AN: I'm alive! Here's chapter 4. I decided to get the ball rolling in this chapter. I couldn't stand waiting any longer. If anything doesn't make sense, shoot me a message, maybe I can decipher what I meant. I did, after all, write this during some early morning hours. Right, before I start officially, let's do a head count?
Éponine (Fiera), Enjolras (Lucien), Grantaire (the bartender), Combeferre (Spence), Courf (the flatmate).
Is that all? Carry on then!
Do you remember me?
I was the first to fall. That's what you said.
"You're staring." Thomas side-eyed Vincent as the younger doctor tried to gain Fiera's attention.
"She's totally staring." They were currently sitting in a full 500-seat luncheon of which Lucien Favreau was keynote speaker. The moment their lead physician started talking, Fiera had been lost to them.
"She totally has a crush on Lucien." Raphael vaguely remembered the event being something about heart disease…not exactly what he had in mind as a conversation starter, but hey, free lunch!
"I wouldn't blame her though. I'd have a crush on Lucien…if he weren't a complete robot." Vincent punched Thomas in the arm and the other doctor bit his lip to keep himself from yelling at Vincent.
And you haven't changed a bit.
"Why doesn't she stare at me like that?"
"I don't know. Maybe it's because you're a total ponce and a disaster when it comes to public speaking?" Raphael tried to signal at his two colleagues to can it, but to no avail.
"I can totally speak publicly!" Vincent snorted, ego bruised.
"Didn't go so well in Texas last year, remember?"
"I was just nervous!"
"Oh yeah, because 'I totally got this in the bag, guys' equates to tripping on your feet and spilling water all over the congressman's wife!"
"Shut up!" Vincent kicked Thomas' chair as Raphael reached over and slapped the two over their heads.
"Actually, both of you shut up before Lucien bites our heads off." Raphael briefly glared at them. "I prefer my head on my shoulders."
"I just want her to love me!"
Three Months Later
The days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. Fiera had been working with the boys for three months. They had closed a dozen different cases and were gaining some serious street cred for their work. Okay. Maybe not street cred, but hospitals all over Europe were looking on in jealousy.
Fiera felt like she had been stuck in limbo for three whole months. She enjoyed her job; she almost enjoyed it too much. But above all this, she was stuck in a purgatory of ridiculous admiration for Michel-Lucien (whoever he was now) and a serious need to bash Michel-Lucien's stubborn head in.
When Doctor Wright had offered her the position, she had expected some resistance and at first it was exhilarating. She was working alongside the best doctors in their fields and everyday was a new challenge. She gained new insight and perspectives on all that she knew about cardiology and all of its procedures. She would get into serious debates on patient wellness and riskiness of surgeries. She was even lead on two cases which had only been solved due to her quick thinking. She loved everything about this branch in the hospital.
That is, until Lucien started grating on her nerves. Absolutely everything she suggested would be disputed and crucified by Lucien Favreau. Even treatments that would make sense would have to be carefully reconsidered and begrudgingly accepted.
"No, I don't think so."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes, Fiera." Lucien looked at her over the top of the file he was reading. He shook his head in the negative. "There is no way I'm authorizing that."
"You've got to be kidding me!" She received no response from the man before her and she had to suppress the tantrum she so desperately wanted to throw. This was the fourth time her ideas had been shot down in a week. It was only Tuesday.
With a glare, she made her way out of the cardiology offices and down to the main floor of the hospital. She ignored the greetings and calls of her colleagues and made for the hospital's sliding glass doors.
She stomped her way outside, very nearly pulling her hair out of her head. She walked swiftly away from the hospital and made it to the city gardens across the street. She was still fuming as she dropped onto a bench under a tree.
Stupid Lucien with stupid Michel's stubbornness. So stupid. I can't believe that guy. He hasn't changed in over 200 years!
She stewed in her anger for a few more minutes before sighing audibly and leaning forward, pressed her face into her palms. "God, 'Ponine, the things you do."
"Claire!" She raised her head at the smooth male tone and her gaze landed on a young woman held in a young man's grasp.
"Oh you've got to be fucking me." The couple didn't notice her and those around her paid no mind to her bitter chuckle.
Marius and Cosette
She leaned back laughing, her head falling back with her mirth. At least they haven't changed…and at least they're happy.
"God, he's so full of it." She kept her eyes on the couple, smiling at their happiness. "Michel Enjolras, you are still so full of it."
With that she made her way back to the hospital.
"God, Grantaire." Fiera dropped her head, smacking it into the bar counter. "I don't think I can do this anymore." Silence and then: "Ow."
"Oh, Ep." Grantaire moved to her, placing a gin and tonic in her hands.
"I saw Marius and Cosette today." She swirled her glass, watching as the ice clinked against the sides. "They're doing well."
"They're doing well?" He crossed his arms in front of himself. "That's all you've got to say?"
"They're together, as they should be." Her gaze pointed downwards, but her tone was lighter than he thought it could have been. "They're happy, I'm happy. And before you ask, I'm fine with it. I was never meant for Marius."
"Well, all right then." Grantaire continued wiping down the counter absentmindedly, disbelieving her. They carried on in silence for a few moments before Fiera sighed heavily. "What's wrong?"
"I can't fucking do this anymore." She didn't even care that she sounded whiny; she was just finished with everything.
"You have to." He lifted her head, and rested his forehead against hers. "We have to."
"We've been alone for so long, Grantaire." He could see the pain and anger in her eyes. "Why do we have to keep doing this?"
"Because no one else will, Ep."
"Will what, 'Taire?" She backed up from him, slamming the drink in her hands back into her throat. "Remember? Because I don't want to remember anymore!"
"I know it sucks, Ep!" He removed the, now, empty glass from her grasp. He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to keep his voice calm and even. "I know it hurts, I know."
"I see them every single fucking day and none of them remember."
"It's our burden to bear, Ep." She looked at him helplessly, tears ready to fall down her cheeks. He stared at her momentarily before pressing his lips to her forehead. "It fucking sucks, but it's ours."
The next day she worked in complete silence. She ignored all the joking and laughter of her colleagues and disregarded the fact that Lucien was absolutely not listening to her. Our burden indeed. How can I pretend that I don't see Enjolras every bloody day? Let's not forget that he actually hasn't changed very much in the last two centuries.
Paging Doctor Montague. Doctor Montague to operating room three.
Fiera looked up from her feet and made eye-contact with Lucien. She frowned and closed the folder in front of her. The lead doctor said nothing and continued on with his note-taking.
"You're still being called in for surgeries?" Thomas looked at her, confused.
"Must be important." She stood up and smoothed down her pant legs. "We're not doing anything anyway, right?"
She didn't bother to check if anyone countered and made her way to the door. When she was halfway down the hall, she heard someone call after her.
"Do you mind if I come along?" She turned to face Lucien Favreau. "I'd like to see you in your element."
"Let's go then, Lucien."
The ride down the elevator was silent and she didn't bother to send him an awkward stare. It's going to be all right. It's just Lucien.
"Hello, Doctor Montague." She looked to the nurse who had greeted them by the operating room doors. "I'm sorry for bothering you, but all of our surgeons are on call; I wouldn't have called you if it wasn't an emergency."
"That's fine." She grabbed a set of scrubs and went into the change room. After a few moments, she came back out, shrugging on a surgical coat. "Don't worry about debrief; I've already read his file."
She looked over to Lucien, who was tying a surgical mask around his neck. He looked back and she nodded her chin towards him.
"Alright, boys. Let's scrub in."
Perhaps it was the fact that her boss was watching her every move or maybe it was the fact her boss was actually breathing down her neck. Whatever it was, Fiera had never been more nervous in her life and if she wasn't keen on keeping her medical license, she would have fainted already.
Well, Lucien wasn't only Lucien; he was Michel Enjolras as well and, God, if that didn't produce the best looking, but positively uptight asshole on the planet. So, yeah, maybe Fiera shouldn't have agreed to him coming down here.
But one look at 45 year old Daniel Smith with a pipe going through his stomach on the operating table kicked her ass into gear. "Let's go, he'll bleed out if we don't hurry the hell up."
Several hours later
To call that the most nerve-wracking surgery she's ever done would have been the understatement of the decade. She had never been so shaky during a procedure, not even in first year! She had also never been so angry at another human being – if she could even call him that.
He's so self-assured and uptight and an asshole.
So let-me-just-interrupt-you-as-you're-pulling-that-p ole-out-of-that-guy
So I-am-most-definitely-right-and-you-should-do-as-I- say
So are-you-actually-trying-to-kill-him-because-doing- that-you-will
When the surgery finished and she ripped herself out of the bloodied scrubs, he was conveniently already gone from the operating floor. She took the stairs two at a time in lieu of waiting for the elevator to come down.
"Listen here, Doctor Favreau." Fiera tore into their offices after her surgery wrapped up, making a beeline for Lucien in his office. She was angry; she was more than angry – she was furious. She stopped before him, hands on her hips and feet shoulder-width apart, looking fully intent on throttling her superior. "In that OR, I am lead. You don't come in and start undermining my authority. I listen to you out here; I'll take all your criticisms and arguments and although I don't understand why not, I'll listen to you when you don't authorize procedures that make sense. But when I'm in surgery, that's a whole different ball game."
"Fiera, calm down a…" Raphael trailed off at the fiery glare she sent his way.
"No." With that, she kicked the door to Lucien's office shut, effectively cutting off the rest of the team from her rant at Lucien. "I am done with taking all of this laying down. I don't know what I did to piss you off, but it is completely unfair to be taking your issues out on me. I understand that you're the best in your field, but you have got to stop undermining me for whatever selfish reason you have against me. When will you start acting for the better of the patient and not standing by like some statue for your beliefs?"
"Whether or not you are aware of it, Fiera, what I said was completely true. You should not have followed through with that decision. You put the patient's life in danger by your brashness." Her eyes narrowed in frustration and his face remained impassive.
"Are you kidding me?" She shoved her hands into her lab coat pockets to keep herself from taking a swing at the man. "The patient's life was in danger regardless! I was just doing my job!"
"Thankfully his will to live overcame your stupidity!" Lucien stood up and Fiera was thankful that she stood a few feet from him otherwise she would have to tilt her head back to look him in the eye.
"My stupidity? Are you serious?" She breathed harshly out of her nose to calm herself. "There has to be a point in your life where you have to realize that you are wrong. I cannot believe you."
"Then perhaps you should not be on this team, Doctor Montague." He stared her right in the eyes, the blue of his irises almost on fire. "I was simply expressing a more efficient way of going through that surgery. It would have been a less risky decision. There are, indeed, times where I know I am wrong and I will answer to them, but this was not one of those moments. I was correct; you were just lucky."
"Fire me, for all I care! I know I wasn't lucky. I know my abilities and I knew exactly what I was doing out there, just like how I know what I do here. Actually you know what? I'll do you a favour; I quit! I cannot stand this weird ass vendetta you've got against me!"
He turned to the window by his desk, looking out into the sky. He couldn't bear to face her now; not when she looked so much like Éponine. The rough tone in her voice reminded him too much of the gamine and the passion that she exuded brought him back to a time where she lived to die for a blind man and he tried to stir a people to fight a war they didn't want to fight.
"You are absolutely impossible! With all your hardened truths and your untouchable values, it's no wonder they call you a marble statue, Enjolras!" As soon as those words dropped from her lips, she wished she had never said them. She slapped her hand to her mouth, eyes wide and staring at her attending in front of her.
Great. Now I'm going to get written up for psychosis and-
"What did you just call me?" His voice was barely a whisper. Right, that's after I get fired of course. Fired then psychiatric treatment.
"I…I called you a…a marble-"
"No." He whirled around to face her. In that moment, the young doctor's breath was taken away. The sun shone behind him through the window, creating a halo around his head. He stepped towards her and she stood frozen. "What was that name? Tell me that name."
He took a few more steps towards her and the only thought in her head was how frighteningly beautiful he looked. He was so close to her; she could make out every detail in his eyes, every direction the dark hairs on his head went. His eyes were wide, his hands clenched at his sides, and she finally let out a breath. "Enjolras. I called you Enjolras."
And somehow she ended up pressed against him. His arms surrounded her tightly, one hand buried into her hair. She felt his breath against her neck and heard him whisper the one thing that chilled her to the bone over and over again. "Éponine. Oh God, Éponine."