desert monitor

five

I skipped yesterday’s update because I had a riding accident and I was knocked out on pain killers, you’ll get the double one tomorrow. also, to clarify, this is not a sequel to talk, nor it was a prompt, as I was writing this just took form and I kinda liked it. 

loads and loads of drama and tears, you’ve been warned.

« hope »

Owen’s heart almost stopped as he walked in. It was late, so very late and he’d been looking for Amelia for a while now. They hadn’t said a word to each other since he’d told her off in the hallway and it had just dawned on him that he had to clear things up. Starting with a profuse apology, which may or may not turn into begging, he’d do his best to patch things up. Amelia had not been avoiding him, not per se, they had been on opposite schedules and he’d seen her more than once dash out of the hospital as soon as her shift ended. Also – what had probably caused his sudden epiphany – she looked awful. Sunken cheeks, coupled with dark circles and bags under her eyes, the worst, though, were her eyes. From the lively, electric blue they had turned to a pale, washed color he didn’t even recognize, that is, unless she was looking at him, because then they’d be filled with murderous rage, turning sharp as ice. He needed to make it better. Once he’d been told that she was scrubbing out from an emergency craniotomy, he’d paged her. When he got no answer he paged her again and again, until he realized her shift was over and she was probably not in the hospital anymore.

Considering he was stuck here for a bit longer he’d made himself useful going down to the ER, busying himself sewing up patients and handling the chaos. About twenty minutes in he finally got a page. One of his post op patients crashed and was dead before he arrived. Owen leaned his back against the cold wall of the ICU, rubbing a hand on his face, hoping to wipe out exhaustion and anger and disappointment and guilt. The patient, he likely wouldn’t have made it, he barely made it off the table alive, but it wasn’t looking all that good. Instead of walking right back to the elevator and back down to the ER, he went on a little detour, walking around the entire floor to peek inside the NICU. It shouldn’t make him feel better, tiny babies struggling themselves to survive, shouldn’t make him feel better, but it did. Watching parents gush over their little one breathing on their own or just move their legs or flex their fingers, made him feel better. Only it was too late today to find any of the parents still here, it was mostly deserted, incubators and monitors were all he could see. Owen took a couple of steps and noticed someone inside, sitting in a chair in front of an incubator. It was a doctor – scratch that, it was a surgeon, the navy scrubs were a dead giveaway.

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