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Realistic or Modern Not Falling Apart




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    Chelsea Lambert

    Twenty-six // Portrayed by Adelaide Kane // The Heartbreaker



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    © weldherwings.





 
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date September 20 20XX

location Loma Linda University Medical Center

mood Distraught

Interacts Chelsea Lambert


Hanita Rose Saunders




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Hanita ought to be used to this by now.

Recovery had its ups and downs, its twists and turns, and one of the biggest was the second-wind that a lot of patients seemed to get near the end, when their energy would surge back up, when their face seemed to color with life again before it all went straight back to shit. And yet— and yet— despite the fact that she had been doing this for a couple years now, Hanita always found herself enthused whenever a patient appeared to be in recovery, letting her heart skip a beat and soar at the sight of their patient sitting up and smiling, laughing as if the burden had been lifted from their shoulders, the exhaustion abating for just a moment to let them reach out a hand and take hers and say, in an almost breathless voice, “Thank you,” as if it was all over, as if it was all done.

And in a way, it was. Just never in the way that she or anyone wanted it to be. They wanted recovery, they wanted miracles, free-flowing. They wanted children to be cancer-free, organs to patch themselves back up, medicine to work the first time, surgery to pass as smoothly as possible, for recovery to follow the itinerary that they drew up and told the patient, instead of the winding twists and turns that life would throw at them without a second’s warning.

The news was delivered as it always was, through the hospital grapevine that worked faster than their pagers. The grim tone of voice that everyone used, informing one another that a bed was going to be open up for a new patient in a few hours, that the grieving family was being ushered away by the appropriate doctor, that there would be someone else taking up the space and time and energy that Hanita had already emptied herself of. Hanita found herself pausing in the hallway as she listened to the chatter, to housekeeping and the cleaning staff speak to one another, heading towards a floor far too familiar to her, a floor that held the same person who had reached out to her— only yesterday! — and took her hand in their own, eyes wet and fixated on her face, a breath of thanks and a desperate plea and a hope that was misplaced all in one.

Her pager had not gone off and she found herself walking towards the elevators, her feet knowing the path that she had followed day after day after day, over and over again as she rushed from lab to lab, specialist to specialist, trying to understand what more could be done, trying to understand what more she had to do. The doors slid shut and showed her a face that had lapsed from its usual professional into a general sense of nervousness, a sense of tension that translated to shoulders that were rigid and a neck that was uncomfortably stiff. People came in and out of the doors as they crawled up, floor by floor, towards the level that she felt as if she had just left, moments before.

Hanita turned onto the proper hallway and spotted a familiar figure, and something filled her chest as she surged forward, sneakered feet moving much quicker than was necessary as she called out, her voice almost breathless now; “Chelsea, Chelsea, did you hear?” She paused when she was almost to the other woman, staring into her face, as if trying to see the truth there, as if hoping that the truth they both wanted was embedded into her gaze. “What’s happened?”




/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 
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the heartbreaker.
location
loma linda university medical center.
mood
grieving, but trying to stay strong.
mentions
hanita rose saunders.
chelsea lambert.
Chelsea Lambert was in the middle of assisting in an appendectomy when she heard the news. Dear old Arthur Reid had died before he was able to get a new kidney. An overwhelming sadness washed over her as she set down her scalpel, walking away from the operating room altogether as hot, burning tears spilled down her cheeks. She knew that she shouldn't be crying over this - patients died every day, after all - but this was different. Arthur had been under her care for nearly a year, under dialysis treatments for his severe kidney failure. He was a kind and generous soul, and Chelsea had grown quite attached to him over the time that she had spent with him. But now he was gone. Did he get to see his family before he died? Did he pass peacefully? Did he purposefully pass away when Chelsea wasn't around because he knew that she cared for him? Those were some of the questions swirling around her head as she made her way over to the elevators.

Her first thought was to get to Hanita, as she had often assisted her with Arthur's care. Surely she must have found out about his passing by now. But she couldn't be sure until she saw her in person. Together, they could get the answers that they so desperately craved. It was up, up, and away for Chelsea as she entered the elevator, pressing the button for the fourth floor. Was there anything she could have done to save Arthur? Chelsea needed to know. The doors opened at the sixth floor, a group of people gathering inside, cramping her space. She already felt as if she can't breathe because of Arthur's sudden passing. The blend of co-workers and patients inside the elevator with her overwhelmed her. But, eventually, she reached the fourth floor, stumbling out into the open. Chelsea started for the room that had once housed Arthur, her path oh-so-familiar to her tired, overworked feet.

Instead, she found Hanita, who immediately rushed over to her. Chelsea barely heard a word that she said over the sound of her own heart beating. "He's dead. Arthur...he's dead. I don't know what happened, or why it happened, but he's dead. I never even got to say goodbye." Her voice broke as she spoke, wiping away some of the tears that had flowed freely from her eyes. "I assume you know more than what I do. When did he pass?" Chelsea paced the floor, her mind racing with thoughts that brought more tears to her eyes and questions that might never be answered. Arthur Reid was dead, and his caring, attentive nurse was heartbroken.
coded by natasha.
 





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/* ------ left side info ------ */
date September 20 20XX

location Loma Linda University Medical Center

mood Distraught

Interacts Chelsea Lambert


Hanita Rose Saunders




/* ------ right side ------ */
Impulsively, Hanita reached out to gently touch Chelsea’s shoulder as she started pacing, her face warping into a look of empathy, brows furrowing together, lips pressing together in a tense and sad smile. It was only a brief gesture, one that she often displayed to the other members of a patient’s team if she was working with them, a reminder that someone else was there, that the burden would be shared. She moved so that she could be in the other woman’s eyeline, so that she couldn’t continue pacing, and said in a soft, gentle voice, “Hey, hey. Let’s take a breath, yeah? I just heard myself from someone,” she waved a hand airly behind her, “and don’t know much at all.” There was a pause as she drew in a slow breath herself and then released it, closing her eyes gently as she exhaled, her face relaxing before it tensed once more as she glanced towards the door, where there was a swarm of people inside— relatives, the staff that needed to move the body—

The idea made her shudder, and the crease between her brows deepened, and she pulled her lower lip into her mouth to bite down on— an anxious tic that she did frequently. For a moment, she felt her own hot tears pushing behind her eyes, but she blinked hard and willed them away before turning to Chelsea again. “Let’s give the family some space,” she said quietly, gesturing for Chelsea to follow her down the hallway, to an alcove where they could still see the door to the room should it swing open and permit them an opportunity to rush in and ask their own questions, questions that all led to the same conclusion: that it was too late for him.

Hanita pushed herself up onto the edge of the window in the alcove, sighing as she leaned her head against the wall and shut her eyes. “Never gets easier,” she said quietly before opening her eyes again to look at Chelsea. “Sometimes it feels like a curse, huh? Just yesterday—” She had to pause, to clear her throat and gather herself as a lump formed in her throat, “just yesterday he was saying how he was so thankful. That he felt right as rain,” a soft, wet laugh escaped her at one of the common sayings that Arthur frequently used. “He was so excited to go home,” Hanita said distantly.



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© weldherwings.
 
the heartbreaker.
location
loma linda university medical center.
mood
grieving, but trying to stay strong.
mentions
hanita rose saunders.
chelsea lambert.
Chelsea barely noticed Hanita's fingertips brushing her shoulder over the crushing weight of her grief. She knew that she couldn't save all of her patients, but damnit, if she didn't put all of her time and effort into trying to. She knew that if she had gotten there just in time to save Mr. Reid, he would still be here among the living. The guilt that weighed on her chest just seemed to multiply. It wasn't until Hanita physically got into her way that she stopped in her tracks, reluctantly meeting her eyes. Hanita didn't know anything more than she did. It made her feel even worse. And then Chelsea saw the commotion down the hall. She felt as if her knees would buckle underneath her weight as she watched his family, friends, and the hospital staff who needed to transport his lifeless body to the morgue pass in and out of the room. It suddenly became clear to her that this wasn't just a bad dream. No, this was a living nightmare - one that Chelsea couldn't wake up from.

Hanita's voice tore her eyes away from the scene unfolding in front of her. She wanted her to follow her away from where they stood to make room for everyone who needed to make their way to and from where Arthur's hospital room once stood. Chelsea felt as if she were moving in slow motion as she obeyed the command, everyone rushing around her as she made it to the alcove. She slid down the wall, pulling her knees up to her chest. Hanita was right - it never got easier watching someone die. She knew that it was inevitable, but it still hurt regardless. "Do you think that there's an afterlife out there?" Chelsea's tone was somber as she stared out into the space ahead of her. If there was, indeed, an afterlife, she knew that Arthur would be in the good version. He never seemed to lash out in anger about his now-fatal diagnosis. Instead, he woke every day with a smile, treating everyone who cared for him with kindness and respect - the way that anyone would want to be treated. And to Chelsea, that's what hurt her the most - she knew that he had to have gone out with a positive outlook on everything.

"Too bad he never got his wish. Why do bad things happen to good people? He never asked to go out this way. He was such a good man." Chelsea closed her eyes, resting her head against the wall behind her. "But, if there truly is an afterlife, I hope he's happy wherever he is." She meant every word, too. Arthur Reid was one of the best patients she had ever been assigned. He wasn't a pain in the ass to deal with, unlike some of her other patients. He wouldn't try to cop a feel whenever she took his vitals, unlike a handful of troublemakers she had worked with in the past. No, Arthur was truly a gift to this cruel, unforgiving world. Chelsea would miss his upbeat personality when she made her rounds. She wondered if Hanita felt the same way. She had also been assigned to take care of him - surely she felt some sort of sympathy right now.
coded by natasha.
 





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/* ------ left side info ------ */
date September 20 20XX

location Loma Linda University Medical Center

mood Distraught

Interacts Chelsea Lambert


Hanita Rose Saunders




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Hanita wasn’t certain that Chelsea wanted to hear her genuine answer, but provided it anyways, moving from her position to sit down next to the other woman, their shoulders pressed against one another as she fixated her with an apologetic gaze, “I don’t really believe in an afterlife myself. I think whatever mark you make while you are here is what is most important.” She paused, pressing her lips together before reaching out and seizing the other woman’s hand, squeezing it for a brief moment for comfort, for a moment of connection between the two of them. Arthur had been an endearing man, someone who had made mistakes in his past, certainly, but had done his best to rectify them. He didn’t talk too much about it, but there were moments of sadness, especially near the end, when things seemed to be turning for the worse, when there was a flicker of grief and guilt that lined his face, that caused his gaze to turn downwards at his hands, and for a sigh to make its way out of him, rattling his entire form. He had children and grandchildren that visited him often, but they offered no further context over whatever soiled path he had walked to put him where he was.

But still— “His family loved him,” she said honestly, earnestly, because it was true. A daughter— or daughter-in-law, but none of them made the distinction, a sign, like many, that his car extended to any and all, no matter their relation to him— begging to know if there were any alternatives with tears in her eyes, a son asking in a low voice if he could know the chances, the real chances of his father surviving, a teenage grandchild turning to gaze at Hanita and asking frankly, “Should I say this goodbye like it's the last?” An entire family, hovering on the edge, waiting in anticipation to know whether or not it was to be over. And yet— he had fought on, valiantly, and with little complaint, even though Hanita had watched treatments wash people out, turn them into utter shells of themselves as they clung onto the last threads of hope. That never seemed to be the case with Arthur, always willing to provide a smile with clear eyes, a nod, as if he was walking towards his fate with a smile.

“And I think he was making his peace with things,” Hanita continued softly. “I think— I think he was ready for whatever came.” Another silence, another brief lapse of quiet between them as her brows furrowed together in concern, this time for Chelsea. “We did all that we could,” she said firmly, insistently. “We did the best that we could. That’s all we can really ever do.”



/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 
the heartbreaker.
location
loma linda university medical center.
mood
grieving, but trying to stay strong.
mentions
hanita rose saunders.
chelsea lambert.
Her eyes flickered over to Hanita, who moved to sit beside her. It was a comforting notion to know that she was right there if she needed her. So Hanita didn't believe in an afterlife. It was a bit of surprise to Chelsea, but she didn't say anything, instead letting her companion take the reins to the conversation. She wasn't quite sure that she herself believed in an afterlife either - after all, nobody living knew what really happened after the party of life concluded. For all Chelsea knew, there could very well be nothing once her body gave out. Were the Christians right? Was there a heaven and a hell? Or was the concept of reincarnation real? She pondered the options as she felt Hanita's reassuring touch, squeezing her hand back just as she had done. Chelsea tried to think about anything but poor old Arthur Reid, who was dead at seventy-six. Anything would be better than worrying about what she could have done to prolong his life.

Arthur's family did love him, just like Hanita had mentioned. Chelsea hadn't been that lucky. With an absent father and a mother who wanted nothing to do with her, especially after she had come out as gay, there was no love for her in her life. Well, except for her longtime girlfriend, Athena, that was. She was just about the closest thing that Chelsea had to family now. She had long since lost the hope of reconnecting with her mother. It was a lost cause. But at least Arthur had a family that cared enough about him to be there for his final months of his life. They truly loved and cared for him. Chelsea almost felt a twinge of jealousy regarding the situation. How did Arthur get all the love and support, while she was cast aside and treated like garbage? It just wasn't fair. She blew a loose strand of hair that had fallen in her face out of the way, a frown settling on her lips afterwards. Arthur was one of the rare exceptions of patients that weighed heavily on her mind. Chelsea just didn't know why he remained a constant. It was a puzzle.

She glanced over at Hanita as she began to speak again. They had done everything they could to try to save the man. But still, the guilt ate away at her. "You don't feel guilty about losing him?" Chelsea asked, trying to wrap her head around everything that had just happened. "Because I do. I think he genuinely thought he was going to get to go home at the end of it all. And the fact that we couldn't help him achieve that haunts me." She wasn't going to lie to her - it was obvious from the look on her face that she felt this way. Losing Arthur had been a crushing blow to Chelsea, and everyone around her knew it. Her therapist would be dealing with a lot next time she went to see him.
coded by natasha.
 





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date September 20 20XX

location Loma Linda University Medical Center

mood Distraught

Interacts Chelsea Lambert


Hanita Rose Saunders




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Hanita’s expression turned soft— though sad, a small smile forming on her lips as she gazed at the other woman, now placing her free hand over their joined ones, rubbing her thumb reassuringly, to offer some sort of comfort. Despite her own initial panic and grief and sadness, seeing someone else in distress seemed to have calmed her own mind, made her prioritize Chelsea and her whirlwind of emotion over her own. It was an instinct from having such a large family, from being one of the eldest members of her generation within the family. She was often the one that was required to comfort and nurture and soothe the younger ones— not that she ever really minded. It was why she had entered the medical field, wanting to help others, and she found the way that she had to blunt her emotional responses to the innumerable tragedies she was faced with at any given moment actually aided her in navigating the emotional responsibilities that was now slowly becoming a burden.

“Of course,” she said softly to the other woman. “It’s a tragedy when someone like him leaves us. It makes me wonder if— if maybe we could have tried a different test earlier, if we should have been bolder with various treatments, tried new things, offered experimental avenues, procedures, if there could have been anything,” her own voice started to waver, and she had to pause and turn away, clearing her throat as if it would steady herself before she looked back at the other woman.

“But what can we do now?” she said, an almost-question. What could they even do now? “It’s over,” she offered with a shrug, her own voice quiet and laden with emotion, weighing down on her shoulders now that she was offered an opportunity to sit and talk, to hear the thoughts that swirled about in her own head be spoken aloud. She pressed her lips together again, sighing heavily as she let go of the other woman’s hand to lift a hand up to her face, resting it there for a moment, to swipe away the tears forming as subtly as she could. She sniffed and glanced down at her fingertips, at the wetness on them that she rubbed together as if flicking it— and the sadness she felt— off, exhaling slowly through her mouth as she did so. “It’s over,” she repeated, to herself, before looking back at Chelsea. “I don’t know when or if the guilt will go away, nor do I know if we could have done anything different that would mean he would still be here right now, but I know that there is rarely a moment for us to grieve these sorts of things.” Another sigh, her eyes turning to the hustle and bustle of the hallway, the various other nurses and assistants and professionals rushing about with clipboards in their hands, frowns on their faces, eyes trained ahead for what was coming next, leaving the two women to their private moment.



/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 
the heartbreaker.
location
loma linda university medical center.
mood
grieving, but trying to stay strong.
mentions
hanita rose saunders.
chelsea lambert.
Chelsea couldn't help but feel distraught over the loss of one of her most memorable patients. She tried not to pick favorites, but with patients like Mr. Reid, it was quite hard for her not to. The industry was a brutal one, taking everything she had - and more - and asking for everything else in return. But yet, Chelsea couldn't complain about it - she had chosen this career path. This was on her. She had decided to become a nurse to try and help people. She was the one who had determined her own fate. But yet, as Hanita's voice began to waver, she couldn't help but feel sympathetic for her. Arthur's death had affected Hanita just as it had affected her. "I think he was going to go out on his own terms, regardless of anything we could have tried or did to stop the inevitable from happening. Does it still hurt? Yeah, of course it does. But we tried, didn't we? That's all that matters, I guess." Chelsea shrugged, trying to make the best out of the situation. Crying wasn't going to bring the man back, no matter how many tears that had spilled from her eyes.

At least she wasn't alone in her grief. Hanita had been there from the beginning. There was no way that anyone else would understand. Unless they were there nearly every day with Mr. Reid, they wouldn't even begin to understand why Chelsea felt this way. They hadn't shared the triumphs or the defeats, the highs and the lows, the good days and the bad days that went with taking care of Arthur. But Hanita had, and for that, Chelsea was grateful. "You can be my shoulder to lean on, and I can be yours." This job was draining, both emotionally and physically. Maybe if they would have each other's back, it would be a whole lot better. It was a good suggestion in her eyes. Chelsea didn't really try to make friends around here, but she couldn't help but take a liking to Hanita. After all, they had both been assigned to Arthur, and his care had taken nearly a whole year. She had spent months upon months working alongside her. Chelsea genuinely liked working with Hanita - a rare thing these days for her.

"Everything moves so fast around here. We deserve to have a moment of sadness, even if it's as short as this is." Chelsea offered a small smile, rising to her feet. She'd soon be paged and have to scurry off to wherever she was needed. At least she had a few moments to process her grief in private. "I'll see you on my lunch break?" She quirked an eyebrow, hoping that she'd be able to see her friend in the cafeteria later that morning. Chelsea wasn't quite sure if their schedules would align today, but if they did, maybe she'd eat lunch with a companion today rather than by her lonesome self, as she usually did. It didn't really bother her much, but it would be nice to have polite conversation over meatloaf from the kitchen for once, wouldn't it?
coded by natasha.
 





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/* ------ left side info ------ */
date September 20 20XX

location Loma Linda University Medical Center

mood Pensive

Interacts Chelsea Lambert


Hanita Rose Saunders




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“I think you’re right,” Hanita said after a moment of silence between them, gathering herself back up again before she stood up, straightening out her white lab coat. There was already an alert on her own pager, informing her that she needed to go down to a certain floor to examine another patient— one of plenty that she was supposed to be aiding, rushing about with tests and antibiotics and calculations and assumptions that would perhaps— perhaps ensure that they would live to see another day. It was the same thing she had done for Arthur over the course of his year at the hospital, and it had all turned out to be for naught.

That was the case for so many, though. Hopes and dreams dashed because they couldn’t detect something quick enough, couldn’t ensure someone would live long enough. There was a plethora of human error as well, given that the medical staff was made up of fallible human beings that may or may not have recognized the signs, trapped in their own world of concerns and experiences (and biases, too).

She was pulled out of her musing by Chelsea’s words, glancing over at the other woman again, and offering a sad but soft smile to her and a nod, stating, “I think I can manage that. 12:30, in the cafeteria?” she asked, and once she received confirmation, as if on cue, both of their pagers sounded off, informing them of the next task on their never ending laundry list. Hanita gave an equally sad chuckle at this, before offering one more smile and reaching out to squeeze the other woman’s shoulder, before heading back to the elevators to tackle the rest of the day.



/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 
the heartbreaker.
location
loma linda university medical center.
mood
coping.
mentions
hanita rose saunders.
chelsea lambert.
Chelsea knew that she needed to get back to work, but it was hard for her to focus on anything but the poor dead man. What made her think that she could save any of her patients now? One was already dead. Who would be next? Sure, it was just the nature of the job, but she had always hoped that she could save everyone. It wasn't a rational thing to think, but damnit, it was her thought, and she was determined to think it regardless of what anyone else might say about it. She had seen many patients die before, but she had never grown attached to anyone until now. Chelsea wasn't going to let that happen again. Once again, Hanita snapped her out of her thoughts and back to reality. "12:30 sounds great. See you then." And before she could say one last goodbye, both of their pagers seemed to have a mind of their own and beep at the same time. It was morbidly amusing to her, at least. She wasn't sure how Hanita felt, but Chelsea thought it was darkly comical.

And with that, they parted without another word. Hanita made her way to the elevators, while Chelsea had been notified to attend to someone on this floor. She stalked down the never-ending hallway until she reached the room she was supposed to be in. She had to help the elderly woman who was recovering from a stroke onto the bedpan below her. It wasn't her favorite thing to do, but work was work. She was being paid to do this, after all. Chelsea took her time being gentle with her - Miss Edith was nearing seventy-five, after all - making sure that she was as comfortable as she could possibly be at a time like this. After she was done there, she took her gloves off, scrubbing her hands in hand sanitizer before making her way to the elevator for her next patient. People rushed in, people rushed out. It took her longer than she needed to, but she had finally made it to the sixth floor. And it was only 10:24. God, she was overtired.

Chelsea had set a broken bone, pushed two IVs into two different patients, and put three catheters in two of those same IV'd patients, as well as a separate case. But finally, 12:30 came around. She set her pager to silent as she took the elevator down to the cafeteria, where she got the special of the day from her favorite cafeteria worker, as well as a bottle of water from one of the vending machines nearby. Did she know what it was? Not exactly, but she knew that if Miss Betty was cooking it, it would be good. She didn't see Hanita - she was probably still working with a patient. That didn't bother Chelsea none, however. She made her way over to an empty table, opening her plate lunch as soon as she sat down. The hamburger steak smelled absolutely heavenly. Without waiting for Hanita to join her, Chelsea dug in. She was starving.
coded by natasha.
 
the physician's assistant
location
shared apartment with Stephen.
mood
dulled.
interactions
none
HANITA ROSE SAUNDERS.
Hanita was, indeed, working on patients. There always was some emergency happening at the hospital, and so she had arrived at the cafeteria with only ten minutes left of Chelsea’s break, giving a rushed apology as she slid into the seat opposite the other woman. They were both far too used to the twists and turns of their career to truly be bothered with the fact that their supposed shared lunch had been shortened so considerably, but Hanita found herself lightened by the mere presence of the other woman. The topic of Arthur did not come back up again, the topic still a touch too raw and painful to truly delve into, and so their smalltalk was almost dull, a welcomed respite to the chaos they were surrounded by at any given time.

Another thing about the chaos— it demanded one’s full attention. Hanita permitted herself to sink into it, the dark, swirling emotions pushed out of the way by the sense of urgency that filled the air whenever she entered a patient’s room. Tests and drugs and caretakers all swirling around in a blur of papers and words and faces that she concentrated on instead of the heaviness that had sunk into her bones since she realized the news.

Too soon, however, she found herself heading to the lockers, exchanging her scrubs for her normal clothes; jeans and a plain T-shirt, something simple that she could toss on and off on her days where she was working. She hardly wore those outfits for very long, and therefore did not fuss over her presentation in them. This was already one of those days where the weight of what had transpired pressed down on her shoulders as she shrugged off her white jacket, stepping out from behind the glass walls that she raised up in an effort to shield herself as much as possible from the reality of looking after the sick and dying.

Ah, she thought to herself, in the saddened voice of her mother, but that did not succeed anyways.

Once she was in her car, she flicked on the radio, absolutely refusing to permit herself to sit in silence. It was white noise to fill the space, to try and drown out the shaking in her hands, the tremble of her bottom lip, the way her eyes burned with unshed tears. In the midst of the generic pop music, the beats that flowed into one another so smoothly that it was only the occasional half-assed quips by the DJ’s that made her realize that one song had ended before another began, she forced herself to breathe— in, then out. In, then out.

By the time she arrived home, she felt drained. It was rare that a patient could have such a momentous effect on her, but it seemed that Arthur and his eternal patience and optimism had managed to leave a lasting impression on her. In a half-daze, she wandered to the kitchen to begin cooking, pulling out pre-cut vegetables and already marinated chicken to throw together into something simple, only the slight frown on her face betraying any of her inner turmoil.
coded by natasha.
 
the selfless.
location
home.
mood
mentally and physically exhausted.
outfit
mentions
n/a
stephen hensley.
It had been a long day. Anyone could have told Stephen Hensley that. Working from dawn until dusk as a paralegal drained him day after day. But he still had to put on a happy smile when he got home, for his longtime partner, Hanita, would be home waiting for him. She had put up with him for so long. It was the least that he could do. Stephen sighed as he stepped off of the bus, his shared apartment with Hanita not far from the stop. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he shuffled along, soon finding himself fumbling around for his keys. He needed a shave and a haircut, but he was always so preoccupied with work that it often slipped his mind. It wasn't the most important thing in his life right now. That spot was reserved for Hanita and Hanita only. Stephen unlocked the door to apartment 235, pushing the door open to find Hanita in the kitchen. He was a bit bummed to see her cooking - he genuinely enjoyed to make new dishes for them to try, but hey, it took off some of the burden, didn't it?

Stephen decided to sneak up on her. She was a sight for sore eyes, that was for sure. After slipping off his shoes at the door, he formulated a plan. He quickly and silently crossed the threshold from the living room to the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her waist, placing a small kiss on the side of her neck, just below her ear. "How was your day?" Stephen murmured into her skin, resting his head against hers. Their love story hadn't been the most conventional, but he was glad it happened anyway. He had signed up for a matchmaking service. It wasn't anything like Tinder, or Bumble, or any of those other phony dating apps. No, this was the real deal, costing a lot of money out of his pocket. But it had all been worth it in the end, for he had been paired with Hanita, and they had been together ever since. Stephen let go of his partner, a yawn escaping his lips. "I could've cooked tonight. Too bad you beat me to the punch."

He ran a hand through his messy locks of hair, leaning against the kitchen counter beside her. It was the first time he'd gotten a good look at her today. Something was off. "Hey, what's wrong?" His voice fell to a near-whisper. Had he done something wrong? Was she angry with him? Stephen racked his brain, trying to think about everything he had did and said from the time they had gotten up that morning until now. Everything had been fine this morning...at least, he thought so. "You can talk to me about anything, you know that, right?" He wanted to make sure that she knew that she could come to him with anything and he wouldn't judge her on it. He'd just listen. That is, if Hanita would ever decide to take him up on his offer. She very well could just build a wall between them, never to topple it down. This would all depend on her willingness to open up.
coded by natasha.
 
the physician's assistant
location
shared apartment with Stephen.
mood
grieving.
interactions
Stephen Hensley
HANITA ROSE SAUNDERS.
Hanita was sauteing some bell peppers and onions to be rolled up alongside the chicken that was set aside and cooling, waiting to be cut into strips so that they might be able to create fajitas. Lost in her own thoughts, she jumped slightly when she felt Stephen wrap his arms around her, a “Jesus Christ!” slipping out in alarm, turning her head to glance over at her partner, eyes wide with surprise. It seemed that she was on edge, that the emotions of grief and guilt had dredged up her easily startled side. Still, despite her exhaustion and his, she managed to slide a hand across his face, turning his face towards hers before leaning forward to give him a quick kiss before he pulled away, turning back to the vegetables.

“Just needed to do something,” she confessed quietly, pushing them around absentmindedly with the spatula. It was good to do something that required real focus, that forced her to pay attention, lest she burn something or injure herself.

His question caused a small, brief smile to break out on her face, a small flicker of the bittersweet tragedy she had endured. Stephen was by-and-large the best person that she had dated so far, despite the fact that she had been roped into said date by her cousins and sister pooling in money to get a fucking matchmaker to stare at her and the answers she had written down on the absurd questionnaire. He was a sweet, kindly person, always sensitive to her moods, to her needs and desires. Sure, there were times where she felt like he could be a little clingy, and some days she wanted to just sit and exist— with or without her partner beside her. But he had swept her off her feet, and right now, his presence was still welcomed.

“Hard day at work,” she offered on an exhale. She glanced over at him, the sad smile flickering across her face, which was perhaps a mistake, as the burning behind her eyes returned. She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her head, clearing her throat roughly to ask, “How about you? They finally gonna let you get some rest soon?”
coded by natasha.
 

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