Chapter Text
Chapter Thirteen
Maya didn’t think she would get used to essentially living in a hospital room but here she was in a comfortable silence reading with her wife beside her, studying an article for her research.
Since their reconciliation, this was a familiar scene for the pair with the slight alteration that Maya could now turn the page of her book with her healing hand, if a little awkwardly.
As Maya reached the end of the chapter, her gaze slid over to her wife frowning at the laptop screen that undoubtedly displayed words that Maya would need to get a few degrees to have any hope of understanding.
The doctor’s brow was also pinched tightly, but not in the manner it would be when she’s concentrating on her work, which Maya would have happily stared at for longer to take in the adorableness of the woman she married.
Placing the book down, Maya asked, breaking the hour-long silence, “Hey, is everything okay? Did someone debunk your research or something?”
“What?” Carina blinked, taking a moment to realise that it was Maya who had interrupted her concentration, “No, pleasure cannot be debunked.”
“Trust me, I know,” Maya replied, raising her brows suggestively, enjoying the way that Carina’s cheeks brightened as she adjusted herself on her seat.
Briefly, Maya did feel a pang in her chest though.
None of her doctors had yet to broach the topic of how sex would work in her condition, Maya knew before herself that all of the parts worked as well as before but she could envision logistical issues without the use of her legs. She didn’t allow this to show on her face, while she remained an inpatient of Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital.
They were some way from having to figure that out.
Carina closed the laptop, confirming Maya’s suspicion that the expression was not related to the article, so the firefighter morphed her face into a more serious one and asked, “What’s up?”
Pulling her chair closer to the bed, Carina let out a long breath, “I have my appointment with Dr Harris soon.”
Understanding passed over Maya immediately.
As much progress as they had made with Diane in their sessions together, Dr Lewis had urged Carina to arrange an individual therapy session with someone impartial.
This would give her a place to say things that she couldn’t in front of her wife.
Carina tried to argue that wasn’t necessary but had been convinced upon Maya agreeing with Diane.
Before she began her own therapeutic journal, she may have been affronted that there was anything that her wife couldn’t tell her but she could see now that it was healthier to have a space to process things first.
Dr Harris, Grey-Sloan’s staff therapist, had been the obvious choice, especially with Carina’s schedule of research, delivering babies and taking every opportunity to be at her recovering wife’s side.
“Oh, that’s today?” Maya asked. She was usually one to have a calendar memorised but the passage of time was not exactly easy to track in this hospital room.
Carina nodded before reluctantly inquiring, “Were you nervous before your first session?”
“Diane didn’t really give me the chance to be,” Maya recalled, “She kind of showed up at the door. I completely forgot about the appointment while I was cleaning.”
“And…was it helpful?” Carina’s apprehension now tinged with hope.
Maya took a second to cast her mind back.
With the exhaustion, and physical and emotional pain, it was all a bit of a blur admittedly, but the results were clear to her.
“Well, she convinced me to sleep…and arrange more sessions,” Carina nodded slowly and Maya added, “You know, you don’t have to commit to a therapist, right?”
Carina deflated into her chair and admitted, “I feel like such a hypocrite. I wanted you to get help but I really don’t want to do this.”
Her right hand took a moment to respond but it stiffly managed to land atop Carina’s as Maya reassured, “You still made the appointment. Just take it one step at a time? The next step is to go to his office.”
Carina turned her hand to tangle their fingers, not applying too much pressure, aware that it was not yet one hundred per cent pain-free.
“What are the chances that Dr Harris will be as good as Diane?” Carina mused, the pride that came with Maya demonstrating the dividends of her therapy bubbling up, “I should go.”
“I’ll be right here,” Maya replied.
Standing over her, Carina hesitated again before leaning down to press her lips against Maya’s cheek.
As she straightened, Carina said, “I’ll see you soon, bambina.”
Maya grinned, watching her go until the door closed behind her and she plucked the book back up, revelling in how well things were going between them.
If she was comparing it to the passionate start of their relationship it may seem painfully slow but the strides were immense when one considered that she wouldn’t allow her in the room not too long ago.
Resolving to pass the length of Carina’s appointment with her book, Maya only got through a paragraph before there was a tentative knock at the door.
Laying the book down, Maya braced herself for an assessment from one of her many healthcare providers, a student if the lack of confidence in the knock was any indication, she called, “Come in.”
The reveal from behind the opening door banished the good mood Maya was in, even with her cheek still tingly under the effects of the kiss.
Captain Beckett, appearing distinctly like a lost puppy and wearing casual clothes entered, the sorrow in his eyes almost too much for Maya to handle.
Pushing up on her elbow, she did her best to drag up the dead weight that was her legs so that she could sit straight, or as close as she could.
With her jaw clenched under his exuding pity, she greeted, curtly, “Captain Beckett.”
The nervous wringing of his hands fanned the flames of Maya’s irritation. Why in the world would he be here? Why did he need to be nervous when he was the only one in the room capable of easily walking out and away from this unannounced, and unasked-for, conversation?
“It’s just Beckett now actually,” he corrected.
“Why?” Maya frowned deeply. There had never been a hint that the department was investigating Beckett because of her accident beyond him having it clarified that he had given her ample time to get out after calling an evacuation. There hadn’t been a mention from Andy or Vic that the captain had done anything particularly egregious in the time that had elapsed since Maya had last been able to step foot into Station 19.
His response was the last answer she ever would have guessed, “I’m stepping down, I need to go to rehab.”
Maya’s eyebrows shot up.
A part of her wanted more details of what had led him to this decision, specifically whether anything had happened to another member of her team, but this was not the most pertinent information here. After all, she wasn’t at a point in her life anymore where the intricacies of the fire station impacted her.
“Well…I’m glad you figured that out before something happened,” she said, the closest to commending this man that she would ever come, “But why are you telling me?”
“Because….” he shuffled uncomfortably, taking in a deep breath through the presumably rehearsed words, “Something did happen to a member of my team…I wasn’t drunk on that call but I wasn’t sober either.”
This momentarily poured accelerant onto the rage that Maya had tried to contain for weeks since she had chosen not to be angry with her wife.
If there was a different captain at that scene, would she not be here?
She would have the use of her legs and it wouldn’t hurt to simply lift her arm. Rather than an eternity being poked and prodded in the name of recovery, she would still be allowed to run into burning buildings, the most adrenaline-inducing portion of her weeks wouldn’t be her physiotherapy sessions.
There was another side to the life she had been living, though. Her days off involved loneliness outside of her sessions with Dr Lewis.
It was an image of herself alone in her bunk at Station 19 struggling to come up with a single thing that she deserved that began to extinguish some of her anger towards the uninvited man.
She doubted that a day would ever go by where she wouldn’t wish that the injury was not quite so severe, but she had also unexpectedly gained a lot since the suffocation of first registering that there was no feeling in her legs.
Plus, in the time since then, Sean Beckett had occupied very little of her mental capacity, why change that now!
Through a shaking breath, which expelled a lot of the tension that had overcome her, Maya asked, “And…have you told Ross this?”
Beckett winced at her words but then realised that it was just a question and not the admonishment he had likely been anticipating. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard and confirmed, “I have.”
“And she told you to come here?”
“Pretty sure she’d be pissed to know I am,” he laughed in a stilted manner but adjusted back to seriousness when Maya stared back, utterly unimpressed, “I couldn’t start the programme without talking to you.”
“I don’t think that reconciliation is the first step?” Maya deadpanned, not seeing how she could be expected to make him feel better.
He swallowed hard again and then lamented, “You almost died under my command.”
“You ordered an evacuation, everything I did after that isn’t your fault,” she reasoned.
You knew first-hand that trying to shoulder blame for everything that firefighters under your command was a heavy weight to bare, which was perhaps why she hadn’t once thought about laying blame at Beckett’s feet.
“You should have had more time,” he argued, passing a shaking hand over his forehead, “If I hadn’t been…”
“Everyone else got out,” Maya interrupted, “I chose to stay behind and look for Dylan, it was my decision.
He remained unconvinced. Maya thought about sending him away but the memory of a bottle was enough to remind her that she was not blameless in the strain of their professional relationship.
“Look Beckett,” she sighed, figuring that if this was likely to be the last time they ever saw each other, it couldn’t hurt to show some compassion, “There are a lot of things you did that I never would have but I do know what it’s like to run a scene. There are protocols to follow but we can’t predict everything, especially when someone doesn’t follow a direct order.”
“But we can try and I should have tried harder,” Beckett insisted, though he kept his distance glued in place in the centre of the room. He grimaced as he continued, “When I saw you impaled when you were coding, I should have cared more, but I was just so numb. And I’m sorry, Bishop. I guess…I just wanted to say…I am glad that you pulled through.”
Maya considered him for a moment, coming to the conclusion that he was being sincere.
She wasn’t sure that she could ever be numb in the face of a member of her team sustaining such catastrophic injuries, but she could sympathise with having to process trauma after trauma that could lead to it.
After losing Pruitt Herrera and then Dean Mills, was it inconceivable that her teammates could have been numb if she hadn’t pulled through. Hadn’t she read somehow that there was only so much that the human brain could process?
As much as it grieved her to compliment Beckett, even in her own mind, wasn’t it a good thing that he had recognised that someone in a leadership position should address cut an obvious issue that was not caring about those who he was charged with keeping safe?
He could have easily kept his position until something tragic occurred, either due to his alcoholism or his indifference.
Going with the philosophy that not giving in to anger was better for her than the alternative, Maya said, “I don’t forgive you for everything, Beckett, but I don’t blame you for this and…I am sorry for giving you that bottle.”
“It was my choice to drink it,” he shook his head.
“Just like it was mine to stay in that building,” Maya retorted and Beckett looked down, nodding reluctantly, “I don’t think we’ll ever be friends, but maybe we don’t have to hate each other?”
Beckett dragged his gaze up, cautiously, “That was more than I expected,” he admitted.
“I hope rehab goes well for you, Beckett,” she said, sincerely.
Glancing at the wheelchair briefly, as if it was a taboo, he replied, “You too, Bishop,” he was about to retreat but thought better of it and added, “As your not friend who you don’t hate, you should accept the medal.”
Hunching her shoulders, Maya clenched her jaw again, “I didn’t save anyone.”
“You were the reason that family left that building before the floor collapsed,” he insisted, “You saved the parents and the baby and we all know you would have done anything to help Dylan if he was in there. That kind of bravery is celebrated for a reason, not everyone would have done what you did.”
Unconsciously, Maya slid her left palm down her leg, still not entirely used to the lack of response to the touch as she looked over to the wheelchair.
Images of having to be lifted onto a stage that probably would have been set up without consideration for one of the recipient’s ability to stand assaulted her. Of course, she would then need to be carried down after clutching the hunk of metal.
Was that really the valour that Seattle Fire Department wanted to promote?
Sean Beckett was the last person in the world who she would want to discuss this with, though his points didn’t sound quite so hollow when compared to those who cared about her urging her to accept, she replied, non-committed, “I’ll think about it.”
“I’ll…see you later, Bishop,” he began to retreat, the tension that had been in his shoulder when he entered lessened significantly.
Maya was content to let him go, but a thought occurred to her and she asked, just as he got to the door, “The next captain of 19…it will be Herrera, right?”
“That was the recommendation I made to Ross,” Beckett confirmed.
“God,” Maya sighed, at least something good would come out of all of this.
After a tentative smile, Beckett slipped out and Maya reached over to grab the notebook on the table beside her, not even thinking before instinctively giving in to the need to journal.
How else would she parse out how she felt about the most unexpected interaction she’d had in recent memory. Slowly, she wrote the date out, holding the pen at an odd angle with no small amount of pain, though, it wasn’t unbearable enough to make her stop prematurely.
Maya blinked and then surveyed her efforts, it was messy but not illegible.
It would be a slow process but she could conceivably write the entry before Carina returned from her appointment. It was Carina’s handwriting on the previous page that had her opt to tear out the one that she had written on.
She didn’t want to give up the most effective form of communication so would simply wait for her wife to return.
Perhaps now that she could physically write, she could return the favour?
S
When Carina booked the session with Dr Harris, she had envisioned an hour of silence. At least Diane already had some of the background so was better equipped to draw information out of her, especially when she had Maya with her to offer encouraging smiles.
As a physician, Carina could understand Diane’s recommendation, if she had a patient who needed their significant other there to talk, it would at least raise some red flags that she would have to address.
The problem was that it wasn’t so easy to see her own life through a purely medical lens, there was simply too much to cover.
Dr Harris was an exceedingly relaxed man, assuring her that he hoped they could work together on anything she wanted to discuss and that they could go at a pace that suited her.
When Carina opened her mouth to answer his question regarding what brought her here, she thought that she was just going to tell him that she had been so close to losing the love of her life while they were estranged.
Instead, she found herself going from the beginning, mentioning her mother, father, and brother and then her strained marriage and Maya’s injuries and prognosis. It all came out at a rapid clip so it was more the cliff notes than a complete biography that would have taken much more than an hour.
As she came to the end, she blew out a long breath, sure that she had scared him off. There had to be some cases that were not worth the standard rate, right?
“I know it is all a lot…” she began but trailed off as she dragged her eyes up to find he was looking back at her in much the same serene way as before, other than a slight tilt of his head.
He at least appeared to be as calm as Diane, did that mean that he would be just as sure of his advice?
Raising his pen from the pad on his crossed leg, his response seemed to support Carina’s growing confidence in him, “It is, you have had a lot to process and I applaud you for willingly seeking a place to talk about it.”
“Willingly may be a strong word,” Carina sighed, sinking back into the admittedly comfortable couch. He tilted his head further so she clarified, “I was encouraged to be here.”
“But you are here voluntarily?”
“Of course I am,” she reassured, smoothing out the momentary crease on his forehead.
“Then accepting others’ advice is a good thing,” Dr Harris reasoned.
Carina hummed, “So…where would you suggest starting with…everything?”
“That is entirely up to you,” he replied.
Carina bit the inside of her cheek thoughtfully.
She knew why she was here and it wasn’t just because of Diane’s suggestion. She wanted to do whatever it would take to make sure that she and Maya would be going home together when she was eventually discharged.
If she was right about Maya’s ultimate diagnosis, which Dr Shepherd was waiting for more data to give definitively, their lives would involve accommodations and adjustments but she would do whatever it took.
Perhaps more importantly, she would do anything to make Maya believe that she was in this for the long haul.
Carina pressed her lips together, searching for the right place to start. Even with all of her surprising candour about the past, the obvious choice was her main source of anxiety about the future. This was why she shifted with a cough to clear her throat before she replied, “Maya’s mobility…I don’t think she has realised how unlikely it is that she will ever walk again.”
Dr Harris hummed, “As a doctor, you understand the reality better than most, but you are Maya’s wife, not her doctor. I assume that Dr Shepherd is on her case?” Carina nodded, shocked at how easily and quickly he came up with this, more so as he continued, “Then leave the discussions of her prognosis to the Chief of Neurosurgery. You should focus on how you’re going to be there for her when she has to face reality, whatever it’s going to be.”
Finding that she agreed with him, Carina sat forward and pressed, “And how would I do that?”
“How has Maya reacted to your attempts in the past?” he inquired, no doubt shepherding her to find the answers for herself.
Recalling how Maya had snapped at her during one of their earlier journalling sessions, Carina said, “She doesn’t like it when I offer medical solutions. But what else am I supposed to do?”
“Well,” Harris pondered, a finger touching his chin, “She can get her medical information from Dr Shepherd. From you, I would wager that reassurances that those challenges will not affect your future will help, she may also need time to accept it all. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“So I could ask her what she needs?” she attempted to clarify.
“Exactly.”
It seemed so obvious but the option had probably been eclipsed by the complexity of recent events and the jumbled emotions that came with them. The simplicity of just asking Maya lifted some weight off her, especially after their recent, open conversations which gave her a decent amount of confidence that she would answer honestly if she asked her what she needed.
“I can do that,” Carina nodded more to herself than to the therapist.
Dr Harris smiled softly as he tapped his pen against his notepad before he glanced at the clock, confirming that their session was shortly coming to an end soon.
“So, we have a little time left,” he announced, “How would you feel about making a game plan for our next session? I would propose we focus more on you than on Maya for a couple of sessions? Help me to better understand your formative experiences before discussing the future?”
Instinctively, Carina wanted to argue that Maya was the most important topic but it wasn’t difficult to imagine Diane’s response to that assertion which meant that Dr Harris would probably be the same if his performance thus far was any indication.
Her desire to focus purely on Maya was likely an issue that needed to be discussed if her desire to keep their relationship stable forever was going to become a reality.
Sinking into the couch, preparing to allow the professional to lead the way, Carina agreed, “That sounds like a good idea.”