Lauren glanced over at Camila as she pulled into the doctors' section of the ER parking lot. Camila, silent for the entire ride, sat with her head back and her eyes closed. Carefully, Lauren brought the car to a stop and shut off the engine. She turned in her seat and rested her fingers on Camila's leg.
"How are you doing?"
Camila slowly rolled her head to the side and opened her eyes. "Not too bad. It throbs, but I can handle that. My stomach is in a bit of an uproar, though."
Lauren nodded sympathetically. "I can imagine. We'll get you some Compazine once we get inside."
"Will you do me a favor?"
"Of course," Lauren replied, her brows furrowing. "What is it?"
Camila sighed. "Will you try to make sure that no one sees my records or my films?"
"I'll see to it," Laurensaid kindly. She appreciated how difficult it was for a medical person to be treated at the institution where they worked. Curiosity was a normal human trait, and everyone wanted the details whenever someone who worked in the hospital was ill or injured. She rubbed Camila's thigh gently. "Let's get you taken care of. I'll come around and help you get out."
"I think I can—"
"Camila, sit still," Lauren instructed sharply when the brunette doctor reached for the door handle.
"No choice," Camia gasped, feeling weaker than she had anticipated, her stomach roiling as the pain unexpectedly escalated and shot through her chest.
A moment later, Lauren opened the car door, released Camila's seat belt, and bent down to slide her arm behind Camila's back. "Put your good arm around my shoulder."
"I'm heavier than I look," Camila warned, as Lauren lifted.
"I'm stronger than I look. Now lean on me."
Camila got her legs under her and pushed upright, gripping Lauren's shoulder tightly with her functioning hand. She swayed unsteadily. "Jesus, my legs aren't working quite right."
"Any weakness or paresthesias?" Lauren questioned, a slight edge of panic in her voice. Oh my God, don't tell me I missed a cord injury! I should have called the EMTs. I should have used a backboar—
"No, nothing like that," Camila said firmly. Sensing what worried Lauren, she rubbed her hand comfortingly over the other's arm. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. My legs just feel a little rubbery."
"You're sure? Because I can get a wheelchair out here in just a second."
"I'm sure. It's just my shoulder, Jauregui. I'm certain of it."
"Let's just get inside so I can be certain of it, too."
As soon as they were through the emergency room doors, Lauren grabbed one of the wheelchairs lined up inside and pulled it toward them. "Here, sit down and I'll take you right into one of the examining rooms. Do you happen to have your insurance card?"
Camila shook her head. "Not the new one from PMC. I didn't get that yet. I can give you my New York insurance information, though"
"Fine. I want to get you squared away first. We can give all that info to the clerk later."
"You're the boss."
As they spoke, Honor guided the chair efficiently through the hallways, maneuvering around equipment and stretchers, and nodded to the charge nurse who looked up in surprise as they passed the nurses' station. In response to the inquisitive glance, Lauren said, "Page the x-ray technician for me, will you, Halsey?"
"Okay, Dr. Jauregui," the nurse called after them. "You need me for anything else?"
"I'll let you know. Thanks."
Lauren pulled the curtain aside, slid the chair into the cubicle, set the small hand brake, and walked around to the front to help Camila stand. She reached down at the same time as Camila pushed up, and they ended up nearly touching. As if it were the most natural thing in the world to do, Lauren threaded her arms around Camila's waist and moved closer. At the same time, Camila's right arm went around Lauren's shoulders, and the green eyed doctor felt the brunette's fingers brush through the hair at the base of her neck. Camila's breasts nestled against hers, and their bodies melted effortlessly together.
They were almost the same height, and Lauren's body fit flawlessly against Camila's. In the brief second before she had time to react, before her rational mind could protest, she had the sensation of perfect rightness, as if being in Camila Cabello's arms was destined. She felt Camila's heart beat, then her own, and then the two together, point and counterpoint, in perfect harmony. You feel so good. So right. How can that be?
She stiffened when Camila's warm breath fluttered against her neck, and a shiver of heat flickered through her belly. She felt Camila's thighs tighten against hers, heard Camila moan softly, and heat became flame. She wanted to press closer, hungered to fuse her flesh and bones to Camila's, and she knew she could not. Must not. Yet even as she sought escape, her body soared.
Mindful of the brunette's injury, Lauren placed her palms on the other doctor's hips and pushed gently away until their bodies no longer touched. When she spoke, her throat was dry and her voice rough with unexpected longing. "I need you on the exam table. Can you make it?"
Wordlessly, Camila nodded, struggling to clear her head and find some semblance of control. What she wanted was for Lauren to hold her again. Not because her shoulder hurt, but because she ached in her distant reaches, in places far deeper than flesh. And because she knew that in a few minute,s, she would lose any chance of finding solace in Lauren's embrace.
But she had already put this confession off far too long.
"Yes, I think I can get up there." On still-trembling legs, Camila shifted outside the circle of Lauren's warmth, braced herself with her good hand on the edge of the vinyl-covered examination table, and levered herself up into a sitting position with her legs dangling over the edge. The movement started a new barrage of pain in her shoulder.
"We're going to need to take your shirt off." Lauren met Camila's gaze steadily, silently acknowledging the intimacy that had just passed between them. "Do you want me to get one of the nurses to help you?"
Slowly, Camila shook her head. "No. If you help me, I can get it."
"All right." Lauren stepped forward as Camila spread her legs, allowing Lauren close enough to assist. "Pull your shirt out of your jeans."
With her right hand, Camila worked her shirt free of her waistband. "I can't raise my left arm."
"Mmm. I know. We'll take it slow." Lauren smiled softly. "Let's get the right one free first, then we'll work on the left."
Nodding, Camila raised her right arm and shrugged her shoulder down and free of the garment as Lauren pulled on the bottom of the sleeve. That left the shirt dangling around Camila's neck, angling across her chest and over her injured arm. Camila suggested, "If you just pull up the bottom, I can get my head free."
As the shirt came loose, it became apparent that Camila wore nothing beneath it. Lauren kept her eyes on the other Latina's face as they slowly freed her of the restraining garment. Finally, all that remained was to slip it down and off the injured arm.
"Just keep your left hand in your lap so we don't stress the joint, okay?" Lauren directed as she worked the polo shirt down Camila's arm. As she did, she lowered her eyes to the injured shoulder and stopped abruptly when she saw the fresh three-inch surgical scar a few inches below Camila's left collarbone. A slight swelling distended the tissue from there to the upper edge of her breast.
Lauren stared, recognizing but unable to absorb its significance. That can't be right. She raised her eyes to Camila's, whose expression was oddly penitent. "Camz?"
"ICD."
Implantable cardiac defibrillator. Lauren shook her head. "I don't understand." How can I not know this? What in God's name is wrong? Oh, Camila. No.
Lauren held up a hand and stepped back a pace. "No. I need to do this right."
While Camila stared, Lauren leaned over, opened a drawer in the lower portion of the examination table, and lifted out a faded cotton hospital gown. Efficiently, professionally, she finished removing the polo shirt from Camila's injured arm and replaced it with the gown. When Camila was completely covered, Lauren regarded her expressionlessly, "I'll get a chart together. I need to take your medical history"
"Lo—'
"Where's your insurance information?" Lauren concentrated on the routine that was as ingrained and familiar to her as breathing. That way, she didn't have to think about the device implanted in Camila's chest. Or what it meant. "I should take that to admissions so they can get you into the system."
In my wallet." Camila reached back, removed her wallet, and balanced it on her knee. After a few seconds, she gave up trying to extract the card one-handed. Wordlessly, she held the wallet out to Lauren. "It's in there somewhere."
Lauren sorted through the cards until she found the proper one. Her hands shook.
"Lauren, please. It's not what you think."
"You don't know what I think," Lauren snapped. Then she drew a long steadying breath, and when she spoke again, her voice was calm. "I'm sorry. I'll be back in just a minute."
Lauren stepped outside the cubicle, pulled the curtain closed, and walked several feet down the hall. Then she stopped, leaned her back against the wall, and closed her eyes. A medical problem was the last thing she had imagined. She had thought of drug addiction, alcoholism, sexual misconduct, a breach in ethics. Even though none of those things fit with her experience of Camila, she had never thought that Camila might be ill. She couldn't bear to think of it now, and yet she had to.
"Dr. Jauregui?"
Lauren's eyes snapped open and she straightened. Halsey, the nurse manager, stared at her curiously, a look of concern on her face. Lauren forced a smile.
"Halsey, can you put a chart together for me, please? And be sure not to leave it lying around where anyone else can see it."
"Of course. The x-ray tech said to tell you that she's just finishing a facial series. She'll be ready for you in fifteen minutes, if you can wait that long."
"Fine."
Lauren walked out to the admitting area and found the senior admitting officer, a man she had known for many years and whose discretion she trusted implicitly. She handed him Camila's insurance card. "Jim, Dr. Cabello needs to be signed in. I want you to do it yourself and then give all the paperwork directly to Halsey."
"Sure, Doc." He looked as if he was about to ask more, but something in Lauren's expression stopped him. "It'll just take me a second."
Five minutes later, Lauren stepped back into the examination cubicle with the metal ER chart and all the appropriate paperwork inside. She opened to the history page, uncapped her pen, and looked at Camila. "You're twenty-eight?"
"Yes."
Lauren concentrated on charting. "Drug allergies?"
"None."
"Medications?"
Camila's voice was steady. "Aspirin. Cordarone. Betapace."
Lauren wrote the names of the cardiac medications without pause. "Medical history?"
"I..." Camila took a breath. This was not the way she had wanted to tell her. At first she hadn't thought she would need to tell her. She wasn't under any legal obligation to reveal her medical history, and she didn't want that to be the first thing people learned about her. But it hadn't taken very long for her to realize that she wanted to tell Lauren everything, not just for professional reasons, but for personal ones. She just hadn't known how. Now it was too late, and it was happening all wrong. "Lo, I wanted to tell—"
"Let's get the information down, Camz," Lauren said calmly. "I want to get your shoulder and chest x-rayed."
Lauren's tone of voice was perfectly appropriate. Professional, nonjudgmental, calm and controlled. But there was nothing in her eyes when she looked at Camila, and that was worse than worry or recrimination or even anger. At least those feelings were personal, and Camila very much wanted what was between them to be personal. Sighing, she gave Lauren the facts. The facts, however, were nowhere near the truth of what she had endured. That she tried not to think about. "Four months ago I developed viral myocarditis. It started out as a respiratory infection, I think, and within a few days the inflammation had spread to my heart."
I almost died before I admitted anything was wrong. I was young and healthy and never sick. I didn 't want Demi to think I couldn 't handle the pace. She never slows down; I don't think she ever sleeps. But then, in the middle of the case...
"Camz?" Lauren's tone was gentle. The color had drained from Camila's face. "You want to lie down?"
Camila shook her head. Hoarsely, she said, "No, I...undeveloped some scar tissue, apparently, and it created some arrhythmia problems. My heart rhythm was all over the place there for a while."
"How severe?" Lauren was pleased that her voice was steady.
"I had an episode of ventricular tachycardia and arrested in the middle of a surgery."
Lauren put the pen down and looked into Camila's eyes. She couldn't even begin to pretend that thinking of what had happened didn't affect her. The very thought of Camila nearly dying made her physically ill. Her stomach churned, and every breath burned in her chest. She could only imagine how terrifying it must have been for Camila to live through that. Now she not only lived with the memory of it, but she had to endure the fear of it happening again. "Oh, Camz. I'm so sorry."
Camila smiled wryly. "The good news is that the area of scarring in my heart is very small. My cardiac function is excellent." She ran her right hand through her hair and sighed. "The bad news is, they can't seem to control the arrhythmias."
"So you need to have the implantable defibrillator in case it happens again." Honor knew that certain cardiac arrhythmias, or irregular heartbeats, could be treated by radiofrequency ablation, a technique in which the focus of the irregular heartbeat was actually destroyed so that it no longer acted as an irritant. It was the sporadic electrical discharge from abnormal areas of the heart muscle that caused arrhythmias. When the heart didn't beat regularly, it didn't pump blood normally, and there wasn't enough blood flow to sustain consciousness. Thus, some arrhythmias posed a significant risk for sudden cardiac death. SCD...sudden cardiac death. The words sliced through Lauren like a knife.
"It's only been a few months," Camila said. "There's a chance that as time goes on the cardiac irritability will lessen. I might recover enough not to need the defibrillator."
"Of course," Lauren said with forced optimism. She picked up the pen again. "When was the defibrillator placed?"
"Two months ago."
"How often has it discharged?"
Camila was silent long enough that Lauren looked up from the chart. Camila's expression was bleak.
"Four or five times."
Lauren's stomach clenched. God, she's not even stabilized. What are they thinking, letting her work?
"My cardiologist knows about it, and he thinks it's probably not significant. Sometimes the defibrillators are hypersensitive, depending on the settings. He fiddles with the sensitivity thresholds, but he doesn't seem too worried."
"Are you having any symptoms?"
Camila shrugged. "Every once in a while I'll have a few palpitations. Very rarely a few seconds of dizziness. I'm not even sure it's related."
"Are they monitoring your rhythm by remote telemetry?"
"I'm supposed to send them random heart rhythm traces every week."
Lauren arched her brow. "Supposed to send? When was the last time your cardiologist looked at one of your rhythm strips?"
"It's been a...few weeks...the move and the new job and all. I just put it off."
"Jesus, Camila," Lauren said sharply, her emotions breaking through the veneer of control for the first time. "Are you at least taking your meds?"
"I'm not crazy, Lauren. Yes, I'm taking them."
"Still, I'm admitting you to the telemetry unit for observation."
"Lauren, it's not my heart here. My heart is fine. It's my goddamn shoulder," Camila tightened her right fist in frustration. "That's what's killing me."
Lauren's head jerked up, fire flashing in her eyes. Camila stared back, her brown eyes just as hot.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Lauren demanded.
"Because I was embarrassed."
Lauren blinked. For a second, she was at a loss as to what to say. All of sudden, she wanted to touch Camila so badly. Not just for Camila. For her. "It's not your fault."
"Can you honestly say you still think of me the same as you did an hour ago?"
"That has nothing to do with anything."
A muscle in Camila's jaw jumped and her whole body tensed. That has everything to do with everything.
Lauren looked away, because she couldn't lie to her, and she knew that Camila would see the truth in her eyes. Knowing this changed everything. But she would have to deal with that later.
"Is there anything else I need to know about your medical history?"
Camila grimaced, her heart aching. "How much more could there be?"
"I'll take that as a no. How's your stomach?"
"Better. My shoulder feels like someone is hitting it with a sledgehammer, though."
"Can you do without the Compazine?"
"Yeah. But I wouldn't mind a pain pill."
"I'll ask Halsey to bring you something right away, and then we 'll get you x-rayed." Lauren reached for the curtain, but before she opened it, she asked the one critical question that would determine if even friendship would be possible between them. "Does anyone here at PMC know about your medical'condition?"
Quinn stared at her, confused. "Of course,"
"Who?"
"The chief of surgery. I presume the chief of medicine, because he talked to her when he got me the interview."
But they didn't tell me. And neither did you, Camila. How am I ever going to trust you?
AN: There goes Camila's big secret. Like the way the story goes so far?