The drive back to the apartment was tense, the silence broken only by the hum of tires on asphalt and the occasional ping of Connor's phone. I pressed my forehead against the cool window, watching my breath fog the glass. The memory of those men's footsteps still echoed in my mind, but I couldn't bring myself to tell Connor. He already looked exhausted, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
When we pulled into the parking garage, Connor let out a long, shaky breath, then killed the engine. The sudden silence felt heavy. "Come on," he said finally, his voice gentler than I deserved. "Let's try to get some sleep before work."
"I thought you were off today." The words came out sharper than I intended, clinging to my earlier anger like a shield against the guilt.
"I was supposed to be." He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "But Thompson called in sick, and the ED needs coverage. You know how it is."
He stepped out and came around to open my door – always the gentleman, even when I'd put him through hell. I could see the worry lines around his eyes, the same ones that had probably appeared the moment I stopped answering his texts.
I slid out of the car, my legs still trembling slightly from the night's adventure. Part of me wished I'd stayed out longer, just to spite him. But another part – the part that could still feel those men's eyes on me, still hear their footsteps echoing off brick walls – was pathetically grateful for the safety of his presence.
The elevator ride was silent, each floor number lighting up like a countdown to an inevitable confrontation. Connor's reflection in the mirrored wall looked haunted, older somehow. When he caught me staring, I quickly looked away.
Inside our apartment, the familiar smell of coffee should have been comforting. Instead, it felt suffocating. I headed straight for the bathroom, desperate to wash away the night's grime, but his voice stopped me.
"What were you thinking?" The words were quiet.
I turned slowly, one hand still on the bathroom doorknob. "Not everything is about you, Connor."
"Then what was it about?" His voice cracked slightly. "Because I spent three hours thinking you were dead in an alley somewhere. I called the hospitals – my hospital – trying to see if any Jane Does had come in. Do you have any idea what that felt like?"
The guilt rose like bile in my throat, but anger pushed through stronger. "You don't get to lecture me about feelings. You don't even know me."
"WHAT!" Connor's hands tightened on my shoulders. "What do you mean, a group of guys chased you? Are you hurt?" His voice was still rough from sleep, but the worry in it was razor-sharp.
I shook my head, tears finally breaking free. "No, no, I got away. There was this diner, and then a construction site..." My voice cracked as the full weight of what could have happened hit me. "I hid in this tunnel, and I could hear them looking for me. God, Connor, their footsteps..." I shuddered, and his arms wrapped around me tighter.
"Jesus Christ," he breathed into my hair. "I woke up and you were just... gone. I tried calling, texting... I was about to go out looking for you myself." His bare feet shifted on the hardwood floor, and I noticed he had his keys clutched in one hand.
"I was angry," I whispered against the soft cotton of his t-shirt. "And then I was scared, and then it was too late, and—" The words tumbled out in a rush, months of bottled emotions spilling over.
He pulled back just enough to cup my face in his hands. "Listen to me," he said, voice raw. "I know things aren't perfect. I know we're both struggling. But nothing – nothing – is worth risking your life over. You're all I have in this city. You're all I have, period."
"Come on, let's get you to bed." Connor's voice was gentle now, all traces of our earlier tension gone. "We both need sleep, and Natalie will kill me if we're late tomorrow." He guided me down the hallway, one hand protectively at the small of my back.
I crawled into bed, still wearing my clothes from the night's adventure. The sheets felt impossibly soft after the rough concrete and metal I'd been scrambling over hours before. "I'm okay, really," I murmured, though my hands still trembled slightly.
Connor lingered in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the hallway light. "Do you need anything? Water? Something to help you sleep?"
I shook my head, already feeling my eyes grow heavy. "No, I'm good." Through the window, the city lights twinkled, and despite everything that had happened, something wild and electric stirred in my chest. The night had been terrifying, yes, but also... thrilling. Part of me – a part I wasn't ready to examine too closely – wanted to explore more of those shadowy streets, to uncover more of the city's secrets.
A yawn betrayed my exhaustion, and Connor smiled softly. "Get some sleep. We'll talk more tomorrow."
It felt like I'd barely closed my eyes when Connor's voice cut through my dreams. "Wake up, we're going to be late." He was gently shaking my shoulder. "I let you sleep as long as I could."
"Don't wanna," I mumbled, burrowing deeper into my blankets, my body aching from last night's escape.
"If you weren't out playing urban explorer, you wouldn't be so tired." His tone was light, but I could hear the lingering worry underneath. Then he played his trump card: "If you come with me, you'll get to see Natalie's new baby."
I shot up, suddenly wide awake. "Really?"
"Yes," he chuckled, "but only if you get ready now."Twenty minutes later, I was dressed and following Connor towards the car, clutching a paper cup of coffee like a lifeline. The morning sun painted the city in soft golden light, making last night's shadows seem like a distant nightmare. My muscles protested with each step – apparently running for your life was quite the workout.
"I can't believe Natalie finally had her baby," I said, trying to distract myself from the soreness. "After everything she went through..." I smiled.
"She's been texting me hourly updates," Connor chuckled. "Apparently Owen's already showing signs of being an art critic – he only stops crying when they walk him past the nursery mural."
"Of course he does. He's Natalie's son." I grinned, picturing. I stared out the window, watching the morning commuters shuffled past, lost in their own worlds of podcasts and emails. I found myself studying their faces, wondering if any of them had spent their night like I had, running from shadows through Chicago's darker corners.
"You're doing that thing again," Connor said softly.
"What thing?"
"That faraway look you get when you're thinking too hard." He brushed a strand of hair from my face. "Last night really scared you, didn't it? Hey," Connor nudged me gently. "Focus on the good stuff. We're about to meet Owen"
I managed a small smile. "Yeah,"
Twenty minutes later, I was trailing behind Connor through the hospital parking lot. Will's car was already parked nearby, and I could see Dr. Choi heading toward the entrance. The early morning shift change was starting, bringing life to the quiet parking lot.
"I thought you were off today," Dr. Choi said, approaching us.
"I was," Connor replied, clipping his badge onto his scrubs. The sound of the plastic snap echoed in the otherwise quiet ED.. "However, there was a call out, so I got called in." His voice held a note of resignation, a shared understanding of the unpredictable nature of the ED. Connor glanced at me, his expression softening. "Go ahead and head to the doctors' lounge. I'll be there in a few after I check reports."
"Fine," I murmured, peeling away from his side, making my way towards the lounge. My eyes scanned the ED, noting how eerily quiet it seemed, almost like the calm before a storm. It didn't even look like there were any patients. "I can't believe how quiet and slow it is." The words slipped out before I could stop them, and the effect was immediate.
It was like I'd just uttered a curse. Heads snapped up, eyes narrowing in my direction. The air shifted with a collective intake of breath, a silent reprimand hanging heavy in the room.
"Never say that!" Will scolded
"Those are the forbidden words here." April chimed in, her eyes wide with a seriousness that made me swallow hard. "Best not to speak them."
"Oh, sorry." I shrank into myself, feeling the weight of their stares.
"Lay off of her," Connor stepped between me and the other. "She didn't know."
"She better learn," a doctor muttered, snatching a clipboard with enough force to make the papers flutter.
Connor turned to me, his eyes soft despite the exhaustion. He gave me a playful nudge, his hand warm against my shoulder. "Go on, I'll meet with you later."
I nodded and slipped into the doctors' lounge. The leather couch creaked as I sank into it. The clock on the wall ticked methodically, each second stretching like taffy. This was going to be a long day.
Maggie called from outside the room. "We got traumas coming in! Multiple vehicle accident ETA five minutes!"
"And this is why we don't say quiet!" Ethan's voice boomed past the lounge as he sprinted by, his white coat billowing behind him like a cape. The peaceful lull of the ED transformed in seconds – doors slammed, wheels squeaked against floors, and the controlled chaos of an incoming trauma turned the hallways into rivers of rushing medical personnel.
Through the lounge window, I watched the familiar choreography unfold – nurses prepping trauma bays, residents donning trauma gowns, the practiced precision of a team preparing for battle.
A sharp rap on the lounge window made me jump. Natalie stood there, Owen strapped to her chest in one of those fancy baby carriers. Despite the chaos erupting around her, she looked perfectly calm, like the eye of a storm. She gestured for me to come out.
"There's my favorite trouble-maker," she said as I emerged, pulling me into a one-armed hug. Owen stirred against her chest, tiny fingers curling and uncurling in sleep. "Connor texted me about your adventure last night. We're having coffee later, and you're telling me everything."
Before I could respond, two paramedics burst through the ED doors, wheeling in a gurney. "Male, mid-thirties, head-on collision!" one shouted. Blood dripped onto the floor, leaving a trail of crimson dots on white tile. The patient moaned, trying to sit up despite the C-collar.
"Trauma 3!" Maggie directed, her voice carrying over the crescendo of activity. "Dr. Rhodes, you're up!"
Connor appeared as if summoned, snapping on blue nitrile gloves as he ran. He caught my eye for just a moment as he passed, and I saw the transformation – gone was the gentle man who'd held me this morning, replaced by the focused intensity of a trauma surgeon.
"Some entrance for your first day back," I said to Natalie, trying to ignore the knot in my stomach as I watched Connor disappear into the trauma bay.
She adjusted Owen's carrier. "Please. You should've seen my actual first day as an attending. Triple trauma, two codes, and I was pumping between cases." She smiled, but her eyes stayed fixed on the trauma bay doors. "You never really get used to watching them run into danger, do you?"
I shook my head, thinking of last night's chase through dark alleys, of Connor's face when I finally made it home. "No," I said quietly. "You really don't."
The ambulance bay doors burst open again, this time with two gurneys rolling in simultaneously. The paramedics' voices overlapped in urgent staccato: "Female, twenty-eight, ejected from vehicle!" "—multiple lacerations, possible internal bleeding—" "BP dropping, 90 over 60!"
"Trauma 1!" Maggie's voice cut through the chaos. "Dr. Choi, take the second in Trauma 2! Where's my ultrasound?"
The ED exploded into chaos. Nurses rushed past with bags of saline and units of O-neg, their shoes squeaking against the freshly mopped floors. Someone called for a surgical consult, and I watched April sprint toward the trauma bay with a portable X-ray machine.
"Three more incoming!" The radio at the nurses' station crackled. "Two critical, one yellow tag. ETA two minutes!"
Natalie's pager buzzed, and she glanced down at it. "That's my cue." She started unwrapping Owen's carrier. "Mind holding him for a minute? The nursery's swamped, and Helen's not here yet."
Before I could process what was happening, I had an armful of sleeping baby. Owen snuffled and settled against my chest, completely oblivious to the emergency unfolding around us. Through the trauma bay windows, I caught glimpses of Connor working – his movements precise, voice steady as he called out orders. Blood covered his gloves up to the wrists.
"Incoming!" The warning preceded the crash of doors as more victims arrived. The air filled with a cacophony of pain and urgency: monitors beeping, radios crackling, doctors shouting orders.
I stood there, holding Owen, watching the ballet of emergency medicine unfold. It was beautiful in its own terrible way – like watching storm clouds gather over Lake Michigan, knowing the destruction they might bring but unable to look away.
"Let's go exploring," I whispered to Owen, the weight of his warm bundle against my chest giving me an odd sense of protection. The ED had transformed into a labyrinth of controlled chaos – nurses darted between rooms like hummingbirds, their scrubs blurring into streaks of blue and green. Gurneys rolled past with the urgency of miniature trains, their wheels squeaking protests against the linoleum.
I paused at Connor's trauma bay, my breath fogging the glass as I watched him perform CPR. Sweat beaded on his forehead and someone called out "Two minutes!" marking time in this desperate dance between life and death.
Moving on, I wandered down the corridor, playing a careful game of dodge-and-weave with rushing staff members. Owen's soft breathing kept time with my footsteps, a gentle counterpoint to the urgent symphony of beeping monitors and shouted orders.
Room 4 stood open, quiet compared to the chaos outside. A teenage girl lay there, her dark hair fanned out against the white hospital pillow, one arm wrapped in gauze. "Who are you?" she asked, pushing herself up.
"I'm Lexa, and this is Owen," I said, adjusting the baby's position slightly. "What brings you here?"
"Taxi versus SUV on Michigan Avenue," she explained, her fingers absently playing with the edge of her blanket. "I got lucky – just some cuts and bruises. They still insisted on bringing me in, though."
I sank into the chair beside her bed, its vinyl cushion sighing under my weight. "Mind if I hang out?"
"I'm Sophie," the girl offered, her eyes fixed on Owen's sleeping form. "Is he yours?"
"No," I smiled, watching as Owen's tiny fingers curled around the edge of his blanket. "He belongs to one of the doctors. I'm just on baby duty while they handle the traumas." A muffled series of shouts echoed from the hallway, followed by the squeak of rushing gurney wheels.
Sophie winced at the noise. "Is it always like this here?"
"Not always. But someone said the Q-word this morning." At her confused look, I explained, "You never say 'quiet' in an ED. It's like saying 'Macbeth' in a theater – instant curse."
That got a small laugh from her, though it quickly turned into a grimace. "Ow. Note to self: laughing with bruised ribs isn't fun."
"Were you headed somewhere special?" I asked, noticing her outfit – a wrinkled but clearly carefully chosen dress, one shoe missing.
Sophie's face fell slightly. "Dance audition at Columbia College. Guess I missed it now. My mom's going to flip when she finds out. She's stuck in Milwaukee on business, probably hasn't even gotten the hospital's messages yet."
Before I could reply, Will appeared in the doorway, his presence filling the small room. Blood speckled the sleeve of his white coat, and his face wore the stern expression of someone who'd seen too much in one morning. "You shouldn't be in here, especially with a baby," he said firmly. "Go back to the lounge, now!"
"I'm not hurting anything!" I argued, hands clenched at my sides. "I'm just talking to Sophie."
"Out now!" Will ordered, his voice rising like thunder in the small room.
"I'll be back," I whispered to Sophie, catching her worried glance before trudging out. I stomped towards the lounge, each step fueling the hot anger bubbling in my chest. Once there, I yanked the worn cushions off the couch, tossing them onto the floor with more force than necessary. I settled Owen onto the makeshift bed, his tiny face scrunching in confusion.
"If I can't be in there because I have a baby," I muttered through gritted teeth, "then I will leave you here for a bit." The words tasted bitter in my mouth. I crept to the corner, and peered around it. The moment Will's heavy footsteps faded down the hallway, I darted back to Sophie's room. "Sorry about that." I slid back down in the chair.
Sophie's face twisted into a scowl, her dark eyes flashing. "He's a prat," she spat.
"Just a little," I giggled.
"So, what's your favorite book?" Sophie asked.
"Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban," I answered.
"Oh, that's a good one! What's your house?"
"I'm a Slytherin," I said proudly.
"I'm a Hufflepuff!" Sophie exclaimed.
We sat there for almost an hour just talking about different Harry Potter theories, our voices hushed with excitement as we debated whether Snape really loved Lily or if the Time-Turner rules made any sense.
"I thought I told you not to be in here." Will's shadow suddenly filled the doorway, his voice cutting through our conversation.
"Sod off," I muttered, the words slipping out too loudly before I could catch them.
"Excuse me!" Will's eyebrow shot up, his jaw tightening. "Want to repeat that?"
I nervously rubbed my arm, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. "I didn't say anything," I mumbled.
"Uh huh." His tone dripped with sarcasm. "I suggest you go back to the lounge."
"Why?" The word exploded from me like a firecracker, all my frustration igniting at once. "I'm not hurting anything. It's not my fault you're too stupid to understand that!" The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them, hanging in the suddenly silent room. My eyes widened in horror as I realized what I had said, my stomach dropping to my feet.
"Out. Now!" Will's eyes hardened to steel, his voice deadly quiet.
I scrambled to my feet and rushed out. In my panic to escape, I wasn't looking where I was going and smacked right into Connor, nearly knocking us both over.
Connor stumbled back, steadying himself against the wall. His eyes darted between Will's rigid form in the doorway and my flushed face. "What's going on?" he asked, concern creeping into his voice.
"Nothing," I snapped, trying to push past Connor. My hands were shaking, and I could feel tears threatening to spill over. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did I have to say that?
Connor caught my arm, gentle but firm. "Hey, breathe," he whispered, positioning himself between me and Will. To Will, he said, "I've got this, mate. Why don't you check on Sophie?"
Will's face darkened like a thundercloud. "She needs to learn—"
"I know," Connor cut in, his voice steady. "But maybe not like this, yeah?"
Will turned away with a grunt, his footsteps heavy as he walked into Sophie's room. I could hear him trying to keep his voice level as he asked her questions.
Connor steered me toward his office, his hand still on my arm. He waited until we were safely out of earshot before asking, "So, what happened back there?"
"He started it," I muttered, sinking into the worn leather chair by his desk. "He treats me like I'm five."
Connor closed the door with a soft click, then leaned against his desk. "That doesn't explain what happened," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "Start from the beginning."
I took a shaky breath, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Natalie had me watching Owen. I was walking around and found Sophie's room. Will chased me out, saying I wasn't allowed to have a baby in there. So I put Owen in the lounge, then went back in." My voice grew smaller with each word. "Will came back into the room, yelled for no reason, and told me to leave... I might have called him stupid."
"You left a baby alone?" Connor's face drained of color, his earlier gentleness vanishing in an instant.
"Yeah," I whispered, my stomach twisting.
Connor bolted from the room, nearly colliding with Natalie in the hallway. She stumbled back.
"Woah, where are you off in such a—" Natalie's eyes landed on me, and her voice sharpened. "Where's Owen?"
"She left him in the lounge," Connor said, the words coming out clipped and urgent.
The color drained from Natalie's face. She spun around and sprinted down the hall. Connor was right behind her, leaving me frozen for a split second before I chased after them both.
I skidded to a halt in the lounge doorway, my heart stopping. The makeshift bed of cushions lay empty, the blanket crumpled and abandoned. No sign of Owen anywhere.
"My baby!" Natalie's voice cracked as she dropped to her knees, checking under furniture. Her hands trembled as she threw cushions aside. "Where's my baby?" The panic in her voice made my blood run cold.
Connor rushed to the nurses' station where Maggie was looking over paperwork. "Has anyone seen Owen?"
"No," Maggie replied, already reaching for the phone. "I haven't."
"Did anyone come through here?" Connor pressed, running a hand through his hair. "Think, Maggie. Anyone at all?"
"I-I don't know." Maggie's admission hung in the air like a death sentence. "I was filing paperwork, I wasn't watching the lounge."
"Call a Code Pink!" Connor's voice cracked like a whip across the chaos. "Natalie's baby is missing!" His usually steady hands were shaking as he gripped the edge of the nurses' station, knuckles white against the dark counter.
Maggie lunged for the intercom, jabbing the button. Her voice echoed through the hospital halls, steady despite the fear in her eyes. "We have a Code Pink! Dr. Manning's baby is missing. If you aren't with a critical patient, report to the nurses' station immediately."
I crept toward Connor, my feet feeling like they were made of lead. "I'm sorry," I whispered, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
"Not now," Connor snapped, shouldering past me with such force I stumbled backward.
I stood rooted to the spot, watching as Maggie transformed into a field commander. Her hands flew across a hospital map, directing the staff. "Ethan, take pediatrics. Will, check the cafeteria. Sarah stairs and elevators." Each command sent another person rushing off. I remained frozen, wishing the polished hospital floor would crack open and swallow me whole.
Security guards materialized at every exit, their radios crackling with updates. "Nothing in the west wing," crackled one voice. "Checking maintenance corridors," came another. Each negative report made Natalie's shoulders shake harder as she paced the hallway, her doctor's coat flapping behind her like broken wings.
"Think," Connor demanded, his voice tight with controlled panic. "Where would a baby go? He can't even crawl yet."
Dr. Charles appeared from nowhere, his calm presence a stark contrast to the chaos. "Someone must have picked him up," he said, stating what everyone feared. "A baby doesn't just vanish. Check the security cameras."
The security office transformed into mission control, screens flickering with footage from every corner of the hospital. I squeezed in behind Maggie, my heart stopping each time we glimpsed a bundle that could be Owen.
"There!" Will's voice cut through the tension. On Screen 3, a figure in scrubs carried what looked like a bundle of blankets through the exit. The timestamp showed 8 am – exactly when I'd left Owen alone.
"Who is that?" Natalie asked, her voice shaking.
"I don't know," Maggie answered, her face grave as she studied the footage. "I've never seen her before." She zoomed in on the scrubs, revealing a slightly different shade than the hospital's standard issue. "Those aren't our scrubs. This person doesn't work here."
The room went deadly silent. Dr. Charles was already on his phone, speaking in low, urgent tones to the police. "Possible infant abduction at Chicago Med. We need units here immediately."
My legs gave out, and I slid down the wall, the horror of what I'd caused hitting me like a physical blow. This wasn't just a mistake anymore. This was so much worse.
"Take Lexa home." Sharon Goodwin's voice cut through the chaos, her usually warm brown eyes now hard as flint. She stood with her arms crossed, every inch the hospital administrator dealing with a crisis. "There will be a meeting after this is resolved. But I think we all know she won't be allowed back here."
I stared at her, my vision blurring with tears. "I'm sorry," I whispered, the words feeling pathetically inadequate against the magnitude of what I'd done.
"Stand up," Connor ordered, but his voice was gentler than I deserved. "Let's head home." He gently grabbed my arm, helping me to my feet. My legs felt like they were made of lead as we walked through the hospital corridors. The staff parted like water around us, their accusing glares burning into my back. Nurses I'd joked with just yesterday now turned away, their faces masks of disappointment and anger.
"I didn't mean for any of this to happen," I said, my voice barely audible as I studied the patterns in the linoleum floor. Each step felt like walking through quicksand, dragging me deeper into my shame.
Connor waited until we pushed through the automatic doors into the crisp morning air before he spoke. "It's not your fault," he said. "Natalie should never have asked you to watch Owen alone. You're just a kid yourself." His words held no judgment, just a bone-deep weariness that made me feel even worse. "But Lexa," he added softly, "sometimes the worst mistakes come from the best intentions."
The city lights blurred around us as police sirens wailed in the distance, a reminder that somewhere out there, Owen was still missing.