Chapter Text
Violet ran across the front lawn, dodging puddles as the rain pattered against her jacket. She was thinking longingly of being warm by the fire with her book, when she pushed the front door open and heard the unmistakable sound of Mira’s voice coming loudly from the kitchen.
It sounded like her sister was on the phone having a heated argument with someone, and judging by the clattering of kitchenware in the background, she was also trying to cook while she yelled.
Violet sighed inwardly, hanging up her rain jacket by the door. So much for a peaceful night.
She tried to slip past the doorway to at least get changed and have a moment of peace, but a sharp call of “Violet!” stopped her dead in her tracks.
“My little sister’s home,” she heard Mira tell whoever she was fighting with. “Gotta go.”
Bracing herself for an inquisition, Violet turned. She was faced with her sister scowling down at her, phone in one hand, large chopping knife in the other.
“You haven’t answered any of my messages,” Mira snapped.
“I’ve been busy-” Violet started to protest, but she was cut off instantly.
“Right, because it would have taken you so long to type out a one word yes or no answer.”
Violet rolled her eyes. She wanted to get out of her damp clothes, and have a shower. She wanted to curl up with her novel and not think about the trainwreck that had been her day. She really did not need this conversation right now.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Anything to get Mira off her back.
“Whatever,” Mira said, and then she continued crossly, “I’m making tacos.”
Violet loved tacos. She was torn between annoyance that Mira had barged in and commandeered her night, and gratitude that her sister even cared enough to remember what her favourite food was. Of course, it would come with sides of Helpful Advice and Concerned Questions, but still, it was sort of sweet.
“Thanks,” she said, trying to sound appropriately enthusiastic. “I’m just gonna shower, okay?”
Mira looked her up and down, taking in Violet’s bedraggled appearance with a disdain Violet felt pretty sure only older sisters knew how to convey. “You know they make these things called cars, right? You don’t actually have to catch a bus -”
“Yeah, yeah,” Violet said. She didn’t want a car - or more to the point, she couldn’t really afford a car. She had the vague hope of moving out of this place, of escaping the memories that currently haunted her waking life. She didn’t want to waste her savings on a car when there was a perfectly good (okay - perfectly cheap) bus available.
A few minutes later she stood in the shower with her eyes closed, letting the hot water run over her body, washing away the cold and the feel of hospital from her skin.
It had been a long day. It hadn’t even been a week, but it felt like forever.
She’d spent the last three days trailing Dr. Cardulo, whose ice queen persona hadn’t thawed in the slightest, although Violet had seen her smile at at least two people, so she knew the woman was capable of it. Just not when it came to Violet, apparently. She was trying not to let it bother her, to just absorb everything she could about the surgeries she observed from the gallery, but still - it was annoying, and a little lonely.
At least the other doctors and nurses were welcoming, for the most part. Ridoc seemed determined to take her under his flamboyant wing, which meant she’d always had someone to sit with at lunch, and when she’d run into Rhiannon in the residents’ lounge the other doctor was always ready with a smile and a joke. Violet was used to the cut-throat competitive nature of the residents back in Calldyr, and for the first few days she hadn’t quite trusted Rhiannon’s openness, unsure if it was all just an act - but, eventually, she had to admit that she was just - well, nice.
And then there was him.
Violet hadn’t spoken to Dr. Riorson since their disastrous first encounter, but it didn’t mean she hadn’t seen him. It felt like he was everywhere . Appearing behind her while she punched in the code for a bag of chips from the vending machine. Passing her in the corridor as he was trailed by interns hanging off his every word. And, of course, the elevator, the f*cking elevator - she’d nearly bumped into him again twice now in between their sliding doors.
And every time their eyes slid into contact with each other Violet felt a small jolt of something. It was probably fear, she thought to herself, trying to rationalise the way her pulse picked up whenever she saw his tall figure appear. After all, he must hate her. He was probably planning how to make her life a living hell.
Violet’s mind trailed off from worrying about how he could make her professional life a mess to thoughts of his black eyes, his dark hair, the way even his scrubs (which weren’t a flattering item on anyone ) seemed to accentuate his muscular frame. She shook the image out of her head. She didn’t need to think about his perfect skeletal composition at any point of the day, and she definitely didn’t need to think about it when she was naked in the shower.
It didn’t matter how handsome he was, or how much he resembled a Greek god. He was her boss. And he hated her already.
Violet turned off the water. She towelled herself off, and then scowled at her reflection in the fogged up glass of the bathroom mirror. “Get your sh*t together, Violet,” she said.
–
Mira was waiting for her in the kitchen when Violet emerged from her room, wet hair falling over her shoulders. She handed Violet a glass of white wine, then leaned against the counter and regarded her appraisingly.
Violet took a sip of wine. “What?”
“Well? How is everything going?”
She considered this. She was shadowing a surgeon who hated her simply because of her name, she’d pissed off the surgeon she’d be working under for the next three months, and she really, really hated catching the bus. But she didn’t want to say any of this to Mira - maybe it was pride, or maybe she just didn’t want to argue about how coming back to Basgiath was a mistake.
So she shrugged. “It’s okay. I’ve seen some cool surgeries.”
This was true, at least. She was excited for next week, to finally be back in the operating theatre - maybe then she’d feel like she belonged back here.
Mira gave her a piercing look as if to say, I know you’re not telling me everything, but she didn’t probe any further just yet.
“Mom said to say hi,” she said instead. “She wanted to make it for dinner, but she got held up.”
“Of course she did,” Violet said with a roll of her eyes. She wouldn’t have expected anything else. It prodded at an old wound, deep inside her - that she would never, ever come first. She didn’t even particularly want to have dinner with her mother - the interrogation levels would be off the charts - but it still stung. She hadn’t seen her once since she’d been back at Basgiath.
“You know what it’s like, Vi,” Mira started to say, but Violet interrupted her.
“How was your conference thingie?”
Her sister frowned at her, but then sighed. “It was good. There were a lot of interesting presentations.”
“What was it on again?” Violet rested her elbows on the counter and watched Mira stir the contents of a saucepan on the stove.
“Containment of contagious diseases.”
“Like the spread in Poromiel?” Violet looked at her with interest , her curiosity piqued.
“Something like that,” her sister said vaguely. “Come on, food’s ready. Help yourself.”
Violet hopped off the stool and, as she assembled her tacos, it occurred to her that she wasn’t the only sibling not telling the whole story tonight.
“So,” Mira said, once they were sitting down and Violet had a mouthful of food. “I have to drive back to Montserrat tomorrow. Are you going to be okay here?”
She gave her sister an indignant look, and swallowed. “Of course I am.”
“Hmm.” Mira sounded doubtful.
“Mira. I lived in Calldyr alone for years. I’m not a baby.”
“You’re my baby sister,” Mira said. “You’ll always be a baby.”
“Ugh,” Violet rolled her eyes and took another big bite of taco. A splodge of guacamole oozed out the side and splattered down the front of her top, not helping her argument of adulthood much at all. She wiped it off. “Honestly. I start my rotation next week, and I’ll be so busy I won’t have time not to be fine.”
“Who are you with? I forgot to ask.”
Violet hesitated a moment, suspecting this news might not go down well.
“I’ve got neuro first,” she said. “Dr. Riorson. Do you know him?”
Mira stopped with her wine glass halfway to her mouth and placed it back on the table top with such force Violet was surprised it didn’t break.
“Riorson?”
“Uh, yup.”
Mira opened her mouth to say something, then closed it, pressing her lips together.
“What?”
“Stay away from him, Vi.”
“I’m literally on his service. How am I supposed to stay away from him?” Violet crossed her arms over her chest. “And why should I, exactly?”
“Because he’s an arrogant asshole-”
“All surgeons are arrogant assholes,” Violet said, shaking her head. “What’s so bad about him ?”
Mira picked up her wine glass again and took a long swig before saying, “He’s reckless. He’ll teach you bad habits. And…” her sister hesitated again, her eyebrows pulled together, like she wasn’t sure how much she wanted to tell Violet.
“And, what?” Violet was impatient now. She’d accidentally called the guy an egotistical asshole. She’d at least like to know if he actually deserved it.
“And he was involved in a lot of sh*t a few years ago that I don’t want you getting involved in. He’s a radical, and he doesn’t give a damn who gets hurt because of his ideas.”
Violet frowned. That made no sense.
“How would I get involved with his ideas? I just need to know how to cut people open and fix them. There’s nothing more black and white than that.”
“Look, just trust me, okay?”
Violet bit into another taco crossly, ruminating over this, and then said, “ How exactly am I supposed to stay away from him?”
“I can talk to someone-”
“No. You’re not switching me.”
The two sisters glared at each other.
Mira stabbed at her own plate with her fork. “There’s nothing wrong with using your connections-”
“I said no.” Violet could just see Cardulo’s face if her big sister switched her to a different service. She’d never live it down, ever.
“Ugh,” Mira grumbled. “Fine. Just - I don’t know, keep your head down. And don’t trust him.”
Violet didn’t bother telling Mira it was too late for him not to notice her. “I’ll be fine,” she said instead, partly to placate Mira and also to bolster herself.
Mira looked like she wanted to continue arguing but then thought better of it. “I know,” she said, doubtfully. It wasn’t a huge boost of confidence.
They ate in silence for several minutes. Mira seemed to be holding back from continuing her lecture. Violet piled more guacamole onto her plate, and wondered what Mira had meant by radical ideas. She filed this information away in her mind to examine later.
“Any cute guys?” Mira asked her eventually, changing the subject.
Riorson’s gorgeous face immediately popped unbidden into Violet’s mind. His smirk. His tattoo, winding up to accentuate his sharp jawline.
“No,” she said, a little too quickly.
“Ooh.” Her sister’s eyes lit up. “Who is he?” She paused. “Or she?”
“No one. There’s no one. I told you, I’m busy.”
Mira waved this away with a scoff. “No one’s too busy to get laid once in a while. It’s good for you. It’s like, stress release.”
“I have books for stress release,” Violet said, aware the moment the words left her lips that a) she sounded like a giant nerd, and b) she was one hundred percent lying.
Mira looked briefly horrified, and then said severely, “Violet. Books are not the same as org*sms.”
—
By lunch time the next day, Violet would have happily taken any form of stress release available. It had been a long morning. It was one of those days at the hospital where it seemed like everything that could go wrong, did.
One patient had a reaction to their antibiotics. Another refused to take their medication altogether. An elderly man waxed poetic about Dr. Cardulo’s eyes for a good five minutes, and then asked if she was available, which had actually been very funny. They’d had to inform a young couple that the surgery performed on the wife had been unsuccessful in removing her cancer, which hadn’t been funny at all.
She stood in front of one of the vending machines in the South Wing, staring unseeing at the rows of chips and chocolate before her. She didn’t feel like the bustle of the cafeteria today.
“Are you actually going to buy something?” A familiar acidic voice behind her asked. “Or just stare at the machine in the hopes something pops out?”
Violet blinked, and turned. Cardulo stood there scowling at her, a tall blonde doctor with curly hair in a high bun at her side.
“You must be Dr. Sorrengail,” the blonde said, smiling. She had a teddy bear sticker on her scrubs, and sparkly stars stuck to the name badge clipped at her waist. “Nice to meet you. I’m Quinn.”
Cardulo gave Quinn a look of deep annoyance.
“Um,” Violet said. “Nice to meet you?”
Quinn grinned. “Is Imogen being nice to you?”
Violet glanced at Cardulo - Imogen - and then said, because she had no idea what else to say, “No?”
The corner of Cardulo’s mouth twitched in the ghost of an almost smile.
Quinn laughed, stepping past Violet and punching in the code for a bag of salt and vinegar chips. “Don’t worry.” She retrieved the snack from the machine and opened it immediately, popping a chip into her mouth. “She’s like an m&m. Hard on the outside, soft on the inside.”
Cardulo gave Violet a look that promised murder if she ever dared to compare her to a confectionary item.
“I am not soft on the inside,” she said to her friend irritatedly. She nudged past Violet and picked her own item; a box of smarties.
Quinn just crunched on a chip and winked at Violet.
“See you at 2,” Cardulo said shortly, popping a smartie into her mouth. “Don’t be late.”
“I’m never late,” Violet muttered to her back as the two women headed away along the corridor.
She turned back to the vending machine, picked a bag of oreos, and was just debating where to sit and eat them when another familiar figure rounded the corner.
It was Riorson.
God, she needed to find a different snack spot.
He was looking down at the phone in his hand as he walked, frowning a little in concentration. Violet wondered if she could make a quick getaway. Before she could hide behind the machine or sprint down the corridor, however, he’d glanced up.
“Hello,” he said in that deep voice, his eyes sparking with recognition.
“Hi,” Violet said.
“Sorrengail, right?”
“Yeah. And you’re-”
“An egotistical asshole,” he said, nodding.
Fuuuuuck.
“About that-” Violet began.
“I’ve heard worse,” he said with a smirk. “You don’t have to apologize.”
Maybe something about his beautiful face short circuited her brain. Or maybe it was the pure arrogance in every line of his expression that did it, but either way, she heard herself saying “I wasn’t going to apologize.”
His smirk widened. “No?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I haven’t seen it proved otherwise yet.” Oh God, no, shut up, shut up. What was she doing ?
Riorson, however, looked delighted. “Well.” He stepped closer to her. He was so tall, she had to crane her neck to maintain eye contact with him. “I suppose we’ll see next week then, won’t we?”
“I suppose we will.” Violet lifted her chin a little and hoped she looked cool, and indifferent. She could feel her heart thudding at her reckless words. Definitely just her words, and not his close proximity to her doing something weird to her internal organs.
He surveyed her with those dark eyes. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
“Enjoy your cookies,” he said eventually, his gaze dropping from her face to the package she was gripping tightly in one fist. He stepped past her, punched in the code for a granola bar, and before she could say or do anything else ridiculous, he’d disappeared around the corner he’d come from.
Violet ripped open the bag of biscuits and bit into one with feeling.
She should have just gone to the cafeteria.
—
The afternoon proved to be even more stressful than the morning, which was exhausting, but on the bright side it gave Violet limited time to obsess over her interaction with Dr. Riorson. She inserted IV’s, read over charts, was vomited on not once but twice by the same patient, and had just decided that nothing else could possibly go wrong with this day when the alarm for a code blue rang down the hall.
Her heart rate picked up immediately, while Cardulo dropped the paperwork she’d been reading and ran for the door without a word. Violet followed, sprinting after her, and skidded into a room further along the ward that they’d been in earlier that morning.
The young woman lay supine on the bed, a nurse already performing compressions on her, machines beeping crazily everywhere. Her husband stood back against the wall, his face white and full of such desperation that Violet couldn’t bear to look at him.
“Get him out of here,” Cardulo snapped.
The next few minutes felt like a dream, acting without conscious thought, everything moving impossibly fast and yet slowly all at once. Cardulo seemed to forget that Violet was just supposed to be shadowing still, and directed orders at her while she herself took over compressions. Violet readied the crash cart, prepared the medications, and stood with her own heart in her throat watching the monitor after the first shock.
“Charge again,” Cardulo demanded, pumping compressions again, her eyes fierce.
Nothing.
Nothing.
The long whine of the heart monitor flatlining rang through the room.
Violet thought that it was cruel, that her own heart was fluttering at twice the speed it needed to, while their patient’s would never beat again.
Cardulo glanced at the clock on the wall and said flatly “Time of death, nineteen thirty six.”
She stepped back, and for a second her gaze collided with Violet's. Violet expected to be met by cold indifference, but she was surprised to see a tired, aching sort of grief in those green depths. Cardulo blinked and looked away quickly, then walked out of the room without another word.
Violet followed her quietly, thinking about m&m’s, and the dead woman’s husband, and wondering if this ever got easier. It had to, right?
–
An hour later, Violet was changed into her jeans and a t-shirt, filling out her paperwork at the nurse’s station while she listened to Ridoc and Rhiannon making plans for the night (it was a debate between Mario Kart at one of their apartments, and going to some pub called Chantara), when a tall blonde man appeared next to her, leaning against the counter she was working at.
“Hey, Gamlyn,” he said.
Ridoc looked up from his argument with Rhiannon, his eyes brightening. “Mairi! What’s up?”
The blonde man shrugged, an easy smile on his face. Something about him made Violet think of a golden retriever.
“I was wondering if you had any more churam on you. I’m running low.”
Ridoc winked at him. “For you, Mairi, of course.”
Rhiannon snorted. “For literally anyone who’ll pay you.”
“That too,” Ridoc said easily, leaning back in his chair with a grin.
The blonde laughed, and then looked at Violet. His eyes were a bright sky blue, clear and lovely. She noticed that he had a tattoo like Cardulo and Riorson, twisting around his tanned left arm. Perhaps he was friends with them. She wondered what those swirling, intricate patterns signified.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m Liam.”
“Violet,” she said with a nod and a small smile. He was the kind of person who made you want to smile just by being around them.
“You’re new here?
“Yeah, I’m a surgical resident. I just transferred.”
“Oh, nice,” he said, before turning back to Ridoc. “I can bring you cash tomorrow?”
“I’ll also accept-” Rhiannon covered his mouth with her hand.
“Cash is great,” she said loudly, while Ridoc mumbled in protest against her palm.
“Awesome. Thanks Gamlyn,” he said, his voice cheerful. He looked back at Violet. “Nice to meet you, Violet.”
“Yeah, you too.”
She watched him go and when she glanced at Rhiannon and Ridoc, they were also staring after the man.
“Holy f*cking sh*t,” Ridoc breathed. “That man is a god. The things I would do to him, you don’t even want to know.”
“We seriously don’t,” Rhiannon said. “But yeah, he’s dreamy.”
Not as dreamy as some, Violet found herself thinking, and then shook herself mentally. No, no, very bad train of thought.
“So, Baby Sorrengail,” Ridoc said, turning his attention to her. “Want to come over to ours? You look like you have quick reflexes.”
Violet raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.
“Mario Kart,” he explained, his grin wide. “My roommate sucks. I need a true challenge.”
“I’m offended,” Rhiannon said, teasingly.
“She drives like a blind grandma,” Ridoc informed Violet, shaking his head, eyes still sparkling. “So, what do you say? Come over, have some beers, play some games, tell us all your deepest darkest secrets?”
Violet laughed. “Lovely as that sounds,” she said, slinging her pack over her shoulder, “I have a 45 minute bus to catch.”
“No,” Ridoc said, his voice horrified. “That is a travesty.”
“Well aware,” Violet said with a sigh. “But thanks for the invite. See you.” She waved, and started down the corridor. It would have been fun to hang out with them, to take her mind off everything. To maybe make some friends who didn’t just want to talk about the best way to dissect the atrium of a heart (not that that wasn’t also a worthy topic of discussion.)
“Violet!” Rhiannon’s voice called.
Violet turned.
Rhiannon was jogging after her, dark braids bouncing. “I was just thinking - and you can totally say no, I know this is out of the blue - but I need a roommate.”
Violet stared at her in surprise.
“It’s nothing fancy, but it’s a big room, and it’s only a five minute walk from here, and rent’s pretty good - downside is you have to have Ridoc as a neighbour, but he’s actually a really good cook, and if you overlook the-”
“I’d love to,” Violet said, the words bursting out of her unexpectedly. She meant it. The idea of living close to the hospital, of not being constantly nervous about running into her mother, of not sleeping in her childhood bed - it was too good to turn down.
“Really?” Rhiannon’s voice was hopeful.
“I need to get out of my mom’s house. And I can’t do a whole year of catching that f*cking bus.” She paused, and then said, suddenly nervous, “Are you sure ? You hardly know me.”
Rhiannon’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “I’ve got a good feeling about you, Sorrengail.”
“Did she say yes?” Ridoc called.
“Yes!” Rhiannon shouted. Ridoc whooped, and Rhiannon turned back to her. “You can move in whenever, but if you need help, we could do it next Friday? I’m pretty sure we’re all off.”
“That sounds amazing,” Violet said gratefully. “Today just got so much better, you don’t even know.”
Rhiannon gave her another wide smile, and Violet felt hope blooming in her heart. Maybe it was going to work out here after all.
