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txemrn · 1 year

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Ricochet

Part IV: "... This Isn't What I Wanted (or Is It Everything?)"

Need to Catch up?

A New Boss (a prequel of sorts)

Part I: “Like Moths to the Flame”

Part II: “So Far Away, but Still So Near”

Part IIIa: “And I Know It Gets Dark…”

Part IIIb: "...But I Know the Way."

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x F!OC (Tatum Erikson); Tobias Carrick x F!OC (Tatum)

Series Music Inspo: Ricochet by Starset (more of an acoustic fan? Check it here.)

Chapter Music Inspo: "Shapeshifting" by Taylor Acorn

Series Summary: Almost two decades ago, he gave love a chance–and she betrayed him. Now after all of this time, Dr. Ethan Ramsey and Dr. Tatum Erikson realize that their past feelings might not exactly be ancient history–especially now that they are forced to work together.

Chapter Summary: Tatum has called for assistance from the main OR, but will they be any help when several emergencies emerge at the same time? Tatum takes courage and finds her voice when she remembers an awful experience; she meets a new, young surgical resident

Warning: 🔞mature audiences only 🔞 TW: dub-con/non-con 🍋; strong depiction of a medical procedure; strong depiction of a medical emergency involving newborn infant and mother; language (including a slur against woman); angst; discussion of infidelity

Word Count: 4300 (+/-)

A/N: Characters and some plot belong to Pixelberry! Not beta'd, so please excuse my errors. Fair warning: this is not my strongest chapter (I mean, it took my FOREVER to actually finish it and post), but I hope you enjoy the journey regardless.

A/N 2: It really has been forever and day, so here's a recap: *clear throat* Previously in Ricochet... Unable to sleep after his encounter with Casey at Raf and Sienna's wedding, Ethan's heads in to the hospital despite it being his day off; after a challenging talk with Tobias about unspoken intentions with Tatum, the chief heads over to the L&D ORs, where he finds a terrified Tatum in the midst of a rare, very lethal surgery, and her hesitation doesn't go unnoticed by the staff in the observation deck as they ridicule the new chief of OB, Tobias being the ringleader of the hate; Ethan sternly bans them from witnessing the once-in-a-lifetime surgery before turning to encourage Tatum in the most Ethan-way possible: with just a look...

~🖤~

Remaining in her sterile surgical gear, Tatum carefully takes a seat on a metal stool, saving her back for the arduous surgery staring at her on the operating table. She anxiously chews on her lip, her eyes darting across her patient's open abdomen before fixating on her fresh set of steel tools.

The procedure she knows like the back of her hand: clamp, cut, control bleeding. But, with the placenta growing outside of the uterus and into other organs, into the delicate vasculature of the pelvis, it's like going into this surgery blindfolded.

The uterus has to come out–and the patient is well aware of this and prepared. But, this isn't like any other hysterectomy. Will it cost the patient her ovaries? Her bowels and bladder? Her life?

Tatum urgently stands back up, staring at the clock on the wall. It had been over twenty minutes, and her STAT page was yet to be answered by surgery. Too slow for L&D standards; way too slow for her own standards. And at this rate, the patient’s spinal anesthesia is going to dissipate before they even start.

Damnit… think, Tatum, think…

She could always page Ramsey.

No.

Tatum refuses to resort to that. Well, not that calling on him for assistance would be the worst thing in the world.

She had a brief moment of weakness–more like a moment of uncertainty, actually–when she discovered her patient’s unknown lethal condition, and Ethan clearly recognized the fear etched on her face from the gallery; truth be told, the accreta scared him, too.

However, Tatum is a highly skilled physician; her reputation for excellence precedes her. If she needs help, she will ask for it–and she has.

She's embarrassed that she even needed Ethan's reassurance earlier, even if it was just for that moment, that simple nod of 'I believe in you.' Sure, it was supportive, and it gave her that extra push she needed to power forward.

But that look, that damn crystal gaze…

Damnit, why did she have to freeze? It was only for an instant, a very brief second. Tatum Erikson doesn't need a vote of confidence. Not from anyone, not even from the famous Dr. Ethan Ramsey. She is independently strong, independently capable.

But now, Tatum feels as if she's accidentally exposed a secret side to herself, like her own Achilles' heel; it's quite possible now he knows he still has an effect on her.

Worse, now she knows he still has an effect on her.

She turns to Wanda the charge nurse, who shrugs her shoulders to the physician's unspoken question.

Tatum takes a deep cleansing breath, trying her best to stay calm. "Can someone please tell me where the hell is my backup ?"

"Right here, Doctor…"

Hearing the monotoned boredom of an unfamiliar male voice, Tatum spins around to find two gentlemen moseying into her operating room, drying off their hands with blue sterile towels. The tension raking her nerves is instantly relieved, seeing her help arrive.

The older of the men continues. "I'm Dr. Aaron Tanaka, chief of surgery," he nods his head towards the taller gentleman. "And this is one of my fourth-years–"

"Sup?" The young surgical resident smoothly winks at Tatum, popping gum under his mask.

Oh great, a kindergartner… Tatum rolls her eyes as the healthcare team assists the men into their protective gowns. As the physicians roll their gloves over the cuffs of their sleeves, Tatum escorts them over to her patient, catching them up to speed on what has happened so far. Together, Dr. Tanaka and Dr. Erikson develop several plans of how to overcome the patient's lethal risk of hemorrhaging.

"Whoa…" the younger surgeon exclaims, "I have never seen anything like that–"

Tatum clears her throat, glaring at the amateur physician.

"Should I start charging admission?" The patient jokes on the other side of the blue drape, causing the room to snicker loudly.

Tatum leans toward the young doctor, her tone low and syrupy. And quite sarcastic. “Try not to say everything that pops into that feeble little brain of yours–” He pops his chewing gum, winking with a finger gun. Fucking residents…

As the room quiets down, the patient softly whistles to get her surgeon's attention. "Dr. Erikson?" Tatum tucks in her hands, carefully wiggling her body closer to the head of the table to hear the patient clearer.

"Yes ma'am? You ready?"

The patient lowers her voice. "He's not, eh, doing the surgery, is he?" referring to the surgical resident who was shocked by the scene.

The blonde guffaws. "No, ma'am," she glances back to the young doctor who is now talking cooly with her staff, the nurses dow-eyed and eagerly laughing at everything he says. But suddenly, he fixes his flirty, soft copper eyes on Tatum. His intense gaze fools her into inadvertently staring too long as she begins to take note of his tall, trim physique. He begins to smolder, causing her to turn her attention back to her patient. "H–He's here for… my entertainment."

“Is he hot? He sounds hot.” Tatum gives a dramatic wink while her patient shoots a knowing look in return, clicking her tongue and giggling.

“Erikson?” The anesthesthetist breaks her from her reverie, confirming the case status. “We’re ready.”

"Perfect.” Tatum takes her place on a metal step stool, matching her height with her assists. She’s above average height for a woman at five-foot-nine-inches, but still, the men tower over her. She looks around the room with a commanding stance. “Are we set then?"

"Ready when you are, Doc," Dr. Tanaka affirms, others nodding in agreement.

Tatum cracks her neck, taking a big deep breath. "Okay, then," she exhales, surveying her staff, "now who's ready to have a birthday party?"

After a few shared chuckles, the patient was safely intubated and given the proper amount of anesthesia. Seeing that she was safely asleep under the appropriate gasses, Dr. Erikson quickly proceeds with her cesarean surgery, and in record time, she delivers a beautiful six-pound, thirteen-ounce baby girl.

The OB takes the tiny infant in her arms, making cooing noises to welcome the tiny one into the world as she suctions out the mouth and nose with a green bulb syringe.

But as the birthday cheers begin to quiet down around the room, the situation abruptly becomes dire: the baby is limp, her skin becoming dusky gray at the cut of her cord. Tatum continues to stimulate the baby to breathe with no avail.

"C'mon, baby girl," Tatum's words become gruffly matter-of-fact. She wrestles with her legs, flicking her feet vigorously with her fingers, but her tiny frame lays flaccid in the physician's hands like a limp fish.

Lifeless.

No cry.

"Nurse?" Tatum urgently calls out, quickly handing off the stunned baby to the waiting NICU staff. "Keep me updated–" she orders as the team hooks the baby up to specialized monitors, performing the necessary interventions to resuscitate.

Tatum briefly closes her eyes, taking a deep breath before she focuses on the surgery. Opening her eyes, she nods assuredly to Tanaka before continuing. “Pickups.” The surgical tech hands the obstetrician a pair of tissue forceps and a cauterizing tool to continue with her surgery. "I need an update, ladies," Tatum shouts. Her tone is assertive and controlled, commanding and clear. Inwardly she is panicked, but she remains calm, a testament to her leadership skills and her quick thinking.

"We're just past a minute of life. Pulse is 52. Starting compressions… draw up epi… let's get an umbilical line…"

Fuck. Tatum's nerves tangle as she listens to the baby's team of professionals administer medications and physical maneuvers to make her spontaneously breathe on her own. Still, the OB continues steadily and carefully with her surgery, glancing over at the baby every few seconds.

C'mon, baby girl. Cmon. Mama needs you–

Suddenly, a trill of alarms begin to blare rapidly, stealing everyone's attention. Before realizing what had happened, warm, crimson fluid spatters across the surgical field, saturating Tatum's arms, gloves and gown; her mask and shield are covered with blood.

"Erikson!" Shouts the anesthetist, "BP 67/23… heart rate now in the 150s…"

"That vessel on the lateral portion of the accreta blew. She's bleeding out, Erikson–" Tanaka quickly suctions the field of the pooling blood. "She's getting shocky… and fast. How should we proceed?"

Fuck. Tatum grabs a stack of lap pads and tosses them to the young resident. "We need to find the source of this bleeding." He nods and instantly begins soaking up the copious amounts of fluid with the large, thick pieces of gauze as Tatum explores the body cavity with Tanaka.

"BPs dropping," anesthesia hollers.

"Give me a second–"

"Erikson! She doesn't have a second–"

"Bolus her and mass transfuse four units–" Feeling their stares, Tatum looks up at her concerned anesthesia team. "Now!" She growls, her eyebrows furrowing as she returns to the carnage. "Then cross and match four more units… and buy me a goddamn second!"

Taking a deep breath, Tatum flickers her attention to her assistants, both of them giving her an approving nod.

"Damnit! Dr. Erikson! I can't get this intubation on the baby. We need you–"

"Dr. Erikson! Vitals not improving–"

“Dr. Erikson–!”

Tatum glances around the room, her paralyzing fear slowing down time. All she can hear is the thunder of her own heart racing, the rasp of her breathing echoing in her head. She sees the concerned faces; she hears the whispers of doubt and concern from her colleagues

She’s losing them. The possibility of losing either of them never crossed her mind, but both? A mother and child? This wasn’t the plan; this was never part of the fucking plan.

The sting of tears pricks at Tatum’s reddening eyes.

What do I do?... what have I done?

------

The torrential downpour hushes to a dull tapping of raindrops as hollow roars of thunder rumble in the distance; but, the storm was just beginning for Tatum as she lays frozen in her bed, her sanctuary that she shared only with the love of her life.

And now, his best friend.

The room suddenly feels so different, so strange and unknown. It seems so ordinary, no longer special. The warmth of home has melted away, leaving a peculiar chill of unfamiliarity.

There's a handsome smell, a spicy musk that hangs in the air. But, it’s not Ethan.

There’s a pair of distressed jeans tossed carelessly on the carpet, but the body heat that lingers isn’t from him either.

There’s a set of arms possessively wrapped around her naked body. The skin feels … different. The hair? Different. The actual grip and weight on top of her: it’s different.

It’s not Ethan.

What have I done? Tatum’s eyes pain with the threat of tears, her chest beginning to rise and fall in search of fresh air, in search of clarity. But with each gasp of a new breath, she quietly whimpers in agony for the ache in her heart.

She had broken the most precious thing she owned. That she will ever own.

"You awake?" Tobias croons in her ear as his large hand massages the soft, flat planes of her belly. He tenderly works his way down, his fingers intimately petting her sore, swollen lips between her thighs.

She winces, her toes curling as her body grows rigid from his unwanted touch. She consciously holds her breath, hoping he won't notice her terrified nerves.

"What’s wrong, baby girl?" he whispers, pressing his full lips against her neck, biting at the sensitive area. “Are you needing more already?”

Tatum can feel his heavy erection against her hip, his intentions painfully aware. He slowly rocks himself against her body as if to charm her like a serpent, hypnotizing her to give him exactly what he wants. Another rendezvous; another fuck; another sin.

Desperate for a gentle hand, she foolishly lost herself in Tobias’s caress earlier that evening. She was vulnerable, inebriated, and lonely. In her altered mind, even for just a small moment, being in his arms made sense–well, being in someone's arms made sense. She needed Ethan. She was broken and hurt, and she despairingly needed her boyfriend’s love and comfort.

But, Tobias was there. His words, the look on his face, the heat in his touch: it was exactly what she needed to sooth her wounds. For the moment.

And now, he wants to claim her once more.

Shit, can a woman deny a man if she’s already given in once? Does he have a claim over her, a right, an expectation? The conversation played out in her head: 'You said, ‘yes’ earlier, you tease. You whore…'

Oh God, would he turn on her? Shame her publicly? Worse, would he tell Ethan before she could… that is if she decided to actually tell her boyfriend–no, she had to, right? But if Tobias told Ethan before her, would he be honest about what happened? Or would she become another victim of slut-shaming? 'She couldn't be faithful; what else is she lying about?'

It was one time; it was one mistake. Does that unravel three years of trust? Three years of commitment? Three years of love?

Tatum already knew the answer, and the taste of bile grazes the back of her throat.

She needed to stop this from happening again. But how can she while still protecting herself?

This was a grave mistake…

Tobias gently rolls her over, kissing hungrily against her pout. His tongue swipes across her plump lips, his large hand roaming down the outside of her thigh. But then he stops, sensing her awkwardness. “You okay?” His voice is haunting, dark, his gray eyes piercing her vacant stare.

No. “Uh-huh,” she lies with a nod. The corners of her mouth begin to curl as his hand grips behind her knee, hitching her leg around his waist. Goosebumps ignite across her skin in betrayal as he pushes himself against her throbbing clit.

Stop, her brain screams.

“Relax, Tate,” he growls before reclaiming her lips, nipping and bruising them. "Let me make you feel good."

Tell him to stop.

“Is this okay?”

No. She reluctantly shakes her head 'yes' in agreement.

He aligns his girth with her entrance, fisting the sheets next to her head as he hovers above her docile form.

Say something! Do anything! she screams to herself, but she is paralyzed by fear. It's more than just the fear of the consequences of what's happening. Tatum is terrified of herself.

Then again, maybe she believes she deserves this. It wasn't going to be pleasurable for her, rather an act of attrition. Maybe that's why her body allowed his advances. Maybe she needed to feel the discomfort as a form of punishment for what she had done against Ethan. Maybe this was a last ditch effort to settle the score, to make things even.

Feeling Tobias's weight begin to push into her, she turns her head to her phone laying on the bedside table, praying for Ethan to call her, text her, anything to interrupt this.

But nothing comes through.

And suddenly, she sobs out a painful moan.

------

“Dr. Erikson—!”

Say something… Do anything…

Tatum subtly shakes her head, the horrid memory fleeing her thoughts. The frantic voices of the NICU team pull her attention to the struggling infant.

“Please, doc, we need this intubation. We don’t have time to wait for our back-up–”

Tatum watches the mother’s abdomen pool with blood before turning a pleading stare to her colleague. “Tanaka–?”

“I’m on it.” He elbows his wide-eyed resident, “Suction.”

Say something… Do anything…

Seeing the men take over, Tatum instantly rips off her dirty gown and gloves and positions herself at the head of the baby’s bed.

“Would you like for us to call our back-up?” The neonatal practitioner urgently interrupts.

Tatum remains silent, seemingly ignoring her. She slides a metal apparatus into the infant’s mouth before guiding a clear plastic tube inside the throat and past the vocal cords. Attaching an ambu bag to the special tube to assist with the baby’s breathing, she watches the tiny chest rise and fall in coordination with the squeezing of the ventilation. Tatum steals a stethoscope from a nearby nurse’s neck and listens closely to the lungs.

“Breath sounds…” she moves the flat, round bell to the other side of the tiny torso, “equal and bilateral.” Tatum smirks as on-lookers silently praise her with sighs of relief. “Now,” she continues, “get this kid some epi. Oh! And ma’am?” She turns to the practitioner while handing the stethoscope back to the nurse. “I don’t need back-up.”

Slipping back into her sterile apparel, Tatum rejoins Tanaka and his resident, but quickly notices that he still hasn’t been able to find the source of the bleeding. She looks to anesthesia, “Where are we on our blood?”

“The first unit is pouring into her, but–”

“--she’s bleeding it back out–shit!” Tatum stares at the flood of viscous crimson.

“How would you like to proceed?” Dr. Tanaka questions. “Maybe order some more blood?”

Tatum thinks in silence, racking her brain for a solution.

“Should we call someone? Maybe someone who knows?” Anesthesia sardonically suggests, earning him a hateful side-eye.

“Maybe you should just plug the hole up with your finger,” the resident chuckles, his attending suddenly glaring in disapproval. Tatum glances at him, her eyes squinting into a glower as her eyebrows furrow.

These idiots–

But then she stops. She slowly cocks her head with curiosity as she suddenly considers his words.

Actually…

"My apologies, Dr. Erikson,” Tanaka interjects. “Perhaps we should–"

“--plug the hole up,” Tatum interrupts the seasoned surgeon, echoing the resident's poor joke, only this time, there is a certainty in her voice. "I’m going in." She instantly sticks her gloved hand into the open abdominal cavity, gently feeling her way around the thick, warm fluid.

“Dr. Erikson,” Dr. Tanaka chides, “this… is… highly unusual–”

“Just keep suctioning,” she orders, her hands tenderly brushing against the fragile uterus and the delicate vessels.

Tanaka scoffs, giving a knowing look to a worried anesthesia provider. The tall, young resident looks to his mentor, unsure of what to do… or if there was anything to do. He nervously looks back to Dr. Erikson, but suddenly his jaw falls open.

Her eyes are closed.

"Erikson–?" the anesthesiologist attempts to get her attention.

"Give me a sec," she carefully feels her way through the body.

His voice grows frantic. "Her vitals are–"

"Got it!" She instantly peers up at her staff with relief before turning to her tech. Her hand remains deep inside the patient, her arm twisted at an odd angle. "Get me a 3-O vicryl suture on an SH. Now please."

Tatum works quickly in silence as she temporarily fixes the weak, broken vessel. It wasn't a long-term answer, but this would buy them time to thoroughly clear the area of the accreta while cauterizing the necessary vessels before they performed the hysterectomy.

"Okay, so–" She flashes an innocent gaze to anesthesia, batting her eyelashes. "What were you saying about those vitals, doctor?" She's grateful she's wearing a mask to hide her smirk, but she knows her eyes are giving her away.

"Stabilizing, ma'am, uh. Doctor."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Dr. Tanaka suctions to clear the field–and it stays that way.

"How did you know that would work?" The resident questions, his warm gaze fixating on the blonde OB.

Tatum stops, thoughts racing through her mind as she considers her words. She then subtly shakes her head, returning to the operation. "I didn't… but sometimes even when you don't know what the answer is, you just have to do something. It’s way better than nothing."

------

Impressive. That's the word men use when a lady doctor kicks ass. The anesthesia team along with Dr. Tanaka couldn't stop talking about Tatum's heroic move of plugging up the ruptured vessel with her finger–and doing so only by her sense of touch, completely blind. If she were a man, they would've given her a cigar; but to be described as impressive? She knows her battles; she'll take it.

As they transfer the patient to recovery, Tatum takes a moment to herself to bask in the relief of saving a life. Of saving two. She slips back into the sink area to be alone in silence.

Taking in a deep cleansing breath, she allows her nerves to relax for the first time in several hours. She tightly clenches her watering eyes shut, taking pleasure in the subtle sting of warmth after being in the frigid sterile air.

She grips firmly to the edge of the sink as she wiggles and contorts her body, feeling the sudden release of tension as her joints crack and pop.

She's grateful; she knows the success of the surgery was not by her doing alone. She would never be foolish enough to be that cocky, to truly think that something like this was completely in her control. There's only so much in her power, so much that science and her skills can fix. But when lives are left to chance, she’s grateful that the gamble fell into her favor.

"Am I interrupting anything?"

Instantly recognizing the familiar lax vocal timbre, Tatum looks up from the large steel sinks to find the tall, surgical resident, leaning against the doorway outside the operating room. She smiles appreciatively at him as he takes off his blue mask.

He's young– maybe in his late twenties–and handsome with a natural caramel glow to his skin. The lines of his face are cut sharp, chiseled into perfect angles. He’s slender, but well-toned; his green scrub top pulls snug around the musculature of his biceps. Although his hibiscus-laden scrub cap covers his head, his sun-kissed brunette tresses are pulled back into a tiny ponytail. Most of the hairs, however, have already worked their way out of the elastic, resting on the nape of his neck.

"No," Tatum shakes her head, "not at all."

He steps into the room, casually sliding his hands into his pockets. “Can I just say… that was incredible.”

Tatum stifles a bright smile, feigning nonchalance as she picks at her nails. "I mean–" She glances back up at him, but seeing the glint of excitement reciprocated, she instantly forgets whatever smart-ass comment she was about to make and squeals. “God, that was fucking cool, wasn’t it?”

"The fucking coolest! One of the most interesting cases I've seen in a while," he sucks in his bottom lip, his dimpled grin plastered wide across his face. "You just…” he snickers under his breath, “wow, I don't see myself forgetting this anytime soon."

Their playfulness quickly vanishes as Tatum catches a hint of something in his tone. Is he flirting? Becoming hyper-aware of his proximity, an err of awkwardness falls between them. Feeling heat bloom on her cheeks, Tatum quickly attempts to rectify the situation by clearing her throat, rolling back her shoulders to straighten out her back. “By the way, thank you," she starts, "for your help in there with the, uh… with the, um–" Unable to find the right words, she begins holding up her pointer finger, spinning it around in the air. "Um… You know? The whole fingering thing–I mean–"

He chuckles, coyly looking down at the ground before meeting her gaze again, flashing his pearly whites. "Dr. Erikson, are you accusing me of 'fingering' in your OR?"

Tatum's eyes widen. She purses her lips together to stifle her laughter. Oh, so you're a bad kindergartner… "That… that's not what I meant, uh… doctor… um–"

"Bryce," he holds out his hand to take hers. "Bryce Lahela."

Speechless, Tatum mindlessly places her hand in his palm. She clears her throat again as she shakes his hand sternly in a poor attempt of being professional. "Nice to officially meet you--" she states matter-of-factly, "--Bryce. I'm–"

"--going to Donahue's," he interrupts.

"What?"

He snickers. "You're going to Donahue's for a drink."

"Oh, am I now?"

"You are," he takes a step closer, the front of his Crocs kissing the toes of her tennis shoes. "With me. Those are the rules."

"Rules?"

"Mhmm," he hums as he lifts up her hand. Tatum didn't realize that he was still holding on even after their professional handshake. He points to the small tattoo on her wrist that she normally covers with her watch. "See this right here?"

"My tattoo?" She giggles sardonically to herself, curious as to what line he's about to feed her.

"You're a Virgo," he flashes a smirk, "which means we need to satisfy that impulsive side of yours by grabbing drinks together. In celebration of your badassery today, of course."

"Oh, of course," Tatum jests, pulling her hand away from him. "Too bad I'm not a Virgo," she turns to walk away, but stops herself, glancing back to him. "Also… you suck at astrology," she giggles before walking away from the sink area.

Bryce chuckles under his breath before jogging to catch up with her. "What’s with the Virgo ink then?"

Tatum rolls her eyes, glancing briefly at the collection of connected stars. "Long story–"

"--which… you can tell me… over drinks at Donahue's!" They both fall into laughter as Tatum comes to a stop in the hallway.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Hey, I wasn't lying about the rules. We have to celebrate."

Tatum looks up and down the empty corridor before crossing her arms, considering his proposition. God, is this what she is resorting to these days? Last night, Tobias and tonight, a resident? Who really is this guy anyway?

Tatum wasn't sure if he was messy or complicated; but he was gorgeous, and he was available. Maybe. And he wasn't Ethan Ramsey.

"One drink. As colleagues. That's it."

~🖤~

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