Lauren was alone in the small viewing room that was part of the ER's auxiliary x-ray department when Ally opened the door and walked in.
"Hey," Ally greeted her, "how's Mila?"
Startled, Lauren pulled down the film she had been inspecting and turned to face her friend. "What are you doing here?"
"I was worried about Camila, and I wanted to find out what was going on." Ally joined her in front of the light box and regarded Lauren quizzically. Her friend looked troubled—more than troubled, distraught. "Laur? What's going on? Is it worse than you thought?"
"I don't think so," Lauren said dully, still not able to comprehend just how bad it really was, "but I'm just getting her squared away."
"Whose chest x-ray was that?"
"Uh..." The green eyed doctor fished around for some excuse and came up short. Her expression must have answered for her.
"Oh my God, was that Camila's?"
Sighing, Lauren put the film back up. "Since you've already seen it, there isn't much point in pretending otherwise." She returned her gaze to the x-ray, seeing what she knew she would see, but continuing to stare at it until she believed it. .
A miniature battery-powered computer was housed in the small plastic case that rested just above the major muscle of Camila's chest. From it, electrical leads coated in silicone were threaded into the subclavian vein beneath her collarbone and directed into her heart. Sensors at the end of those leads sent information to the programmable computer inside the defibrillator, allowing an electrical discharge to regulate Camila's heart rhythm if it became unstable. That's assuming that the defibrillator is functioning properly and sensing her heart rate appropriately. If it isn 't, she could develop a fatal arrhythmia, and die within minutes.
"Is that a pacemaker?" Ally's voice was tight with concern.
Lauren shook her head. "Implantable defibrillator."
"Oh, poor Mila. God, Honor, is she all right?" Ally moved closer, resting a comforting hand on Lauren's back. Are you?
"Her clavicle and humerus look fine. She's got a tremendous amount of soft tissue swelling around the shoulder area, which is to be expected, but—"
"What about her heart?"
Lauren extended a finger, pointing to the cardiac shadow on the chest x-ray. "Heart size is normal. Rate's good. Blood pressure's fine. I'm waiting for an EKG trace right now. So far, there's no evidence of any instability."
Ally tilted her head and stared at the doctor as she recited the litany of facts in a monotone. "Laur? Are you okay?"
"Fine." Lauren continued to stare at the x-ray. Camila's heart looked normal. But it wasn't. She wanted to tear the x-ray down and shred it, as if destroying the evidence would mitigate the truth. She wanted that x-ray to be someone else's, anyone else's, as long as it wasn't Camila's. Her voice was flat, the helpless fury so pervasive it blocked every other emotion. "No one told me, Ally."
"Is she sick?" Ally felt a little sick herself. She liked Camila. She liked her a lot. And she knew that Lauren liked her, too.
"I don't know yet." Finally, Lauren managed to drag her eyes away from the x-ray that mocked her, reminding her that despite all her training—all her skill—she couldn't make a difference when it truly mattered. Not with Terry. Not with Camila. She turned, edging her hip onto the counter that ran below the view boxes, and pushed a hand through her hair. For the first time, she realized she was exhausted. "I haven't had a chance to complete my evaluation. Other than her shoulder, she seems to be all right."
"So this isn't so bad, right?" Ally indicated the x-ray with a tip of her chin.
"I suppose that's a matter of definition." Lauren gave a short, mirthless laugh. "She has a potentially lethal condition which is poorly controlled at the moment, and she's twenty-eight fucking years old. God." She closed her eyes, and all she could see was the brunette. Those brilliant eyes, that mesmerizing grin, those incredible hands. In a whisper, she asked of no one, expecting no answer, "Why is life so unfair?"
Ally heard the anguish in her friend's voice, appreciating that it wasn't just about Camila. Lauren had lost her lover, and whether she knew it or not, wanted it or not, she already cared about the brunette doctor. And right now, Lauren was struggling with past pain and present fear all at once, a fight that was too much for anyone. Ally slid her arm around Lauren's waist, giving her a little shake even as she hugged her comfortingly. "Honey, you know better than to ask that. Thinking that way around here will make you crazy."
Lauren leaned her cheek against Ally's shoulder and laughed shakily, "Yeah, I know, I'm just tired, I guess."
"Understandable. It's been a hell of an afternoon." She kissed Lauren's forehead fleetingly. "So, where's Camila right now?"
"In three. I wanted to admit her, but she's refusing. God, she's stubborn."
Ally grinned, happy to hear the irritation creep into Lauren's voice. Better. "Gee whiz, a surgeon who's stubborn? How about that. I even know some ER chiefs who are just a little bit obstinate."
Lauren glared at Ally, but just having her there was helping. She wasn't entirely certain what it was about Camila's underlying condition that had thrown her so badly. She didn't seem to be able to sort things out clearly; all she felt was a sense of panic that was clouding her judgment. And that was totally unlike her. "Do you have something constructive to add to this situation, or do you just intend to heckle me for the rest of the day?"
Much better. "Why do you want to admit her?"
"Because she hasn't had proper monitoring for weeks, and she told me that the defibrillator has discharged as recently as two days ago!" Lauren's voice rose as the fear threatened to re-emerge. "Do you want her to drop dead?"
"Of course not," Ally said softly, not taking offense at Lauren's tone. She knew her friend well enough to know that this wasn't Lauren. At least not Lauren when she wasn't terrified. "You're getting a rhythm trace, right?"
"Yes, it should be done by now."
"Okay. Do you want her to have a sling for the shoulder?"
Lauren rubbed her forehead, considering priorities. Her brain still felt sluggish, but the tightness in her chest was easing now that she had something to focus on besides the shock of seeing that scar on Camila's chest and what lay underneath. "For a day or two. She shouldn't be immobilized any longer than that, because adhesions will develop around the shoulder joint. Motion is actually good for it."
"Right. I'll get her fixed up with the shoulder immobilizer while you review the EKG. If that looks okay, what do you say about her spending the night with Perrie and me?"
"At your place?"
"Why not?" Ally shrugged. "If her heart's okay, she really doesn't need to be admitted, right?"
"Not for the shoulder injury, no."
"But she lives by herself, and neither of us would feel very comfortable letting her go home alone. We've got room."
"All right." Lauren smiled fondly. "I'm sorry I jumped on you. I don't know what's wrong with me."
Ally squeezed her hand. "I know you don't mean it so let's get Camila squared away. That way, when you figure out what's scaring you, you just might be able to handle it."
* * * * *
Camila had managed to get her shirt back on and was sitting on the side of the exam table when the curtain parted and Ally and Lauren stepped into the small room. She smiled at Ally, but her eyes were on Lauren, who was holding her chart and looking at some point over Camila's head.
"Hi, Mila," Ally said affectionately. "How's the shoulder?"
"What shoulder?"
Ally laughed. "Uh-huh. Aren't we just all tough."
"Yeah, that's me." Lauren, why are you angry? Why won't you look at me?
Ally tilted her head, studying Camila's face. She looks more worried than sick. She surely doesn't look in danger of dying. If I hadn't seen that x-ray with my own eyes...no wonder Lauren is having a hard time. l can't believe it either. "I'm going to get you a shoulder immobilizer, tough guy. I'll be back in a few minutes."
Alone with Lauren, Camila tried desperately to gauge what the other woman was feeling. She didn't care about her rhythm trace or her chest x-ray or her shoulder; she cared about the distance in Lauren's eyes. She sensed disappointment and anger, and beneath that, something she wasn't quite sure she understood. It seemed like fear. "Lo? Everything okay?"
Lauren gave a small shake of her head. "I'm not sure where to start with that one." She blew out a breath and stepped over next to Camila, resting her left hand on the dark red vinyl a few inches from Camila's hip. She might have touched her, except knowing what she needed to do, she couldn't. "Your chest x-ray is normal. You have an occasional extra beat on your rhythm strip, but nothing that looks problematic to me. Of course, your cardiologist needs to compare it to your previous traces."
"I'll make sure he gets that first thing on Monday," Camila said quickly. Please don't look so upset. "I promise."
"Good." Lauren hesitated, then straightened her shoulders. "I want you to take a few days off, Camz."
Camila's stomach plummeted. "I can work, Lo. This has happened before, and my shoulder will be stiff for a few days, but—"
"It's not about your shoulder," Lauren interrupted quietly. "It's about your medical condition."
"What about it?" Camila's throat was dry.
"Right now, I'm not certain you should be working in the emergency room." Lauren drew a shaky breath. This was harder than she had imagined, because she knew she was going to hurt Camila. But she had a responsibility as the ER chief to see that the patients as well as the department were protected. "No one informed me of your medical status. If they had, I'm not sure I would've hired you."
The panic hit Camila hard and fast. She was going to lose everything—again. Only this time it was so much worse. It wasn't just about her job. This time it was about everything that mattered in her life.
"Lauren, please. I want to work." Her hands were shaking, and she clenched them tightly against her thighs. The only thing that had gotten her through the last few months was Demi Lovato's promise that she'd be able to work—the promise to help Camila find the kind of position that would let her be a little bit of who she was. "I need to work."
"And I need the patients and you to be safe. This isn't an ordinary ER, for God's sake. A few days ago, you were doing an open thoracotomy in the procedure room. What if you'd...arrested then?" Just saying the words made Lauren nauseous.
"You were there," Camila pointed out. "You could've done what I was doing."
"Maybe." Lauren saw again the empty heart with the ragged tear, the quick sure movements of Camila's hands, the skill that went beyond training to some inherent gift that only a few surgeons had. She wasn't certain she could've done what Camila had done; she wasn't certain anyone could have. "Maybe."
"I've been medically cleared to work, Lauren." Camila struggled to keep her voice steady. "The hospital has approved my hiring."
"Without me being involved!" Lauren's frustration broke through. "The hospital administrators don't know what we do down here, and you know it."
"Do you think I'd work if I thought I would compromise patient care?" Camila's eyes searched Lauren's. "Do you really think so little of me? Do you distrust me that much?"
"No." Lauren's expression grew tender, and despite her resolve, she moved her hand to Camila's shoulder and stroked her softly. "I don't think you would. But it's not about what I think, Camz."
"What then?" Lauren's voice was a whisper of longing and hurt. She was so tired of fighting this battle and of losing, over and over. Unthinkingly, she leaned into the comfort of Lauren's touch.
"I need to talk to my chief and the hospital attorneys, Camila." It was all Lauren could do not to thread her fingers into Camila's thick dark hair and draw the other doctor's head to her breast. Camila's torment was palpable, and Lauren's heart ached for what Camila had suffered and for what she herself now added to that pain. "Medico-legally, if..something...happens to you down here that could even remotely be construed as adversely affecting patient care, it would be a nightmare."
"Do you think I don't know that?" Briefly, Camila closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, despair swam close to the surface. "Why do you think I'm here and not at St. Michael's?"
"What are you talking about?"
"I can't get malpractice insurance to practice surgery." Camila rubbed her face with her good hand and took a deep breath. "As a trauma surgeon, I'd be alone in the OR. At night, and sometimes even during the day, there wouldn't be another surgeon available to take over if I...became incapacitated."
"Surgeons aren't interchangeable," Lauren said softly, beginning to understand. If Camila collapsed during a critical part of a procedure, the nurses and anesthesiologists in attendance would not be able to stand in for her. And other readily available surgeons were unlikely to have the training to take her place.
"Right. If I've got the aorta cross-clamped and my heart decides to quit, by the time they find someone else who could do what needed to be done, the patient could be dead." Camila sighed. "That's why the law requires two heart surgeons for every case, and two general surgeons for a lot of straightforward abdominal cases that are a lot less complicated than trauma surgery. No insurance company will touch me."
"But we always have at least three attendings present in the emergency room," Lauren stated. "And that's why you could get coverage for this position."
Camila nodded. "In the ER, I'd always have immediate backup."
"I'm still surprised the hospital hired you."
"So am I, to tell you the truth. I'm qualified-—"
Lauren gave a short laugh, removing her hand from Camila's shoulder because she wanted to put her arm around her. "That is an understatement."
"Thanks." Smiling weakly, Camila blew out her breath. "They must have figured it was financially advantageous, and some administrator was probably afraid I'd invoke the Americans with Disabilities Act if my medical condition was used as a reason not to hire me."
"You could, you know," Lauren said quietly. "If I contest your hiring."
"God, Lauren." Camila frowned. "You can't believe I'd do that."
"No. No, I don't think you would." Lauren sighed. "Camila, I'm sorry. I still need to look into this whole situation."
"I won't fight you, Dr. Jauregui," Camila said just as quietly. "This is your ER. I appreciate your concerns." Carefully, Camila slid down off the table, gritting her teeth as the movement rekindled the pain in her shoulder. "I'll accept whatever you decide."
"Where are you going?" Lauren asked sharply as Camila started slowly toward the curtain and the hallway beyond.
"Home." Her voice was dull with fatigue and resignation.
"Just how do you plan to get there?"
"I'll call a cab." Camila reached for the curtain. "Thanks for taking care of me."
"Damn it." Quickly, Lauren moved to Camila's side and grasped her right hand. "Wait just a minute, Cabello. Ally needs to get you into the shoulder immobilizer. Then I'll take you home."
"That's not necessary."
Gently, Lauren turned Camila to face her. Then, because she had to, had wanted to for hours, she lifted her hand and rested her palm tenderly against Camila's cheek. "I want to. Please."
"Lauren," Camila whispered in a voice filled with longing and desire.
Silence closed around them as they leaned into one another, their eyes locked. Camila's lids were heavy, her throat tight, as she watched Lauren's lips slowly part. A breath away, then not even that. Oh God, yes.
The curtain slid back, and Ally gave a small cry of surprise to find them just on the other side, and just about to kiss. "Uh...hey, hi! I've got that immobilizer."
In a daze, Lauren stepped back, her hand dropping to her side. Her heart pounded wildly. Oh my God. I was going to kiss her. This is crazy.
"Do you want me to get this on her?" Ally held up the soft padded sling and looked uncertainly from her friend to Camila.
Lauren appeared confused, almost bewildered, and the expression on Camila's face was enough to make any woman melt.
Huskily, Lauren said, "Yes. Go ahead." Carefully, she stepped around Camila and into the hall. "I'll finish the paperwork, and we can get going."
Camila stood cooperatively while Ally adjusted the straps on the immobilizer, not even noticing the discomfort as her shoulder was manipulated. Her gaze was fixed on Lauren, who leaned against the counter at the nurses' station down the hall, writing in Camila's chart. At that moment, Camila wasn't thinking about her medical career, or her heart condition, or anything else in her life except the look in Lauren's eyes when their lips had almost touched. There had been tenderness, and compassion, and beneath the caring, desire. She shuddered, remembering.
"You okay, sweetie?" Ally asked as she stepped back, satisfied that Camila's shoulder was taken care of.
"No, I don't think so."
Ally followed Camila's gaze, and she laughed softly. "Everything is going to be fine."
Camila looked at her, uncertainty and disbelief on her face. "I don't see how." ,
"Just give it a little time." She slid her arm around Camila's waist and gave her a quick hug. "Now I'm taking you home with me."
"I'm okay," Camila assured her.
"Oh, I know that. But I'll feel much better if you spend the night with us."
"That's very kind of you, but—"
"If you don't stay with us. Lauren is going to insist you be admitted for monitoring. Do you really want to go a round with her on that again?"
Camila sighed wearily. "I'm not exactly at my fighting best right now. So thank you, I accept."
"All set?" Lauren asked as she rejoined them. She studied Camila intently. Pale, but she looks steady. I wish she were coming home with me, instead of going with Ally. That thought startled her so much that her next words came out more sharply than she intended. "We should go."
"Right," Camila said as Lauren turned and walked away.
Everything is going to be fine. Right.
AN: Will everything going to be really alright? Tell me what you think. I'm all over the place nursing a hungover. 😩😩