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Mel isn’t dreading the night shift, she’s just…hesitant. The centre and Becca were both surprisingly open to the adjustments in their schedule, and she had already met most of them that first shift, but…
It changed Mel’s schedule, is the thing. Mel knows herself well, she has to if she was going to spend all her focus taking care of Becca, and she knows that while she’s more adaptable than her sister, she still hates changes to her schedule. But, life keeps going anyways, and Mel has to keep up for both of them. So, she prepares everything, from food to making sure her laces are straight, extra scrubs so the machine doesn’t beep at her and her phone and earbuds and charger and portable charger box and most importantly, an extra juice box.
Despite it all, she still needs to blast Megan Thee Stallion and bounce outside the ambulance bay before she goes in to start. She’s early by 20 minutes but planned to only be early by 10, so anxiety rubs against her sternum whenever she thinks about going inside. It’s dark enough to not be too loud, and she murmurs the lyrics to herself, arms brought inward to give her some pressure. She doesn’t notice Dr. Shen immediately. He’s standing quietly to her left, sipping on his iced coffee. Mel needs to finish her song before she can talk to him, especially since she knows she won’t get to go through a full song until shift is over. She watches him though, and it’s familiar but still surprising to recognize that he’s doing the same thing she is. He’s resetting.
His eyes aren’t focused but he’s sipping his drink in time to her bounces, his other hand is rubbing the button on his coat in slow, circular motions. Mel remembers the gossip after the MCI about how relaxed Dr. Shen was throughout the event, how it seemed to ‘slide right off of him’. She wonders how much of it was others just not recognizing how he works. Then again, he is definitely better at masking than her or Dr. Langdon, even.
He finally seems to register her, and they look at each other, neither quite looking into the others eyes (her personal favourite place to look is the furrow of the brows). Mel shakes her hands a bit, like Becca does rarely, like they do on TV. He lifts his hand and shakes it as well, and Mel feels the knot in her chest loosen. The song finishes, and she takes her earbuds out.
“Lena and Abbot don’t talk circles. Ellis and Walsh will talk circles but will also tell you if you did something wrong. The cleaning staff are nice but tired, so sound angry a lot, especially Zelda. I…don’t remember the names of the nurses until I’m in the building…” His face winces a bit too dramatically but stops halfway through, as if realizing he doesn’t need to. Mel gets it, she is face blind to a lot of people, and relies on Becca more than others would expect to match names to faces. So she doesn’t question anything, just nods and looks down the street.
“Thank you.”
“Mmhmm.”
They stand there, shifting, breathing, hands memorizing buttons (Shen) and feet rocking on concrete (Mel) until exactly 10 minutes before shift. Mel waits before she follows a step behind Shen as he walks in, to the left of him, and he hums again at her from around the straw in his mouth. It’s a quiet noise validating where she is and how she is, and is reassuring more than any of Dr. Robby’s speeches or Dana’s reassurances. They make it through the doors and masks slide into place. Dr. Shen is asking Dr. Robby something, amusement permanently teasing his mouth. Mel lets her giddiness show, and puts her anxiety and quiet more to the back. Not fake, not real, just different.
Mel feels the safest she’s felt during a shift since Dr. Langdon left.
Lena picks up on it immediately, but waits before the next lull in the shift to let herself notice it.
She would never admit it to anyone, but her heart has a special place for John Shen. He’s a rare example of someone who has grown from being on the night shift. She’s seen him in the dark of the ambulance bay, just breathing and feeling, and seen him transform as if the sliding doors are magic. Lena has seen him shut down when it gets too much, or stumble in a conversation when he misses a joke, before laughing it off. Spots how he keeps a button in his scrubs and runs his finger over it during quiet moments, as if memorizing it. She sees how he can’t know where he needs to go next until he’s taken a sip of his iced coffee, same order, same size. (A security guard once kept hiding his coffee as a prank, since that day Zelda keeps a sharp eye to make sure no one dares try it again.) Lena has also seen just how hard John Shen tries. He always asks after the cleaning staff about their day, voice in a confident and calming cadence that he’s practised since he started his residency here and found Max, one of the janitors, breaking down over the loss of a regular (Her name was Mary-Anne, she lost three children and her home, always knew how to make any abandoned baby calm and was the only one who loved the egg salad sandwiches). The first page of his notebook is filled with all the names of the night nurses and what they look like so he doesn’t have to ask anyone when he forgets, because he called Renee the wrong name and she almost administered the wrong medication before he could stop her. He has weekly check-ins on the dot when he asks Lena and Jack in more detail about their week (Fridays, before the witching hour rush.). So she watches out for him in turn, and so far today she is pleasantly surprised by what she finds.
Mel King walks past, looks at the board and subconsciously turns the iced coffee on the table so the label is facing away from her before moving on, just how Shen prefers. Shen walks up, sips his iced monstrosity, and leans over the desk to move the sealed juice box that had fallen over back into position, straw side facing outwards. Curious, Lena quietly turns the iced coffee when neither are looking. Dr. King walks by again, pauses to pick it up, and puts it back down, label facing away. She has a proud smile on her face as she goes to complete her charting.
Interesting.
Dr. John Shen is used to being off-putting, off-key, just..off in general. His face never seemed to be making the right expression to tell others he is feeling things, that he is registering the world around them, just not necessarily how they want him to. Eventually, when he entered college, he joined a frat and slowly started to copy them. Their tones and body language works but is exhausting to hold up, the idea of holding it for an entire shift kept him up more nights then his studies did.
The Pitt was the safest space he’s ever existed in with other people. Well, the night shift was. As Jack Abbot says, “You can’t be normal and be on the night shift. If you are, then something is wrong.”
They don’t just tolerate him, they adapt to him too. He still tries though, because he knows that while they are all on a path going to the same destination, his path is parallel to theirs and just enough to not quite feel right. He wants to feel right for them, to feel safe for them. Sometimes he meets patients who get it, who he looks in the eye and realizes is on the same path he is, but they’ve tripped or stumbled and he’s closest to help.
Melissa King is the first person he’s met who is not just on the same path, but walking it with him. She complains about the lights, admires rare cases, she doesn’t give long apologies to him or demand a verbal response unless necessary, both of which disturbs the rhythm of what he’s doing. Her face feels every single thing so much it’s almost as if she is experiencing it twice. She is working not around him, or for him, but with him. The least he can do is the same for her. So he lets her talk at whatever volume she is comfortable with, keeps in her sight but not in her way, shows her the spots where the lights don’t sound so loud and where someone is least likely to drag you away if you need a minute. He wonders if this is what normal people feel when they meet someone who shares the same hobby or home town. It isn’t until he sees her adjusting his cup for the first time, making sure the bright logo doesn’t derail his train of thought when he goes for a sip, that he settles. They are normal, they’re just a step to the left.
John decides, as he walks with her through sterile hallways, beeping machines and yelling patients, that this must be what safety feels like.
Lena fully acknowledges it when the other nurses start complaining about Jack possibly winning the annual bet.
The UST, or the Unstoppable Force Test, is a regular running bet when someone has their first time surviving the night shift gauntlet. No interference or teasing allowed, just watching what they would already be anyways. Who are they watching? Well, their personal Unstoppable Force: Dr. John Shen, of course.
Shen moves to his own rhythm, which most night staff work with comfortably, but he will stop for no one, and has caused many many new residents to collide with him whenever he abruptly turns or pivots. The bet closest to the number of collisions by the end of the shift wins. Jack, who gets annoyed with the betting but more annoyed with everyone hounding him for not betting, always puts a five down for no collisions and moves on with his day.
It’s halfway through the shift and Melissa King has yet to collide with him a single time.
What is interesting isn’t even that she hasn’t run into him, it’s how. There is the rare soul who is able to dodge out of the way of their speedy coffee addict, which is the only reason anyone bets below 5 incidents, but even that is somewhat predictable. No, what happens is that Shen moves around Melissa King. It’s as if their local Unstoppable Force can sense she is an Immovable Object.
Dr. King goes to grab from a cart and Dr. Shen leans back. He goes to pivot and changes it into a step backwards if she is behind him. In return, she passes him things when he gestures and before he speaks, steps in to talk to clients when they need more words then Shen can spare, keeps pace and is always just behind on his left, since she has noticed he tends to pivot to his right. Some people would say it’s magic, but Lena recognizes it as simply a mutual realization between the two that neither need to pause or apologize when things don’t work. Mel tried to give a lengthy apology the first time, got cut off by a nod from Shen, and seemed to quickly realize she wasn’t being overlooked, simply forgiven easily. The lack of minutes used to acknowledge what would be an issue with walking, talking or working gives the illusion that no mistakes are occurring. Lena has seen this before, when Jack and Robby shared the ER and she was just starting on the day shift.
She keeps it to herself until Jack takes a moment at the desk, shoulders slightly pinched in a way that suggests his leg hurts, but his brow is relaxed to suggest it doesn’t hurt enough to earn him a time out.
“You’re entertained by something,” he muses, allowing himself to lean on the desk. “What’s going on in my circus?” She snorts, taking a sip of her tea and relaxing into her chair in response.
“You mean my circus, with you being my most obnoxious monkey.” He gives a comically affronted expression and wiggles his ears like the damn monkey he is, and leans forward to tease her back when he abruptly halts. He’s a quarter over the desk, eyes fixed on her personal white board (the amateurs on day shift use the large one, harder to keep safe). Lena grins. He’s seen the bets, the current number, and of course his war-torn brain always knows the time. His eyebrows raise in both shock and delight.
“How am I winning the test? Is Shen sick?” Lena allows herself to cackle and lean forward until they are whispering to each other like gossiping teenagers.
“Dr. Unstoppable Force has met Dr. Immovable Object, they’re a true ride-or-die duo.” Now his face is genuinely shocked, Lena hasn’t used that term in years. Thankfully, he isn’t left in the dark for long as both main characters of the night are walking past, eyes bright as they move.
“I’m surprised he’s so stable after getting hit at that angle, did you know it only takes 2 pounds of pressure to push the nasal bone into the pituitary gland? Not…that we would want that but the chances of getting hit at that angle and it not happening are astronomically low and-” Shen is nodding along as Dr. King talks excitedly, not looking at her or speaking back, just humming in reply. Dr. King’s hands are flying in excitement, while Dr. Shen is walking with a distinct lack of any of his usual confident and sharp humor, more muted in tone. The conversation has changed to what would make the patient, who apparently got slapped directly on the nose, more comfortable as they turn into the North wing. Jack turns back to Lena once they're gone, mouth open. Now he really looks like her biggest monkey. The charge nurse muses.
“He’s comfy with her already?” It was well-known amongst the nurses and attendings that Dr. Shen got quiet when he got comfortable, and acted normal and flirty when he wasn’t. Lena nods in agreement and passively notes another hour has gone by without collision for the board.
“They both are.” Lena’s tone sharpens, and she stares into Jack with a look he hasn’t seen since she convinced him to go to therapy. Since she found him collapsed on the stairs with his shirt in his mouth, trying to muffle his sobs as he fell apart. Since she decided to be a death doula on the side so no one has to experience what Jack and his wife did alone. He feels himself straightening by pure instinct, Lena is the only person alive these days that can get him at attention. “Robby said he owed you for not allowing you Santos.”
He knows where she’s going with this; it had taken an actual booked meeting to sort out the new residents and interns between the shifts after the MCI. Jack and Robby had gotten the closest they had in years to fighting over a resident when it came to Trinity Santos. Honestly, while it had started as just being impressed for her audacity and skill combined, seeing her during hand-offs recently had grown into concern that day shift might not be healthy for her (That Robby might not be healthy for her). Robby had won the discussion, but had made the fatal mistake of saying that if anyone else caught his eye, Jack could have them without a fight.
So without hesitation, Jack Abbot pulls out his phone and texts Robby Sorry brother, Melissa King belongs to the dark side. He doesn’t wait to see if Robby is awake to respond, and switches to the night shift group chat they absolutely aren’t supposed to have, but works so much better than the program HR insists they use.
If anyone has a damn good reason to not keep Shen’s other half here on our side, don’t tell me because you’re wrong. Also, add a juice box to our usual coffee run. Fruit punch.
Shen looks down at his phone, he and Mel are taking a small break after dealing with a screaming baby and a screaming parent. Mel peeks over his shoulder, and lets out a surprised squeak. He watches as Mel’s face lights up bright enough to be expressing both her own emotions and his, as they both read over Dr. Abbot’s initial message and the aggressive agreement from Ellis, Walsh, and even Lena.
“No one has ever wanted me to stay.” She says it with such surprised joy that it would break his heart if he didn’t understand the exact feeling. He smiles at her, awkward but sincere.
“Welcome to the night shift.”