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Pittsburgh was a sparkle of fireflies from up here. The last time Samira had stood on the roof of the hospital was back in her first year of residency when she thought that every shift would sail as smoothly as that one. But Samira wasn’t a sailor, and she’d never been on a boat. The E.D.’s waters had behaved well enough that she hadn’t considered she’d ever have to deal with a mass casualty or a cyber attack. That day had been average, with her staining her scrubs with blood at the knee and saving a middle-aged Indian woman because she sat with her for a few minutes longer than anyone else.
She leaned against the railing as she peered down at the park below. It was covered with a thick blanket of darkness that the lamp posts struggled to fight against. An ambulance flashed violent red and blue as it raced toward the hospital. Should she go down there and help? She was an extra pair of weary hands. Any other time, she would. But if this were any other time, Samira wouldn’t be up here. She’d be in the pit, staring up at a screen with dry eyes, struggling to read blurry text.
She pressed her weight into her forearms and rested her chin on them. Her phone was a quiet weight in her back pocket. Was the screen still flashing with all her unread notifications? Was it a beacon for something else to come find her?
"It’s nice up here, isn’t it?"
She jolted, but she didn’t look over her shoulder. He stayed somewhere behind her, probably bathed in the dull glow of the light above the rooftop’s door. Even though the roof was barely lit, it was more visible than the park and its overbearing trees below.
"You want to be alone?" he asked.
Yes. No more phone calls. No more badgering. The noise and push and pull were intoxicating before today. But the ringing of a phone—of any phone—made her tense.
"No," she said. Samira still didn’t look over her shoulder.
Whatever was on the roof’s flooring gave way underneath Abbot’s feet. Gravel? Who cared. She wasn’t going to specialise in that. The sound of his feet wasn’t even. He favoured one side slightly more than the other. He appeared in her periphery and rested his arms against the railing a forearm’s distance away from her. He looked at Pittsburgh, not her.
"Rough day?"
"You didn’t hear?" she asked. Samira glanced at him from the corner of her eye before looking out at the flashing ambulance below. It disappeared.
"Prefer to hear it from you."
She tapped her nails against the railing. The metal wasn’t cold anymore. "I… had a panic attack today," she said, the words were cotton on her tongue. Why were they so hard to say? Why was it so hard to hear? Joy had said it, and Samira tugged her shoulders to her ears like she was a little girl able to hide underneath her blanket from the lurking monsters. Langdon had said it without looking away from her, and she’d wanted to smother the pillow over her face. Robby had said it, and the hospital’s floor had fallen out beneath her.
When she looked at Abbot from the corner of her eye, he was looking at her. There was no judgment on his face. He was looking at her like he always looked at her… Open. Present. Like he saw… something everyone else didn’t see. Butterflies fluttered in her lower belly.
"I’ve had plenty of those," he said.
She scoffed. "At the hospital?"
"Of course," he said, almost laughing. He shook his head as he looked out at the sky. There weren’t any stars threaded into the dark blanket overhead. "It’s a rite of passage. You’re not a real doctor until you’ve had at least ten."
"Then I’m glad I’ve gotten two down." She turned briefly towards him and looked away. He was looking at her with a cocked brow. "I had one when I was an R2. I didn’t realise it at the time. I just thought I’d overexerted myself carrying something that was really heavy."
"Then you have eight more to look forward to," he said. She drummed her nails against the metal. Before he came up here, she was content with resting her weight against the railing and growing boneless. But now all she wanted to do was fidget. "You should try having them on the night shift. Lots of fun."
"Yeah?" she asked as she turned toward him and curved the corner of her lips upward. "You’re really good at keeping your cool."
He waved his hand. "It’s all part of the act." Abbot wasn’t looking at her. What could he see in the night’s shadow? "Fake it until you make it, you know?"
She hummed. "I was looking for you earlier," she said. God, she hadn’t meant to say that, but wasn’t that why he was here? Wasn’t that why he turned up wherever she was these days? She hadn’t asked for him much during her night shifts, but whenever she did, he’d appear and linger, giving her more time than Robby ever did. Samira turned toward Pittsburgh again. It was easier to talk to the almost-blank slate of the city than the dully lit face of Dr Abbot. He still hadn’t turned to look at her. "Before… it happened."
"Sorry," he said. "I needed my beauty sleep."
She smiled, although she didn’t hold the shape for long. "I was wondering if you’d write me a letter of rec for an elective."
"Sure."
She frowned and twisted her body to face him. "Really?"
He looked at her with his brows furrowed. At the cock of her brow, he shrugged. "Which elective were you looking at?"
"Any that would take me."
His smile wasn’t one of pity. "Any would be lucky to have you. If you’ve got a preference, I can pull some strings—"
"No, no," she said, shaking her head. Her neck burned. "I know I left it to the last minute, and I can’t expect that of—"
"I’m being serious, Mohan," he said, lifting his brows. He tapped his palm against the railing. Was it still cold underneath his touch, or had it warmed to him, as everything else did? "Even if they’re full, it doesn’t hurt to ask."
"I…" She clapped her hand around the railing and looked down at his shoes. The toes were scuffed with dirt, not blood. "I just don’t know. I don’t know where I want to go. I thought I was going to be in New Jersey next year, and I had everything lined up there, but…"
"I know a good place," he said. "Not in Jersey. Here. There’s one elective in particular I think you’d be really good at."
"You do?"
He smiled. "I would bet everything on it."
She lifted her gaze and pressed her lips together. Did she look desperate? God, she hoped she looked cool.
"Work the night shift in the pit," he said. "You already take some of the shifts. You’re great with patients. It’s very different to the day, as you know. Wilder cases. We couldn’t have dealt with the blue guy if it weren’t for you."
Her cheeks were hot. "You would’ve had it handled."
"Nah," he said, scrunching his face. He glanced at Pittsburgh with a smile. "I’d blue it."
She snorted and shook her head. "Are you sure?"
"You’re one of the best doctors in this place, Mohan," he said. "A little panic attack just proves that."
Samira ducked her head and gripped the railing. "Thanks for trying to make me feel better, but you don’t have to do that."
"Trying? Damn. I’m going to have to step up my game."
She laughed. When she looked up at him, he was watching her and smiling. His smiles were always crooked. Did he smile like that at anyone else?
He looked down. "If you ever want to talk about the stuff that feels out of control…." He shrugged. Abbot turned his head as though to glance at her, but he settled for peering down at the floor. He shifted his weight to his other foot. "I’m always here."
Even if she wanted to joke, it’d fall flat. She watched him for a moment. The lights brightened his short, grey hair. He’d shifted his weight to his right leg. "Even when it has nothing to do with the hospital?" she said.
"Especially then," he said. He smiled as he kept his gaze downcast. A tightness clutched her chest, but it wasn’t a panic attack. This was warm, a little soft. Heat bloomed on her nape and cheeks, and her palm started to sweat against the railing. This wasn’t a feeling she really wanted to chase away. His smile softened before he lifted his head to look at her. "We’re human, Mohan. An exceptional doctor doesn’t leave her humanity at the front door. She brings it inside, and she uses it to connect with those around her. It’s what makes you a better doctor than most."
Thank you wouldn’t suffice. But Abbot didn’t need a token of gratitude. She looked down and shuffled her feet. What was she meant to say to that? Even though they were often ships passing in the night during the night shifts she took, he was always complimentary. Nice job, Mohan. Great work with that patient. You got her to laugh? I’ve been trying for hours to get just a smile from that woman. Was showing up enough of a thanks to him? That would be… strange.
Lifting her head, she cleared her throat. "Don’t you need to get downstairs?"
"Nah." He pushed against the railing to arch his back like a cat. A joint cracked. He smiled wider. "I can stay out here a little longer."
She nodded. "I should probably be getting home," she said. She sighed. "It’s been a long day."
He chuckled. "I heard there were furries in the pit."
"A giant fox," she said. "Do you think they’ll come out of the woodwork at night?"
"God, I hope so." He faced her as he leaned forward and lengthened his arms against the railing. "I was hoping to get some tips on my own costume. Might go see what the fuss is about."
She clapped her hand over her mouth to suffocate her loud laugh. His smile grew and his face grew pink as though they were standing under the sun. It was a nice colour on him, a shade she often saw. After clearing her throat and pressing her lips together to try to reduce the width of her smile, she regarded him as seriously as she could. "What would your costume be?"
"A bear. I’ve been told I have Yogi vibes."
She pursed her lips. "I would’ve thought a silver fox." At his cocked brow, she shrugged and ignored her burning ears. "Anyone can be a bear, but not everyone can be a silver fox."
He hummed. "What would you be?"
She twisted toward the railing and leaned forward, watching as another ambulance’s colours flashed against the darkness. "I think that’s something you’ll have to wait and see."