Author Note: This is a planned two shot but I'm not completely closed off to making it longer. Depending on my fitful muse.

Please note I am not a doctor.

This story is less about medical science and more about Vauseman science, which is why we're here right? Anyway, I'm still new to this whole fan fiction posting where everyone can see it and judge it thing, so for the love of Thor please be gentle with me.

The patient's last name is definitely not Schmeelznbr and that's how I know I've been staring at this chart far too long.

"Cindy, have I ever told you why I hate working Trauma?"

"Twice this shift so far, but have it out. I got nothing better to do."

Cindy leans back in her chair behind the nurse's station and puts her feet up. I'm suddenly jealous of her freedom to recline.

It hasn't even been a hard shift. Thirty-six hours is nothing. My body is so conditioned, I could pull seventy-two if necessary. But it's not the time period – it's the environment.

"I'm not built for this. It's either chaos and blood all over my scrubs and shoes or nothing." I drop the chart back into its holder. Hopefully that's the last patient I just signed off. "Look at this place. It's a graveyard."

"Watch it…"

I pick up the warning tone in Cindy's voice and zip my lips. The superstition is you never talk about how quiet an ER is, because that usually means all hell is about to break loose.

The station becomes a welcome resting place for my elbows as I prop my head up.

"Have you ever been in theater? That's what I'm built for. Every move is calculated and reasoned. There's no yelling, no oceans of blood pooling at your feet… It's just me and millions of electric pathways."

The distinct eye roll I get in response doesn't throw me. I don't expect a nurse to understand anyway. But those pathways are my life. Only two other neurosurgeons in the tri-state area can compare themselves to me, and since I'm younger than them both by more than a decade… I'd say that makes me better.

Eight minutes to my freedom. Eight minutes and my obligatory Trauma rotation is officially over. That's it time, keep on ticking. There's a semi-comfortable standard issue LGH pillow with my name on it.

"A watched pot, Doctor Chapman."

I turn to find John, who was supposed to be working the shift with me but had to take an urgent fifteen minute break… an hour ago. He's all dashing smile and pretty-boy face, but his smooth cheeks and neck still carry a telltale flush. Something tells me that if I were to step closer to him, I'd be able to smell traces of the nurse he just hooked up with.

"I'm heading out. You can hand over to Wash when she gets in."

"Sure, okay. What did I miss?"

"A button."

I bite back my smile as he fumbles with his shirt self-consciously, his suave demeanor fading. Fraternization among staff at Litchfield General is strictly forboten unless declared with human resources, and it's safe to say that Doctor John Bennett is not exactly the declaration of love type of guy.

"Thanks and also, that's not what I meant. I was talking about the cases."

"Oh, you mean I should fill you in on what happened after you disappeared for an hour and left me here alone with a handful of nurses and a clueless third year? I'm so tired right now, but I think I could eek out a visit to the Chief. Report back on misconduct…"

"Chapman, come on."

"Maybe I'm too tired after all."

He's visibly relieved.

"And as far as the cases go…"

"Don't. Chapman, I swear to God."

He can obviously tell where I'm going with this. "It's actually been really quiet." Screw him. That's for abandoning me in this godforsaken place.

"I think you'll get through tonight with no major drama. It's so quiet."

I pat him on the shoulder as I move past him, making my way towards the doors that will lead me back to civilization.

"You're the devil!"

There's no looking back, not when I'm so close to freedom, but I throw him a dismissive wave over my shoulder, and just when my hand makes contact with the cool door in front of me, a familiar sigh of automatic doors opening at the opposite end of the room makes me freeze in place.

It's the sound that ushers in the madness of the outside world. It's the sound of Not So Fast, Doctor Chapman.

But no, I'm so close.

Loud voices are talking fast. Urgent commands are ricocheting off the walls behind me.

"Chapman!" John's bellow reaches me when I'm halfway into the sanity that exists outside of Trauma.

I still haven't moved. I'm thinking about whether I would get away with pretending I didn't hear him. Just keep walking until I find an on-call room to duck into. Washington would be here soon enough to help him out. He's more than capable to manage on his own until that moment arrives.

"I mean it, Chapman! Come on!"

"Get the hell off! If Chapman's here, I want her."

This second voice… I recognize it instantly. It's one of the most distinct things about the person it belongs to. Of course it would be her. Because my night wouldn't be properly ruined without at least one cameo from her.

"Chapman!"

Me and my big mouth. In trying to get John some bad luck, I got caught up in it too. That's karma for you.

My feet are carrying me back. Back into the mess of the ER towards the two gurneys that had just been wheeled in. The quiet graveyard is instantly transformed and there's a rush in my ears made up of too many people talking at the same time, their words punctuated with bleeps and shuffles and blood. Always the blood.

John's bending over one patient and so I turn to the other. And then stop. I can barely make out what's happening thanks to the paramedic who's straddling the patient, administering bone crushing chest compressions.

Which brings me to the single worst thing about the ER. Paramedics…

More like renegade cowboys, the way they blast through those doors and throw their weight around. And the dark-haired one… the one who always asks for me by name… the one currently crushing the patient to save the patient… she's the John Wayne of the squad. And I'm in no mood.

"I'll take this one." I practically shove John out of the way.

"No you won't." He motions to the gurney behind me. "Head injury, it's all yours. Okay guys, let's get him up to OR 1."

In seconds they're gone and I have no choice. Here we go. Again.

"What do we have?"

I ask the question out of habit, because I can already see the basics. My heart jolts in my chest. Head injury? Head injury? I can see inside this person's skull!

"White female, approximately 18, GSW to the head and shoulder, through and through over here, no exit on the head." Her voice is strained but she speaks with no breaks in her compressions. "Her asshole boyfriend apparently went off the deep end. Doctor Pretty Boy just wheeled him in but please, tell him not to try too hard."

"Clear off." My voice is as commanding as I can manage in that moment. "I can't get to her."

"No."

"Alex! Move!"

"As much as I love this little dance we do, Doc, we don't have time. Get your ass up here, now!"

She's right. There isn't time to um and ah about it. To call her out about being an ass, to make her bow down as she should, and set her straight about just exactly who is boss in this place. All of that would have to wait.

I clamber up onto the gurney and position myself closely behind her. The flimsy fabric of my scrubs is ineffectual enough to make the sensation of her body glaringly obvious, as she brushes up against me every time she rises and dips with each compression.

"Having fun back there?"

Ugh, she's the worst. I reach around her, not bothering to be kind about shoving her aside so my own hands can take over from hers.

"Got it?"

I'm one of the top surgeons in the state, Alex. "I got it."

She shifts her weight and then carefully dismounts while I take up her spot.

"Let's go," I give the command that would take us to the closest available OR and we start rolling.

"Try not to fuck up our clean sheet!" Her voice reaches me just as we push through the swing doors and when I look up, she's laughing. Like I said, the absolute worst.

"She totally wants me." I'm smug about it, but still can't stop watching as the blonde gets smaller and smaller down the hallway on the other side of those doors.

"Yeah right. They call her Fort Knox. You don't stand a chance."

"You don't just break into Fort Knox, Nicky. It takes careful planning… patience."

"Two years of it?"

"So that when the moment comes, you don't even have to break in. The doors just swing open out of their own."

"Whatever, I'm too sober for this bullshit. It's the end of our shift. Let's grab a few beers before you cross over to the dark side and it becomes embarrassing to ever be seen with you in public."

I follow her back out, the adrenalin of the drop slowly splintering and leaving my body as I get back out into the icy night air. She's trying to make light of it, what's ahead for me. But Nicky's sarcasm just made the excited-anxious-happy-scared-to-death knot in my stomach so much worse. A few beers would definitely fix that.

I lost her. It's been a while since I've said those words. The worst part is telling the family. I hate that part, and it's why it doesn't happen on my table. Until tonight. A hot shower and five hours of sleep in an on-call room suddenly didn't cut it for me. So I called Polly and naturally, Big Boo's was her remedy. It always is.

"I can't believe you just threw him out."

"My best friend calls and tells me she needs me... I would do worse things than throw a hot, naked man out of my bed to be there for you, Pipes. Besides, we were done anyway. Pete isn't exactly the kind of guy who gets back up after a fall, if you know what I'm saying."

"Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence! Scooch," Natalie orders Polly to make room for her and she slides into the booth beside her.

Judging by Polly's reaction to the sudden appearance of our head of Cardio, this was planned. I'm not exactly thrilled by the company, I wanted to just have a quiet debriefing, but I know better than to say anything.

"Rough night in the ER. She suggested coffee but thank God my powers of persuasion were on point tonight. Now she can relax like a normal human being."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here. And I relax all the time. Just because I don't consider ending every shift with a six pack-"

"It's an institution. Don't knock it. How the fuck else are we supposed to get through what we do?" Natalie piped up.

"Not knocking. All I'm saying is, I can think of better things to do with my down time."

"Like sitting at home alone? Going for walks… alone? Reading text books?"

There's a hint of a snark in Polly's voice that grates me. She's always giving me a hard time about being too studious.

"Like focusing on my career and winning awards." I don't mean to sound haughty about it, but that's how it comes out.

"Oh, give me a break." This time it's Natalie's turn to have a go at me. Honestly, how do they think this is making me feel better?

"You keep trying to make me feel like I'm doing something wrong, but remind me how many times you've won the Jenji Kohan award for excellence in your field?"

"Jenji can kiss my ass," Natalie quipped. "I'm a fucking rockstar and I don't need a stupid trophy to tell me as much."

"A stupid trophy that, from what I hear, makes a lousy fuck buddy," Polly added.

The two of them have a good chuckle at my expense and even though these are my peers, my friends, I'm sitting here with my guard up.

"My work fulfills me. I don't need a fuck buddy."

"Everybody needs a good fuck from time to time, Chapman," Natalie chided. "And you bragging about your work right now does nothing other than convince me more than ever that you need to get laid."

"Is sex your answer to everything?"

"Yes. Sex and whiskey," Natalie replied with a wave of a finger to a passing waitress. "Scotch straight up and hold the ice."

"What can I say? I'm just not interested in a relationship right now. I don't have the time."

"We're not talking about relationships, Pipes. None of us have the time. But that doesn't rule out scratching the itch every once in a while. With someone other than yourself, I mean. I'm all for self-love but sometimes it has to be a party of two. You need to get laid. Get off. Have someone screw your brains out good and solid."

"Hey."

The cosmic timing of Alex's appearance at our booth coincides with my sip of beer getting caught in my throat and I choke and splutter my way back to self control with her standing there, smiling down at me.

Surgeons don't mix with the lower rungs of the ladder, and according to us, paramedics don't even make it onto the ladder. I can tell by Natalie's expression especially, that she's not happy with Alex's blatant disregard for this social rule.

"Have you no shame? This is no place for you and your kind."

"Actually, I handed in my badge a couple of hours ago. I'm here in a civilian capacity."

"Handed in your badge?" My plan was to not engage her and hopefully she'd just go away, but her statement catches me off guard and I can't help it.

"Time to move on. You know how it goes."

"Well, thank God for small mercies." It's Polly's turn to jump in. "Maybe with you gone, our patients will be in better shape when they get to us."

"Excuse me?" I don't like her, but I have to admit I'm enjoying the way she's standing her ground with these two. "I'm the one who saves them so you guys can take the credit for it after."

"Save them? You mean butcher them. The guy you brought in a week ago? Two broken ribs! And that happened in the ambulance after he was run over by a car."

"Did he make it?"

"Yes, because I-"

"No, it was because I-"

"Okay, can we call a halt to the pissing contest please?"

All eyes are on me now, and I'm at the point where I don't care about white coats and blue collars. My patient just died under my hands and the last thing I need is to be surrounded by petty squabbling.

"Do you have a problem with the way I do things?"

I look up at Alex and hope my eyes convey my agitation at being dragged into this senseless debate.

"Well… you can be a little aggressive."

"Oh my God, I can't believe you right now."

"It's true."

"Okay, I may not be nice about it, but I get the job done. The past few shifts I've handed people over to you, we haven't lost one. Not one."

"There's one." I don't look at her. The bottle of beer in my hands is far more interesting.

"What?"

The table is finally quiet and I can hear Alex's powers of deduction whirring above my head.

"She was just a kid."

She surprises me for the second time in as many minutes with the sudden change in her tone. Wise-ass to tender-ass in sixty seconds. Maybe she's not an all round renegade…

"Hey Fig, come with me to the bar to get some refills. You want one?"

I look up and Polly's already sliding out of the booth, nudging Natalie along.

"Yeah, I'll come with."

"No, no, you stay. We can manage."

I don't miss the wink she throws at me. I'm pretty sure Alex and Natalie caught it too. Polly isn't really one for subtlety. So she's deliberately leaving me with the crazy paramedic so what, I can hook up with her? My best friend, ladies and gentlemen, who clearly doesn't know my taste at all. Well, it's been so long, I'm not so sure I know my taste anymore, but that's besides the point. They're retreating across the floor to the bar but I'm sure Polly can feel the daggers I'm shooting into her back.

"Mind if I sit?"

I respond with a small nod and of course, find myself having to shift over because instead of taking up the recently vacated seat, Alex has to push in right next to me. The gall of this woman. She smells nice.

"What are you doing here?"

She waggles her beer at me and takes a long swig.

"No, not the bar. I mean here, with me. Isn't that your squad over there?"

"Ex squad. And I've had enough of their company for one night. I was in the mood for something else."

"So you decide to come over here and give me a hard time?"

"What happened to Emma?"

Her eyes and her voice are soft. Her eyes. I've never seen them this up close before. They strike me down.

"Well?"

"There was just too much damage."

"Well fuck."

It gets quiet. Alex fingers the label on her beer, her face clouded over, a million miles away. My eyes can't find anything else to do besides look at her.

"Howcome you're leaving the squad?"

"Oh, this and that."

She looks at me and I just about catch the last of what she's feeling get tucked away neatly, and now she's a cowboy again. Unperturbed by the random cruelty of life.

"Man, I'm so over this." She pushes her beer away and her face is right up in mine. "We can go now."

My heart seems to forget what it's supposed to do. "Go?"

"I came over, said hey… that was a pass. You didn't get that?"

I shake my head slowly No. My face is on fire and my heart still refuses to get its shit together.

"You said I could sit. That wasn't you accepting my pass?"

"Look, I may be socially inept but I'm pretty sure you're making this up, and there was in fact, no hidden sexual connotation that I missed." Or was there? I've been out of the game for far too long clearly.

She laughs out of her throat and the sound makes my breath catch in mine.

"No, there wasn't. But there is now. Well, not so hidden. Whaddya say?"

"This… this act usually works for you?"

"I don't have to try very hard. Usually it's just eye contact and the panties drop."

"Oh my God. You are so full of it."

But I drag my gaze from those blazing eyes anyway. Can't risk it.

"Come on, yes or no? I'm not really into the whole cat and mouse thing."

"Then it's no."

"I'm also not into being shot down either. The right answer is yes, by the way. …What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I can't decide if I find this whole thing disgusting, or intriguing…"

"Definitely the second one. I can see it in your eyes."

In that moment it feels like Yes. She looks at me like she sees me. Sees everything. And maybe it's not the worst I could do, as far as irresponsible one night stands go.

"There's nothing wrong with two adults having some fun. Especially after tonight. I know I need it, and according to what I overheard from your colleagues just now, you definitely need it. And you're never going to see me come busting through those ER doors again, so that's a plus."

I'm considering it. Blame it on the untimely death of a teenage girl, an old 80s anthem on the juke making me feel young and invincible, and those eyes…

"I'm gonna go now." Her voice is no more than a throaty whisper and the sound sends spidery chills up my spine. "You can stay here and finish your lukewarm beer, go home and curl up with a book or whatever, or…"

"Or?" It doesn't even sound like me when I say it.

"You can follow me out. Nobody has to know we left together, so your squeaky clean rep will be intact. We go back to your place, I fuck you so hard you won't walk straight for days, and all you'll be able to think about after is how badly you want me to do it again. And we forget about tonight and about kids who die when they're not supposed to. This is the option I'm leaning towards, in case you're wondering."

Only once the pounding in my ears starts to hurt, do I realize I'm not breathing, and only once I see the last of her disappear do I find it in me to start back up again.

I force my body to turn away from the door Alex just exited and I take a steadying breath. According to my calculations, it would be stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I don't do stupid things. Especially when they proposition me in a bar.

And yet.

I won't have to see her again, which makes it easier to do the crazy, irresponsible thing and then forget about it. Sex can be great, from what I remember, and yes, relationships in my line of work makes things messy, but this isn't a relationship. This is better than that. And nobody has to know. I get to have what I want with no consequences. Win-win. I down the last of beer, sucking up the last of the courage in the bottle, and slide out of the booth.

The air is a shock to my system after the stuffy bar, but I'm hardly aware of my face that stings as I step outside.

My feet are heavy so I don't even try to move. I just stand there, my breath making little white clouds in front of me as I search the dark for a tall, smoking hot ex-paramedic who should be waiting for me. But there's no-one.

A spark of panic bursts in my chest, and is quickly hugged into submission by long arms of disappointment. I was too slow in making up my mind. She told me to follow her out and I didn't. I was too Piper about it. I'm always too Piper about everything, and now look. Now stop.

Stop everything.

Because a hand is tugging at mine and her face is smiling as she drags me into the darkness she must've come from, and now her hands are holding me, pinning me against the wall and I can't move but I'm spinning and spinning and I can't breathe but I don't care, and it's fucking freezing out here and I'm on fire, and she's kissing me.

So this is for Bren, who dared me because she thought I wouldn't. But so I did. How you like me now?