A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey

Drunk Texts

It's all your fault. You did this. You killed her. How can you even call yourself a doctor?

Charlie woke with a start, a jumble of words lingering in her mind as the nightmare began to dissipate. Her fingers turned white as she gripped the sheet, desperate for the last three words to leave her: It's your fault. But they didn't leave. She was tormented by them just as much in reality as in her dream.

Charlie held out her arm, blindly reaching for the alarm clock on her bedside table to check the time, but... it wasn't there. Startled, Charlie sat up peered through the dark room for the familiar glow of her clock, convinced she must have knocked it over during her nightmare, but there was no eerie glow to guide her.

"What the...?" Charlie mumbled, gripping her head as dizziness suddenly swamped her brain. She tried to remember what happened the night before, but it was a blur. She didn't remember much after arriving at the bar, and she definitely didn't remember coming home.

Charlie slowly crept out of bed, fumbling in the dark room for some light source, and after bumping into several pieces of furniture, she found a light switch and flipped it without a second thought. She winced as the artificial light illuminated her surroundings, and with a grumbling dissatisfaction, she recognized the signs of a brutal hangover starting to form.

"This... isn't my room," Charlie gulped, surveying the modern furniture of a tasteful yet clearly unused bedroom. Something about it felt vaguely familiar, but Charlie was far too encumbered by her banging headache to figure out why she recognized it.

Maybe Lahela just took me to his apartment last night? she thought to herself, trying to explain her new surroundings without considering the more dangerous alternatives as to why she was in an unfamiliar room instead of her own apartment.

Thoughts felt like they were burning into her brain, causing pain with each attempt at deduction. Charlie shook her head, trying to cast off any detective work until she could get her hands on some water.

She opened the bedroom door and stumbled out into a hallway, suddenly aware of her sore limbs and uncomfortable skinny jeans still hugging her body. They were the same ones she'd worn to the bar last night, the extra pair she kept in her locker in case she didn't feel like wandering back to her apartment in scrubs. Charlie's stomach lurched as she remembered the locker room...

Landry.

For a moment, the nausea settled in her stomach turned to boiling betrayal. The thought of him made her want to scream and cry at the same time, and her mind battled between wanting to destroy him and wanting to hide from him. She remembered the first time they met, how happy she was to find another nervous intern that was just as obsessed with Dr. Ramsey as she was. She'd instinctively trusted him and could never have imagined that the ambition they shared would ever betray her.

Tears prickled at her eyes, but Charlie willed them back, rationalizing that she was too dehydrated to waste body fluids on him.

Deciding that she didn't want to think about him anymore, Charlie straightened her spine and navigated the dim hallway to find a glass of water ASAP.

When she exited the hallway, she found herself in the main room of a sprawling apartment. The stunning cityscape glittered back at her through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating a lavish living room leading to a chef's kitchen. All at once, Charlie realized where she was, and her jaw dropped.

No, no, it can't be- Charlie didn't even get to finish the thought.

"Good morning, rookie."

Charlie grimaced, recognizing the voice immediately. Despite herself, she felt a rush of happiness at the sound of her nickname. It sparked months of longing and years of admiration, and she couldn't fight the way her heart swelled at the mere thought of his presence.