Page 8 of Dr. Roz Harrington
“You’ve got this, Ben,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “You’re tougher than you look.”
He gave her a weak grin, but as the ambulance doors closed, Sam felt a wave of helplessness crash over her. For someone so used to being in control, the feeling was unbearable.
As the ambulance sped away, she turned back to the wreckage, her jaw tight and her heart heavy. There was no room for vulnerability here; she still had a job to finish. But as she stepped back into the chaos, her thoughts kept drifting to Ben and to the hospital where he was heading.
And for the first time since the call came in, Sam felt the faint stirrings of relief. She knew exactly who would be waiting for him when he arrived.
Roz Harrington.
The inside of the ambulance felt both too loud and eerily silent at the same time. The wail of the siren outside was relentless, a high-pitched reminder of the urgency pressing down on Sam’s chest. Inside, Ben lay on the stretcher, his usually animated face pale and drawn, his breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps. The paramedics worked quickly, their hands movingwith mechanical precision as they stabilized his shoulder and monitored his vitals.
“Ben,” Sam said firmly, leaning over him. Her voice was steady, but her fingers gripped the edge of the stretcher tightly. “Stay with me, okay? You’re going to be fine.”
He blinked up at her, his dark eyes glassy but flickering with recognition. “Cap…I’m good,” he murmured weakly. “Just…need a nap.”
Sam’s throat tightened, but she managed a small, strained smile. “No naps. Not yet. I need you awake and annoying, remember?”
He huffed a weak laugh that quickly turned into a wince. The sound hit Sam harder than she expected, a sharp pang of worry slicing through her chest. She glanced at the paramedic nearest her, searching for reassurance, but their tight-lipped expression only made the knot in her stomach twist tighter.
Her mind flashed back to Lila. The way she’d clung to life during the collapse, her voice trembling as Sam promised they’d get her out. And then, the moment she had to hand her over to the hospital, to Roz. It wasn’t just about trust; it was about letting go of control, and Sam hated that.
Now, it was Ben. Her crew wasn’t just a team; they were family. Every decision she made was for them, and now she was placing one of her own in the hands of someone else. Her thoughts churned as the ambulance sped toward Harrington Memorial, the weight of leadership pressing heavily on her.
As the ambulance screeched to a halt, the paramedics flung the doors open, and Sam jumped out, staying close as they wheeled Ben into the emergency bay. The bright lights of the hospital were stark and jarring after the smoke and darkness of the rescue scene, and the sharp smell of antiseptic filled the air.
“Let’s move!” a nurse called, rushing alongside the stretcher. “Trauma team, OR two!”
Sam followed, her boots echoing against the tile floor. She wasn’t about to leave Ben’s side, not until she knew exactly who would be taking care of him. And then, as the stretcher turned the corner, she saw her.
Roz Harrington.
Roz appeared with the same commanding presence that had haunted Sam’s thoughts since the charity event. Her choppy pink hair was tucked beneath a surgical cap, but there was no mistaking the sharp green eyes that swept over Ben with laser focus. Roz’s calm, steady voice cut through the chaos as she assessed the situation.
“BP is dropping. Prep for a thoracotomy if the bleeding doesn’t stop,” Roz instructed, her tone clipped but controlled. She barely glanced at Sam before continuing. “We’re taking him to the OR now.”
“Wait,” Sam interjected, stepping forward. Her protective instincts flared as she placed a hand on the edge of the stretcher. “What’s the plan? What exactly are you doing?”
Roz finally turned her gaze to Sam, her expression cool and professional. “His injuries are severe. There’s internal bleeding we need to stop, his shoulder damage is worse than it looks, and he could have possibly neurological damage. We’re going to stabilize him in surgery.”
“How risky is this?” Sam’s voice was sharp, but her blue eyes betrayed the fear she was trying to keep at bay. “This isn’t just some random patient, he’s?—”
Roz cut her off, her tone firm but not unkind. “I know who he is to you, Captain Quinn. And I know what I’m doing.”
Sam bristled. “You don’t get to dismiss me like that. I need to know he’s not a gamble.”
Roz’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of frustration crossing her face. “This isn’t a gamble. It’s a calculated decision based on what’s best for him. I know you’re worried, but this is my expertise. Let me do my job.”
The tension between them was palpable, thickening the air around them. Sam’s jaw tightened, her protective instincts warring with the logical part of her that knew Roz was probably the best person for the job. But the stakes were too high, and her emotions were too raw.
“Just make sure you’re not rushing into this,” Sam said, her voice lower but no less charged. “He’s not just another case file.”
Roz’s gaze softened, if only for a moment. “I know,” she said quietly, the edge in her tone easing. “And I don’t take that lightly.”
The words caught Sam off guard, disarming her just enough to let Roz slip back into surgeon mode. Without waiting for more protests, Roz turned to the trauma team. “Let’s go. Every second counts.”
Sam watched as they wheeled Ben away, her heart pounding. She hated this, hated feeling powerless, hated the way Roz managed to unnerve her with that infuriating combination of confidence and competence.
For a moment, Sam just stood there, her fists clenched at her sides as the sound of rushing footsteps and muffled voices filled the hallway. Roz Harrington had once again taken control of the situation, and Sam didn’t know whether to be grateful or furious.
