Like Real People Do - part six

previously part five, removed by patreon due to the sexual assault/harassment content, see below for tumblr info

“I’m scared.” The little girl grips the mask in her fingers so tight her knuckles are white.

The OR is in a dance around you. Lights, camera, action. They’re all taking their well known places, performing their well known duties.

You’re not even supposed to be in here. Doctor Riley is not even supposed to be in here, but the patient on the table, sweet little four year old Sophia, has a very specific heart defect leftover from her being born at twenty nine weeks, and Doctor Riley is the only one who has experience repairing them on this side of the country.

He’s standing at the table, talking to Doctor Beckert, and Doctor MacTavish is being you, checking dosages and pumps and everything else, stopping to give you a look. You don’t need to be an OR nurse to interpret it. It’s time to go to sleep.

“You know, I know a little girl who had a surgery just like this.” Okay it’s a lie. Not quite like this but you’re going with it.

“You do?” You pull the mask from her surprisingly strong grip and smile.

“Yeah. You know what she told me after it was over?”

“What?”

“That she had the best day ever because she got to eat all the ice cream she wanted, and the nurses let her watch her favorite movies that night.” Sophia’s eyes go wide with wonder.

“Wow. Will I get to do that?” Your vision turns fuzzy for a second and you see Riley on the table, small and fragile. You shake it loose. Focus.

“You will. But only if you go to sleep. Do you think you can do that?” Her apprehension is mostly gone now, soothed.

“I want chocolate ice cream.” She insists, little brows coming together in determination.

“Okay.” You squeeze her arm encouragingly, and then hand her the mask, keeping your palm over it to guide her. “Deep breaths for me, okay? And then I’ll see you afterwards.” She holds out her pinkie.

“Pinkie promise?” You loop it through yours and nod.

“Pinkie promise.” She goes down after that without issue, and when you stand and turn back to the room, Doctor Riley is watching you. In his scrub cap and mask, only his eyes are visible, and they bear down on you with enormous pressure, that gentle-tender thing in them from the other day framed by barely there blonde flecked eyelashes. It's confusing, it's frightening, it's chipping away at you and making your needs weak. You swallow.

“All good?” He never drops his gaze from yours, even with the flurry of activity spinning in a circle around him.

“All good.” You whisper, but somehow, it’s loud.

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