Chapter 4 Roz
ROZ
The end of a long shift was supposed to bring relief, but for Dr. Rosalind Harrington, it only seemed to amplify the weight on her shoulders.
She sat at her desk in the surgical wing, staring at the screen in front of her, though the patient chart was nothing but a blur.
The hospital had quieted for the night, but Roz’s mind churned with the noise of the day, the surgeries, the split-second decisions, and the unrelenting pressure of being the one everyone turned to when things went wrong.
Her thoughts inevitably circled back to the firefighter she’d operated on earlier.
Ben Morales. Young, capable, and full of potential.
She’d been confident in her plan and the surgery had gone well, but the stakes had felt heavier than usual.
Maybe it was the way Sam Quinn had stood outside the OR doors, her piercing blue eyes filled with a mix of worry and defiance, daring Roz to do anything less than her best.
Roz leaned back in her chair, running a hand through her choppy pink hair.
That woman had a way of getting under her skin, challenging her, frustrating her, and now, haunting her thoughts long after she left the hospital.
Sam had thanked her earlier, but the tension in her voice had been palpable, and Roz could still feel the heat of that unspoken challenge: Prove me wrong. Show me you’re worthy of my trust.
Exhaling sharply, Roz closed the chart and stood, grabbing her coat.
It was late, and the exhaustion in her bones begged for sleep.
She slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped into the quiet hallway, the dim light casting long shadows on the walls.
She was halfway to the elevator when she saw her.
Sam Quinn was standing near the ICU, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.
She looked different now, her firehouse uniform replaced by a simple jacket and jeans, her hair slightly mussed as if she’d run her hands through it one too many times.
There was a tiredness in her posture, a vulnerability that Roz hadn’t seen before.
Roz’s first instinct was to turn and leave. She wasn’t in the mood for another verbal sparring match, not tonight. But something stopped her. Maybe it was the way Sam’s shoulders sagged, or the faint shadow of worry in her expression. Whatever it was, Roz found herself walking toward her.
“Captain Quinn,” she said, her voice softer than usual. Sam looked up, and their eyes met. The sharpness Roz had come to expect wasn’t there. Instead, Sam just looked…tired.
“Dr. Harrington.” Sam’s voice was low, steady, but it lacked the usual edge. She uncrossed her arms and straightened, though the tension in her body was still visible.
“You’re here late,” Roz observed, stopping a few steps away.
Sam shrugged, her gaze flickering toward the ICU doors. “Wanted to check on Ben. It didn’t feel right leaving without knowing he was okay.”
Roz nodded, understanding the weight of those words more than she cared to admit. “He’s stable. The surgery went as well as it could have.” She paused. “He’s tough. I think he’ll pull through.”
Sam’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded. “Thanks for that.”
There was a pause, the air between them heavy but not hostile.
For once, Roz didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with sharp words or cutting observations.
Instead, she found herself studying Sam, her broad frame, the way her hands fidgeted slightly at her sides, the exhaustion etched into her strong features.
“You look like you could use a break,” Roz said finally. “The café’s still open. Let me buy you a coffee.”
Sam blinked, clearly surprised. “You don’t strike me as the coffee-and-conversation type.”
Roz smirked faintly. “I’m not. But you look like you need it.”
Sam hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to figure out Roz’s angle. Finally, she sighed. “Fine. One coffee. But if this is some attempt to lecture me, I’m walking out.”
Roz raised an eyebrow, her smirk softening. “Noted.”
The walk to the café was quiet at first, the soft hum of the hospital at night filling the space between them. Roz kept her pace slow, glancing at Sam out of the corner of her eye. The other woman’s usual confidence seemed muted, replaced by a weariness that tugged at something in Roz’s chest.
“You’ve got a lot on your plate,” Roz said finally, her voice low but not unkind.
Sam glanced at her, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“Not like you,” Roz replied, her tone matter-of-fact. “You carry your team like they’re your family. That’s rare.”
Sam looked away, her hands slipping into her jacket pockets. “They are my family,” she said after a moment. “I’m responsible for them. When one of them gets hurt, it’s on me.”
Roz’s footsteps slowed. “You know that’s not true, right? You can’t predict or control everything.”
Sam let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Tell that to the part of my brain that won’t shut up about what I could’ve done differently.”
Roz didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she watched Sam, noting the way her shoulders seemed to hunch under the weight of her words. It was a familiar sight, one she’d seen in the mirror more times than she cared to admit.
When they reached the café, Roz gestured for Sam to sit at a corner table while she ordered. A few minutes later, she returned with two steaming cups of coffee and slid one across the table.
“Thanks,” Sam muttered, wrapping her hands around the cup.
Roz took a sip of her own coffee before speaking. “You’re not the only one who feels like that, you know.”
Sam looked up, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Like what?”
“Like every decision is life or death. Like one wrong move could mean costing a life and losing someone.” Roz’s voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “It’s part of the job, but it doesn’t make it easier to handle when it happens.”
Sam studied her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “You don’t seem like the type to doubt yourself.”
Roz let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “I doubt myself all the time. I just don’t let anyone see it.”
Sam tilted her head slightly, her gaze softening. “Why?”
Roz hesitated, the words catching in her throat. Finally, she said, “Because if people see doubt, they lose faith. And when you’re the one in charge, faith is everything.”
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy with understanding, a quiet acknowledgment of the burdens they both carried. For the first time, Roz felt like she didn’t need to defend herself, didn’t need to prove anything. Sam wasn’t judging her; she was listening.
“Guess we’re not so different after all,” Sam said finally, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
Roz raised an eyebrow, a small smirk forming. “Don’t get carried away, Captain. We’re still different.”
“Sure,” Sam said, her smile growing slightly. “But maybe not as much as we thought.”
Roz didn’t respond.
The quiet hum of the café’s vending machines filled the silence as Roz and Sam sat across from each other.
Their table, tucked into the corner, felt like a small island in the vast sea of the hospital’s late-night stillness.
Roz stirred her coffee, not because it needed it, but because it gave her something to do while the tension between them settled.
Sam leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed loosely, her eyes flicking toward the far wall as if avoiding Roz’s gaze.
The tension between them wasn’t the sharp, combative kind that usually sparked when they spoke.
Tonight, it was quieter, fragile, even, but still charged with something neither of them was quite ready to name.
“I’m not usually one for hospital coffee,” Sam said finally, her tone dry but not unkind. “But this isn’t half bad.”
Roz smirked, lifting her cup in mock salute. “High praise coming from you, Captain.”
Sam snorted, shaking her head. “Don’t push it, Doc.
” There it was, the familiar bite of their banter.
Roz felt a flicker of relief at the exchange, but it faded just as quickly when Sam’s expression softened.
Her posture, though still composed, seemed to sag slightly, as if the day’s events had finally caught up with her.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Sam said suddenly, her voice quieter now. Her eyes met Roz’s, the weight behind them unmistakable. “Stand there, day after day, with people’s lives in your hands. Knowing that one mistake, one misstep, could…” She trailed off, her jaw tightening.
Roz set her cup down, her hands resting lightly on the table. “You’re in the business of saving lives too, Sam. You understand the stakes just as well as I do.”
Sam let out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking her head.
“It’s not the same. Out there, I can see it.
The fire, the debris, I can control it, at least most of the time.
But when it’s one of my own…” Her voice faltered, and she looked away.
“When it’s Ben or someone else on my team, it feels different.
Like I should’ve been able to stop it before it ever got that far. ”
Roz studied her for a moment, her green eyes narrowing slightly. “You blame yourself.”
Sam didn’t answer right away, but the flicker of pain in her expression was answer enough. “They trust me to lead them,” she said finally.
Roz leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on the table. “Believe it or not, I know what that’s like.”
Sam’s eyes flicked up, her expression skeptical but curious. “You? Miss Perfect?’”
Roz’s smirk was faint, almost self-deprecating.
“Do you think it’s easy being a Harrington?
Walking into every room knowing that people expect you to be perfect because of your name?
I’ve spent my entire career fighting to prove I deserve to be here.
One mistake, and it wouldn’t just be me they’d judge, it’d be my entire family legacy. ”