CHAPTER NINE
no more tears.
season two, episode two.

          MEREDITH, CRISTINA, AND CASSIE WERE SPRAWLED ACROSS THE BATHROOM, coming down from a long night of drinking (minus Cristina, who had spent the night indulging in a couple pints of ice cream).

Meredith was hunched over by the toilet, Cristina sat grumpily in the shower tub, and Cassie was seated against the far wall, her gaze focused blankly on tbe bathroom tile. For a girl who found herself waking up at the crack of dawn almost daily, she probably shouldn't have kept drinking until midnight.

Whatever. She wasn't alone in her misery.

Meredith was drunk because her and Derek broke up, Cristina was upset because her and Burke broke up and she was pregnant with his child, and Cassie was simply trying to forget the fact that the calendar read June 20th.

It was just like any other day.

"It's not us," Meredith slurred slightly. "It's them. Them and their stupid boy penises. They didn't tell me they had a wife. They lied to you. They gave absolutely no warning that they were gonna break up with you."

From inside the shower, Cristina scoffed.

"It's not that Burke broke up with me, it's how he broke up with me. Like it was business. Like it was a business transition, like he's the boss of me!"

"He is the boss of you," Meredith cut in.

"And what's worse, is that I care."

"I'm gonna throw up again. No. Wait. False alarm."

Cristina sighed. "Look, the problem is estrogen."

"No, the problem is tequila."

"I used to be all business, and then he goes and gets me pregnant."

"With the stupid boy penis."

"Now, I'm having hormone surges. He ruined me. I'm ruined. He turned me into this fat, stupid, pregnant girl. Estrogen!"

The conversation flew right over Cassie's head. It wasn't the hangover that made her feel lightheaded today, but for her own peace of mind, she pretended it was. It was easier than facing reality. A persistent ache grew in her stomach the longer she was conscious. Cassie did was she did best, and pretended it wasn't there at all.

Izzie and George entered the bathroom. The three of them likely painted an very interesting picture.

"Penises, Izzie."

"Estrogen, George."

Cassie said nothing, keeping her eyes on the blank spot of the wall. June 20th.

"Okay," George turned to Izzie, "What did I miss?"

"I came home to full on vomit drama," Izzie pointed to Meredith. "Apparently, she dumped Derek, and—" she pointed to Cristina "—she's been sleeping with Burke."

"I knew that," George waved her off, before he looks at Cassie, who was abnormally quiet. "What about her?"

"She, uh," Izzie thought. "Actually, I don't know what her problem is."

And look, it wasn't Izzie's fault that today was what it was. It wasn't her fault that Cassie wanted nothing more than to scream and cry and punch the wall and rip her own hair out. It wasn't her fault that Cassie was arguably in one of the worst moods of her life. It wasn't her fault that when she opened her mouth to respond—

"None of your business, is what it is," the girl in question snapped, not moving her gaze from the wall. Everyone raised their brows at her tone, until George graciously changed the subject.

The alcohol from the night before must have messed with her brain to mouth filter. Oops.

"So, uh, Meredith, you really broke up with Shepherd?"

Meredith blinked. "I feel empty."

"Two hours of vomiting will do that to you," Izzie joked.

"No, I feel empty."

"You're lucky," Cristina said. "I feel pissed off."

Cassie just kept staring at the wall, dreading the day ahead of her.

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On any other day, a multi-car pileup leading to a busy day in the pit would be exciting. Something to look forward to, even.

Today, Cassie didn't have the energy.

"Male, 55, victim of a head-on collision. GCS is 3. Depressed skull fracture. Multiple internal injuries. ACLS protocol started, but was vein blew so we've been pushing meds down the tube. PEA on arrival," the medic informed as he wheeled out a patient.

Maybe, the universe was attempting to be kind when it gave her a dead guy as a patient.

The trauma bay was busy with ambulances and doctors, rushing and shouting and ordering meds. Bailey and her interns were one of many groups in the area—hopefully, all of the patients would get assigned before Cassie would be put on a long and strenuous surgery. Or, maybe that's exactly what she needed. A distraction.

"How long has he been down?" Bailey asked.

"We've been doing CPR for about 20 minutes. It took fire 20 minutes to get him out of the car. He's pretty much gone."

Cassie took one look at him, and agreed.

It never got easier to see people on the brink of death. She did get used to the feeling relatively quick, though.

"He's not gone until we say he's gone," Bailey disagreed. "He's coding. O'Malley, Harper, take him to Trauma 2."

George furrowed his brows. "But he's dead."

Cassie rolled her eyes. Couldn't he just listen to Bailey without crying about it? Even if the guy is a goner, they have to try until they've exhausted every single option available. It was their oath. Is George stupid? Is George a fucking idiot? Cassie should tell him he's stupid—

(She forced the rage-induced thoughts away.)

Bailey seemed to share the sentiment. "Did you not hear me? He's not dead until we say he's dead. You know what to do, so do it. Move."

Cassie silently followed the gurney into the trauma room, passing by George who stood there unmoving.

"But... he's dead."

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After attempting to save the patients life countless times with no change, Cassie was beginning to grow bored. She kept pushing, though, just in case a miracle were to happen.

Somebody deserves one.

"Harper, O'Malley," Bailey called, entering the trauma room after checking on more urgent patients. Cassie glanced up, her movements subconsciously sluggish. "Oh, pericardiocentesis. Good. Any response?"

Cassie shook her head. The resident's eyes lingered on her own for a moment, not noticeable unless you were paying attention. She really hoped she wasn't doing something wrong. Today was just... she just wanted it to be over.

"Okay, uh, alright. You guys can—"

"Should I call it?" George cut her off.

Bailey raised a brow. "What would you do next, O'Malley?"

"I would call it."

"To save him."

"Oh, uh, I don't know," he shrugged helplessly.

"A pericardial window," Cassie answered. Her voice sounded raw even to her own ears.

"Excellent. Do it," Bailey nodded.

George opened his mouth to protest, but Cassie cut him off before he could so much as get a word out. "Seriously?" she scoffed loudly, startling the group. "Honestly, George, just do your job, and quit whining about it like an overgrown toddler."

George gaped at her.

Oops. Again.

It wasn't like—look, Cassie loved George. He was one of the closest friends she'd made in her short time at the hospital. But sometimes he just—it was just that—no, it wasn't even his fault. Any other day, Cassie may have agreed. Any other day, she'd laugh at his bitching and moaning, maybe find amusement in it.

But today?

Today, she just wanted to yell at someone about something. It wasn't personal to him at all. The realization made guilt creep into the corners of her mind.

"Okay," Bailey said slowly, looking at her intern with concern. "Uh, Harper—" she paused, "—O'Malley's got this, why don't you check on the patient in bed four."

She nodded, and felt too badly to meet George's eyes as she left the room.

Bed four, a thirty-something year old woman and her daughter. The kid couldn't have been over five or six. She held her mom's hand, sitting beside her on the thin ER bed. As Cassie approached, the mom said something, and the girl giggled, leaning further into her side.

Cassie swallowed what felt like glass.

"Hello there," she kindly greeted the patient, pulling out her chart. "I'm Dr. Harper, I'll be taking care of you today."

"Nice to meet you," the woman smiled through a wince, clutched a cut and loosely bandaged hand close to her chest. "Wish it were under better circumstances."

"Uh, Lena Richards, in for some stitches after an accidental cut?" Cassie verified, and continued when she received a nod. "It looks like you missed the veggies and went straight for your skin, huh."

Lena winced. "That's me. Hurts like a bitch."

"The pain should go away in a few days or so," Cassie informed her, gathering her supplies and sterilizing the wound. "Alright, before I begin, do you have any medical conditions or allergies I should know about?"

"Nope," Lena sighed, and then continued on as if it was even a little bit funny in the slightest,"Unless stage four breast cancer counts."

Cassie froze.

"Breast cancer?"

"That's why I'm here, really," she continued, not noticing the change in her doctor's demeanor. Her daughter played with the bottom hem of her shirt, completely obvious, and Cassie's gut twisted. "My meds make me so dizzy. Guess I shouldn't take them before wielding sharp objects. And, you know, in my stage, lightheadedness is—"

"Even more common than usual," Cassie cut her off, hands shaking slightly. "Yeah, um, I-I'll actually be right back, I have to, um, I'll get someone else to take care of this, I-I'm sorry."

The universe? Kind? As if.

Despite Lena's confusion, she stood up, abandoning her supplies and paging another doctor to cover for her as she speedily left the area.

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[ 5 MISSED CALLS ]

MARK <3 [ 5:03 AM ]
MARK <3 [ 7:32 AM ]
DENNY <333 [ 7:56 AM ]
MARK <3 [ 9:28 AM ]
MAMA SHEP [ 9:29 AM ]

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As if her phone constantly buzzing in her pocket wasn't enough, whatever higher power was out there had decided to make her day even worse. Because somehow, that was still possible.

Not only had Derek lied, but he'd failed to apologize whatsoever. Forgiveness came easily to her usually. Especially with Derek. But he'd never lied to her before now—not about something like this, not about anything that actually mattered. He'd lied, and hadn't even said he's sorry.

Now, as he rapidly approached coming from the opposite end of the hallway, Cassie wondered if she pretended like she couldn't see him that he wouldn't be able to see her either.

"Cass! I've been looking for you all day," Derek grinned.

Her footsteps slowed to a stop. Avoidance didn't seem to be cutting it, today. Yelling was next on the agenda.

Cassie blinked. "Okay."

Derek faltered, but the smile quickly returned to his cheeks as held out a small box. Cassie recognized it as one from her favorite New York cupcake bakery—something he must've paid a lot of money to have shipped across the country and remain fresh. She almost gave a fuck.

"Take it," he smiled.

"I'm good, thanks."

Losing his smile, Derek sighed heavily. "Look, I know you're still mad at me, and that today isn't your favorite day of the year, but you still deserve to celebrate," he said with sympathy.

"Celebrate,"  Cassie repeated, sharp on her tongue like it was laced with venom. "You know, I can think of about a million ways you've pissed me off this week, but that seriously takes the cake. Pun intended."

He stared down at her, all pity and regret and sad puppy dog eyes, and she could feel an all too familiar anger fester in her chest. In an effort to push it away, she brushed past him, trying to leave with whatever dignity she still had left.

"Hey, you know I understand, Cass. I just wanted to talk to you, maybe we could—"

Cassie flipped around, not being able to control her emotions as she yelled. "Leave me alone, Derek! I don't want to see you, I don't want to talk to you, and I don't want to be around you. How could I possibly make it any more obvious?!"

Any words he was planning to say died on the tip of Derek's tongue.

Unlike with George, she couldn't find it in herself to feel badly about it—well, she could, but it was far easier to pretend this time. At least Derek somewhat deserved it.

Derek didn't move, and so Cassie left.

She only managed to make it around the corner before she stopped in her tracks at a familiar voice. No, several familiar voices.

"What was that all about?"

That was Meredith, Cassie recognized, speaking to Derek despite her distain for him. A few unintelligible murmurs from the rest of the interns, and Cassie began to regret screaming in the middle of the hospital. Bad judgement on her part, admittedly.

Then, like a record scratch, Derek responded—

"It's Cassie's 25th birthday."

A liar and a terrible secret keeper.

Not that her birthday was a secret, exactly, but more so that Derek knew full well how much she hated it. He knew she didn't tell anyone because she hated it. He knew she'd be pissed if he told the interns, and he did anyway.

"Her birthday?" Izzie gasped. "Why didn't she tell us?"

"No, why is she acting so... like that?" George wondered, and Cassie reminded herself to apologize for snapping at him earlier. When the silence stretched for too long, she peeked around the corner.

No, he wouldn't dare—

"It also happens to be the anniversary of her mother's death," Derek told them, grimacing.

—okay, so maybe he would.

Cassie stormed off before she could hear what any of them had to say.

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If Derek wanted Cassie to forgive him, he had a seriously fucked up way of showing it.

She got sent home.

Never in her twenty four—no, twenty five—years on the planet had she gotten in trouble at school or work. Not that she was necessarily in trouble, but the fact that Derek asked the Chief to give her a day off was enough to send her into a spiral of worry and anxiety. Now the Chief thinks she's someone who needs a day off.

Which she isn't, by the way.

Although, she had to admit—it was nice to spend the rest of her birthday drowning her misery in alcohol.

"Three shots of tequila," she said to Joe, who was behind the bar. He gave her a look. "What?"

"It's eleven in the morning."

Cassie blinked. "I'm a paying customer."

With a shake of his head, Joe complied. Cassie refused herself the reprieve of a chaser as she took one shot, and then the next, and then another. It burned like acid in her throat. It was the first real thing she'd felt all day, aside from anger.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

As she ignored the call and gestured for another round, Joe sent her a look of pity. It burned almost as much as the tequila did.

"I'm gonna need your keys."

She waved him off. "I left them at the hospital. Was just gonna walk home or... something."

Hesitantly, Joe poured her another two shots. It was a slow morning at the bar, probably because they'd opened ten minutes prior and it was the middle of the week. He passed one to her, and just before the edge of the glass touched her lips he asked, "You gonna tell me what's wrong?"

Cassie paused, only for a second, before taking the fourth shot.

"What—" she coughed, her mouth completely dry and throat on fire, "—what makes you think something's wrong?"

"Well, for starters, you're getting hammered on a Tuesday morning. Shouldn't you be at work?"

Cassie sniffled, her eyes watering—only due to the coughing, and definitely for no other reason at all. Her phone buzzed in her pocket again, and she pulled it out so she could press decline and swiftly slam the device onto the sticky wood of the bar.

Joe raised a brow. Cassie sighed.

"I... got sent home."

"So why aren't you at home?"

My home died a year ago, was what she wanted to say, So I can't go home without killing myself, which I can't do because my mom would be really pissed at me in the afterlife, and I don't even want to die, I just want my mom back, but I can't have that either, so now all I have is tequila.

That may have been a bit dark for a Tuesday morning, so she kept it simple.

"Didn't feel like it."

Joe didn't seem to believe her. "Right."

"Also, it's my birthday. 25 this year. Woo hoo," she cheered monotonously. "It's also my the anniversary of my mother's death. One year, on the dot. Lucky me, am I right?"

He floundered for a while, mouth opening and closing like he had no clue what to say before he landed on, "That... that's awful, I... I'm so sorry."

"Oh no, it's fine," Cassie drunkenly waved him off. "While she's rotting in a wooden box, six feet under back in New York, I'm getting day drunk." She took another shot. "All is well."

It went on like that, for a while.

It turns out, Joe was a really good listener. Granted, she was tipping him very well for doing so, but it was nice to have someone to talk to who wasn't Derek. Joe didn't give her so much pity it made her nauseous; he gave her only the right amount, that made her feel seen.

A little too seen, at times.

"Your phone has rang about twenty times since you sat in that chair, ya know."

Cassie sipped her water—mandatory per every two shots was the rule—and shrugged. "I'm not in the mood."

"Who..." Joe paused, unsure. "Who is it?"

A sigh fell through her lips at the question. Mark had stopped calling after she sent a quick I'm fine text. Denny, though—he was nothing if not persistent.

"My, uh, my step-dad."

"You don't wanna talk to him?"

Cassie couldn't help letting out a laugh at that. There was nothing more in the world she wanted to do than talk to Denny. She'd been trying to get him to move to Seattle for the better part of three months, not to mention calling every chance she got. He loved her mom almost as much as she did. She wanted to talk to him, desperately.

"If I talk to him, I'm gonna start crying, and then he'll cry, and I... I really hate when he cries."

He cried a lot, that day, exactly a year ago.

It was the first time she'd seen him so hopeless. That look on his face hadn't gone away since.

No, Cassie didn't want to talk.

Joe didn't ask any other questions, and Cassie didn't say anything to prompt more. Just drank her water until she was hydrated enough for more tequila, stared up at the vaulted ceilings, and tried and failed to forget the date on the calendar.

DENNY <333 [ 2:17 PM ]
I love you, bubbles.

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"How about I call you a ride home?"

It was... what time was it? It was definitely... night. Nighttime. People were in the bar and it was... night.

Wow, Cassie was inebriated.

"Nah, I can walk. Use my legs 'n step step step."

Her fingers made an imitation of legs walking across the bar, and Cassie was very proud of herself for showing Joe exactly how she was going to walk home. Maybe he wouldn't call her a ride if he saw the example. A giggle escaped her mouth when she realized that her fingers could also moonwalk. She hoped Joe was still watching—this was really great stuff. Cassie should've been a professional finger moonwalker instead of a surgeon.

Or a professional drinker.

Speaking of, she should ask Joe for more tequila.

He looked behind her, and then back at her drunk self. "By the way, I called you a ride home."

Cassie followed his gaze, and—ugh.

"Seriously, Joe?" she groaned obnoxiously, seeing Derek approaching them. "You called the fun police?"

Derek was smiling, only a little bit, but it was enough to remind her hazy mind of why she loved him so much. He always made her feel so safe. It's a shame that he was always such a fucking jerk asshole dick bitch—

"Okay," Derek pulled her arm, and she lightly stumbled off the barstool. Belatedly, she realized she was mumbling those insults out loud. "I'm driving you home."

"Mmm... no thank you."

"Cassandra," he sighed.

Derek gently looped an arm around her shoulders anyways, bringing her to his car. She would have protested further, but honestly, having him drive her home sounded a lot better to her than walking. Even if she was the best walker ever. She could've moonwalked home but it would've been hard to do backwards. Maybe Derek wants to see her moonwalk—

A laugh escaped the man's mouth. Cassie wondered if she was saying all that out loud again.

"Derek?"

It had been a few minutes before she spoke. Maybe a few seconds, actually. She doesn't really remember.

His hands gripped the wheel as he spared her a glance, keeping his eyes on the road. "Hm?"

"Cupcake?"

Derek smiled over at her despite the sadness of her situation. "What?"

"My cupcake," she whined, slumping down in her seat. "You got me a cupcake but I didn't eat it yet. Where'd it go?"

"Check the backseat," he laughed, as she quickly unbuckled and snatched it from it's container.

"No, don't—hey, seatbelt—!"

Cassie giggled, nearly falling into the back before finally getting a good grasp on it. Derek sighed heavily once she buckled again; she couldn't be entirely sure, but she's pretty certain that she only did that to piss him off.

The cupcake was shoved into her mouth in one bite. Cassie underestimated it's size, and had to chew with her mouth open, for a while.

"Cass?"

"Wha'?"

Derek swallowed around his own words. Cassie chewed slower, aware of the tense change to the atmosphere but a bit too out of it to really care.

"I really am sorry, you know," he said quietly. "For lying, for calling you, um—"

"Moralistic," Cassie supplied through a mouthful of frosting.

"—yeah, that. Anyways, I don't know how to make it up to you, Cass, and maybe we shouldn't be having this conversation when you're drunk, but I had to say it. I'm so, so sorry, Cassie. I miss you."

Crumpling the cupcake wrapper into a little ball, Cassie responded despite herself. "I know you are," she said simply, not accepting nor denying his apology. "And I miss you too."

There have been worse birthdays, she supposed.