And Then There Was You...

Chapter 9: And So I Try...

3rd Person POV:

Two weeks had passed since Grace's encounter with her mother at Chicago Med, and though the sting of that day still lingered, she had slowly started to heal. The relationship between her and Connor had grown even closer in the time since, with their bond deepening in ways that made her feel safe and cherished. But something had changed in Grace, too—something dark and difficult that she couldn't quite shake.

The memories of being held at gunpoint had started to haunt her. She found herself reliving the terrifying moments in the hospital, the cold metal of the gun pressed against her back, the desperate look in Connor's eyes as he pleaded for her life. Her nights were plagued with nightmares, and during the day, she was jumpy and nervous, always on edge. Sleep had become a distant memory, and no matter how much Connor tried to comfort her, she couldn't find peace.

Connor noticed the changes in her almost immediately. He watched as she became more withdrawn, her usually bright and confident demeanor fading into something more fragile. He didn't want to push her to talk about it—he knew Grace valued her independence—but he couldn't just stand by and do nothing. One day, after yet another sleepless night where Grace had tossed and turned beside him, Connor decided to voice his concerns to Dr. Charles.

"Grace has been... off lately," Connor began, his voice low as he sat across from the seasoned psychiatrist in his office. "She's jumpy, nervous. She's not sleeping well, and I'm worried."

Dr. Charles leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "She's been through a lot, Connor. The situation with her mother, and before that, being held at gunpoint in the hospital—it's no wonder she's struggling. Trauma like that can manifest in different ways, and it sounds like she might be experiencing some PTSD symptoms."

Connor nodded, his heart heavy with concern. "I don't want to push her, but I don't want her to feel like she has to go through this alone, either. I just... I want to help."

Dr. Charles offered him a reassuring smile. "You're doing the right thing by being there for her, but it might be worth encouraging her to talk to someone—whether that's you, me, or another therapist. Sometimes, just having someone to listen can make all the difference."

Connor took those words to heart, knowing that he'd do whatever it took to help Grace through this. But as much as he wanted to protect her, there were some battles that Grace would have to face on her own.

Later that day, Grace found herself dealing with a particularly difficult patient—a 16-year-old gang member who had been brought in with multiple stab wounds. The boy was hostile, cursing at her in Spanish and threatening her whenever she got too close. Normally, Grace would have brushed off the threats, knowing they were likely born out of fear and pain. But today, she couldn't shake the feeling of dread that settled in her chest every time she entered his room.

Her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted his IV, and her heart raced whenever he shouted obscenities at her. She forced herself to maintain a calm exterior, not wanting anyone to see how much he was affecting her. But inside, she was a mess, the fear from two weeks ago resurfacing with every venomous word that left the boy's mouth.

After stabilizing the patient, Grace finally allowed herself a break. She retreated to the break room, hoping to find a moment of peace. But even here, her nerves were frayed. She sat on the couch, her leg shaking uncontrollably as she tried to steady her breathing. The silence of the room only amplified the chaos in her mind, and she buried her face in her hands, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

"Grace?"

She looked up to see Sarah Reese, the psychology resident, standing in the doorway, a concerned look on her face. Grace quickly wiped at her eyes, trying to pull herself together. "Oh, hey, Sarah. What's up?"