𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒! | harry styles

𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐈

"ARE you kidding me? Who the hell would steal narcs? A bunch of fucking crackheads work here, I swear to God. I bet it was Al. I mean, shit, have you seen him lately?"

Cameron's always able to cheer me up. Kind of.

"What's wrong with Al?" I ask curiously. We're both cleaning up an unresponsive patient; Cameron is doing a dressing change on her sacrum while I help hold her over. It's the day after the second shittiest day of my life, and I haven't spoken to Harry. But we're both working today and yesterday was when I asked for space, so it's not surprising.

Also, my phone is still broken.

"Any grown man would have to be on drugs to act like him. It's not natural." He soaks a gauze in saline and starts packing it in the wound. I hold my breath so I can't smell the stench. My back is starting to hurt from all the pulling.

"I don't think it was Al," I say.

"Who do you think it is?"

"I don't know."

"You don't suspect anyone?"

"Oh, I suspect people," I assure him. "But it's unjustified, apparently, and saying it out loud kind of makes me sound like an asshole or something. Or so I've gathered."

I've done a lot of thinking since I made Harry leave. In the end, he's right - I don't have a solid reason to suspect Dr. Ellis, so I can't really fault him for not agreeing with me. I'm still mad that he was with her all night, but the resentment has faded. I feel confident that I can have an adult conversation with him today without going all Russell Crowe and breaking more phones. Hell, if I'm lucky, there might even be great make-up sex.

Little toes are crossed.

"Well we both know I'm an asshole, so let's hear it," Cameron says. "From one asshole to another."

"Fine. I think it was Dr. Ellis."

"Really?" His reaction reminds me of Harry, but I don't really care if Cameron disagrees with me. "Why?"

"Just a feeling," I say vaguely. This is true. I don't really feel like getting in to the things that have caused this feeling, however. He probably won't believe me anyway.

"Hmm. Yeah, I can see that." He starts ripping large pieces of tape and plastering them to the dressing on the patient's bottom. "I mean, you stole her man. Girls get crazy about that shit."

I roll my eyes. "I'm being serious, Cameron."

"So am I. Do you not remember that woman who drove across the country wearing a diaper? And here I thought it was something lame like Al popping pills. But your theory is much more dramatic - a woman scorned plotting revenge by trying to sabotage your medical career. It's very General Hospital of you." He initials and dates the dressing with a black sharpie.

"Dr. Ellis isn't 'scorned,'" I argue. "They were broken up long before I came along." We roll the patient onto her back and begin covering her with the sheets. She's contracted, her knees drawn up stiffly to her chest, so we have to wedge a pillow between her legs. Cameron and I both grab one side of the pad underneath her and pull her up in the bed. It's almost like clockwork.

"Not that long. Only a few months," he corrects me.

"Whose side are you on?"
"I'm on your side, Pockets. I think it's absolutely atrocious that she's trying to steal meds under your name and sabotage your career." His mockery is teasing, maybe even a little affectionate.

"It is atrocious," I agree.

"Have you talked to Harry?"

"No, not since yesterday. Why? Have you?"