It's barely seven a.m. when I jump off the bus and make my way through St. Paul's hallways. I turn left as soon as the elevator doors open on the tenth floor, in the direction of Dr. Styles' office. It's one of the last, which means he has two glass walls and a fantastic view of the Thames from up here – not that I could describe it well, though, as he always dismisses me before I can even turn my head towards the windows.
I drink the rest of my coffee as quickly as I can, dumping the paper cup on a bin before I reach his office. I needed an extra strong one this morning to disguise the lack of sleep. I gave in to exhaustion at around half past four last night, calling an Uber and falling onto my bed about twenty minutes later. Needless to say, I wasn't exactly happy when the alarm went off just two hours later but I put some happy music on and reminded myself what it was all for: Toby. My career. With that thought in mind, I put on some concealer to hide the dark bags under my eyes and proceeded to choose a pair of smart pants and a white blouse.
Dr. Styles would probably be really happy with my choice of adult clothing, if only I hadn't paired the outfit with white sneakers.
Once I get rid of my coffee, I adjust the strap of my purse on my shoulder with a quick breath, looking down to make sure everything's in place. When I'm one-hundred percent sure I'm all put together, my knuckles touch the wooden door and I wait a few seconds until I hear a grunt coming from the inside.
I open the door, immediately finding Dr. Styles behind his desk. "Good morning." I say as I walk towards the desk, deciding I should probably sit in one of the two chairs in front of it.
"Morning." Styles greets back, his right eyebrow raising immediately after. "You're here early."
"Well, you're already here so I guess I'm not early enough." I point out. "We've got lots to do." I place my bag on the chair beside mine and start taking last night's notes out. "Where should we start?"
If he's impressed by my determination, he obviously doesn't show.
"What did you have time for yesterday?"
"I've found three similar cases: one in Seattle, one in Zurich and one in Berlin." I list them, taking out the printed articles and handing them to him. "You checked on those, too, right?"
I watch him nod as he goes through my files, making sure they're the ones he studied.
"I've contacted the main surgeon on this one." He points to the Zurich case. "Judging by your pink highlights, you caught on the approach they took. It's an interesting one and I questioned them on what they think went wrong." I nod as he speaks, as their end results weren't favorable. "We should start here, then."
He turns his laptop to the side, enough so I can see the screen, and opens up an e-mail he got from the leading surgeon on that case. Then, he fills me in on their conversation and, soon, we're both discussing what we take from that.
Judging by history, I came here expecting Dr. Styles would draw me a plan of his strategy and make me know it like the back of my hand for tomorrow. After about an hour and a half of discussing cases and approaches, however, I conclude that he doesn't have one. I'm sure of that because he's said he could try about three different things, which don't necessarily go well together. Though I know he still has some time to figure it out, it doesn't sit well with me, as he always draws up his strategy within hours of having all the facts on a patient.
Before I can investigate it any further, his landline phone rings and I see my father's assistant name flash in the screen. Styles makes a pause sign and picks it up.
I advert my eyes back to the case, even though my attention has obviously been stolen. Unfortunately for me, he's not one of those people whose phone's volume is so loud, you can hear both sides of the conversation. It takes me double the concentration to catch a single word, and it doesn't even help ease my curiosity.
"Urgent" only makes it worse, really.
I'm wondering if something has changed in Toby's condition, or if there is a new case coming in soon, when he hangs up and places the phone back on its place.
"You can stop pretending you're reading now," He says, his arms crossed when I look back at him, my eyebrows furrowed in fake confusion. "Your eyes were on the same spot the whole time, Coleman. I've seen you do better."
I bite my tongue not to correct him on my name – that's a long-lost battle, even though I'm not ready to admit defeat quite yet. Instead, I cross my own arms. "Are you accusing me of trying to overhear your conversation?"
He lifts one of his eyebrows. "Am I wrong?"
Denial is about to fall from my lips but, then, I decide otherwise. "What if I was?"
"If you were, then you know I've been summed by your father." He says as he stands up, clearly choosing not to bicker back. "You can stay here and start on the Seattle case. Let me open that e-mail for you," He leans on the desk to reach the laptop between us, opening a specific e-mail and maximizing it – as if that alone could stop me from going through his other e-mails. "there."
"Are you really letting me in your office by myself?" I can't help but turn on the chair as he circles his desk and walks towards the door. "Are you sure?"
He turns his head in my direction. "Do you want me to change my mind?" He raises an eyebrow, though he doesn't follow it, turning back towards the door. "I won't take long."
It sounds like a warning and, then, the door closes. I take it as an incentive to act fast.
As much as I'd like to jump straight to investigating his choice of artwork and his collection of books, I start by reading through the e-mail he just opened and taking all the notes I consider necessary. If there is one thing I won't risk is Dr. Styles doubting my commitment to this case – and if I have to ignore my curiosity for thirty minutes, so be it.
Fortunately, I had dug deep into this case last night and the leading surgeon did not share anything that would change my opinions on it. Within twenty minutes, I'm sure I can hold my ground if Dr. Styles comes back and, so, I give in and stand up quickly.
I start by picking up a framed photo I noticed when I first came in, but couldn't really see it from the angle I was sat. It's a family photo – an older man is hugging what must be Dr. Styles' mother, judging by the resemblance between the two, and the man himself is hugging a young woman who seems to be around his age. I try to recall Niall ever telling me if Dr. Styles had any siblings, but I'm pretty sure he never shared that. Anyhow, I conclude that they look too similar not to be brother and sister and decide to move on.
I turn around on my heels, now face-to-face with his floor to ceiling shelves filled with books. It doesn't take long to see they're all medicine related, though, and as much as my fingers hitch to go through at least one of them, I remind myself my time is limited and my main goal here is to find something I don't know about him.
With that in mind, then, I walk over to the sitting area. There is another shelf there, though this one is filled with vinyls. I'm about to go through some when my eyes catch something to the side and, before I can stop myself, I'm already grabbing the guitar in disbelief.
Dr. Styles plays the guitar?
"What are you doing?"
I jump backwards, causing the guitar to almost fall down to the floor, though I manage to grab it back on time. It takes me two extra seconds to register the voice belongs to Niall and I almost cry in relief. "Goddamn, you scared the hell out of me!"
"Would that be because you're sneaking around?" Niall walks towards me and grabs the guitar from my hands. "You like to live on the edge, don't ya? He'd kill you if he saw you with this," He shakes his head, putting it back on its place. "and you know that!"
I feel my cheeks heating without my permission. Therefore, I turn my attention back to the vinyl records and shrug, "I was just looking. He must have known I would when he let me in here by myself."
I can see Niall shaking his head over The Rolling Stones' vinyl I just picked up.
"How did that happen, by the way?"
When I look back, he's sitting on the sofa, looking careless. I take it as a sign that this is somewhat safe.
"As you must know by now, if you had any time to read my texts, that is", I grin, giving him a look. If he had any shame, he'd be embarrassed – instead, his lips turn into a smug smile. I ignore it. "Turns out our little plan worked out after all."
"I did have ten missed calls from H so I figured he found out, yeah," Niall laughs. "Do continue."
"Well, he didn't like it, obviously, but then he said I was in. So, I spent all night studying and we started going through the case together early this morning." I explain, putting back the vinyl and searching for another.
Niall clears his throat. "And how's that going?"
"He hasn't kicked me out yet," I answer as I go over The Beatles entire discography. "so I'd say we're doing wonderfully."
"I meant work wise." I detect a change in his tone and look back at him. He looks quite serious. "What's your take on his approach?"
I bite my lower lip, deciding to drop my curiosity all together and sit across from my friend. "He doesn't have one yet."
Niall's eyes widen. "What do you mean he doesn't have an approach? The surgery's scheduled for tomorrow."
I shake my head. "I know – believe me, I wasn't expecting it either. He's all over the place." I bite the inside of my cheek nervously. "I mean, I am all over the place too, but that's normal for me – he's always saying I need to focus, after all. He usually has a plan drawn right off the bat, though, but not this time."
"I knew this was a shit idea from the start." He stands up, walking towards the desk and then backwards. "He never fucking listens-"
"Why are you manipulating my resident's time, Horan?" Dr. Styles suddenly interrupts him, quickly making his way towards his desk.
"He just got here." I stand up quickly, making my way past Niall. I make it a point to give him a hard look, but I know he doesn't follow as soon as he opens his mouth.
"Can I have a word with you, Harry?" Niall asks from behind me with a serious tone I'm not quite used to hear from him.
Dr. Styles doesn't look up from his laptop. "I don't have any time to spare, is it important?"
"Yeah, it kind of is."
I watch as my boss breathes slowly and looks at his friend. "I know what you're going to say, you've said it before. As you were saying when I got here, though, I never listen."
"You should start now." Niall drops his hands on the top of my chair and I'm suddenly in the middle of two very serious-looking men. "You can still change your mind, no-one's going to hold it against you."
Dr. Styles' nostrils flare and I never wanted to get out of somewhere so badly.
"Look," He clears his throat, a deliberate pause to think over his next words. "I don't want to fight with you-"
"I don't want to fight either!" Niall interrupts. "I'm simply trying to warn you-"
I decide to stand up, then, interrupting my friend as his voice starts to rise.
"Dr. Styles is St. Paul's Head of Neuro." I say, calmly, although I'm giving him a hard look. "I am sure he has studied every nuance of this case over and over again, so he knows what he's dealing with. If he's decided to do it, then I think you, as his friend, should simply trust his judgement."
I didn't think I'd ever see Niall look at me with such perplexity and, for a moment, I'm afraid I overstepped. Although I could easily name Niall as one of my best friends, I have never stood my ground against him – simply because I never needed to. We usually see things in a similar way and, when we don't, he's too chilled to make a thing out of it. Now, for the first time, I've made it a thing – and to defend Dr. Styles. His eyebrows raise, then furrow and, finally, for my relief, he exhales and nods.
I don't look behind as my friend takes a step back.
"Alright." He says. "Loren's right. We've discussed this, there's no use in doing it again – especially when I know it won't go through your thick head." He chuckles, the air suddenly much lighter. "I'm sorry. I'll see you at lunch?"
I finally turn, seeing Dr. Styles giving him a short nod, though his eyes shift immediately to mine.
I gulp.
&&
I'm not going to lie, I contemplated the idea of Dr. Styles showing at least a hint of gratefulness for what I did this morning. I told myself it was unlikely, however I still found myself half expecting it throughout the day. Just a little something to make me forget how rude he is to me most of the time. A little smile, perhaps. An appreciative nod, even.
But he gives me nothing. We go back to work right away. I was right to read through the case before snooping around, because the first thing Dr. Styles does is quiz me on it. Thankfully, I can hold my ground through it and, soon, we jump to another.
He has lunch with Niall on the cafeteria, while I choose to stay away and eat the saltless food with a couple of fellow residents. I try not to look at their table too much, but I'm called on it at least three times, so I'm not sure how well I've done.
I tell myself I just want to see when Dr. Styles stands up, so I can do the same and race him to his office. But, deep down, I know it's more than that. Part of me wants to make sure they're not having a fight while eating the spaghetti. The other... well, let's just say she's the reason I always look up to his table anyway. If I was honest about it, I'd confess he has some sort of pull over me.
But I'm not. Not when he treats me the way he does, anyway.
Instead, I'll say I like to stare at him from a distance and mentally-yell all the profanities I wish I could yell out loud. Though this is true, and it is quite therapeutic, it's not the whole truth.
Much like my thoughts, I become unsteady as the afternoon progresses. By the time we meet Toby to perform a few last tests and give the general recommendations, Dr. Styles is still yet to make a game plan. As much as I trust his capability, I don't like it. It makes my stomach turn, the kind of feeling you'd have if you knew a storm was coming and you were in no way, shape or form, prepared to face it.
How am I supposed to prepare for something I know little about?
It's half past eight when I make my way towards St. Paul's front door. I have to be back on the hospital by six o'clock tomorrow morning and I should get a good night's sleep, so my steps are rushed as I stare at my phone to check the next buses' timetable.
I only notice someone next to me when I go to push the door and it opens easily, an arm pushing it from beside my body.
"Almost hit your nose on the glass." Dr. Styles bites, letting me through the door first. "You should pay attention where you're going, Dr. Coleman."
I breath heavily before turning to him, my eyes probably shooting daggers. "I knew exactly where I was going, I was about to push the door!" I automatically defend myself, the words leaving my mouth in a rush. "Didn't you see my hand- Wait," I stop my rant abruptly, eyeing him like he just grew an additional head. "was that a chuckle?"
"You get riled up so easily." He shakes his head, his lips still curved. "I was messing with you."
I fight not to roll my eyes. "Didn't seem like it."
"'Cause you know me so well?"
"I think we already established I do not, in fact, know you at all." I shrug, quickly realizing this sentence might have sounded too bitter, almost suggesting I would, in fact, like to know him. "Anyway, do you have anything to add on the case before I go home? The next bus is in two minutes." I shake my phone in my hand, where the bus app is still open.
"No, I don't."
"Alright then. Have a good night, Dr. Styles." I turn, though I only get to about five steps.
"Dr. Coleman?" He calls, and I turn to him as I check the time. One minute now. "Why are you taking the bus?"
I almost roll my eyes. Is he serious right now? "My car's being checked until next week." I look at my watch again. "Is that it, can I go now? I really should get at least eight hours sleep tonight."
He shakes his head but I noticed he looks conflicted as I turn back around.
This time, he only allows me to take a lonely step.
"I can give you a ride." I think he takes a step towards me because his voice sounds closer. "I'll get you home quicker, so you can have your sleep."
I swallow, trying to think what to reply before I turn. I don't have much time, though, so I turn before I make up my mind. "You'll be giving me extra sleep but it'll take some from you, and since you're the leading surgeon here, you should probably take all you can get. I'll just-"
Dr. Styles tilts his head and I think I detect a hidden smirk. "I've heard better excuses."
I sigh, glancing at my watch for the tenth time. 8.40 p.m.. "Fine, I guess you're right." I shrug. "But where do you live? Is it even on your way?"
"I live down in Richmond, it's quite the drive anyway. Don't worry about it." He answers, already strolling towards the parking lot. I follow close behind. "Where do you live?"
"Mayfar, it's about fifteen minutes by car." I answer, finally reaching his side. "So, you drive back and forward every day?"
"Yeah, unless I have to keep a close eye on a patient. Then I'll sleep here."
It's a mere confirmation of what I already suspected. "Where do you sleep?"
"Are you telling me I've left you alone in my office for forty-five minutes and you didn't find out my couch turns into a bed?"
I shrug, letting my lips turn into a smirk. "Niall showed up."
He shakes his head. "Such a shame, uh?"
His black Range Rover Evoque comes to live in front of us just as I'm about to answer and I decide it's a sign – although he knows, I really shouldn't admit I've been snooping around his office. It's not the time to risk my spot on his team for tomorrow.
Before I reach it, Dr. Styles opens the car door for me and signs for me to get in. I do so, waiting as he walks around the car and gets in the driver's seat to tell him my home address. As he types it, I decide to start up conversation again, as we still have about fifteen minutes and I'd prefer not to spend them in awkward silence.
Plus, he seems to be in a somewhat good mood.
"Speaking of Niall, how are you two after this morning's altercation?"
"We're fine." Dr. Styles shrugs as he gets the car going. "I recognize he's just worried. Plus, it's not really the time to be angry with my best friend."
"He isn't the only one doubting this surgery, is he?"
I notice his jaw locking before he answers, his eyes completely focused on the road. "No, he isn't. You did, too."
"Yeah." I admit, recalling my initial take when I saw the tumor scans. If I was to be one hundred per cent honest, even with my blind faith on him, I'm still not sure we're going to make it. "I meant other attendings, your colleagues from your latest hospital. Have you shared this with any of them?"
"Of course I did. I need all the help I can get."
"And?"
"Dr. Coleman, it's the night before the surgery. Do you really think making me admit everyone is against it is going to help either of us?" He eyes me sideways before looking back at the road.
I gulp. "No. You're right, I'm sorry."
"Good, let's drop the subject, then."
"I'm sorry, I can't." I sigh, turning a little sideways on my seat. "I'm not doubting you, I'm not - but I've waited all day for a plan, Dr. Styles. I didn't question you about it, but now we're here and I feel like I won't be able to sleep tonight without knowing what you're planning. I'm your assistant, I need to know something."
He's silent for a moment and I wait, trying not to stare too much. It's hard, not only because I've turned and he's right in front of me now, but also because I've always found it hard not to admire his features. It shouldn't be allowed for someone to be so beautiful when they're so mean.
It's unfair for the rest of us.
As if he senses my train of thought is going off trail, Dr. Styles sighs. "I don't have a plan, Coleman."
"That's the thing." I shake my head. "You always have a plan. How are-"
"I can't see the tumor's full dimension on the scans." He interrupts me, calmly, eyeing me for a brief second. "Every surgeon I've talked to has told me their plans have fallen through once they open up." I watch him shrug, his jaw giving him away once more by twitching. "What's the use of having a plan in this circumstance? It'll only make me freeze when I realize I won't be able to follow it through."
I nod, my voice suddenly lost.
"Don't worry about the plan. I know you'll be able to follow whatever path I choose to go." I'm still nodding when he looks at me again. "Ok?"
"Ok."
"Can we drop it now?"
"Yeah. We don't have any other topics to talk about, though, do we?" I chuckle.
I watch as he shakes his head, a smirk threatening to show. "We can always go back to the previous topic. Were you able to find whatever you wished for in my office this morning?"
"Ah." I roll my eyes playfully. "I don't know what you're talking about, I sat there studying the case until Niall showed up."
"I'd believe that if I didn't know you at all." Dr. Styles gives me yet another side eye and I raise an eyebrow, challenging him to elaborate. "You know all our patients' life stories within hours of knowing them. You love to chat and get up in everyone's business."
"Are you implying I'm nosy?"
"That's not what I said." He shakes his head. "I meant it in a good way. You like to help everyone."
"Why are you always telling me not to get close to them, then?" I can't help but to ask, crossing my arms angrily, as this as always been a touchy subject between us. "If you meant it in a good way, if you know I just want to help, why are you so against it?"
Judging by his exasperated sigh, I think I've made him regret not only going back to our first talking subject, but also offering me a ride altogether.
"You get too attached, Dr. Coleman."
I can't help but interrupt him. "But why is that a bad thing?"
"It is a bad thing because not all of your patients will have happy endings. It might break you one day. I've seen you crying around the hospital a few too many times already." He shakes his head. "When I tell you not to get close, it's not because I think you're being nosy, it's because I know it'll hurt you. I'm not nice to you most of the time, I know that. But, sometimes, I'm coming from a good place."
I'm so taken aback by his words, I don't realize we've been stopped in front of my building this whole time.
I try to find my words, but he beats me to it.
"Now, go get your sleep. We have a very long surgery to perform in the morning."
I nod, quickly getting out of the car. I whisper a 'Good night' before closing the door, but it's not until I'm unlocking my front door that I turn around, his car still parked as he waits for me to get in safely.
"Dr. Styles?" I wait until he completely opens the car window to continue, my voice just loud enough so he can hear me at the distance. "I'm sorry about going behind your back yesterday. I promise I'll work twice as hard tomorrow. Toby's really lucky to have you as his doctor."
He gives me a nod and I turn back to the door, finally opening it.
"Dr. Coleman?" I turn, watching him lean on the passenger seat so he's closer to the window. "Thanks for standing up for me earlier."
I nod, my mind's racing with the sudden revelation that Dr. Styles can be... nice. I'm frozen for a second before I remember he's waiting until I'm inside to go, so I do just that, running away from his eyes and towards the safety of my apartment.
Later, when I'm already half asleep, I wonder about the possibility of Dr. Styles not hating me as much as I thought he did.
Which is good, since I'm not sure I hate him at all.
//
Disclaimer: All references to medicine, including Toby's case, are actually taken from Grey's Anatomy. Please disregard any incorrect fact, as I'm not an expert in the matter (I actually faint at the mere sight of blood and/or needles).