proud of Sarah for it. She’d come a long way in the last couple of months, in almost every sense, and even though she still had a way to go, things were looking up again.
They talked while they ate, Ava updating Sarah on all the hospital drama she was missing out on (although she managed to avoid repeating the things some of the nurses had been saying about the crazy psychiatrist), and Sarah telling Ava about her day. She didn’t do much, save for her cooking and some mindfulness Dr Charles had insisted she try, but she always seemed to have funny stories about their neighbours, who, Ava had to admit, were some of the weirdest people she knew.
Once they’d finished eating, Sarah grabbed two spoons and a pint of chocolate ice cream from the freezer, and the couple made their way over to the couch. They had a collection of blankets and throws, and as soon as they’d sat down, Ava pulled the fluffiest one on top of them and snuggled up to Sarah. 
Neither of them was sure how long they stayed like that, cozy and safe under the warmth of the blanket, sharing Sarah’s favourite ice cream between them, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that was important was the two of them holding each other, content to just be together as the snow started to fall outside their window.
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crockettmarcel · 3 years
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day 22 - gift
Sarah had only signed up for the staff Secret Santa because of Maggie. She’d wanted to avoid it for this year, while she was still new and didn’t really know anyone, but Maggie had insisted that they do it together; if anything, it would help Sarah get to know at least one other member of staff.
It turned out to be Nat, a math teacher Sarah had only seen in passing, and Maggie was more than happy to help Sarah choose a gift for her (while remaining completely silent about who her own Secret Santa was.) Ava and April were the same - they both refused to reveal who they were buying for, claiming that it would “ruin the magic”, and it wouldn’t be secret if they told her.
     “You’re exempt, because you don’t know anyone and you need us to help you,” Ava had explained, and April simply nodded along in agreement.
All the gifts were left in a basket on one of the tables in the teachers’ lounge to be handed out on the last day, so a couple of days before that, Sarah had arrived earlier than usual to drop hers off without being seen. With Maggie’s advice, she’d chosen a scented candle simply named “Winter”, that cost more than any candle should, and a little bottle of what was, according to Maggie, Nat’s favourite champagne.
It was all wrapped up neatly in brown paper covered with tiny Christmas trees, a feat that had taken Sarah well over an hour to achieve. Every other year before now, she’d managed to wrap each gift in just under five minutes, but Olivia was one now, and constantly wanted to see what her mom was doing; she’d grab and pull at all the paper, and put bow after bow in her mouth, no matter how many times Sarah took them off her. 
In the end, Sarah had decided to wait until Olivia was asleep, but by that point she was willing to shove the presents in a little gift bag with some shredded tissue paper and call it a day. That felt wrong though, so she’d forced herself to wrap the gifts the way she wanted to originally, with the promise of an early night once she was done.
On the day of the gift exchange, most of the staff had gathered in the teachers’ lounge after school - not just those who’d participated, but others who wanted to come along for the fun of it. Jimmy was standing on a table, looking like a completely different person in an ugly light-up sweater instead of a suit as he announced each person’s name, and a couple of people managed to get pictures before he noticed.
Nat seemed to like her gift, which was a big weight off Sarah’s shoulders, and she thanked Maggie for her help. Ava unwrapped a wicker basket filled with bottles of hot sauce, and Sarah wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her this happy. It wasn’t what she’d expected from her, but she had to remind herself that despite their near-constant flirting, they didn’t know all that much about each other.
Sarah was one of the last people to get her gift, and was so distracted by Ava and her hot sauce that it took her a moment to register Jimmy calling her name for the third time.
She didn’t hesitate opening her present, and she could feel Ava’s eyes on her as she peeled back the wrapping paper to reveal a pair of suspenders and a bow tie. They were both dark green, the suspenders not too different from a pair she already owned (and loved), and the bow tie was covered in tiny white chromosomes. 
They were perfect, and she told Ava this as she tried to separate the bow tie from the cardboard it was attached to.
People started filing out of the room once everyone had their gifts, and Ava followed Sarah back to her class, as she so often did after school. It had become their little routine by now - fifteen minutes (sometimes more) spent in one of their rooms at the end of the day, catching up over coffee before they went their separate ways.
The last day was no exception, and Ava was almost giddy as she perched herself on one of the front row desks. This was the last time they had together until school came back, unless one of them was brave enough to invite the other somewhere, and Ava wanted to make the most of it.
     “Are you going to try it on?” She motioned towards the bow tie that had been set down on Sarah’s desk, and the other teacher nodded.
     “I can help, if you want?”
It was a pre-tied bow tie, one that Sarah could put on with her eyes shut, but she somehow found herself saying yes, and handing it to Ava.
What came next was something she didn’t think she’d ever be prepared for.
She was leaning on the very edge of her desk, her legs slightly apart, and within seconds Ava was standing between them, closer than she ever had been before. Sarah’s breath caught in her throat as Ava lifted the collar of her shirt and removed her Christmas bow tie, carefully setting it down on the desk to Sarah’s left before bringing the new one up to her neck.
     “This really suits your skin tone,” she told her as she fiddled with the clasp at the back. It was harder than she’d thought, doing it on someone else, but after a couple of attempts it finally seemed to have worked.
She pulled back, admiring her handiwork, then quickly reached forward to straighten the bow tie. Sarah’s cheeks were slightly flushed, an adorable rosy colour that made Ava want to lean in and kiss her, and it was all she could do not to. 
     “Does it look okay?”
     “It looks perfect,” Ava said with a smile. “Have a nice Christmas, Miss Reese.”
The use of her title instead of her first name caught Sarah off guard, and she tried to ignore the warmth pooling between her legs as she watched Ava leave. She wanted to believe that she knew what she was doing - getting close to her like that, fingers gently brushing her skin as she struggled with the clasp, then calling her Miss Reese in a tone she hadn’t heard for well over a year - but she couldn’t help thinking that Ava was just like that.
She wanted this to go somewhere, but she needed to know if Ava did as well.
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punksarahreese · 3 years
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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.”
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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.”
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crockettmarcel · 3 years
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day 24 - blue
It’s dark when Crockett and Nat finally get back to Med, and late enough that Lolly should be at home, having dinner. She isn’t though, Crockett notes as he allows himself to be led to a treatment room from the ambulance bay. Her little pink puffer jacket is hanging on the back of a chair by the computers, and he knows Sarah would never take her outside without it, especially not in this weather.
He’s suddenly hyper-aware of his own coat, bright blue but stained red, just like his hands are, and he stops abruptly, letting Maggie walk on without him. The coat’s squeezing his lungs, making it harder for him to breathe, and he’s sure that it’s only a matter of seconds before his lips are the same shade as the fabric that’s killing him. 
     “Crockett?”
Maggie notices him, finally, and he can tell from her reaction that he’s not dying. Still, he can’t understand why his lungs have suddenly stopped working, and why every breath takes more effort than the last.
     “Too tight,” is all he manages to get out as he tugs at the zip. It won’t undo, and the more he tries, the more it seems to resist him.
     “Hey, you’re okay.” She moves closer to him, holding a hand out to offer her help. “Let me.”
He nods, and watches as she unzips the coat in one smooth motion, then pulls it off him just as easily.
     “Lolly, she- she’s little.” He gestures helplessly at the bloodstains, and Maggie nods.
     “I’ll find somewhere for it where she won’t see, okay?”
He thanks her as best he can when half of his mind is still trapped in the back of that van, then watches as she walks away and leaves him standing alone in the middle of the ED. There’s a room ready for him, and he can see Monique standing outside it, looking around for him, but he can’t get himself to move.
It feels like forever before Ethan appears in front of him, though logically he knows it’s been a minute at most, and it’s the safest he’s felt since Jim pulled a gun on him and Nat. Ethan���s eyes are red-rimmed, and just the thought of the man he loves crying because of him makes Crockett’s heart ache.
     “I didn’t know if I was going to see you again.” 
     “I’m here now.”
Ethan pulls Crockett towards him, one hand resting between his shoulder blades and the other on the back of his head, gently running his fingers through his hair. Crockett tries to resist - he can’t touch Ethan, not when his hands are still sticky with blood - but being this close to him feels more like home than anything else, and within seconds his head is in the crook of Ethan’s neck, and his hands are hovering just a few inches from his back. It’s as much as he can do, but it’s enough.
Neither of them wants to break the embrace, but eventually Ethan does, urging Crockett to go and get checked out. Monique’s still standing in the doorway of the treatment room, waiting expectantly, but she knows to give Crockett space. 
But he does as Ethan says, and makes his way over to the room. Monique tries to get him settled on the bed and hooked up to the monitors, but he just thanks her and tells her she can go. He’s fine - he knows he’s fine - but his hands are still dirty, and everything about the sensation of the dried blood is getting to him. 
There’s a little sink in the corner of the room, as there is in every treatment room, and he gets to work washing his hands, the same way he does before surgery. He doesn’t have a brush, so by the time he’s done there’s still blood caked under his nails, too difficult to remove without it, but he feels better, even with the way his shoulders don’t feel quite right.
     “Daddy!” A voice interrupts his thoughts, and he realises he’s been watching the water wash down the sink for at least a couple of minutes. It’s clear now, but last he remembers, it was still brown from the blood.
Lolly’s hovering by the open door, and as soon as Crockett sees her, his face breaks into a smile. He’s not sure how much she knows, if anything, so he simply picks her up and carries her over to the bed with him, wincing at the strain on his shoulders.
     “Lost?” She points to Jay, who’s waiting by the nurses’ station, and Crockett just smiles. She still remembers him from a couple of months ago when she went missing while they were Christmas shopping, so as far as she knows, Jay helps find people when they’re lost.
     “Daddy wasn’t lost. I just had to do a special surgery outside the hospital.”
She frowns. “But Jay?”
     “He’s just here because the person having the surgery was a bad guy, and it’s his job to make sure the bad guy doesn’t do any bad things, yeah? But everything’s okay, ma belle.”
This answer seems to satisfy her, so she turns her attention to the embroidery on Crockett’s scrubs, carefully running a finger over each letter. 
     “Doctor Daddy,” she announces with a smile.
     “Is that what that says?”
Her curls bounce up and down as she nods. “Yeah! Doctor Daddy.” 
She’s grinning up at him, the gap where she lost her first tooth somehow even cuter than it was that morning, and Crockett finds himself on the verge of tears. He hasn’t even been her dad for a year, but she was his first thought when he was shoved in the back of the van with a gun in his face. She was the thing that kept him going throughout all of it - he had to make it out for his baby. He wasn’t going to leave her and Sarah again, the way he had all those years ago. He couldn’t do that to them.
     “Hey sweetheart,” he says, his voice catching in his throat. “Why don’t you go and find Papa and get some food, yeah? It’s almost dinner time, and you’re probably gonna get pretty hungry soon if you don’t eat.”
     “Okay! Love you, Daddy.” She kisses his cheek then jumps down off the bed, barely waiting for a response before running off to find Ethan.
It’s only once Crockett’s sure she’s far enough away that he finally lets himself cry.
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crockettmarcel · 3 years
Text
day 29 - clean
self harm tw !! like literally that’s what this entire thing is about
134 days. One hundred and thirty four. That was how long it had been since Sarah had last cut herself, according to the app on her phone. It was one of the hardest things she’d ever done - for years, she’d never been able to make it more than a month or two - but now here she was, four and a half months clean, and she wanted to feel good about it.
Ava had bought her a little cake when she’d hit two months, and another when she’d hit one hundred days, and both times they’d had a little celebration together. It wasn’t a big occasion - Ava didn’t want to make Sarah uncomfortable - but it was her way of showing how proud she was that Sarah had managed to come this far. Dr Charles had been proud too, when he’d found out, and only then had it hit Sarah that she’d never had a support system like this before. She had two people who cared about her more than anything, and who wanted her to succeed, as well as her other colleagues who she assumed would feel the same if they knew what she was going through, and it meant more to her than she could explain.
They were rooting for her, which is why she felt so bad knowing what she was about to do.
It had been a culmination of things that had brought her to this point - too many patients that reminded her of herself, a run-in with Lanik that had ended with her crying in the toilets, and the general feeling that she wasn’t making as much progress as she was supposed to be.
She might have been able to move past everything, to talk through it with her therapist at her next session, but instead she’d decided to take it upon herself to find a way to feel better. She used to run, back in med school, and she knew there was a pair of sneakers, good ones, hidden somewhere in the back of her closet. They weren’t difficult to find, but on the way she’d stumbled across a little lip balm tin, washed out and filled with blades, presumably put there so Ava wouldn’t find them and make her throw them out.
That was when the thoughts had come back. Knowing that she was feeling bad, and that there was something (now tucked away in her nightstand) that could make her feel better was overwhelming, and all she could think about for days.
Her skin was itching, and every time she looked down at her naked arms, she was overcome with a sick sort of excitement at the thought of what she could do to herself, when she finally had the opportunity.
That day finally came when Connor called in sick one night, and Ava had to go and fill in for him. Sarah had reassured her that she’d be fine - Ava still worried, even now - and although she felt bad for lying to her girlfriend’s face, she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to control these urges. If it wasn’t  now, it would be the next day or the day after, when Ava was home and likely to wonder what Sarah was doing in the bathroom for half an hour.
No, it had to happen like this.
She tried to hold off as long as she could, but by the time she was sat on the edge of the bath with her sleeves pulled up, Ava had only been gone for half an hour. 
Her whole body was shaking, whether from the cold or the adrenaline she couldn’t tell, but she took her time inspecting the blade, pressing her fingers into the sharp corners just long enough to leave little red marks that would fade within minutes. She did this a few times, on each of her fingertips, before finally holding the sharp edge of the blade against her forearm. All it would take was one swift movement.
She hesitated, taking a shaky breath as she considered if she really wanted this. It was all she’d thought about for days, but once she started, she wasn’t sure how long it would be before she could stop.
You think too much, a voice in her head told her, and then suddenly 134 was back down to 0, and she wasn’t sure how she was going to explain any of this.
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crockettmarcel · 3 years
Text
day 13 - parenting
It was almost nine am when Sarah finally appeared in the living room, her hair still messy from sleep, and mascara from the day before smudged under her eyes. She’d been too tired to take it off before she fell asleep, but didn’t really feel any better now, and she couldn’t help wishing she was still in bed.
Ethan was on one of the couches with Harper in his arms, and Sarah mumbled out a soft hello to the two of them before curling up on the armchair in the corner. There was a blanket folded on one of the arms, and despite how warm it already was, she pulled it over herself and closed her eyes, hoping she’d be able to get back to sleep.
A few minutes passed in silence, broken only occasionally by Harper’s gentle cooing, before Crockett came in carrying Willow and a bag of milk for her. This was enough to get Sarah’s attention, and she watched the two of them as Crockett carefully attached the bag to the end of Willow’s NG tube. 
After a consultation with Connor and Dr Grant where it had become apparent that she wasn’t gaining anywhere near as much weight as she should be, the family had decided that the tube was the best way forward. It was only temporary, until she had her surgery at six months, but without it, she was burning too many calories trying to feed, and the effort she put in often meant she wasn’t getting enough oxygen. Before the tube, it had become a regular occurrence for her to lose consciousness after a feed, and although her parents were constantly expecting it, it never got any less scary. 
They’d all become experts with the NG tube now, more so than their colleagues, and Sarah couldn’t help but admire the way Crockett set everything up so effortlessly. He was a good father, Ethan too, and it was obvious how much they both loved their daughters. Sarah couldn’t think of anyone else she’d rather be doing this with, and as Crockett did one final check of the tube, she let her mind wander to the memories they’d made together over the last few years.
     “Do you want to feed her?”
She was dragged out of her thoughts by Ethan’s voice, and it took her a moment to register what he was asking. 
     “What?”
     “Harper. I can do it if you want, but-”
     “No, that’s okay.” She held her arms out for the baby, smiling as she was reunited with her daughter for the first time since the night before.
     “Hey there, angel. Did you miss Mommy? Yeah?” Harper stared up at Sarah as she placed a kiss on her forehead, then quickly latched on, settling down against her mom’s skin. She was always calmest when Sarah fed her, when she could feel her heartbeat against her own tiny body, and it was almost enough to make Sarah cry. Almost.
Sarah focused all her attention on Harper while she fed, only looking up when she could sense that she was almost done.
     “Is everything okay with Lolly?”
Crockett frowned. “Yeah, why?”
     “She’s been really quiet all morning, and that’s not like her at all.”
The two men exchanged glances, and Crockett had to bite back a laugh. “Ava took her out to buy breakfast,” Ethan explained, and it suddenly occurred to Sarah that she hadn’t seen her fiancée at all since she’d woken up.
     “Oh.” 
She was about to say something else when Crockett’s phone beeped loudly - he always forgot to put it on silent - and both twins started fussing at the sudden disturbance. He passed Willow over to Ethan so he could calm her down before she started crying, then frowned as he read the message.
     “They should be home in five minutes. Lolly didn’t have a good time.”
     “Meltdown?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Ava says to be careful with Lolly though, so who knows.”
The room went quiet again, and stayed that way until the front door opened and Ava announced their return. Lolly quickly pushed past her and beelined for Sarah, forcing herself into what little space was left on the armchair and burying her face in the crook of Sarah’s neck. No one said anything, but Ava quickly set the two brown bags down on the coffee table and took Harper, returning Sarah’s whispered thank you with a smile.
She explained which food was for who, then sat back on the other couch with Harper lying on her chest as Ethan passed it all around, content in this moment she was sharing with her family.
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crockettmarcel · 3 years
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day 15 - city
Rainy days were Sarah’s favourite. She loved the way the city looked, grey and dark, the lights reflecting off the wet streets. There was hardly ever anyone out, and it made Sarah feel less alone, knowing she wasn’t the only one trapped inside. On days like this, she could pretend that she was living a normal life, that she was stuck in her apartment because she didn’t want to go out and get wet, not because she couldn’t leave.
Over the last five years, she’d grown more and more familiar with the view outside. She knew it like the back of her hand, knew which windows would light up first in the morning, and which would go dark late at night. Planes often flew over, and she knew when to expect them, and which airlines they were from (if she could manage to get a glimpse of them). 
But the view was all she knew.
She’d only been in Chicago for a few months when she was killed, when the future she’d worked so hard building for herself was taken from her. Most of that time had been spent in class, or holed up in her apartment, studying. She’d tried to go out with her new friends, to get to know the city that was going to be her home for the next four years, and maybe even longer after that, but she was there to become a doctor, not for the nightlife. 
She hadn’t missed out on everything - she’d seen The Bean, of course, and Navy Pier, and she’d been to the Art Institute enough to justify buying a membership (because she was planning on going back). She’d even been to a few bars and clubs with her friends, and stayed out later than she ever would without them. 
If she’d known, she’d have done more. There were other things she wanted to see, that she’d decided to leave until the spring and summer when the weather would be nicer. But she hadn’t made it that far. The last thing she’d done was a trip to the Christkindlmarket, where she’d bought too many Christmas decorations that would only be used once. She often wondered where they were; she guessed that her mom had been given her things, but she had no idea what she’d have done with them.
Part of her liked to think that they were safely stored away in the attic in their house in Connecticut, that her clothes and books and everything else were kept in boxes, only to be looked at occasionally. The Christmas decorations would be the only things to see daylight, being brought down each year as a way of remembering her.
But she knew it wasn’t likely. Her mom had probably just donated her things and done her best to move on. Maybe her room would be left the way it was when she left for college, but she doubted it.
It seemed like everyone but her had moved on. She could still remember after she died, constantly hearing her name on the news in her neighbours’ apartments. They talked about how she was a “promising young girl” with a “bright future ahead of her”, and she wished more than anything that her neighbours would just turn the volume down. There’d been at least one reporter outside the building for weeks afterwards, but now there was nothing.
And why would there be? 
Her case had gone cold, the apartment was occupied, and she’d been laid to rest. No one was thinking about her anymore.
Everything had kept moving without her, and as she looked out at the city, at the cars below, driving along the wet road, she was reminded that things would keep moving forever. Soon, there would be nobody left to remember her, but she’d still be here, gazing out at the same skyline she’d been looking at for years. 
It terrified her.
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crockettmarcel · 3 years
Text
day 20 - service
Sarah wasn’t sure how long the funeral had lasted. There was a start time on the order of service, and she’d checked her phone, but her brain was so foggy that she couldn’t work out how long it had been. Her guess was a few hours, but it was probably less.
All she knew was that it had felt like forever.
Days seemed to have passed since she’d zipped herself into the only black dress she owned, since she’d been driven through the rainy streets of Chicago to a church she’d never set foot in before today, but it had only been that morning.
So much had happened though that it could well have been a week. She’d heard speech after speech from people in Crockett’s life, all of them talking about how great he was and how he was taken too soon, and somehow hearing that other people were mourning him made it worse. The eulogy his older sister had given was beautiful, but it was followed by Will talking about how he was a wonderful friend and colleague, which angered Sarah in ways she couldn’t describe.
He didn’t know Crockett, not really, not the way Sarah and his family did. He wasn’t mourning the loss of a brother or son, or the one person who had always felt like home. He wasn’t a five-year-old trying to understand that Daddy wasn’t coming home again, and Sarah’s heart broke all over again thinking about how Will would move on, but Lolly would carry this with her forever.
After the service came the burial, where Sarah was forced to accept that this was her reality now. The man she loved was in a wooden box six feet underground, and no amount of wishing or crying or pleading with God was going to bring him back.
Crockett was gone. 
Everything from then on was a blur. Aria and Dee had come home with her so they could help set up the food for the wake, and at some point she’d changed outfits, presumably because she’d got drenched standing outside in the cemetery, but everything else was starting to blend into one awful, painful memory. There were lots of people in her house, eating and telling her how sorry they were for her loss, but none of them were Crockett, so she struggled to care.
He’d have made the situation better. He had the best jokes, and always knew how to cheer people up, no matter the occasion. This thought struck Sarah more than once throughout the afternoon, and she was even sure she could hear his laughter ringing around the kitchen, the way it did on early weekend mornings when he’d make beignets with Lolly.
But there was no one there of course, and Sarah suddenly realised it was just her in the kitchen, surrounded by trays of finger food and feeling more alone than she ever had before.
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crockettmarcel · 3 years
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day 2 - angel
Ava wanted to kill Connor. 
She’d found out a week before that he’d booked Christmas Eve off months in advance, in case of any last-minute parties he might want to attend, which meant Dr Latham had had no choice but to schedule Ava instead. There were no elective surgeries on Christmas Eve, but there was always some sort of emergency, and Dr Latham couldn’t afford to lose both of his fellows.
Which meant Ava had drawn the short straw. Ava, who had a girlfriend and a daughter to go home to, who had Christmas traditions that weren’t just drinking until the early hours of the morning and then waking up at midday. She’d be home later, in time to help Lolly put milk and gingerbread out for Santa, and to cuddle with Sarah on the couch for hours after Lolly had gone to bed, but it still wasn’t the same as being there all day. She wouldn’t get to go on one more last-minute trip to the Christmas market like they usually did, or drink eggnog in the kitchen with Sarah while Lolly decorated cookies at the kitchen table.
Part of her knew that Connor was just as entitled to Christmas as she was, but at the same time, he didn’t have a three-year-old waiting for him at home. It wasn’t just Ava that was affected by this, but Lolly too, and that’s why she was so mad about it. 
Lolly had cried when she left for work that morning, something she hadn’t done for a while, and when Ava arrived at Med, she’d had to spend a few minutes just sitting in her car, trying to compose herself. She hated seeing her baby so upset, and knowing that it was because of her, even if it was completely out of her control, hurt even more.
But she had a job to do, and she couldn’t just sit in her car and cry all day. As soon as she was calm enough, she wiped the tears away, put on a brave face, and headed inside. All she had to do was get through the day, and then she could see Sarah and their daughter again.
It was a relatively easy day - a couple of consults in the ED, check-ups with her patients from a few days ago, and only one emergency surgery - and she spent most of it on autopilot, thinking more about Lolly than anything else, counting down the hours until she could go home and hug her baby.
She’d just finished another consult in the ED and was nursing a mug of black coffee in the doctors’ lounge when Maggie appeared in front of her, grinning from ear to ear.
     “You’ve got visitors, Dr Bekker.”
She didn’t say anything else, and left the room as quickly as she’d arrived, prompting Ava to get up and follow her. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and unless it was an old patient coming back, she couldn’t think who would be in the ED to see her.
Almost as soon as she was out of the doctors’ lounge, there was a flash of something in the corner of her eye, and then the feeling of something colliding with her legs, nearly knocking her backwards. She took a moment to steady herself, then practically cried when she looked down. Lolly was standing at her feet, still bundled up from being outside, with her face barely visible between her coat and bobble hat. 
Within seconds, Sarah was behind her and helping her out of her warm clothes, until she was left standing there in a little white dress Ava didn’t recognise. Her curls were sticking out even more than they usually did now that they were free of the hat, and the couple had to stifle their giggles as they looked down at their daughter. She was adorable, but it was always funny to them that no matter what they did, her curls had a complete mind of their own, more so even than Sarah’s.
     “So, what brought you two all the way over here?”
Lolly had grabbed onto Ava’s leg, and was carefully running her fingers up and down the fabric of her scrubs, occasionally stopping to draw little patterns on her mom’s thigh. It was soothing for her, and never failed to bring a smile to Ava’s face.
     “Well, I was thinking- since you can’t have Christmas Eve at home, why not bring it here?”
     “Oh God,” Ava laughed. “How embarrassing is this going to be?”
     “Very.” Sarah leaned in to kiss her girlfriend on the cheek, then promptly pulled away and unzipped her coat, revealing the ugliest Christmas sweater Ava had ever seen.
     “That is- where did you hide it?” 
Sarah frowned. “It’s been hanging in the wardrobe for a week. And look!” She reached under the hem of the sweater, and suddenly it was flashing, lit up by tiny multicoloured bulbs that had been invisible up until this point. Ava wished they’d stayed that way.
     “Sarah, I love you, but that is the most hideous thing you’ve ever worn.”
     “I knew you’d like it.”
Ava tried to protest, but was quickly distracted by Lolly tugging at her shirt, her little hands balled up in the soft black material.
     “You okay, bokkie?” 
     “I think she wants to show you her dress.” Sarah knelt on the floor next to Lolly. “Do you want to show Mommy your special dress?”
Lolly nodded, then turned to look back up at Ava, who was watching intently. “That’s a very pretty dress, my love. Did Mama choose it for you?”
She wasn’t sure what had happened, but out of nowhere Lolly’s bottom lip started wobbling, and she’d let go of Ava’s shirt so her hands were free to pull and stretch the hem of her dress. She was obviously upset, but Ava had no idea what had suddenly triggered it.
As if she’d been reading her mind, Sarah spoke up from where she was still kneeling on the floor. “You didn’t see the whole dress.”
She leaned in closer to Lolly and in as soft a voice as she could manage, talked to her for a couple of seconds, before ruffling her hair and kissing her cheek.
     “Show Mommy.”
With one hand now anxiously tugging her earlobe, Lolly slowly turned around until she was facing Sarah, allowing Ava a full view of the back of her dress. She’d been right earlier when she’d thought it had looked unfamiliar - there was no way she’d ever forget something as cute as this.
Stitched onto the back, just between Lolly’s shoulder blades, was a little pair of silver angel wings, each one roughly the size of one of Ava’s hands. She had no idea where Sarah had found the dress, but it was one of the best things Lolly had ever worn.
Everything about it was perfect, as it should be for her little angel.
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crockettmarcel · 3 years
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day 21 - birth
The first contraction came during a meeting, exactly three weeks before Sarah’s due date. Ava was the only one to notice the way her breath hitched, and how she gripped the arm of her chair so hard that her knuckles turned white, and she knew straight away what was happening. It only lasted a few seconds, but Ava abruptly ended the meeting, telling the two advisors as they left the room that they’d conclude this at a later date.
She waited until she was sure they’d gone to ask Sarah if she was okay and to help her out of her seat, not wanting to alarm anyone or send rumours flying around the palace. If this was really happening, they wanted to keep it to themselves for as long as possible. So much of the pregnancy had been publicised, despite their best efforts, and even though they knew all of their staff, there were some things that didn’t need to be revealed right away. 
Sarah had simply nodded, and allowed Ava to walk her back to their bedchamber. It wasn’t far, but Sarah held Ava’s hand the whole time, squeezing it as tight as she could when the next contraction hit. 
     “You’re doing really well, my love,” Ava told her, and she just smiled in response. The pain was manageable at this point, and the contractions were far enough apart that by the time next one came around, she’d recovered from the one before it. This she could cope with, but everything only got worse from here, and she could already feel the anxiety building in her chest.
It wasn’t long before Dr Asher appeared in the doorway of their room, and they gladly welcomed her in. With Ava’s help, Sarah had changed out of her dress, which was uncomfortable even on the best of days, and into an old t-shirt and leggings that her mom would have had a fit over. They weren’t suitable for any royal, much less the queen, but Sarah was sure that all rules about royal etiquette were going to be thrown out the window over the next few hours.
The examination was quick, and Sarah’s head was reeling by the time Dr Asher left, having confirmed that their daughter would soon be making her entrance into the world. 
This was it - the moment they’d been waiting for for years.
They were going to have a baby.
After everything that had happened with her previous pregnancies, and the complications during this one, Sarah didn’t want to take any risks, so she’d arranged straight away to have the baby in the hospital in the city. There was a private suite, and she knew the doctors there were some of the best in the whole kingdom; she couldn’t see herself anywhere else.
She sat and watched Ava check and re-check their hospital bags, making sure nothing was missing, then once she was finally satisfied, the couple made their way downstairs to one of the side entrances. Crockett was standing next to a waiting car, the concern already written all over his face, and Sarah simply waved him away.
     “I’m fine. Dr Asher said everything looked okay, and-” she paused, taking a moment to breathe through another contraction, Ava’s hand low on her back, then looked up at Crockett. “That wasn’t as bad as it seemed.”
He frowned, but didn’t say anything, instead taking the bags off Ava and putting them in the trunk of the car, before opening one of the doors for the two queens. Sarah got herself as comfortable as she could, then stared expectantly at Crockett, who was still standing by the open door.
     “Ma’am?”
     “Aren’t you getting in?”
     “Oh. You- you want me there with you?”
Sarah smiled. “Of course. I’ve already arranged for someone to cover for you.”
This was a complete surprise to him - although he and Sarah had always been close, he hadn’t expected her to want him there for the birth of her first child - but he complied anyway, and sat down on Sarah’s right, trying not to invade her personal space too much.
It was less than half an hour to the hospital, and Sarah spent most of the drive with her head on Ava’s shoulder, and both hands resting protectively on her bump. As they got closer, the panic started to build in her chest, and once they arrived, she had to take a few minutes to compose herself until she was calm enough to go inside.
Ava held her the whole time, taking deep breaths in the hope that Sarah would too, and she did eventually. This was a big day for both of them, and after everything they’d been through over the last couple of years, Ava couldn’t blame her for being scared. God knows she would be.
A nurse met them at the door with a wheelchair - presumably Dr Asher had called ahead - and Sarah slowly lowered herself into it, grateful that she wouldn’t have to walk anywhere. Her contractions were still quite far apart, and she probably could have walked, but she didn’t want to expend any energy if she didn’t have to. 
Almost as soon as they were settled in the room, there was a near-constant stream of nurses and midwives coming in and out, checking her vitals and the baby’s, and offering her water or food or anything else she could possibly need or want. Everyone was polite and said all the right things (Sarah suspected they’d been drilled on how to talk to the queen), but it all felt too formal for what she was about to go through. The thought of a nurse with her hand inside Sarah continuing to call her “ma’am” seemed almost laughable, so within half an hour, Ava had told everyone that “Sarah” would do perfectly.
They’d been at the hospital for two hours, with Sarah’s contractions getting steadily closer together, when Crockett approached the bed with his phone out.
     “It appears the news has just broken.”
Sarah took the phone and skimmed through the article on the screen. Her Majesty was seen arriving at the hospital just after midday today… It is still unknown whether the country will be welcoming a prince or princess… Many pubs are hosting bets on what the baby will be called…
     “I think everyone’s going to be losing some money today.”
     “Pardon?”
     “The most popular name for a daughter is Elizabeth? Do people really think I’d name her after my mother?”
She shook her head and smiled, then handed the phone back to Crockett. “Keep me updated. I want to see what people are saying.”
From then on, he made a point of every hour, on the hour, showing Sarah what the polls were saying - whether she was having a boy or a girl, and if she’d be using a traditional family name such as her mother’s, or going for something more contemporary. 
It was a good distraction, at least while she could still cope with the pain, and Ava loved how invested Sarah was getting in people’s opinions. Her favourite name so far was Charlotte, despite having ruled it out months ago, and the pair ended up having a momentary crisis about the name they’d chosen instead. It resolved quickly though, and soon Sarah was back to pacing up and down the room, as she’d taken to doing just over half an hour previously.
She hadn’t realised how much waiting was involved in a birth - waiting for her waters to break, waiting to be fully dilated, waiting for someone to bring her more ice while she moaned in pain - and she almost cried with relief when, sixteen hours after arriving at the hospital, the midwife told her she could start pushing. She was in the birthing pool by then, with Crockett and Ava holding one hand each, and somewhere beneath all the pain, Sarah was sure she was hurting them with her grip.
If she was, they were doing a good job of hiding it. Ava was whispering reassuring words to her, telling her how proud she was, and every so often Crockett would brush a stray curl away from her damp forehead. They had her completely, and somehow that knowledge helped. 
Time seemed to slip away from her, and she wasn’t sure if it had been fifteen minutes or two hours before someone around her announced that they could see her daughter’s head. All she could do at this point was cry and hold desperately onto the two people that meant the most to her as she tried to find the energy to finish what they’d started all those months ago.
After somewhere between twenty minutes and an hour, if Sarah had to guess, she was suddenly a mother. Her daughter - the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen - had been placed on her chest by the midwife, her big brown eyes staring up at the new world around her. She didn’t cry once, and instead just rested against Sarah’s skin, comforted by the familiar sound of her mom’s heartbeat.
Ava cried, Crockett too, but Sarah was too in awe of the tiny person in her arms to do anything but watch her. Her movements were jerky, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do with her limbs now that she had all this space around her, but it soon became obvious what she wanted.
The nurses helped Sarah get settled back in the bed, Ava squeezed in next to her, and as they showed her how to feed the little princess, Crockett left the room to call the Lord Chamberlain. Within the hour, there’d be a sign up just inside the palace gates announcing the birth, and Crockett reckoned it wouldn’t be more than a few minutes after that before it was all over every radio station and news channel in the country. 
Her Majesty was safely delivered of a daughter at 0423am today. Her Majesty and her child are both doing well.
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