NICU rambling

getting carried away with the idea of Simon/reader (MD/nurse) so...

Also this reader has a name, and I don't know if this will ever see the light of day

“We’re going to miss you kid.” You could place the familiar British accent with your eyes closed, and you smile at the man in scrubs leaning against the door of the break room, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m not dying, Doctor Price. Everyone is being so dramatic, I’m only moving four floors up. I’ll still be around.” You sling the only intact strap of your backpack over your shoulder and sigh. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll hate it and end up coming back.” It’s unlikely. You’re getting a raise with this transfer, one you desperately need, and panic bubbles up in the back of your throat when you consider what would happen without the pay bump. You’re struck with the memory of Riley’s face last week, the disappointed pout tugging at her lips when you told her she couldn’t get a new backpack this year during back to school shopping. It twists your stomach until you shove it aside.

“They’re lucky to have you.” Price’s eyes soften. The unit is tight knit. It’s not a nurse-resident-attending-administrative battle down here. The ED functions like a human body. All parts and pieces moving together as one to achieve a single goal: keeping these people alive until you can get them the upstairs. These are your people, coworkers turned friends turned family. You never imagined you’d be cleaning out your locker to leave the ED, but your life has changed a lot in the last year, and you can’t afford to be selfish. “If you need anything, you let me know.”

“Thanks.” You swallow the lump in your throat. You’ve already said your goodbyes, had your cake, wrapped your arms around everyone for a hug, all that is left is this single act. Badge out of the ED for the last time. It’s terrifying, and you know he can see it on your face, because he places a hand on your shoulder with a firm squeeze.

“You’ll be alright. This is a good thing for you, for your family. I know it will be hard, considering, but you’re going to be amazing. We all know it.” Your hands fist at your side as you cling to your control, beat back the tears trying to force their way forward. “And don’t let Simon give you any shit.” Simon?

Oh.

Doctor Riley.

He’s respected, revered, and notoriously private. Head of the department, he’s widely known as one of the best neonatal surgeons in the field, and the NICU here has one of the highest survival rates in the country.

Of course you already know all this from personal experience, but no one knows that. At least, no one in the unit.

You force a smile for Price’s benefit, and he squeezes your shoulder. “Take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

Riley’s at that age where her mouth never stops moving.

During the car ride home, she regals you with a full recap of her day, down to what her best friends ate for lunch at camp (Lexi had peanut butter banana sandwiches, Aya had tamagoyaki, and Alice had leftover pizza that a counselor heated up for her. Lucky.) By the time dinner is over and her shower is done, she’s moved onto her big plans for weekend (riding, riding and more riding, followed by rematch in Monopoly, and maybe some s’mores. She has your whole life planned out as well as her own.) She runs out of words by the time she’s in bed, but the last three are always the same.

Love you Daisy.