Work Text:
Jac Naylor is as solid as a rock. Nothing can move her. Nothing can harm her. At least that’s what the staff always say.
Fletch can see where they’re coming from; she is an immovable object against the unstoppable force that is the NHS. Jac Naylor is constantly rigid and stubborn in her opinions and her abilities as a surgeon. Fletch can even admit that she has the emotional output of a rock too at time. Trying to get Jac Naylor open up about anything is as easy as pushing a mountain down.
‘Yeah, Jac Naylor is a rock’ in Adrian Fletcher’s mind.
He looks up from his paperwork to see the object of his thoughts in her hospital bed. He had made sure to have a line of sight from his spot by the work station in attempt to prevent any major incidences or complaints from patients or staff in regard to Jac the Patient. He had to pretend to do work at the station bay instead of his own peaceful desk by using the need for the director of nursing’s personal oversight with the busy ward as an excuse.
‘This is the real Jac Naylor,’ Fletch thinks, ‘Here she is in her own quite world, away from the prying eyes.’ Jac was holding onto her signature red and white surgical cap, apparently a memento from an old colleague and friend or so Fletch takes it from the whisperings he’s heard.
“A rock.” Fletch mutters beneath his breath, lost in his thoughts. The irony of it all. Jac Naylor is as much a rock as anyone else. A stone in the ocean eroding by nature’s bidding. A rock that is slowly being chipped away at by a wave of emotion. Fletch knows that behind that stoic persona she puts on against the world is nothing but pure emotions. Jac Naylor is no robot; he knows she’s alive and human by the sounds of the rhythm of her ECG, by the movement of her chest, and by the memory of holding her in his arms as she wept.
For some reason, as Fletch looks at Jac in that hospital bed, he just wants to comfort her. Jac Naylor the immovable force looks so delicate. The desire to comfort isn’t a knew feeling for the new director of nursing; he is used to caring for people it doesn’t matter to him who it is. He does his best to treat his patients in a calm, caring and collected way. He helps fix those who are broken. Just like Jac.
Yes, he wants to comfort her; not for the first time, not even for the second. He doesn’t know the extent of the lengths he’d go to for Jac Naylor at this point but he’s getting dangerously close to doing anything for her. However, she’s called the Ice Queen for a reason, no need to get his hopes up. He tries to think of anything else but instead of anything helpful only questions circled in his mind: ‘Has it only been a month since she was crying in his arms overwhelmed by emotion? Has it only been a month since she was shot? Has it only been a month since Raf…?’
Fletch stops his thoughts from moving into even more unwanted territory whilst his eyes flash back up from the abandoned paperwork to Jac’s slight form. She is restless in her bed, hating every second of her stint as a patient; she hates even the thought of being trapped on the ward and having no control over every little thing that happens here.
‘Jac Naylor is so strong’ Fletch reaffirms for the positive, ‘stronger than any rock.’
It had surprised him before when he was the only one who noticed when her cracks started the show but then again, he had been watching her with interest for longer than he would be willing to admit to anyone. He was just surprised that she had let him in for just a brief moment; the indomitable Jac Naylor had faltered before his very eyes. Now Fletch knows that beneath that hard shell and stone-like exterior Jac has a soft underbelly. He knows that she is truly sensitive and caring behind her posturing for power and verbal beat downs of her departmental staff. Jac just doesn’t like to show what she considers to be vulnerabilities.
Fletch supposes that this is a trait he and Jac share though the motivation comes from a different place. While Jac refuses to show many emotions except for cold indifference, Fletch overcompensates and tries to express to the best of his ability how he’s feeling. He overcompensates for so much because, just like Jac, he doesn’t want to fail anymore. He doesn’t want to repeat mistakes like he has often done in the past which is something Jac has called him out on.
When exactly did they get so close that they could easily talk about the other’s weaknesses in a setting other than a work-related rivalry? He can’t remember when they got so close; close enough for the both of them to see when the other is at their weakest.
Fletch wonders a mile a minute as he looks at her about how they had gotten to this point in their time together where she can see his insecurities about not being good enough for his job just as he can see her latent grief and anxiety about her sister. Was it purely because they were in each other’s company more? When exactly did she become the person he sought out when he entered a room? When did she become such an important person in his lift? When exactly did they become friends? When did he start wanting more?
‘What would Raf say about it?’
Fletch freezes in his seat as his body catches up to his mind’s speedy questions. It doesn’t matter what Raf would say about anything now – he’s dead.
After a few brief breaths to gather his wits, Fletch looks back down on his work. He stands up and moves in the direction of his office space instead of messing around in the public area. Fletch goes back to work relenting that Jac isn’t the only one who is hurting. Everyone is hiding some sort of pain and maybe it’s better to pretend to be a rock when being human hurts so much.