Shaw kicked at the box that had dared to trip her, her newly shortened fuse showing once again. She kicked it a second time, just to make herself feel better. Yes, she was aware of the futility of taking out her frustration on an inanimate object, especially considering she was the one who refused to unpack and make her new space livable, but whatever. Her fault or not, she was still pissed that she kept crashing into boxes.
She threw herself down onto the couch, one of the few pieces of furniture she had decided to keep. She kind of wished she hadn't, though she couldn't afford new furniture and would have had to park her ass on the floor every day. But she still wished she'd left it, because this couch reminded her of Root. It had been hers since before Root moved in, but then Root was always there, sitting in her favorite spot to work, or lounging over the length of it with her laptop or a book. For nearly eight years, they had shared the damn thing, watching movies from it, sleeping on it, and fucking on it. And now every time Shaw looked at it, she thought of Root.
Root, who wasn't here. Because Shaw couldn't ask her, and Root never invited herself. Shaw realized now that she'd kind of expected her to. Root was forward like that. After all, it was how they met, how they ended up living together at all, and even how they'd started the benefits side of their relationship. So why hadn't she done that now? If she was so comfortable as to do all of that when they didn't even know each other, what would stop her eight years later?
Shaw had to conclude that Root just didn't want to move to New York. Or didn't want to move with her. Whatever it was, not that it mattered at this point, she wanted to stop thinking about it already. She'd made her choice. Shaw had left her the house and most of what was in it, to do with whatever she wanted. Root paid her out for her half, leaving Shaw with a little bit of a nest egg for moving, which she sorely needed. Her living expenses just rose, and the only thing she could afford was a tiny apartment that didn't even have a bedroom. So far, she hated every bit of it.
Not just the apartment, but all of it. She was so angry all of the time. It was probably best that she hadn't actually started working yet, because as it was, she wasn't likely to keep the job for long. She wasn't so lacking in self-awareness as to feign ignorance that it had less to do with the move and more to do with being alone. She didn't hate New York, she hated how it happened. For the first time in her life, Shaw thought she might be experiencing something akin to loneliness.
And there was nothing she could do about it. Sure, Root was only a text away, but what did that change? She didn't want to text Root, or call her. She wanted her here, in New York, with her. Since she couldn't have that, she didn't see the point. What would they do, try the long-distance thing? Fucking stupid. So she'd been in the city for three weeks and hadn't reached out once. Root hadn't reached out, either, which was starting to disappoint Shaw. Not that Root reaching out would make Shaw want to talk to her, but she suspected she was waiting for some sign that Root missed her. Could Shaw really just disappear from her life so easily? Did she just not even notice a difference? That didn't seem like Root at all. She wasn't an overly emotional person, but what she did feel came out intensely. And Shaw just couldn't imagine that she was fine with all this, as if they had never happened. Maybe she hated it, too, and hadn't said anything for the same reasons Shaw hadn't.
Not that she would know. But she couldn't stop thinking about it. It wasn't just the damn couch. Everything reminded her of Root. They'd been together so long, had enmeshed their lives even more than Shaw had noticed at the time, and so even though she wasn't here, she was, because she was on Shaw's mind all of the time. She just hoped it was temporary. If she'd learned to live with Root, she could learn to live without her. Eventually.
Work started on Monday. She'd spent her time getting to know the city and whiling away the hours until she had work to occupy herself, and now she had the weekend left to straighten her ass up enough to be able to play nice when she had to be around other people. She had to remind herself that she didn't know anyone here. She didn't have the chief of surgery sticking up for her when she mouthed off to an attending, or made moves in surgery that were complained about. There were more liberties given as she moved up in the world and proved her worth, but she was starting over in New York. She wasn't going to be given anything special; three strikes, you're out. And she was too far in her career to lose it all now.
It would be a stretch to say she woke up on Monday feeling ready, but she talked herself into pretending as she dressed. The morning was basically orientation, where she would meet her coworkers, get familiar with the hospital layout, and learn schedules. From there, she would be shadowing her attending around as he met with patients. She was unlikely to end up in the OR on her first day, but damn she needed it. She ached to hold a scalpel like she needed to eat. All of this time off had been too much. Too quiet, too boring, too much time spent thinking about Root. She needed to be busy, and the sooner she got to cut, the better.
She took an Uber to work. Before moving, she'd made the decision to sell her car, to make up for the time not working and living in an expensive city. She'd probably replace it eventually, but with modern car services so prolific and a city known for its taxis, it wasn't a priority.
Tisch Hospital was one of the top three ranked hospitals in the country, the number one in New York. Shaw was finally beginning to feel proud of herself for making it here. It had been hard work to do so, but busting her ass was worth it. Few residents got offers to places like this. The building itself was an impressive display of their success. It was a sprawling campus boasting downright luxurious features. Shaw wasn't so sure the meditation room that had just been installed in the in-patient wing justified the money, but whatever. Said tower was eighteen floors, in and of itself, and could house six hundred people at any given time. Of course, that capacity was rarely needed, but it was a bragging right. Shaw paused outside for a moment, taking in the buildings around her. She couldn't remember off-hand how many buildings and wings there were, but it was a lot.
Not wanting to look like a tourist, Shaw wrapped up her staring and went inside. She followed signs to the chief's office, where she was to meet their head of department for cardiology. Estevan Mayhew was young for a department head, but he had made a name for himself. He'd been published multiple times and was making waves in this field. Shaw was looking forward to learning from him. Hopefully, he wouldn't be so turned off by her that was at a loss for how to mentor her. That had been one of her biggest roadblocks so far. Her superiors wanted to treat her like they did her peers, but when she took charge or superseded their expectations, that was where they got stuck. Like, they didn't know what to do with her when she could handle things that should have been years above her level. Some of them felt the need to reign her in, only to fail at that and throw their hands up. Others wanted to give her more leeway, but then refused to treat her as an equal in the OR, which did not foster a civil working relationship.
Shaw hoped it would be different here.
She knocked once on the closed door. "Come in!" She turned the knob and stepped into the office.
"Miss Shaw." The chief greeted her with a nod. She was younger than Jakobs, maybe forty-five, at the most. Another young age for this level of career. Shaw liked to think that was a good sign of how they did things around here. There were as many politics in medicine as there were in actual politics, and all too often, age was equated with experience and competence.
"Chief." She reached out to shake her hand when she rose.
"Oh, McKinney is fine. We'll save 'chief' for the more serious situations."
She said it with a smile, but that felt like a warning. Maybe it wasn't meant that way, but that was how she was going to take it. Jakobs practically said the same thing to her not too long ago.
"And this is Doctor Mayhew, he'll be your mentor in this program," McKinney set a hand on his shoulder.
Mayhew was tall, well over six feet, with broad shoulders and hair cropped so close to his scalp he was nearly bald. Despite his intimidating appearance, his smile was warm. "Shaw, nice to meet you."
"Same." She shook his hand, too, appreciating his confident grip. "I've been looking forward to this since med school, honestly."
"A forward thinker; I like that," Mayhew told her. "Well, I look forward to working with you. Ready for a tour?"
"Absolutely."
It would have taken hours to actually tour all of the facilities, since they were spread out over several buildings, so their tour stayed focused on the important parts, the wings associated with surgery, and more importantly, their specialty. Even still, they were walking and talking for over an hour. Shaw could already tell it was going to be a long, tiring day. She didn't much care, though. At first, it had been hard to believe she'd made it this far, that she had really gotten one of the most prestigious fellowships in the country. But now she was here, and that feeling had given way to a need to prove herself. She was more than ready to make a name for herself in this field.
The day passed quickly. Touring the grounds wasn't the most exciting thing, though necessary, but once Shaw was shown to the lounge and she'd changed into her scrubs, things picked up. They began meeting patients, going over Mayhew's current cases and his surgery schedule. One of the rare times Shaw got excited was for surgery, and seeing his caseload had her blood thrumming. Most of them weren't too complicated, simple things like putting in pacemakers and a few bypass surgeries. But a couple met her standards for true anticipation, her heart rate rising at the idea of participating in a Septal Myotomy or the Cardiac Autotransplantation he had next week. To even witness them was worth every second of angioplasties and stent placements.
Of course, they started out slow. They needed to get a feel for Shaw, just as much as she did them. For the first couple of days, things moved at a snail's pace, as she got to know everyone, learned her way around, and familiarized herself with Mayhew's patients. She met so many people her head spun, but she forced the occasional, tight smile and pretended she remembered all their names. She watched a few surgeries, not participating just yet, but the smell of antiseptic and iodopovidone and blood reminded her why she loved what she did. For now, watching was enough. She'd have a scalpel in her hand eventually.
Days passed this way, leaving Shaw satisfied and exhausted, too tired to think about Root as much. Thank fuck. She was settling into a routine, though she still hadn't unpacked for shit. She ate a lot of takeout and lived off a few select outfits, half of which were scrubs. She just kept washing and wearing the same ones and pretending she didn't have an entire wardrobe still in a box. Avoidance was something she was good at.
But when Shaw went home after far too many hours on her feet, feeling far better than she had since coming to New York, that was what mattered. She'd hoped her first day on the job would finally help her feel confident in her decision to do this. It needed to feel worth it, or she was going to resent the program and everyone in it as much as Root had predicted she would regret giving it up. Wouldn't that be just her luck? She'd come out on the losing end either way. But now, after a few days, she thought maybe, just maybe, this would all be worth it. Just maybe, a loss could also be a gain.
The worst part about getting home in the wee hours of the morning was scrounging up something to eat before she collapsed until her next shift. Making food just seemed like so much work, and honestly, she hadn't gotten back into the habit of picking up her own groceries. There was only one place she could get food from in this area at this time of night. And they sucked, even for takeout. But right now, she simply didn't care. She called in an order anyway, before jumping in the shower.
She'd just finished pulling on a clean tank top when the doorbell rang. Shaw ran a towel through her wet hair as she strode the few feet from the bathroom to the door. She was fucking starving. Sometimes, it was just too difficult to find time to eat at work, so she spent many hours and even whole days surviving on easy-to-grab, ultra-processed snack foods and pastries, not to mention a metric ton of coffee. She already missed Root's homecooked meals. She'd have never thought she'd say that, but there it was. She'd taken it for granted, all of the ways Root had started subtly taking care of her, even when she insisted she hadn't needed or wanted it. Damn, she missed it now.
She tossed the towel to the floor and opened the door. "Did you remember the..." Her words trailed off, her heart stuttering. "Root?"