"I'll see you on Friday Dr. Fabray. We have three days left together and I hope that by the end of it you'll be able to hold a scalpel." Santana informed Charlie as they left the locker room together. It had been a long two days, taking over Charlie's schedule meant taking over all her calls. She had been in the hospital for the past three days, and this was finally her moment to get some sleep. They both had the day off tomorrow and she was glad that she could at least spend the entire day lounging in bed and relaxing.

Charlie made a face, at Santana's comment. The shaking had gotten better but before when there had been just a normal tremor, it was still exaggerated, and she was still a danger to patients. She couldn't help the anxiety that came with being in charge, she couldn't stop her brain from going a million miles an hour when she felt like she was in charge. Her therapist was still working with her on coping mechanisms, but nothing seemed to be working.

Santana studied Charlie for a moment, she looked just as exhausted as she felt. The last few weeks had passed without another outburst from Charlie. Charlie had taken every cutting comment that she had made in stride. Charlie had even listened to her when she had corrected her, and asked a few questions. Nothing had changed romantically between them though. "Are you practicing at home?"

Charlie stopped moving and turned her full attention to Santana, "Of course I'm practicing at home," she snaps. "You've confirmed that I know the mechanics of doing surgery, I can't hold a scalpel Dr. Lopez. I know what to do with one if I could get my hands to stop shaking."

Santana paused for a moment, she hadn't meant to pick a fight with Charlie. She was just worried. Three days and Charlie's hands still shook like an alcoholic going through withdrawal. "I'm just trying to help. Have you thought about trying a beta blocker to help with your anxiety?"

Charlie's frown deepens, "Not that it's any of your business but I'm in therapy—"

"Good for you, propranolol would help with the tremors," Santana points out. Charlie needed a quick fix, therapy took time and money she wasn't sure Charlie had. "I can have one of the doctors write a script for you. We have three days Charlie—" Before Santana can continue the sound of both her and Charlie's pagers go off.

Charlie is quicker to pull out her phone, and reads the information that was passed to them. "There's been a construction accident. All hands on deck."

Santana sighed, she'd been so close to being able to have a nice soak and some wine, before sleeping till she needed to go back to work. "Alright, time to scrub in again," Santana groaned as she turned to head back to the locker room. She pauses when she hears Charlie shuffling behind her and turns to look at her, raising a brow. "What are you doing?"

"We need to scrub in," Charlie responds slightly confused.

"No, I need to scrub in. You can go home Dr. Fabray."

"What?"

"You're not needed. It's all hands on deck and well—your hands aren't capable of providing any help." Santana turns before pausing, that had been harsher than she had intended. "People die all the time, you didn't kill that patient, the person who shot that teenager killed him, you didn't do anything wrong. You tried to save him, you just failed. That being said, there will be people who die today because we simply don't have enough surgeons on hand, and your inability to offer assistance—well if you aren't helping you're just part of the problem. Go home, rest up and I'll see you on Friday." Santana says dismissively, as she takes off. It was going to be a busy night if they were attempting to get every surgeon ready.

Charlie watches Santana head back to the locker room, watching as everyone from the nurses to the residents were all getting prepared for what would be a deluge of patients. She adjusts her bag for a moment suddenly feeling worthless. Santana was right, she was probably just going to get in the way.

~ O ~

Santana wiped her brow, she was exhausted, but she was certain that she had at least one more surgery before she could finally go home and relax.

"Lopez."

Santana looks up to spot Mercedes waving her up towards the balcony. She groaned and moved to see what Mercedes wanted. "I'm pretty sure I still have one more surgery."

"You don't," Mercedes informs her as she moves to a viewing room, "Your soulmate took over one of the operating rooms and has been going non-stop since last night."

"What, she's doing surgeries with her tremor? Who thought that was a good idea?" Santana snaps. The last thing Charlie needed was to be stripped of her medical license.

"Shut up and watch your girl," Mercedes said with a roll of her eyes.

Santana scowled, but did as she was told, turning to watch the surgery that was unfolding. Charlie's hands were steady as she worked, and was informing the nurses of the next step even as they dabbed the sweat from her brow. "She's better." There was a proud note in Santana's voice as she smiles as she watches her soulmate work.

"She is, you were right, and I took a look at her work. It's impeccable." Mercedes said with a shake of her head. To think she had nearly let a surgeon of Charlie's calibre go. "You did a good job teaching her."

"She's the surgeon she is today in spite of me," Santana says, correcting Mercedes, flashing her a small smile. "I need a favor Wheezy."

Mercedes made a face, "You know how much I hate when you call me that. What do you need?"

Santana turned to look at Charlie, she had given Charlie her word that she wouldn't be around come the end of the month. "I need to resign."