It becomes something of a thing, Santana running into Dr. Pierce in the cafeteria while she's working nights. It's incredibly lame, what a highlight of her day it is, but… Well, she doesn't really have an explanation. They don't make plans together, or anything they just "happen" to be in the same place at the same time. That, or Santana is stalking her, one or the other.
It's already been one hell of a day, when Santana goes into a lung transplant. The patient has been on the waiting list since she was born, suffering from bronchopulmonary dysplasia for two long years. She's been in and out of the hospital for her whole life, and this could be it, this could be her chance to run, and jump and play. For her family to be free from the constant worries about a simple infection killing her.
It's Santana and Chief Sylvester, waiting for the transplant team from Johns Hopkins. They don't talk much as they wait. Frankly, Santana is beyond intimidated by Sylvester, and Sylvester doesn't go out of her way to make conversation. But they work well together, they always have.
The weather delays the transplant team, and Santana watches the clock. There's only so much time, every second counts, and she can't sit still. If the lung doesn't survive transport, it's back to the waiting list, back to taking away hope from a family who so desperately needs its But finally, they arrive, lung in tact. Finally, Santana feels like she can breathe again.
Sometimes, Santana detaches, when she does surgery. She pretends she doesn't know the patient's name. She pretends she doesn't know how small they are. She pretends that she doesn't have crayon drawings by them in her office. This one is one of those patients. It's easier that way. It's always easier like this, when the odds of survival aren't the greatest.
Santana knows the odds going in. The parents know the odds too. Everyone on the transplant team knows, so when Santana opens up the little girl's chest, there's a collective holding of breaths. Nothing amazes her more than transplants, even after all this time. An organ from someone else—another someonethat Santana won't personify, another small someone who didn't get a chance to grow up—hopefully functioning in a new body. It's a miracle, and it makes Santana feel superhuman. It's a miracle, when it works.
That feeling, like she's some sort of deity, it makes it harder when it doesn't go right. It makes it harder when the tiny lung doesn't turn pink. It makes it harder, when she checks and checks, over and over, hoping she just missed something, hoping a suture or a simple repair will let this lung fill with air. It makes it harder, when the tiny patient, who's spent her whole life in and out of hospitals, begins to code. It makes it harder, but Santana fights until the very end. She fights until the words leave Chief Sylvester's lips. Dr. Lopez, we've done all we can. You need to call it. At 9:43pm, Santana takes a breath, when her patient can't. At 9:43pm, she calls the time of death. It's 9:43, as she closes up a chest that will never rise and fall again.
"Fuck!" Santana rips her Wonder Woman cap off her head and throws it against the wall in the scrub room, kicking the sink. "Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck!"
It's all a blur, as she and Chief Sylvester have to tell the parents that they did everything they could. It's a blur as a nurse hands her the hoodie she'd left behind in the scrub room, and she pulls it over her head, trying to hide herself. It's a blur as she breaks into a run down the hall, and when she drops to her knees and pukes in a patient bathroom. Being an accessory to death doesn't get easier, no matter how many times she does it.
Santana should go home. She knows that she should. Between the delayed arrival of the lung, and so much extra time in surgery, she's been in the hospital for sixteen hours. She needs a shower and her bed. She needs to go home. To get away from the death that clings to her body. Except she doesn't. She wander aimlessly down the halls, in search of an empty on call room. She wanders, until she finds one, and she curls up onto a bed, burying her face in her pillow and just sobbing.
"Hey, are you okay?" A sleep-groggy voice cuts through her tears, and Santana bites down on the sleeve of her sweatshirt, trying to calm herself down.
"Sorry…I didn't know anyone was in here."
"Santana?" Dr. Pierce sits up, and before Santana can protest, she's on her feet, pulling her hair up, and sitting down on the bed beside her. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, totally, I—" Santana feels a sob catch in her throat, and tears fall as she shakes her head. Dr. Pierce tentatively puts her hand over Santana's and squeezes, trying to give her a small comfort. "Yeah maybe I'm not."
"Patient?"
"Dead kid." She sniffles, wiping her dripping nose on her sleeve. "I know I should be over crying about this by now, but…"
"I think, if watching a patient die was something that stopped effecting you, then you'd stop being human."
"I throw up, every time. I just…I don't get it."
"Why some people live, and some people die?"
"Why sometimes I do riskier surgeries and manage to save them, and sometimes I do easier ones, and I don't. Why I went into surgery to save lives, and sometimes I have to take them while trying. Why I wasted a damn good lung, that could have saved someone else, if not her."
"I wish I knew the answer to that." Dr. Pierce sighs and Santana looks up at her, blue eyes deep with concern. For some reason, Santana looks down at her lips sucked into her mouth, and then she quickly looks away. Her stomach stirs, and she sucks in a breath. "I'm really sorry."
"Thank you." Santana breathes, then moves away, pulling her hand with her. It's grief, it's exhaustion overtaking her, and she just needs a little space. The thought of pressing her lips against her friend's mouth is absolutely irrational, and if she'd get some damn sleep, she wouldn't be thinking this way.
"Sorry, I…didn't mean to crowd you." She whispers.
"No. No. It's fine. I just…think I need to go home."
"Yeah." Dr. Pierce clenches and unclenches her fist, studying Santana's face. "That's probably a really good idea."