LRPD - part nine

full / mostly edited

“Riley, hold up.” There’s a fat horse fly on Molly’s flank, twitching as she trots along beside you on the well worn path. She turns in the saddle.

“What?”

“Swat that fly.” You point to where it sits, wings vibrating, no doubt waiting to bite. It’s not that you don’t trust Molly, you do. She’s always been a good mare, confident and comfortable and pretty unflappable, but you’re not sure how she’ll react to getting bitten, and you don’t want to find out while Riley’s on her back.

“What fly?”

“The fly, down there behind the saddle pad.” She leans back to wave her hand around and it buzzes off, and relief settles your stomach.

“Shoo fly!” You laugh.

“Good job you got it.” It’s beautiful today. Sunny, breezy, and full of Riley smiles. You’re plodding along the trail that winds along the pasture, up the hill and then dips into the woods for some shade, the one Tess carved out right after they bought the land. It’s easy to feel close to her out here, easy for Riley to get to know her mom this way, riding the same path Tess made and hoped to share with her one day. Watching Riley on Mabel’s daughter, hair shining in the sun, these are the weightless moments, the ones that will stick to your bones forever. The ones you never want to let go, the ones that are worth everything, all of it.

You’re just about to tell Riley how much she looks like her mom when that fly lands on Molly again, except this time it doesn’t just sit there.

It bites.

The chat window pops up at the same time as the alert.

John: Get down here.

Simon frowns, and thumbs over the blinking red dot in the corner of the tablet.

It’s a patient notification, an automatic alert for whenever one of his kids is checked in at the hospital.

His stomach flips when he sees who it is.

Riley.

All he sees is you.

Not the child on the gurney with her helmet knocked askew and her arm bent at an odd angle, not Alex Keller talking to her in low tones or the nurses taking her boots off, but you, off to the side, shell shocked, rattling with fear.

You, his strong, brave girl, still trying to stand when everything is crumbling.

He allows himself a second to take you in, look you over. You’re not hurt that he can see, just covered in dust, standing stiffly at John’s side as he rubs your shoulder.

He wants to reach for you, hold you, tell you it’s going to be okay. He’s going to fix it.

But his focus needs to shift, for now.

Alex looks up as the doors side closed and cocks his head. “What can I do for you Simon?”

“Personal interest.” He steps in beside the pediatrician as he works, and smiles down at the trembling little girl. “Hey Riley.”

“H-hi.” She hiccups.

“Heard you took a bit of a fall today.” He glances at the monitor. “We have anything on board for pain control?” Alex carefully unbuckles her helmet and lifts it off.

“Yeah. One of yours?” He nods, and then crouches so he’s eye level with her.

“We have the same name, that’s cool right?”

“We do?” She’s squeaky from crying, and he squeezes her good hand.

“We do. I’m Doctor Riley, and you’re Riley. Must mean we’re meant to be friends.” Her lower lip trembles.

“Uh huh.” Poor thing.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re doing great, and we’re going to get you all fixed up.” Big tears gather at the corners of her eyes and spill over, and Keller smiles to reassure her.

“Okay we’re going to bring a machine in here to take a picture of the inside of your arm now, alright?” Her lower lip quivers. “X-rays okay mom? Anything we should know?” Simon turns to you, and while your throat bobs, there’s no reply. “Is there-”

“X-rays are fine, right Daisy?” He cuts Keller off, and you blink in surprise, finally seeing him, noticing him in the room. He gives you an encouraging nod, one you follow.

“X-rays are fine.” Riley holds perfectly still like a champ, and once a fracture is confirmed Alex moves on.

“Daisy right?” You nod again, and he gives you his best ‘try not to freak the parent out’ smile. “We’re going to get her arm stabilized and then I want to take Riley for a CT, just in case. Everything looks good but we like to be extra thorough when it comes to head injuries in children. She’ll be evaluated by orthopedics right after to see where we are with the arm.”

“Okay.” There’s no emotion in your voice. It’s hollow, and his stomach twists.

“Someone will bring you the consent forms while we take her upstairs, and then you can wait for her in-”

“I have to go with her.” Alex opens his mouth to give you the standard spiel, but you cut him off. “No. I have to go with her.”

“Unfortunately you can’t. We’ll take a good care of her, I promise. I know it’s scary, but she’s in great hands.”

“I- she needs me.” Simon shifts, blocks your line of sight and lowers his voice.

“Daisy.” Nothing. It’s like he never spoke. “Daisy. Look at me.” No reaction, so he takes a chance, tucks two fingers under your chin and tilts your face to his to find your eyes. “Go tell Riley everything’s okay and you’ll see her as soon as she’s done.”

“You don’t understand.” You whisper hoarsely, and your pained expression is so desperate, so scared.

“I do, you know I do.” Riley is in a gown now, bed rails in place, and Keller is giving him an odd, impatient look. Simon holds up a finger. “This patient is your family and you’re off the clock. If the roles were reversed, you’d be saying the same thing as Keller.” Your face crumples, almost shatters, before you reign it back in. You’re so, so close to cracking, and he hates that this is what’s going to do it, this is what will shatter your control. “Now take a deep breath, go give Riley a kiss, and tell her you’ll see soon. We don’t want her to be even more stressed, right?” You bite down on your bottom lip to smother something, some outburst of emotion that’s trying to claw free, and nod.

“Right.”

“Seems like you’ve coddled her enough already.” There’s a ripple that starts from your mouth upwards, a feeling trying to fight its way out, but you shut it down immediately and stare silently at the elevator doors.

When they open and you bolt, John growls.

“Aresehole. She needs-”

“I know what she needs,” he snaps, turning on his friend. He can still smell you in the elevator, warm leather and honeysuckle. It’s been lingering in the halls, haunting him. Taunting him. “I’m trying to give it to her, and I can’t treat her differently than anyone else just starting in the unit. You know I weed them out.” John’s skepticism is clear.

“You’re making a mess of it.” He knows he’s been harsh and heavy handed, but you’re not just going to roll over for him. It’s hard for John to reconcile considering he’s been handling you with a soft touch for the last few years, but he doesn’t know what Simon knows. He doesn’t understand how it’s not just the weight of the responsibility on your back, it’s grief. For your sister, for Riley, for yourself. It’s overwhelming loss that doesn’t just go away, gaping wounds you’ll never truly heal. The stress, the money, these things compound it, they make it harder to process, to accept the loss and move forward. It jams everything up and turns it to rot.

Simon would know.

So he won’t stop pushing you, and every time you give him nothing, he’ll continue to give more right back. He won’t cow you, but he will set you right. He will fix it, and you’ll let him.

“You’re making it harder on her than it needs to be.”

“I know what I’m doing.” He doesn’t need advice or guidance with this. With you. The line between too much and too little can only be determined by him, and he doesn’t care about anyone else’s opinion.

You will walk it.

Whether it be of your own choosing or by his hand, you will do it either way.

“She’s drowning, John. It’s worse than you know, and there’s no time to handle her with kid gloves.” The elevator comes to a stop, and John steps out with a parting glance.

“Just be careful, Simon.”

You haven’t moved in two minutes. Frozen in place with your back to him, shoulders tight under your ears, ribcage occasionally deflating with an exhale until you’re taking another breath and holding it hostage.

You didn’t even notice when John left the room, pulled the doors closed to ensure no one would come in.

He grits his teeth. It’s going to be difficult.

The room crackles with the promise of a fight, rolling thunder and lightning electrifying the very foundation you stand on, shaking it to its core.

But he knows you won’t let it crumble. Not so easily, anyway.

“It’s going to be okay.” You don’t answer, you don’t turn to face him. “She’s in good hands, she-”

“I know.” It’s not your normal edge, your insistence. It’s more raw, precarious, and he circles you, ignoring the way you refuse to look at him. For now.

“Her CT will come back clear, and her arm needs a screw or two at most. She’ll be in a cast for six weeks, maybe eight. It’s-”

“I know.” You’re a stone wall, staring straight ahead, but he sees the cracks and splinters them wider when he takes your hand, holding you firmly in place when you try to tug free.

“Peds has a great-”

“I know!” You rip out of his grasp, and for a second, a split second, you look at him in horror. Gut wrenching terror, like you’re desperately trying to climb onto a life raft and you keep slipping off, reaching out for something to pull yourself up with, something to save you, though it’s not there.

Like you’ve just figured out what he’s been planning all along.

You know what’s happening.

When the first tear falls, it comes with an anguished noise that rips from your throat so brutally he has to steady himself.

“It’s okay, Daisy.” The palm you’ve flung forward does nothing to stop him snaking an arm around your back as you frantically shake your head and trip backwards, trying and failing to escape. “Everything’s okay.” He goes for the kill, pulls you into his body, reels you in, unsurprised when you thrash on the line, cheeks wet and gasping for air.

“Let me go!” You push, but you’re no match for him, not even close. You fight anyway, just as he knew you would, just like you’ve been fighting him at every turn, just like you’ve been fighting every day since your sister died.

It’s what you know, it’s how you’ve survived. You’re scarred and bruised but battle tested, and you’re not going down without fight.

John was convinced you needed a soft hand, told him as much. “Can’t tame a wild horse without some sugar cubes Simon.” Whatever the bloody hell that meant.

Simon knew better.

You can’t take a wild horse. You have to break them.

“Fuck- get off me!” You twist and try to push off, but he holds you through it, holds you as you hiss and scratch and beat on him, holds you as you cuss at him, scream at him. It’s your last line of defense, the final pieces of armor falling away. “Let go, let go.”

“No.” You try to throw yourself out of his arms so violently he has to dig his hooks in, press your face into his chest, cupping the back of your head. “Stop, Daisy. Stop.”

“I can’t, I-” You try, desperately, to hold onto your rage, your mask, the control on which your life is built around, but your softening muscles and panicked breaths tell him its all slipping through your fingers. Come on sweetheart, let me see you. “This- I-”

The last tether snaps, you collapse into him and your vitriol slips away.

In its place is pain.

So much pain. It comes pouring out of you like a flood, one that would wash you away if he wasn’t holding you, and your sobs are gut wrenching, so vicious he’s worried you’ll make yourself sick. “Shh, you’re okay. You’re okay.”

“I c-can’t, I tried-”

“I know, I know.” You’ve been so brave, he wants to say, kiss the salt from your cheeks, you’ve done so well. You won’t have to do it alone anymore.

“This is m-my fault, I- I did this.”

“No you didn’t.”

“I’m supposed- supposed to- to-” your words are sticky, soaked with tears and mucus and garbled, “keep her s-safe and I c-can’t, I didn’t-” He takes your face into his hands.

“You do keep her safe, Daisy. You do take care of her. This was an accident, accidents happen.” You struggle for air and he rubs your back. “Breathe, just breathe. Nice and deep, there- that’s it-” The fight is gone. Drained dry, you follow his instructions, carefully drawing air in through your nose and out through your mouth until the heaving of your diaphragm is somewhat slower.

“I’m supposed to take care of her.” He wipes your cheeks.

“You do-”

“I can’t. I’m supposed to and I can’t and I’m failing, I’m failing and- and the insurance, oh my god.” Your eyes widen, anxiety peaking all over again, muscles and lungs locking up. He smothers his confusion.

“Insurance?”

“I messed up, I messed up so bad. I changed plans to that new one because it would be better for Riley but I didn’t… I didn’t read the instructions clearly or I wasn’t paying attention and I thought she would just roll over with me but she didn’t and now she won’t have insurance and I don’t know what to do, I-”

“Okay, okay. Slow down.” What a gift. He’s never been more grateful for America’s dumpster fire health insurance system. “Let’s focus on what’s in front of us right now.” Us. It’s natural on his tongue, easy like it should have been there all along.

“I…” your shoulders slump, completely void of all resistance. “Okay.”

“She tell ye yet?” He shakes his head.

“I think she’s too nervous.”

“She thinks he doesn’t recognize her.” Price grumbles. “And he hasn’t told her otherwise.” Kyle rolls his eyes.

“You should just tell her. You know, rip the bandaid off an’ all that. It’s probably turning her into knots.” Kyle reaches for Johnny’s beer and tips it back, which earns him a scoff.

“Ach, get yer own.” He grins devilishly at his partner.

“What’s yours is mine.”

“I want her to do it on her own.” He’s not surprised you haven’t brought it up yet. Riley is special, but to you, she’s your world and your weight, and you need time. “It means more to her than Riley just being my patient.”

“She wasn’t just your patient though, she’s the hallmark of your success. She’s your legacy.” Laswell circles the rim of her drink and watches him thoughtfully. “You invented a procedure for her, her case is published. She means more to you, too.” He opens his mouth to respond but a dimple appears at the corner of his vision, and his eyes swing.

You’re smiling.

Johnny whistles low. “Christ ye’ve got it bad.”

“Fuck off.” His chest is tight. He’s never seen you truly smile outside of the polite frozen ones you’re usually giving at work. This one is real. It’s genuine and so beautiful, so bright. You’re a star born in the night sky, a brilliant spot exploding in an endless spiral of darkness, and he’s too greedy to look away. He drinks up every second of it, trying to memorize the curve of your lips and the shine in your eyes in case he never sees it again. He wants to bottle it up, put it away high on a shelf so it’s only for him.

“She’s lovely.” Laswell says kindly, softly, and he nods. His throat is dry.

“She is.”

“How is she?” Price peers through the room’s glass window and crosses his arms. Rocks on his heels.

“Fine. CT is clear, arm only needed one screw.” You’re both asleep, Riley peacefully in the bed, and you fitfully on the recliner at her side.

“And Daisy?”

“Exhausted.”

“You break ‘er?” He nods, but not in victory. It’s progress, that’s all, and it’s painful. It hurts him, as it hurts you, as it has been hurting him since the day he saw you, grey rocking from behind a fortress.

“Won’t last.” Simon rubs his hand over his face. “By sunrise, it will be like most of it never happened.” Most of it. He won’t be starting from scratch, but it will be a long time before he gets you that exposed again.

You toss, sending the thin blanket to the floor, twitching when your skin is exposed to the cool hospital air. John claps him on his back. “Good luck.” Simon grunts.

“Thanks. Gonna need it.”

Your lashes flutter as the blanket is tucked in around your shoulders, and you peer up at him, bleary and still mostly asleep. “Riley?”

“Right over there.” He murmurs and points to where she sleeps, her freshly cast arm propped on a pillow. “She’s okay, asleep.”

“Is it morning?” You slur, trying to open your eyes, but he stills you with a hand on your shoulder.

“No, it’s the middle of the night. You can rest.”

“Yeah,” you agree and tuck your hands under your chin, mumbling incoherent nonsense. “Okay.” Your brow furrows briefly before the little wrinkle smooths and you nod insistently. “I’ll be here when she wakes up.”

“You will, don’t worry.” He brushes his fingers across your cheek, soaking in the warmth of your skin. He’d stay, if he thought you could handle it but he knows tomorrow the status quo will be mostly back in place. It’s a long road, but at least he’s on it now. You twitch and blink, but he settles you, stretches his hand wide between your shoulder blades and works in long strokes, eases you into a deeper sleep, satisfied only when your breathing evens out. He doesn’t need you to tell him your dreams do not give you peace, that the world is not quiet between your ears, he already knows. He’ll fix it. He’ll crack you open again and again, break your control, and fix it all.

He’ll give you the world. He just needs to teach you how to take it.