Chapter Text
She sees him, and for the first time in her life, Emma wants to hide.
Ordinarily, she can keep a cool head: exams are a breeze, she can talk down angry patients easily, and she hadn't even cried when Joey Martin broke up with her on her birthday in front of all his friends (at a house party he had driven her to!). Granted, she had cried as soon as the Uber dropped her home, but not in front of him. Never in front of others.
It's what makes her so good at her job. She does it fast, she does it well, she does it without complaint or hesitation. She just keeps swimming, all water off a duck's back.
Which is why she is so blindsided by how her nervous system reacts to him.
A fizzing feeling starts up inside her. A low, tingling sensation.
Nerves.
He does look quite intimidating, with his sharp features, and his slicked back hair. She wants to duck under the desk or turn away, press her back against a wall. But Emma doesn't run, she doesn't hide. She faces things head on, and with optimism. Or as much of it as she can garner, anyway.
"Who is that?" Her voice squeaks a little, making her cringe. Thankfully, Dana doesn't seem to have caught it, she just looks up, following Emma's finger.
"Ah. That's Dr. Park. Ortho."
He turns, as if sensing his name. Emma whips her hand down, face burning, but he's looking past the nurses station to Trauma 2. Turned this way, she gets a better angle on him.
He's tall, broad, cutting. Cold eyes. Colder air.
She shivers, in spite of herself.
"Listen," Dana continues, "I'm not one to gossip, but where it concerns Dr. Park, it's worth you knowing. They call him The Shark, and for good reason. Top of the food chain, that one. You find yourself on a case with him, you'd better bring your A-game. He can smell weakness at one part per 25 mil." She chuffs a laugh, then rolls her eyes at Emma's pinched look of confusion. "Anyway. You're a good nurse, so don't worry about it. Just don't expect sunshine and smiles from Shark, alright? You do your job, you keep to yourself, and he won't bother ya."
She pats Emma's shoulder.
Across the floor, hospital staff are giving Dr. Park a wide berth. Whitaker, busy with a chart, almost walks into him, earning a snapping remark that has the poor boy's face draining of colour.
Emma fiddles with the stationery in front of her, straightening and tidying so she'll stop staring at him.
Blue pens to the left, markers to the right. Scissors, tissue boxes. Spare badge clips. Ooh—someone has left a custom clip here, a teddy bear with a pink bow. How cute. She makes a mental note to order some cute badge clips for herself. Way better than stickers.
"Dana."
Deep voice. Softly spoken, coming from far above her head. Emma doesn't need Dana's greeting to know who it is.
"Park! What can I do for ya?"
"I have a ORIF in twenty minutes and the OR is having some kind of staffing shortage. I need a nurse. Smart, careful."
The tingling in Emma's stomach intensifies. If she stands very still and avoids eye-contact, he won't ask for her.
"Yeah, yeah, you only come down here to snap at my staff or poach them, I shouldda known."
He says nothing.
"Alright—Princess! You're going up to Ortho!"
Robby, passing by, speaks over his shoulder. "Nope. I need Princess in South 15 with me right now. Find someone else." He jerks his head meaningfully at Emma, who opens and shuts her mouth a few times.
Dana sighs. "Fine. Park, this is Emma, my newbie. She's good, but still pretty green. You be nice to her, or I'll make you into soup, ya hear me?"
Dr. Park cocks a brow, but doesn't say anything, instead flitting his eyes over Emma.
His gaze is brutal and unwavering.
She waits for him to turn her down, to snap at her like he had Whitaker.
Instead, she watches as his eyes catch on her hip. For a few crashing seconds, Emma panics that her scrubs are bunched up, and he can see the tops of her yellow heart underwear, but a smoothing hand over her sides tells her she's being ridiculous. Nothing out of place. Even her badge is clipped straight.
He doesn't say hello, offer his hand, doesn't even nod. He just turns back to Dana.
"I'll need her upstairs in fifteen."
Unlike other surgeries she has scrubbed in for, Dr. Park's is eerily quiet. Just the wet sound of peeling tissue, the metallic thud of instruments being passed back and forth, and the attending's soft, dangerous voice.
"Ten blade."
Blood wells over the orange of the antiseptic.
Clink. "Wheaty. Williams, you take over this."
There is the shuffling of scrubs, and the squeak of trainers against linoleum.
"Forceps. The Deb—good."
Emma holds her breath. Good. Good. Good.
She watches as he nimbly moves vessels and nerves, holding them away from the bone. It's beautiful, how steady his hands are.
"Rongeur. Ready lap sp—thank you, Emma."
She doesn't miss the way the room stills, residents exchanging alarmed looks. The resident by Dr. Park, Williams, takes the sponge, dabbing away fragments of bone.
"You're welcome," she whispers, and then feels silly, because everyone can hear her in this silent theatre anyway.
Ninety minutes later, and Dr. Park is ripping the gown from his body, stuffing it into the bio-hazard bin. Cap. Mask. He turns, crosses his arms, and stares at her for a long while. She meets his eye and tries to blink normally.
Finally, he nods. Just once.
A smile bubbles up, spreading across her face. She did well. He's pleased with her.
She's still grinning like an idiot into the sink when the door swings shut behind him.