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damedechance · 1 year

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Watch Me Fall Apart

ACOTAR Writing Circle - Part 3

Read on AO3: Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3

Tumblr: Pt 1, Pt 2 (3/3)

Keep reading below for all of Part 3!

The ACOTAR Writing Circle is an event organized by @azrielshadowssing where several writers each start a fic, and then pass it off to someone else for the second and third parts. Please go to her page for more information, and to see the masterlist so that you can read all of the fics! This is the FINAL PART so all of the fics should be updated and completed soon if you want to binge <3

For Part 3, I am continuing the fic started by @azrielshadowssing and continued by @headcanonheadcase!! You guys have no idea how much I love medical dramas, so this was definitely very exciting to me.

Pairing: Nessian Word Count: 8.4k (~20k total) Rating/Warnings: E (explicit content, mentions of workplace harassment, depictions of medical procedures and traumatic injury) Summary: Nesta and Cassian are the top residents in their hospital, and they're competing for the same specialty. The tension between them is always high, but is it really because they hate each other?

Continue reading below the cut for all of part 3! Or scroll up and read on AO3 :)

PART THREE

The air snapped– abruptly shifted from nothing into this rigid, stale force that pressed up against her chest and prickled over her skin until she couldn’t even stand to breathe it in. Nesta felt her hackles raise, every muscle tensed with unease. She’d been filled with dread earlier, but it quickly evaporated, leaving behind an empty void right at the center of her chest.

She knew what it looked like.

Cassian’s expression all but confirmed her suspicions–his face twisted into a horrible scowl as his gaze darted from Rayer’s still outstretched hand to the spot where it rested on her lower back.

It looked like Nesta was cozying up to an attending to receive his favor. In some witless plan to get first pick on all of the best cases, or to receive special treatment in the OR. Maybe he’d throw her some solo cases or let her hold the retractor while he worked on a delicate procedure. At the bare minimum, she’d be guaranteed to breeze through her intern year. But give it some time, and maybe at the end of her residency he’d toss her a few bread crumbs. A recommendation letter, or a fellowship, or– hey– maybe even an illustrious research position.

That was what it looked like.

It was what everyone would think, anyway. What Nesta couldn’t blame Cassian for thinking, even though she knew that if he even bothered to look at her face, he’d see the truth she was so desperately trying to convey with her gaze.

Even if he did read the explanation in her eyes, he’d have to actively fight against every other, far easier explanation to believe her. And their track record didn’t necessarily afford her any benefit of the doubt. Prior to that night at the bar, she and Cassian had been at each other’s throats for any scrap of an advantage over the other.

And after the way she had treated him this morning? She couldn’t blame him if he dismissed her.

It was irrational, and exhausting, and so entirely unfair, but Nesta felt fury rise white hot through her veins, anyway.

Because really, what did Cassian have to angry about? What right did he have to bear that indignant expression? Even if she was hooking up with her attending, Cassian held no claim over her. No reason to look so furious, especially after hooking up only a handful of times. He had no right , and it was not fair, not fair, not fair.

If he would just look at her, he’d see all of that.

But Cassian didn’t, and the moment passed so quickly that it was almost as if Nesta had imagined it. Except she could still feel the fire of her outrage, and still had to suppress the way she was nearly shaking from it.

Only, Cassian simply continued his stride towards them, as if he had never been stalled in the first place. Rayer turned to watch his approach as he realized belatedly that Cassian had appeared. Nesta opened her mouth, prepared to defend herself, but Cassian spoke before she had the chance.

“Collapse on a construction site,” Cassian announced bluntly, and Nesta felt herself deflating instantly. “Multiple traumas en route. Dr. Odell asked me to come get you personally, since the nurses’ station is so backed up with admissions. It’s all hands on deck.”

Cassian didn’t stop walking, not even as he delivered the news, and for a wild moment Nesta thought that he would collide with either herself or Rayer, causing them to tumble to the floor. But instead, Cassian pushed forward, right in between them, forcing Rayer to step back.

Nesta watched with a detached sort of curiosity as Rayer’s hand fell from where it had been pressed into her back, and then clenched into a fist at his side.

And then her head snapped up, and Nesta began jogging after Cassian. Clearly, he meant to be followed.

“How many?” Nesta asked breathlessly. She shook her head in an effort to obtain some sort of clarity. “What’s their status?”

Pulling her thoughts into even a semblance of order was a hopeless endeavor, apparently, because Nesta couldn’t seem to rid herself of that murky fog. The half-thoughts and lingering feelings of dread and outrage. She raced down the hall right behind Cassian, but she might as well have been on a completely different plane with how scrambled her mind was. Bouncing around from trying to recall the complications of combined chemo and radiation on tumor resections for Mrs. Green, to the way her skin crawled when Rayer placed his hand on her, how much she wished she had thought to grab breakfast, Cassian’s bedsheets– none of it was useful to her, now.

She was only vaguely aware of Rayer following after them.

“Seven, so far,” Cassian said, and he must have answered her immediately, but it felt like it had been years since she’d even asked the question. Seven traumas. “All construction workers recovered from the field. Two coded on transport, probably DOA. The others are a mixed bag, and one is still being extracted from the site. Odell said to expect crush injuries, blunt head trauma, lots of lacerations.”

They reached the end of the hall, and Cassian threw his arm out to shove open the door to the stairwell. He stood to the side, allowing Nesta to rush through first.

“It’s gonna be a long day,” Cassian said, catching her eye as she brushed past him.

Nesta pressed her lips together, and then turned away rather than respond. She was already halfway down the first set of stairs when she realized that she didn’t hear anyone following behind her. She paused with her hand on the railing, and twisted around to look back up to the doorway.

Cassian stood, easily filling the threshold with his broad frame, and effectively blocking Rayer from making his way through.

“Odell only mentioned getting Archeron,” Cassian said, so smoothly that it could only have been a lie. “I’m sure they would have paged you if they needed you.”

Rayer visibly bristled. “All hands on deck, right?”

At this, Nesta raised her eyebrows. His tone held thinly veiled distaste, but Nesta had always assumed Cassian to be a favorite amongst the attendings.

Rayer continued, “Non-emergent surgeries will likely be pushed, and the ER is going to be flooded with head injuries. You’re going to need me.”

“Just following orders,” Cassian said coolly.

It was almost unsettling, the way Cassian–a measly intern–had somehow amassed enough authority in such a narrow doorway to have his superior trying to justify his own utility in a trauma room. She couldn’t see Cassian’s face, but she wondered if it was just as impassive as his voice, or if it betrayed the animosity he clearly felt.

And then two pagers chirped–hers and Rayer’s–and effectively sliced through the tension. Nesta didn’t have to look to see that it was a 911 from the pit.

“Come on,” Nesta said. She turned and continued her descent without another glance towards the others. She called over her shoulder, “We don’t have time for this.”

Whatever silent agreement they came to, it was none of Nesta’s business as Cassian and Rayer fell into step behind her. They followed her down the rest of the stairs, and when she opened the door, it was Cassian’s hand that shot out to hold it open for her again, as if he was purposely putting himself between her and Rayer.

If she had the time, she might have tried to understand why he was so insistent on keeping them separated. She might have pored over the image of him stepping between them in the hallway, might have played back that look he had given her as they entered the stairwell. She’d have gone over it, again and again , to try to discern the direction of his hatred.

But as it was, Nesta didn’t have the time. Because as she approached the ER, she could see that it was already packed, and that they desperately needed more doctors.

Two of the trauma rooms were already occupied, and she could hear the monitors and the voices of her colleagues from within them–their tones urgent and even a bit anxious. Curtains were drawn around three of the trauma beds, but might as well have been left open from how frequently the nurses and residents kept passing through them. The registrars were simultaneously answering the phones and handing out tablets to the doctors that came to respond to the crisis. And in the corner, nurses helped some of the other interns into their PPE, all while other medical staff filtered in and out of the ER with gauze and IVs and suture kits.

Organized chaos, in the most awful and amazing sort of way.

Rayer, for all of his far more disturbing and even revolting qualities, was still an experienced surgeon. He was unencumbered by the greenness that still afflicted Nesta and the rest of the interns. The apprehension that kept them lingering on the edges of the room awaiting orders instead of jumping straight into the fray. Rayer had already switched out his lab coat for a gown, and was putting on his gloves as he walked up to one of the trauma beds to examine a patient.

Nesta was glancing over to where red lights were flashing in from outside, casting odd shapes on the walls, when she felt Cassian’s hand on her elbow.

“Nes–”

Nesta shrugged him off.

“How about this?” she said as she began making her way towards where Madja, one of the trauma nurses, was helping Emerie into a gown and gloves. Jurian and Lucien were already walking away, each headed to their own case. “We’ll each get assigned to a different case, and we won’t have to talk to each other for the rest of the day. Deal?”

It was harsh. And she’d already established that it was unfair, but Nesta knew that if she had any hope at all of getting through this next case–whatever it might be–she had to push Cassian out of her mind completely. He had already been enough of a distraction during the aneurysm–her first aneurysm as lead surgeon–and she didn’t need another one, now. She didn’t need his concern, ire, or pity.

She needed nothing.

Especially not Rayer, or the way he tried to catch her eye from over the bed of his patient. He was standing over a victim of blunt force trauma to the skull, and still he was trying to get to her.

Thankfully, Dr. Odell appeared then, and he walked right in front of Emerie, Nesta, and Cassian–effectively cutting off Rayer’s view of her.

“Emerie, you’re needed in procedure room two,” Dr. Odell announced, sounding impossibly bored. He already had blood all over the front of his scrubs, and somewhere in the back of her mind, Nesta realized that if Odell was free now, it must have meant that one of the patients that had already coded in the ambulance was pronounced dead.

She watched, feeling oddly numb, as Emerie walked off.

“Late,” Odell said, admonishing both her and Cassian before he continued. “Archeron, you’re needed in–”

“Odell,” Rayer suddenly called. Odell turned at the interruption, allowing Rayer back into view. Nesta glared towards him, but it wasn’t enough to deter him from continuing. “If you can spare one of your interns, my patient needs burr holes.”

It was clearly meant to be an enticing offer. Something that the Nesta and Cassian from only a couple of days ago would have fought each other tooth and nail for. Because Rayer stood leaning over the patient’s bedside, tucking his penlight back into his pocket as someone came in with an electric razor, and another nurse prepared the drill.

Rayer’s eyes lifted, and he looked directly at Nesta. Expectant.

“I’ll do it,” Cassian offered suddenly. He finished putting on his gloves, and before anyone could protest, he walked forward to accept the drill from the nurse.

“I guess that leaves you to trauma two with Dr. Long,” Odell said, patting Nesta on the shoulder perfunctorily. As though he were trying to console her over some grave loss. “Better luck next time. Page your resident if you need anything–I have to prep for the next rig.”

Clearly, it wasn’t Nesta who was in charge of her own limbs as she made her way through the chaos towards trauma two. It must have been some unseen force, some mystical wind that pushed her along, because she was too busy trying to erase the image of Rayer’s irritated expression from her mind. She muttered her thanks as a nurse held open the door for her, and then blinked as she took in the scene.

One final thought rose up out of the fog, before she smothered everything down to make room for the scene in front of her: Why would Cassian do that?

“Dr. Archeron,” came the voice of Dr. Long, disdainful and unimpressed, as always. “Nice of you to finally join us.”

Inwardly, Nesta flinched. Dr. Amren Long was notorious for her cold demeanor and downright sadistic treatment of the interns. She was irredeemably cruel, but somehow her caustic tone was exactly the right thing to shock Nesta back into herself. To remind her that she was a doctor–a surgeon– and that there was a patient on the table.

Even as the monitors droned, and people bumped into her shoulders in their haste to replace blood bags and administer medications, Nesta found a perverse sort of calm. Relief, even.

“Patient’s status?” Nesta said in lieu of greeting. Dr. Long wasn’t known to be a fan of niceties or paltry excuses. Even if she made the effort to apologize, Amren still would find Nesta to be incompetent.

There were numerous bodies crowded around the bed, but Nesta could make out the faces of one of the ortho attendings and Jurian–who was apparently assisting him on the case–as she approached Dr. Long where she was positioned near the patient’s head. He was wearing a cervical collar and had an obvious gash above his brow.

Dr. Long held out her penlight to Nesta. She accepted it, and as Nesta examined the patient’s pupillary response, Dr. Long spoke in that eternally unaffected tone.

“Thirty-nine year old male presents with crush injuries to both lower extremities and pelvis,” Amren said. “Suspected pelvic fracture with venous injury. Ortho requested neuro consult due to open head injury and loss of consciousness in the field. GCS of five upon admission with slowed pupillary response–”

“We need you to clear him for surgery,” the ortho attending, Dr. Sprague, said.

Amren’s gaze drifted over to him, clearly displeased at having been cut off. Without making eye contact with Nesta, she said, “What is your recommendation, Doctor?”

“I’ll bring him up to CT,” Nesta replied, already handing back the penlight and making her way towards the exit. She knew Dr. Long typically preferred her residents to take action instead of waiting around for approval.

“Inspired,” Amren said, voice dripping with derision. The nurses began to prepare the patient for transport as Amren stepped down from her stool and headed towards the exit. “Page me when you’re done, Archeron.”

“Right,” Nesta muttered, standing aside to allow the nurses to wheel the patient out. Evidently, Dr. Long didn’t hear her–or didn’t care to–because she was already at the registration desk, holding her hand out to accept another tablet for a different patient.

As Nesta jogged to catch back up to her patient, the ortho attending stepped out of the room, Jurian closely behind him.

“Stay with her,” Dr. Sprague ordered Jurian. Judging by the way he snapped off his gloves, he was clearly irritated at having his surgery delayed. “Page me the second the patient is out of CT. That pelvic injury can’t wait for long.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Jurian said. He shared a knowing look with Nesta as Sprague walked away. Together, they marched off after their patient towards CT.

Dr. Long might have been unsettling, and Dr. Sprague standoffish, but they were both such a welcome reprieve from the distraction that had previously affected her, that it brightened her mood considerably. And as they waited for the radiologist to complete the CT, even Jurian’s company was blissfully silent, likely due to his disappointment at not being able to land a date with Vassa the previous night. It was almost enough to allow her to relax, if not for the fact that their patient was in such a dire state.

As the nurses helped the patient out of CT and prepped him for the OR, Nesta paged Dr. Long and waited for the scans to come up. Jurian waited beside her, cursing when he saw the pelvic scans. The patient had an anterior-posterior compression fracture with injury to the internal iliac, and was bleeding into his pelvis. As Jurian ducked out to call Dr. Sprague and the OR, Amren stepped into the booth.

“What do you see?” Amren asked as she looked over the radiologist’s shoulder. Together, they clicked through each slice of the head CT.

“Minor cerebral edema without the presence of a bleed,” Nesta said. She crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall. “It’s possible the bleed is so small that the CT hasn’t picked up on it yet, so he’ll need monitoring while he’s in surgery for the pelvic fracture. Repeat CT after he’s out of the OR. But as long as intracranial pressure goes down, it won’t be surgical.”

“And?” Amren asked. She looked over her shoulder, lips downturned in a very displeased line. Nesta was forgetting something.

Nesta paused, momentarily at a loss as she racked her brain for any other solution. Dr. Long might have been short–downright tiny , even–but her presence was so foreboding that Nesta had to fight back a chill.

“Um,” Nesta said. “Pharmacologic management. Acetazolamide to reduce the production of cerebrospinal fluid.”

“Astounding,” Amren jeered. “See to that, won’t you?”

Nesta jumped up. It wasn’t so much an attempt to block Amren’s exit as it was a knee-jerk reaction, but Amren halted before she reached the door, anyway.

“Something else, Dr. Archeron?” Amren asked.

“Nothing,” Nesta said gruffly. Unsure herself, even, of why she seemed so reluctant to let Amren go.

Amren sighed. “Walk with me, Doctor. You might have the luxury of time to waste on pointless conversations, but I’m needed back in the ER. You can accompany me as they prep your patient for surgery.”

Nesta followed Amren helplessly out the door and into the hallway.

“Dr. Long,” Nesta began. “I’d be grateful if–”

Amren abruptly turned around, forcing Nesta to a screeching halt. And even though she towered over the woman, Nesta couldn’t help but feel just a speck of trepidation at the sight of the fury in Amren’s eyes. Nesta gritted her teeth.

“It may not be as flashy as performing a burr hole procedure at bedside,” Amren began, her voice measured. “But this is a teaching hospital, and I do believe there is merit in learning the basics before being allowed to run rampant all over the hospital, being allowed to assist in highly complicated procedures. It’s easy to mistake yourself for a god when you’re holding a scalpel, but it’s my job to ensure you children don’t forget you aren’t infallible.”

Amren took a deep breath, and Nesta bit down on her tongue to keep from lashing out at her in the pause.

“If you’d like to abandon your patient in the interest of basking in some fleeting moment of glory,” she said, “be my guest, Dr. Archeron. I’m sure Dr. Rayer would set a fine example for you.”

Nesta paled at the mention of Rayer. In her cozy little bubble of the radiologist’s suite, she’d almost forgotten about him.

Almost.

“That’s…” Nesta sucked in a breath. “Not what I was going to say.”

Amren stared at her for a second longer, head tilting to the side as she studied Nesta’s expression. She must have discovered something, because then Amren was stalking back down the hallway and throwing a door open.

“Get in,” Amren said, ushering Nesta into the on-call room. “We have patients waiting.”

As the door clicked closed behind them, Nesta managed to summon the presence of mind to check that the room was empty, this time.

“Out with it,” Amren said as soon as Nesta turned back to face her.

“Out with what?” Nesta said.

She expected to receive more of Amren’s impatience, or even her ridicule. Something that would give Nesta all of the vindication she needed in order to be sure of her decision not to tell her anything about Rayer. Because if she hadn’t been able to tell Emerie, or Cassian, or even confront Rayer himself–there was no way that she’d tell Amren.

Except Amren didn’t ridicule her. And she didn’t require any explanation, at all.

“Dr. Rayer is worthless,” Amren said plainly. “Both in and out of the OR. And I don’t think I’d be entirely out of bounds if I informed you that he’s recently accepted a position as Chief of Surgery at a rival hospital.”

Nesta’s jaw dropped before she could catch herself. “And why are you telling me this?” she managed to grind out.

“Because you can’t go wrong, either way,” Amren said, shrugging. “Either you report him, and he loses his new, highly sought after position and is brought to justice for his actions. Or he leaves in only a few weeks, and you’ll be free of him, regardless.”

Nesta scrubbed her hand down her face as she tried to make sense of everything.

“How do you know?” she asked.

“Because I interviewed for the same position,” Amren said disinterestedly. “Do what you want, Dr. Archeron. I’m only offering you the information.”

“No, I mean–”

Nesta stopped herself. Amren knew what she meant, that much was clear.

How do you know what he did?

“Don’t waste too much more time,” Amren said. Nesta's mind reeled, trying to figure out whether she meant wasting time getting to her patient, or waiting time on reporting Rayer. She opened the door, and the light from the hallway spilled into the room as Nesta’s ears filled with the din of the hospital once again. “I expect a page from you if our patient’s status changes.

Nesta nodded. “Yes, Dr. Long.”

Nesta allowed herself only fifteen seconds in the relative privacy of the on-call room after Amren left. Fifteen seconds to pull herself together and mentally reframe the previous conversation in a way that made sense. It was likely that Dr. Rayer had a history of harassment, and that it had been whispered about in the halls of the hospital. It wasn’t too surprising that Dr. Long had heard of it.

What was more unbelievable was why Amren, of all people, would try to help Nesta. Because Amren always appeared so unaffected, had always staunchly rejected any of her colleagues' attempts at anything even approaching personal. It was such a rare moment of compassion that the only thinking that made sense to Nesta was that Amren wanted Rayer’s reputation to be so thoroughly tarnished that the rival hospital had no choice but to offer the open position to Amren, instead. Either that, or for their hospital to fire Rayer, leaving the position of Chief of Neurosurgery to Amren.

Right, Nesta thought. That must have been it.

The rest of the morning and even the afternoon was spent sitting on a stool in the OR. Nesta carefully monitored the patient’s vitals and intracranial pressure, periodically ordering more medication, as Jurian and Dr. Sprague performed transarterial embolization to control the pelvic bleed, and then stabilized the fracture with an external fixator. Thankfully, the patient made it out of surgery in stable condition with no signs of worsening edema.

“Fine work,” Amren said when Nesta provided her with the update. “If you aren’t too busy next week, I think I could be convinced to allow you onto my service.”

That was as close as a compliment as Nesta thought she would ever receive from Amren, but it did little to deter her from actually being excited at the thought of studying under her.

After Nesta showered, she found the halls to be mostly empty. Her cohort must have been busy in their own ORs, looking after their own patients, and after a quick check in with the ER, Nesta found that the worst of that morning’s emergency was over. There were no more cases for her to pick up, especially now that non-emergent surgeries had been pushed to allow for the trauma cases.

Nesta finished her charting leisurely, humming to herself as she worked.

And she continued humming the same tune on her walk to the HR office.

***

“They offered to send one of their lawyers,” Nesta relayed to Emerie.

After the events of that day, Nesta had trudged home, fully expecting to land face first on her bed and sleep through the entire weekend. Only, Emerie and Gwyn–their other roommate–had kidnapped her for an impromptu feast of sweets and other various junk food, effectively forgoing a more nutritious dinner.

Laying sprawled out on their living room floor, buried beneath mountains of blankets and throw pillows, the three of them dined on ice cream and potato chips as rain began to pour down outside. It fell in sheets, and the sound was so soothing that Nesta had begun to tell her friends everything without second guessing it.

“Yeah?” Emerie asked. “Did you want one?”

Nesta nodded through a yawn. “I thought it couldn’t hurt.”

“How was the conversation with the Chief?” Gwyn asked. She shoved another handful of popcorn in her mouth, and Nesta couldn’t help but snort at the sight of the elegant Gywn rather inelegantly stuffing her face.

“It was fine,” Nesta said, shrugging. “He definitely heard me out, but I could tell he was pissed.”

Emerie raised up on her elbows, looking down at Nesta. “At you?”

“No.” Nesta shook her head, which was enough to calm Emerie, who flopped back down onto her throw pillow. “At Rayer. Him and the lawyer explained to me what the process would be. At first they said there wasn’t much they could do, since it was just the one incident–”

“But it wasn’t just one!” Gwyn exclaimed, clearly outraged.

“Let me finish,” Nesta said. A smile rose up over her lips, and it felt odd to be so happy at her best friend’s indignance, but the results of her afternoon had left her with a strange sense of levity. “At first they said there wasn’t much they could do. But I think Dr. Long must have gotten through to some of the other interns and workers at the hospital, because before I even left the office, four other women came in to tell the Chief the exact same thing.”

Emerie’s lip curled up in distaste. “That man is such a fucking pig.”

“Yeah,” Nesta agreed. “But now, with five corroborating stories, they said they would have to terminate Rayer.”

Nesta grinned as she accepted the hugs from either side of her. Even with Gwyn’s hair in her mouth, Nesta couldn’t help but feel glad. The system was broken, and today was only a very small , personal victory, but it was a victory, nonetheless. And it was such a luxury to just allow herself to enjoy the company of her friends.

“Effective immediately,” Nesta finished as soon as her friends were done hugging her.

“He deserves much worse than that,” Emerie said. “But I’m glad something came out of today. How are you feeling, Nes?”

Nesta sighed, and then sat up to begin clearing up the mess caused by their junk food party.

“Relieved,” she said earnestly. “I mean, the lawyer said we definitely have some options about how we want to move forward with things–and who knows how that will go–but I feel like a big weight has been lifted. I only wish I could have seen the look on his face when he got told the news.”

Gwyn hopped up to help Nesta with collecting some of the chocolate wrappers.

“I hope he cried,” Gwyn said, smiling at the thought.

“Maybe,” Nesta allowed.

Emerie was the last to rise up from their nest of pillows and blankets on the floor, and was just about to say something when they heard someone knocking on their front door from over the sound of the rain.

Nesta frowned, her brows drawing together. She shoved her armful of wrappers and empty ice cream containers into Emerie’s hands. “I’ll get it,” she said.

Striding over to the door, Nesta only allowed herself a brief wipe of her wrist over her mouth to ensure there wasn’t any chocolate stuck to the corners of her lip before swinging the door open.

“Cassian?” Nesta asked, blinking as she realized who it was.

“Nes,” he said, almost sighing as he caught sight of her. His shoulders sagged in relief. “I just got out of the OR. I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” Nesta said. She stepped aside to allow Cassian in. His hair was dripping wet, landing in dark curls right above his shoulders, and his clothes were soaked all the way through. “Did you run here?”

Cassian shook his head. “I drove. But it took me a few minutes of pacing outside your door before I made up my mind to actually knock.”

“To make up your…” Nesta trailed off. “Cassian, why the hell are you here?”

“I came to check on you.” Cassian awkwardly shook out his hair as he glanced sheepishly up at her. A droplet of water landed on her shoulder, and Nesta slapped a hand up against it as if it would stop the feeling of warmth that bloomed within her as the water settled into her skin. “But as soon as I got here, I realized you might not want anyone to check on you. Least of all, me.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Nesta insisted.

“I know,” Cassian said. A crease appeared between his brows as he frowned, and his voice pitched low. “I should have, Nesta. I tried to do what I could, but I know it wasn’t enough, and I’m sorry.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Nesta saw Gwyn and Emerie lingering near the edge of the living room sofa. Sighing, Nesta grabbed Cassian by the wrist and pulled him towards the stairs.

“Let’s talk in my room,” she suggested.

Cassian nodded, though he still looked contrite as he allowed himself to be led up towards her bedroom. Nesta made sure that the door was locked to prevent Gwyn or Emerie from barging in under the guise of offering some sort of treat before she turned to address Cassian again.

“You look really pathetic,” she blurted once she caught sight of him.

Cassian barked out a humorless laugh. “I guess I deserve that.”

“No,” Nesta said. She slapped a hand against her forehead. “I mean you’re shivering. At least grab a blanket, or something.”

When he didn’t move to do so, Nesta rolled her eyes and pitched forward to snatch one off of her bed. She forced it around his shoulders, and then perched herself on the edge of her mattress.

“Explain,” Nesta said.

Cassian released a breath. He still looked like he was freezing, but the blanket seemed to have stopped the shivering, for now.

“I had no idea that Rayer was being so–” Cassian groaned, raking his fingers back through his long hair in frustration. “That he did any of that. But when I came to get you this morning, I realized just how fucking horrible he was, and I wanted to help you in any way I could, but there was that accident.”

Nesta’s lips parted in astonishment. “That’s what you’re sorry for? Not noticing?”

Cassian winced, and avoided meeting her gaze. “Yeah, that. And that I couldn’t help.” He laughed again, and the sound was dark. “Instead of helping you, I assisted the fucking guy in surgery.”

Nesta pulled on Cassian's wrist to force him to sit down on the bed with her. Once he was on eye level, she flicked him in the forehead to get his attention.

“Ouch,” he said.

“So you weren’t mad at me?” Nesta asked. “When you saw us this morning.”

“Why would I be mad at you?” Cassian said as he rubbed at the spot on his forehead. “I’m mad at myself, Nesta. And him, obviously, but you took care of him. Which, by the way, must have taken a lot of–”

Nesta waved him off, lip curling up as she fought at the disgust that rose up through her. “Let’s not talk about him. I had enough of that, today.”

Cassian nodded, eyes going wide. “Okay, yeah. Of course.”

“I want to talk about you,” Nesta said. Images flashed in her mind again. Of Cassian, placing himself between her and Rayer. Attempting to keep Rayer away from her. “Did you offer to do the burr holes so that I wouldn’t have to?”

Cassian watched as she pulled the edges of the blanket tighter around him, and swallowed.

“Yes,” Cassian said. “I didn’t think you’d want to be in the same room as him, let alone standing at the same side of the operating table.”

Nesta hummed, nodding. “Alright. You’re forgiven.”

“Wait,” Cassian said. He shook his head, and more droplets of water landed on Nesta’s collarbone.

“You’re splashing,” she commented.

“Yes, but,” Cassian said, “I really am sorry. I don’t want you to say that just to get rid of me, Nes. And it isn’t why I’m here, not really. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“Cassian,” Nesta said. “Stop tormenting yourself. I’m doing fine.”

Cassian took in a long, measured breath, and then nodded. “Okay. I’m glad to hear it.”

He moved to take off the blanket, but Nesta leaned forward, throwing her arm around his shoulders so he wouldn’t get up.

“I’m not trying to get rid of you either,” Nesta said. “Actually, I’d really like it if you could stay.”

She watched as Cassian’s throat bobbed, and then he nodded. “Sure, I’d like to stay.”

Nesta began to slip the blanket off of his shoulders, and tossed it into a damp pile on the floor. “Do you have work tomorrow?”

He shook his head, and allowed Nesta to pull his soaked shirt off over his head. “No.”

“Me neither,” she said softly. “Take off your pants.”

“Nesta,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile. “I don’t know if now is really the time.”

“For what?” Nesta asked innocently, though her eyes lingered in the shapes of his tattoos over his chest. “I want you to stay the night, and if you’re going to sleep in my bed, I’d really prefer it if you didn’t get the sheets soaking wet with your clothes.”

Cassian cursed at himself before shrugging off his pants. “I should have brought an umbrella.”

Nesta slipped beneath her covers, tucking a pillow under her head before she pulled back a corner of the comforter to make room for Cassian.

“Are you getting in?” Nesta asked. She yawned, and then patted the open space beside her. “I’m cold.”

Without another moment of hesitation, Cassian slid easily into the bed, folding her up into his arms and resting his cheek on the top of her head. As soon as Nesta wrapped her legs around his, he hissed.

“Shit, Nes,” Cassian said. “Your toes are freezing.”

“Warm them up, then,” Nesta gritted out, pinching his side.

He chuckled lightly to himself, and the warm, melodic sound faded away to the pelting of the rain against her window. For a while, they stayed swaying in the silence. Nesta counted over one hundred of Cassian’s breaths before she whispered.

“It meant something to me, too.”

He might have kissed the top of her head in response, but by then, Nesta was already asleep.

***

“Cassian,” Nesta hissed. She slapped her hand against his back. “Cass. Get up, I’m starving.”

From above her, Cassian groaned. He pressed his hands against the mattress on either side of her head to lift himself up enough to look at her. At some point during the night, he must have rolled entirely on top of her, because as soon as Nesta woke up, she found herself being squished beneath his entire body weight.

“Morning,” he said, blinking at her. Nesta tried to ignore the way her stomach flipped excitedly behind her navel at the hoarseness of his voice.

“Get off of me,” Nesta spat. “I need food.”

“Let me get it,” Cassian said. He rolled himself off of her, and then threw his legs over the edge of the bed to get up. A cold draft slipped under the blankets in the brief moment where he threw the blankets off of himself, and Nesta glared up at his back, tugging the blankets up to her neck.

“Bring something sweet,” Nesta whispered after him as he opened the door to her bedroom.

Cassian’s laugh followed him out into the hallway. “Chocolate isn’t breakfast, Nes.”

He was gone for only a few minutes, but Nesta had slipped effortlessly back to sleep by the time he returned–only to be awoken by something small and hard pelting her in the ribs.

“What the fuck, Cassian!” Nesta said. She shot up in bed, and dug around through the blankets to find that projectile he’d launched at her.

Cassian chuckled over by the door, clutching his stomach as he pulled it shut. “Sorry, I just couldn’t resist. You said to get you something sweet.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Nesta’s fingers closed around something round. She pulled it up to her face to investigate.

A clementine.

“I meant like waffles, you jerk,” Nesta said, lobbing the offending fruit back at his head. Cassian caught it effortlessly as he flopped back down on the bed beside her with the rest of his hoard--each snack decidedly round and regretfully orange.

“Come on,” he said, tugging at the blankets. “Let me back in. I’m freezing.”

“You’re exiled,” Nesta said.

Cassian sighed, but surprisingly didn’t offer any more argument. Nesta watched suspiciously as he began to peel the clementine. All in one piece, in that infuriating way of his. Tiny droplets of the juice sprayed into the air as he pulled each slice apart.

His lips looked so full as he pushed the fruit into his mouth, and Nesta realized with a jolt that he’d been entirely too aware of the way that she was watching him.

Nesta felt her cheeks heat up, and immediately pulled her face into a glare to hide her embarrassment.

“Want some?” Cassian said, grinning.

“No.”

“Just a bite,” Cassian insisted. He rolled onto his side, throwing one arm over her so that he was hovering above her, and then held a slice of the clementine up between them. “I promise you’ll like the way it tastes.”

Without even being aware of it, Nesta clenched her thighs together. She swallowed.

“I know what a clementine tastes like, idiot,” she said. She turned her head to the side when Cassian tried to press the fruit against her lips, and felt it cold against her cheek.

“And you like it, don’t you?” Cassian said. His voice was still that gravelly, sleepy tone. She had to close her eyes, or else she felt like she might do something stupid, like beg him to kiss her.

“It’s fine,” Nesta said. Cassian had slowly dragged the fruit back to her lips, and he felt him pressing it gently against her mouth.

His head must have drifted closer, because she felt his hair–softly curled from the rain–brush against her cheek. Softly, he said, “Open your mouth, Nes.”

Before she even realized she was doing it, Nesta parted her lips, allowing Cassian to feed her the piece of fruit. And as soon as she felt his fingertip, her eyes fluttered open, and her lips closed around his finger.

Cassian’s gaze was impossibly warm, all of his focus centered directly on her lips as she sucked his finger into her mouth. Her tongue darted out to lick the juice from his finger tip, and then she released it with a pop to chew on the slice of the clementine. Cassian’s eyes were intent upon her the entire time she chewed, heavy and exhilarating, and when she swallowed, his thumb brushed across the side of her neck.

“Nesta,” he whispered.

Nesta bent her legs, propping her heels up on the mattress so that her thighs bracketed Cassian’s hips. Letting go of the blankets in favor of combing her fingers through his hair, Nesta tilted her chin up at him. Citrus coated her tongue.

“Cassian,” she returned. One of her hands traveled down, skimming over the black swirls across his chest, and finally pausing at the front of his pants, where she could feel him hardening. “Is this for me?”

He nodded, his head rolling effortlessly, as if it was more of a reaction than a conscious response. His hips rolled up into her hand, and Nesta slowly wrapped her fingers around him. He took in a shaky breath.

“Nesta,” he said again. “Maybe I should leave, before we get carried away.”

Nesta’s fingers tightened in his hair, and a fleeting bolt of panic rushed through her.

Don’t leave.

“We can stop if you want,” Nesta said almost too softly for even herself to hear. “But I already told you, Cass. I want you to stay with me.”

All of her reasons from before–the excuses about not wanting to be distracted or about wanting to remain focused on her work. They were so inconsequential, somehow. So ridiculous, in the face of the way his gaze could create entire universes right at the center of her chest. She wasn’t fooling anyone, if she kept insisting on pushing him away.

So she only pulled him closer. Released his length in favor of cupping both sides of his face. This time, he was looking right at her, and she felt sure that he could read everything in that glance alone.

“I don’t want to stop,” he let out. “I just want it to–”

“Mean something?”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

Nesta pulled him down to kiss her.

Me too.

Cassian’s mouth was still sweet and sugary from the fruit, but his lips met hers with anything but sweetness. They slid against hers hungrily, pushing, until she fell back against the bed and felt her mind turn to peach fuzz from within her skull. She sighed, trying to catch her breath, but he kissed her like he thought it might settle some long unsatisfied part of him, like he’d be able to find a home for that part of him in the corner of her mouth. She wondered if he sensed that in her, too–if the sweetness across her tongue matched his just as completely.

Nesta’s hands were insatiable. They roamed across the broad expanse of his chest, her palms smoothing over every ridge of his ribs and her fingertips grazing over the muscles of his back. She canted her hips upward, attempted to catch his in every movement, but Cassian kept himself maddeningly away.

“Cassian,” she whined. “I need more.”

His palms were over her breasts in an instant. A groan rose up from his throat and shook against her lips as his hands squeezed her from over her shirt. She huffed up into his kiss, her teeth glancing the edge of his tongue as she reached down to her shirt with trembling hands. She wanted to pull it off.

“Wait,” he said into their kiss. “Just a… minute.”

Much like his mouth, his fingers moved with such a reverence that Nesta wondered if his very touch was turning her into melted, pouring silver. If each caress might be molding her into something new that fit just perfectly into his hold. One hand fisted in the fabric of her shirt as the other slipped beneath it, and then she felt his hand warm and bare on her breast. His fingers pinched and rolled her nipple, and her teeth buried into his lip.

He might have been moaning in pain–Nesta immediately released his lip, just in case–but then his hips fell down onto hers, pinning her to the bed as he ground into her.

“I fucking…” he said, panting. “Oh my fucking god, Nes.”

Finding Cassian sufficiently distracted, Nesta tore her shirt out of his grip and pulled it off over her head. Pieces of her hair fell from their braid and landed across her face, over her eyes, but Cassian brushed them aside before she could. He didn’t seem to mind that she was trying to remove her own clothes, now, and absently Nesta smiled at the thought that 'wait' might not seem so important to him, now.

Cassian slipped a hand beneath Nesta’s back, curving her up into him as he finally pulled himself away from her lips with a gasping breath. Until he pressed his mouth back down upon her again, this time over her breast.

Nesta moaned, white hot sparks bursting behind her eyelids, and fisted both hands in Cassian’s hair. He sucked at a spot just next to her nipple, his tongue sweeping out to smooth the sting as his thumb flicked across her nipple.

“You’re so fucking,” he said. “I’m so…”

He finished neither sentence, pressing his face into her chest as he shook his head in something that seemed like disbelief. Both of his hands continued brushing up and down her sides, clutching at her breasts or pulling her closer, and when it seemed like he might be content to do just that forever, he tugged at her wrist to remove her hand from his hair, and then entwined her fingers in his.

He pressed both their hands down against the mattress, and then propped himself up.

“Turn around,” he said.

“Take off your pants,” Nesta countered.

Cassian held her stare, a challenge in the tilt of his eyebrow, and let go of her hand to tug down his boxers in one, swift movement. She had only one, fleeting second to appreciate the sight of him before his hand was back on hers, pulling her up towards him and into his lap.

“Turn around,” he repeated, this time far rougher.

Nesta sighed as he pushed her back down into the mattress, this time with her cheek pressed up against the pillow and her stomach flat against a crease in the blankets. She felt his fingers hook in the waistband of her pants, and tried to help him take them off, but evidently he needed no help, because while she was still kicking them off of her ankles, Cassian was tucking a pillow beneath her hips and angling her ass up towards him.

Cassian fell, his chest pressing deliciously up against her shoulders, and raked all of her hair over to one side so he could press his lips against the corner of her jaw, his tongue flat against the pulse of her neck.

His cock pressed against her ass, and Nesta arched back against it, whining when he tilted his hips away each time she tried to coax him into mind-numbing friction.

His hand squeezed roughly against her ass, and Nesta could have sworn her eyes rolled back in her head.

“I want you, Nes,” Cassian said. And the way he spoke, the words tripping so effortlessly over the tip of his tongue–Nesta believed that these were words he’d been wanting to say for a while. And words he desperately needed the answer for. “Do you want me?”

His palm curved around her ass, and his fingers found her clit, already feeling tight and swollen. She could feel that the inside of her thighs were already wet with her arousal, but could someone no shame at the thought of Cassian discovering just how ready for him she was.

“Yes, Cassian,” she said. She leaned her head back to allow him to suck at her throat. “I want you.”

He sighed into her ear, his fingers dipping into her center, stroking another moan out of her.

“You’re so fucking good, Nes,” he said, voice still taking on that unbidden, dazed sort of tone. “I want to make you come. Over and over and over–”

His hips rolled, his cock grinding against her ass again, and Nesta gasped as this movement was accompanied by the curl of his fingers. He repeated the movement– again and again and again–and she gripped the edges of the mattress above her head so tightly that her fingers felt numb.

“Oh my god,” she rushed out. “Please fuck me. Cass, please fuck–”

Another finger slipped inside of her, and Nesta’s voice was choked off as she came, hard and sudden around his fingers. She felt herself clenching around him, might have been embarrassed at just how little it had taken to get her to this point, where she was pliable and so ravenous beneath him–if not for the fact that his hand was gripping her ass again. And before she had even fully recovered from her orgasm, he pressed his cock into her while her core was still fluttering.

Nesta felt herself stretched around him, and had to give up her hold of the mattress in favor of biting down on the knuckles of her fist to prevent herself from screaming out in pleasure. Cassian’s hand was on hers immediately, pulling her hand and pinning it between their bodies against her back. Then he wrapped his fingers around the front of her neck, turning her face to the side so he could lean over and swallow each of her moans into his mouth as he thrusted into her.

Beneath them, the bed rocked up against the wall, and Nesta thought it might have been the entire earth swaying beneath them.

Fuck, she mouthed against each of his kisses.

Another orgasm crested within her as Cassian continued to rock his hips into her, the waves of it crashing down around her with such overwhelming pressure that it was all she could do to just repeat his name, to tilt her hips up each time he rolled forward, and melt when he pressed his cheek against hers. In front of their faces, their breaths collided into a heady, silvery mist, and then Cassian’s hips stuttered once.

Another time.

He came with his arms wrapped around her, and his face buried in the crook of her neck.

“–so fucking much.”

Her chest heaved as she attempted to catch her breath, perfectly in time with his, and Cassian fell back against the bed, pulling her up over him so that they could lay pressed against each other a moment longer.

There were few things as exhilarating in life as surgery. But with all ten of her fingers pressed against Cassian’s chest and his heartbeat thudding into her cheek, Nesta knew that there was only one thing that made her feel this whole.

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