"Dr. Fabray, you're going to need to call it."

Charlie flicked her eyes over at the nurse, it was only for a second before she returned her attention back to the teenager who was on her table, "One more time," she ordered, her hands on the paddles, which were placed on the young man's chest, ignoring the annoying beep and the flatline on the heart monitor. "Clear."

The body jumps on the table, but she knows it when a nurse touches her arm. She was certain she'd done everything right. She'd dealt with gunshots before while she was doing her general surgery part of her rotation. But she'd always had someone over her shoulder for gunshots to the chest, a more experienced hand. She'd watched of course, and helped but this had been the first time she was alone.

"Dr. Fabray, it's done. There's nothing more than we can do for him. You have to call the code," one of the nurses said gently.

Charlie stared at the young man for a moment before closing her eyes, "Code called at 3:16." Charlie said as she placed the paddles down and took a step back, as she tried to control her breathing. She was a surgeon, she should be used to death but it had never happened to her before, and she wasn't quite sure how to handle the emotions that were beginning to storm. "I need to inform the family," Charlie states her tone flat. Without saying anything she turns and leaves the surgical theatre, pulling off her gloves and throwing them away. She needed to bring comfort to the family and tell them everything that she had tried to do to save their son.

There was a tightness in her chest, and she could feel her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Still, she takes a deep breath before leaving the surgical area and heads towards the waiting area. She stops once to make sure that she has the name of the patient before pushing the doors open and looking around the waiting area.

~ O ~

Charlie studied the scalpel that was just sitting on her kitchen table, before looking at the orange that was right beside it. She takes a deep calming breath and reaches for the scalpel and grabs the orange, but the moment her scalpel hand moves towards the orange it begins to shake uncontrollably, forcing her to drop the scalpel. "Shit," Charlie swears and looks at her right hand and begins to massage it.

It had been like this for the past few days, and she'd been forced to take some sick leave. She wasn't sure who she could trust at the hospital, and the last thing she wanted was for people to know that she was currently experiencing a rather extreme case of the yips.

Charlie takes a deep breath and reaches for the scalpel again. Once she got her hand under control she was certain that everything would be fine. But before she can make another attempt there is a knock on her apartment door. She sighs and gets up, and opens her front door without checking who was there, and stares at Santana who was holding up a bag of what smelled like chicken soup. "What are you doing here?" Charlie snaps at Santana.

"I haven't seen you at work in the past few days, and when I asked they said that you were home sick. You look fine," Santana blinks when Charlie begins to shut the door. "Look, I had to knock on all the doors on this floor before I figured out which one you lived in. So just take the soup, and I'll go back to my apartment." When Charlie glares at the bag she rolls her eyes. "For fucks sake Charlie, it's not poison."

"Dr. Fabray," Charlie reminded Santana, they were not on a first name basis. "I'm pretty sure I told you to leave me alone."

"I thought you caught the cold that's been going around, I was going to drop it off and head back to my apartment. So I brought you some soup. Take the soup, and I'll go back to pretending that we aren't soulmates."

Charlie snatches the paper bag from Santana and opens it to take a quick peek, she notices the tupperware container and looks at Santana. "Did you make this?"

"Yes. I know what you're thinking and you're free to throw it out if you want," Santana said, taking a step away from the door before Charlie could slam it in her face. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me, I'm not going to let anyone know that you're ditching work. I'll see you at the clinic Dr. Fabray." With that Santana turned and began to make her way to the elevator.

Charlie narrowed her eyes and looked at the homemade soup. "I have the yips."

Santana stopped and turned to look at Charlie who immediately looked away, "What?"

Charlie snorts, she didn't need Santana to pretend that she didn't know what was going on. "You were right. About me, you were right. I let a bit of good fortune go to my head, and I killed a patient. I'm sure everyone is talking about my meltdown in the theatre. I'm sure the family is going to sue me, and now I can't hold a fucking scalpel. It shakes worse than when you were supposed to be mentoring me."

Santana frowned before slowly approaching Charlie's door so she could stand in front of Charlie and look her in the eye. "Charlie, you're a surgeon. You aren't god, what I said to you that day was out of line, but someone was bound to die on your table, it doesn't matter how great of a surgeon you are. It doesn't matter how talented you are, there are some people we will never be able to save."

"Except I know that I could have saved him," Charlie snaps. "This wasn't some 80 year old man that I was giving a heart transplant to. He was just 17, from what I could see he was in relatively good health. The bullet entered the left fifth intercostal space, his heart was damaged, it must have ricocheted, but I saw the damage and I made a plan the moment I opened him up. It just—I couldn't execute it, there was too much bleeding and his blood pressure was dropping faster than I expected—maybe I missed something."

Santana studied Charlie, "Fine, let me read the report. I know you have it, so let me read it and if I see any gross negligence on your part I'll let you know. If even I couldn't save him I'll be honest with you."

Charlie bristled at Santana telling her what to do but took a step to the side so Santana could enter her apartment. She needed another set of eyes, and despite the fact that she really wanted nothing to do with Santana, she still respected Santana's expertise. "Fine."

Santana didn't wait for Charlie to change her mind as she entered Charlie's apartment, and followed her to the dining area. She immediately takes everything in, Charlie's place didn't have that many decorations and it seemed that she had decided to be cheap when it came to furniture, Charlie had mentioned credit trouble, but she doubted that Charlie would take any money from her at this point. Santana flicks her eyes to the scalpel on the table and the orange and glances at Charlie before she takes a seat.

Charlie turns her laptop towards Santana and sits across from her. "So, what I did was—"

"Reading. Eat your soup," Santana interrupts, when Charlie bristles she sighs. "I need to look at this completely objectively, so it's best if you don't try and justify yourself."

Charlie nodded after a moment, that made sense and she looked at the paper bag once more before opening it and pulling out the container. Santana had even included a plastic spoon, she flicks her eyes up to spot Santana watching her as discreetly as she could, but the moment that their eyes meet Santana turns her attention back to the laptop.

There is a silence that falls between, one that is not quite comfortable. As Santana scrolls through the report and Charlie pokes her soup with a spoon.

The soup certainly smells delicious, and Charlie finally takes a bite, and looks up to see Santana staring at her, in a way that is slightly unnerving. "What?"

"Do you like it?"

Charlie glanced down at the soup for a moment, before placing the spoon inside the container and pushing it away. "No it tastes like you added too much salt, too much pepper, and there is not enough chicken or bacon." Charlie lies, watching as Santana's hopeful face falls. She shouldn't feel guilty about being this petty, but her heart twinges at it and she immediately looks away. She didn't even know how Santana knew that she liked bacon bits in her chicken noodle soup."What do you think?"

Santana looked over the document, Charlie's notes were surprisingly clear, and everyone seemed to say the same thing. The rapid drop in blood pressure had forced them to attempt to stabilize him so they could operate. "You were unlucky. Your process was sound, you knew you couldn't just start working on him without stabilizing him, unfortunately things were deteriorating to such a point—there was nothing you could have done to save him."

Charlie's brow furrowed at Santana's assessment. "So there is nothing you could have done differently?"

"There are things that I would have done differently, but I've been at this for a hundred years give or take so there are a few things that I've learned," Santana pointed out watching as Charlie's eyes narrowed at the statement. She points at the scalpel. "Show me?"

Charlie reaches and picks it up and just like before her hand begins to shake in a rather exaggerated manner. Before she drops the scalpel, Santana's hand falls on hers and nearly immediately Charlie's hand stops moving. It's only for a moment before Charlie pulls her hand back and almost instantaneously her hands begin to shake. "I'm going to need to inform Dr. Jones about this."

Santana hesitates, it was the right thing to do. Charlie was in no condition to be operating on patients, "I can cover your caseload—"

"I don't want your help Dr. Lopez."

"But you need it," Santana responded simply. As much as Charlie wanted to rage against her, at this moment in time Charlie couldn't operate on anyone. "I'll take over your caseload Charlie, and once you're feeling up to it we can ease you back into it. You can come watch and practice on the machines that we have at the clinic until your yips are subside."

"It's Dr. Fabray." When Santana just stares at her Charlie sinks in her chair a bit and sighs. "Fine."

Santana nods and gets up and reaches for the soup that Charlie had rejected only for Charlie to place her hand on it. "I thought you didn't like it?" Santana asks, quirking a brow at Charlie's childishness, she couldn't help note the way she puffed out her cheeks in irritation.

"I don't waste food," Charlie says. It really was delicious and she was going to eat it the moment Santana left. Though if Santana turned this into a big deal she was just going to hand it over. "I'll return your tupperware after I've cleaned it. Which apartment number are you in?"

"420," Santana replies, as she studies Charlie. "We'll figure this out together, and I don't mind working with you until you've gotten over this." Charlie grunts at this and she takes that as her cue to leave. It was a start of maybe making things right with Charlie. And that's all she wanted to do.