Part 7
He cooks breakfast for her while she showers and cleans herself up a little. He can't imagine she'll last a whole day at work given the sleep she's had, so he calls and reschedules a few of his own appointments. He'll take the afternoon off so he can be with her. He has a feeling she may be feeling off once this is underway-Sheldon has promised him a meltdown, and he thinks it will be soon.
She comes out again, and the scattered papers have morphed into a tidy pile. She's ready to move on this.
"Pancakes?" he offers.
"Feel like I'm gonna throw up right now."
"Okay, a no to the pancakes..."
"Coop, tell me honestly. Are you okay about all of this?"
"Are you?"
"No fair. You want me to talk all the time, and then I ask you, and you deflect it away..."
"You know, you're right, I shouldn't do that."
"So, are you?"
"Honestly? I think you need to do whatever you need to do to get some healing on this. And I think Violet and Addison will understand that."
"And you?"
"I understand it too."
"You have this thing with Violet."
"It doesn't mean I think she's perfect. It doesn't mean I support every choice she's made."
"And me? Is this gonna have you saying that about me?"
"Not in this situation. But don't get used to making me choose between you."
"There. See? You can tell me things."
"I know I can."
"I just...I need some of the pictures to go away. Do you get that, Coop? Bad enough, having him in my head. I don't need the rest of them in there too..."
"It's okay, Charlotte. You don't have to explain."
"Well, put your pancakes away and let's go. I want this done."
Naomi meets them at St. Ambrose, offers both of them coffee. He accepts. Charlotte declines, but they sit in the hospital coffee shop with Naomi while she indulges, and reads Charlotte's papers.
"Well," she says, "As a senior surgeon with standing and privileges here at St. Ambrose, and as managing partner in the practice from which Dr. Violet Turner and Dr. Addison Montgomery are based, I hereby recognize these complaints, affirm their validity and file them officially as soon as I get back to the office."
"Will there be any consequences for them, beyond that?" he asks her.
"Well, ask Charlotte, she's the chief of staff here. I'm just signing this off because it's her who's filing. So? What would you usually do for something like this?"
"Probably a suspension," Charlotte says. "Which we'd waive if they agree to take sensitivity training."
"All right, then. Six months to show proof of completion, then the complaint is removed from their file?"
"Six months to show proof of completion, I waive my right to a lawsuit, and the complaint stays in their file for the record."
"Done. Do you want to be there when I tell them?"
She bites her lip. "I thought I did. But..."
"I understand. All right, work from here today. I'll tell them back at the practice."
"Will you call, when you're done? Tell me how they took it?"
"Of course."
"Naomi, thank you."
"Hey, no problem. You'd do it for me, right?"
He sits there with her for a long time after Naomi leaves. She keeps looking like she's about to cry, but doesn't quite do it. Finally, she says "Come back with me, will you? Come upstairs and wait with me until she calls..."
They go up to her office, and they sit. She makes a half-hearted effort to file some papers and move some stuff around, but it's clear that neither of them can focus. Her fingers keep flexing again, half a fist, half a missile that she can't quite keep at bay.
"Char?"
"Quiet, Coop."
"I just..."
"Just sit, will you? Just sit for once and stop talking!"
She stares at the phone, drumming her fingers on the table. And the morning stretches on.
When they do hear from Naomi, it's in person. She comes back to Charlotte's office just after ten o'clock, looking somber and gentle and utterly maternal. She says nothing; just holds out her arms. And Charlotte crumples completely.
He watches as Naomi gently folds his girl into her arms and just holds her, lets her cry. Then looks up at him, nudges him over. He joins the hug. He touches more of Naomi than of Charlotte, he thinks. But he can smell her hair and he can feel her body shaking. Can feel it under him, drawing comfort from Naomi's touch. After a moment, Naomi slides herself away, lets him hold Charlotte himself.
And she lets herself be held.
They sit down, after. Charlotte is klingy, in a way she hasn't been in weeks. She's still a little tearful, and now that she's let him touch her, she won't let go. They wind up with Naomi in the desk chair and he and Charlotte on the couch, him sitting, her in exhausted sprawl, her head in his lap and her fingers clasped around his.
"Well?" he says.
Naomi shrugs. "Not much to tell you. I think they both expected this- or understood where it was coming from, anyway. Addison cried."
Charlotte smirks a little through her own tears. "Yeah. She would."
"You know they never meant to make this hard for you."
"I know they didn't. But..."
"Yeah. Well, that's why we have this process, right? There was a deficiency in the way they handled this. And now, they'll get training to address it. They'll learn from this. Be better doctors, after."
"Uh huh. Just, will you tell them-no more talking, please. I don't want 'em coming up at me with the gooey eyes, all sorry and sad. This wasn't business. But everything else I do with them is, and I don't want to mix this in."
"They both asked me about that. If they could come to you and apologize."
"They want to talk, there are shrinks for that. Only other thing I ever want to hear from them, about this, is that they have the training so I can note that for their file."
"Okay. I'll pass that on."
"Part of me feels so dead right now, I don't know how I can move from this spot. But part of me just really wants to go home..."
"I've got her," he tells Naomi. "Thanks."
He lets her sit for a moment. Then he tugs on her arm. "Come on. Let's go home."
She falls asleep in the car, and doesn't rouse when they are home and he gently shakes her. He delicately balances the dead weight of her, the tangled hair, the floppy arms, and carries her inside.
"Char?" he whispers.
No movement.
"Babe? You with me?"
He touches her face. Is she flushed, or is that just his imagination? After three days of manic anger, of fiery energy and rage and bite, she's out on him and that's just as scary. Should he call Sheldon? And say what, exactly? No. He can handle this. He can handle this...
But he looks at her, and she's so peaceful-looking on the one hand, and so small and fragile and delicate on the other...
He checks her again, makes sure she's breathing, makes sure she's soft and calm and sleeping. Then he turns away. This isn't peace that brought her here. It isn't peace...
And before he knows it, he's fighting tears, and the harder he fights them, the harder they come. He doesn't want to wake her. She's finally resting, and he's damned if he'll wake her now...
He sinks to the floor, his body shaking, his hands clenching as he tries to keep it all in, and he's so caught up in what he's feeling that he doesn't even notice her hand drift down to his tear-stained cheek and gently touch him.
"Hey," she says gently. "Hey, Coop..."
But he shakes his head. He can't stop now, not even for her, and she touches him again and her expression is, against the odds, still peaceful...
"It's okay," she says after a moment. "It's okay that you're angry too."
And hearing her say it, hearing her be in this moment with him, he gets his first inkling that things really will be all right some day. He pulls her hand closer, feels her skin touch his.
"It'll be okay," she says again.
He nods, lets this finish. Then he climbs back onto the bed. He lies down beside her, pulls her close. He holds her. And she settles into his arms and holds him back, at last.
The end