Why

Edie

*TW: this next chapter has heavy suggestion of rape and sexual assault.*
Edie
    This is the part of my job that I hate.
    I hate that my awesome coffee date with Memphis gets interrupted by the fact that I'm constantly on-call for my SANE certification.
    But I don't in the least bit hate being the first gentle, platonic touch these victims encounter after the worst moment's of their life.
    I don't hate being the one to collect as much evidence as I can, so I can do my part to make sure the piece (sometimes pieces) of shit don't have an easy chance to walk free.
    I don't hate when I get subpoena'd and stand as an expert witness to explain without a doubt, that the evidence I collected proves irrefutably that the person on trial did in fact, violate the victim in the worst way imaginable; they took their choice away and made that victim feel unsafe in their own skin.
    Although, I don't like calling them victim's. The fact that Memphis called them survivor's made me fall for him just a little bit.
    Professionally, in the medical world I have no choice but to call them victim's for paperwork and official bullshit.
    Personally, I've always called them survivors.
    Because that's exactly what they are.
    They went to war when they didn't choose to, but they came through alive.
    Not in good shape, and in some cases, won't physically or mentally recover for a long, long time.
    But they survived.
    We pull into the parking lot of the hospital and instead of just dropping me off and then finding a place to park, Memphis parks in one of the few 'Police Personnel Only' spaces and then comes around to my side to open my door.
    I don't think I'll ever get used to the chivalry of that move.
    He holds my hand as he walks me to the emergency room entrance. I've been floated over to the ER several times throughout my career so several nurses and other staff recognize me and wave.
    Their smiles freeze though when they catch a good look at Memphis.
    Only two of them were here during the time of the "Replaced First Aid Kit" incident, so their jaws drop before their bugged out eyes make it back to me.
    I smile mischievously as I nod slightly.
    Both nurses jump up and down as they clap like seals, causing the attention in the waiting room to go to them as patients send them concerned and slightly nervous looks.
    "Hold up!" Patty a mid-fifties, rod-thin, blonde and one of the nurses clapping sealishly, shouts as Memphis and I get closer.
    "Is this the hot motorcycle guy from forever and a half ago?" She ask/shouts as her eyes bounce from me to Memphis like she's watching a game of ping pong.
    Memphis's chest bounces as he does his best to not laugh out loud and instead coughs into a fist as his eyes slide to me from the corners.
    I just shrug at his look before looking back to Patty and confirm, "Yup."
    "Holy Heparin girl! Where have you been hiding this boy this whole time?" She asks as we step up to the triage desk.
    I open my mouth to answer but Memphis gets to it first.
    He keeps hold of my hand as he lifts our arms to wrap his around my shoulders and mine lays across my chest at an angle, our fingers stay threaded together.
    "I made her work for it and have just now decided she's suffered without my goodness for long enough." He answers with a straight face as he puffs his chest out and uses his other hand to pound on his sternum twice.
    I shake my head as I watch him, I turn my head to look back at Patty. Her lips are sucked in and she's biting down on them to not laugh, but the deep dimples in each cheek proves she's not doing a very good job.
    "Actually he's been a little shit for the last four years," I correct and watch her eyes dance with humor as they come back to me.
    "That makes more sense," she admits as she points to me with a nod.
    "That's because it's the truth," I laugh as I gently squeeze his fingers before letting them go so I can grab my again ringing phone from my pocket.
    I look to it as I ask Patty without looking at her, "Where's my patient?" I answer the phone as I watch the laughter drain from her eyes and a frustrated anger replace it.
    Otherwise known as the Law Enforcement and Medical Professional Look.
    "Edie," I answer as I lean down to clock in on the computer and make a note to find some clean OR scrubs to change into as soon as I can.
    "Are you here yet?" I hear bitched into my ear from the only person who can get away with giving me that tone.
    "Yes Tammy, I'm in the ER clocking in and checking to see where I can find scrubs to change into," I drone as I roll my eyes at Patty's scrunched nose when she hears the name.
    I see Memphis look between Patty and I before a frown furrows his brows and he crosses his arms.
    "Okay well we've been waiting for over an hour for you to get here and perform this exam and the patient is at the point where she doesn't even want to do this anymore because of it."
    I blink before I huff loudly into the phone not caring that she can hear it, "Well that's interesting since I didn't get a call about my patient until just under twenty minutes ago and I came straight from where I was without even going home to grab scrubs to change into."
     I look to Memphis as I watch his body tense when he hears my tone. Patty pats his arm consolingly before leaning to the desk to type out something on her phone. She turns it to face him so he can read it and his tense body goes to stone almost instantly as he does. I lift my chin when Patty's eyes come to me asking to read it as I continue to speak.
    "So if my patient has been here that long before I was called, the potential for evidence to be contaminated has increased. Which means that whoever dropped the ball on calling me when they were supposed to can be held for negligence and I could almost make a case for tampering with evidence."
    I smile as I read Patty's message, The dumb ho that hates Edie and makes her life a living hell as much as possible in any way she can.
    "Well, there's no need for any of that, now that I look at her chart I see that she's actually been here around a half hour," I hear Tammy's bitchiness drop a notch as my words score one point for me. That's what I thought.
    I smile proudly at Patty and Memphis as they continue to watch me.
    Memphis's phone dings at a text, but before looking to it he lifts a hand and smoothes the wrinkle between my brow that lives there only when I talk to Tammy.
    I feel my insides go gooey at the touch and look to Patty to see happy tears shimmer in her eyes as she watches.
    "Where do I need to go?" I ask into the phone as I look to my feet with a smile.
    I hear Tammy's exasperated huff before snapping, "OR. You'll see a detective standing outside the patient's room and her MD should be there somewhere to give you what he has for report."
    She hangs up before I get the chance to ask where in OR since there's like a million different places my patient could be and there isn't a designated area in the hospital for these exams.
    "She sounds like a peach," Memphis remarks with sarcasm dripping heavily from each word.
    I purse my lips as I look to Patty and ask, "Do you know where I need to go to grab some sterile scrubs?"
    She nods before saying, "OR scrubs were just brought in so you should find them where they normally are and the locker room closest to your patient is on the East side." She looks to Memphis before begrudgingly informing, "I'm sorry Hotcakes but you can't go with her."
    Memphis's lips turn up in an easy grin before reaching into his front pocket and attaching his badge to his belt and lifting his shirt a few inches to show his gun in its holster on his hip.
    I never even noticed it was there and I've had my arms around him throughout the day.
    "Where'd that come from?" I ask as I point to his gun.
    "I had it in the door of my car and clipped it on as I came around the bed of my truck to open your door," Memphis answers remotely as he looks to his phone as another text comes to it.
    I think back and remember it took him just an extra second or two to make it to my side.
    "Okay then Mister Po-Po," Patty jokes, "you can follow Edie to the hallway outside the patient's room where the other detective is waiting, but you are not allowed inside the exam room while the exam is taking place and you are not allowed to touch Edie until after the exam is over once she changes into her sterile scrubs."
     Memphis sends her a confused look at the 'no touching me' part and Patty smiles that mom smile, before explaining, "They are also collected for any evidence that may have been transferred during the exam."
    Memphis nods his head to let her know he understands. I know he knows the drill and he's done this before so I don't worry about him making any sort of mistake. I would have thought he knew about the touching part, but maybe not since I don't think he's wanted to touch the nurse examining a victim before.
    My deeply hidden jealous side throws her pom-poms at that.
    I watch as he transforms from My Memphis to Military slash Law Enforcement Memphis.
    It's like watching Clark Kent turn into Superman right before my eyes.
    I follow his lead and get my head in the game as I go through my mental checklist for pre-exam, during exam, and post-exam.
    The supplies I need to make sure I have, the forms and other documentation required, and most importantly, channel the best bedside manner I can.
    "Anything you can tell me before I go in Patty?" I ask as my voice changes from my normal talking voice to my 'customer service' or 'bedside manner' voice.
    Memphis's eyes come to me as he hears the change but I don't look at him. I'm now in work mode, I can't get distracted by his overall existence.
    "The only thing I can tell you for certain is to not use any sort of pet names no matter how platonic," her brows lift as that Medical Professional look comes back to her face.
    I nod in understanding as I do my best to deep breathe through the anger surging.
    The piece of shit called her pet names as he brutalized her.
    Chemical castration should be required for every conviction.
    She'll never be able to be called a sweet nickname by a significant other or a kind stranger on the street without it triggering a PTSD episode.
    I continue to deep breathe and quietly seethe as I turn on my heel and stomp toward the elevators that will take me to the OR.
    I hear Memphis's steps follow along a few paces behind, giving me space so I can get my head on straight before I go into that examination room.
    I step onto the elevator, turn to face the open doors and come nose to chest with Memphis as he watches me do my best to collect myself.
    "I can't tell you how incredibly attractive it is to watch you in your zone and feel the vibes rolling off of you as you do what you gotta do to process and get in the right headspace."
    His rumbling voice sounds like thunder in his chest as he gets in my space for just as long as it takes to say the words before he steps back until his back leans against the farthest wall from me.
    I blink a few times as I repeat his words and the sound of them coming from his chest.
    That was hot.
    I can't go there right now though.
    The elevator jolts to stop and the doors open and I'm immediately greeted by Doctor Douche.
    He's a recent acquisition to the intern's and has a major God complex.
    But it can't be denied that he knows his shit and is one of the few intern's I'd want on my case if I were a patient in this hospital.
    Doesn't mean I tolerate his attitude toward nurses and other staff. I love when I get opportunities to put him in his place, I take them every chance I get.
    I've been told by many nurses that they think he may have a thing for me but there's no way in hell I'd ever date a doctor I work with.
    Especially Doctor Douche.
    "Evan," I greet as professionally as possible but I still see Memphis's head swivel in my direction from my peripheral. I guess I didn't do a good enough job.
    Oh well.
    "Edie," Doctor Douche greets with a warm smile that immediately drops when he sees Memphis step off the elevator after I do.
    "Official Personnel on this floor only," Doctor Douche informs with a sneer pointed at Memphis.
    Memphis just stares at him as he lazily points to his badge on his hip.
    Evan's nose scrunches in distaste as he nods upward once in acknowledgement before visibly making the effort to ignore him as he looks back to me and sends me a smile.
    If I could gag I would. But sadly I can't.
    I hustle us down the hall toward the locker room after glancing at the clock on the wall and seeing I've been in the hospital for ten minutes and I haven't even been scrubbed in yet.
    "Report," I demand. Doctor Douche and Memphis keep up with me as my shoes squeak on the floor.
    I see Walker at the end of the hall with an arm crossed on his chest and the elbow of the other arm propped on it as he rubs across his forehead in contemplation.
    Not a good look for anyone in a hospital to have. I don't like reading that body language.
    "She's twenty-one, her name is-" I hold a hand up to stop him as I watch people walk past us.
    "I know you were not just about to identify our patient right here in the hall, right?" I ask heatedly as I spin on a heel to face him.
    Doctor Douche is probably considered attractive to people who don't work with him. He's about an inch over six feet, dirty blond finger tousled hair, icy blue eyes that stand out from the tan on his skin, and he looks like he might be a runner.
    Ick.
    He'd probably win a Ken doll look-a-like competition.
    My taste leans more toward gruff bikers that are actually former military and now serves as a public servant in our law enforcement, with green eyes surrounded by thicker lashes than a Kardashian.
    His eyes are big in surprise before they turn to defensive as he splutters, "Of course not! I know a HIPAA violation when I see one!"
    I nod before turning and continue to power walk as I say, "Of course. Continue."
    "From what I was able to assess without touching her or from the door of the room since she would freak out as soon as I stepped in," his sour attitude at the end makes me grind my molars together as I do my best to not reach back and bitch slap him for his attitude.
    "She has a slice on her right cheek about an inch long with the edges clean so it might have been done by a knife. But the bruising around the same area might suggest a pole or pipe." He reads off his notes from her chart in his hand like he's reading the weather, clinical, detached.
    I sneer as I continue to listen to his assessment.
    I get to the end of the hall and stop next to Walk. I turn to look up into his eyes and immediately suck in a breath and hold it.
    "Walk," I breathe as I flinch at what I read in his look.
    "Hey Edie," Walker's voice is hollow and hurting as he leans down the few inches it takes to kiss my hair at my temple.
    I watch him for a moment as his eyes move to Memphis and stay there. Communicating something I can't read, but it's still something that has my skin crawling.
    "You better be lying," Memph growls as he reads whatever is in the look.
    "No, I wish like hell that I was," Walker chokes out. He tries to swallow and clear it but isn't able to as he says, "I'm not here on an official capacity anymore. But I can still fill you in as ordered by Cap."
    I look between the two men before turning to look at Doctor Douche.
    I look to his hand and snatch the chart from him before he has the chance to react.
    "Hey!" Doctor Douche gripes but I don't pay him any attention.
    I flip it open and gasp as I read the name.
    Annabel Lee.
    My mind instantly goes to Edgar Allan Poe's poem by the same name.
    As it does every time I hear this name.
    "Walk," I whisper as unwanted tears prick the corners of my eyes, making my nose tickle.
    I read through what we have, what Evan just verbalized.
    "I'm not sure I can do this," I announce as I look from Memphis to Walker.
    "I trust no one else to do this Edie," Walker admits as his eyes fill with tears.
    He doesn't let them fall but I watch as his jaw grinds causing the muscle to jump.
    "Am I missing something here?" Doctor Douche butts in where he is really not wanted at the moment.
    "The—" my voice cuts out and I swallow tightly as I point to Walker, "victim is his sister."
    Evan has the curtesy to blanche as his eyes jump to Walker and I watch as his eyes glitter with anger on Walker's behalf.
    Wow, didn't see that coming.
    "I have a sister," Evan announces shockingly. I've never heard him mention her until now.
    Walker nods stiffly in the unvoiced understanding.
    Walker then looks to the floor as his body folds into itself as though absorbing a gut punch, when the sound of whimpering cries come from the other side of the door we stand outside of.
    "Is there someone in there with her?" I ask quietly as I look at the door.
    "Lil weaseled her way in after changing into sterile scrubs and gloves," Evan informs.
    "Lil lives with Walker," Memphis growls angrily as he looks down his nose at Doctor Douche.
    Evan blinks up at Memphis before a flush colors his cheeks.
    "Gotcha," Evan mutters as his eyes slide away to look down the hall.
    "Give me a few minutes to get ready and get everything together okay?" I ask Walker as I place a hand on his forearm.
    He just nods as a hand moves to squeeze the top of mine.
    "I'll take care of her Walk," I promise before spinning on my heel and sprinting across the hall to the locker room.
    I shove my shit into my locker as I twist my hair up into a tight bun, securing it with an elastic from my wrist.
    I remove all of my jewelry, pin my bangs back with a bobby pin, use a makeup remover wipe to clean my already clean face, moisturize with clinical crap provided by the hospital, then wash my hands with soap and hot water.
    I change from my street clothes and shove them into my locker not even folding them before washing my hands for a second time before grabbing two packs of sterile gloves and carry them with me.
    I walk over in my bra and underwear to the cabinet holding the sterile scrubs and grabbing a pair of pants and putting them on. Then I grab a top and carefully putting it on, making sure it doesn't touch my face or hair net.
    I put my shoes back on. I wrap them in the same blue sterile netting that I have on my hair.
    I'm now head to toe light blue.
    I step out of the locker room as I shove the two extra packages of sterile gloves into the leg pockets and look up into the eyes of two men who mean a great deal to me, just in different ways.
    "Let me just grab my equipment and I'll go in," I tell Walk. I know I don't have to give him a step by step of what I'm doing. But I think he might need it.
    I lift my hands palms out as I walk toward the med room, which holds everything I'm gonna need.
    "I have everything already set up in the exam room," Evan announces just before I touch the code buttons.
    "You mean she's been in there looking at the utensil's and equipment I'm going to use on her body this whole time?" I ask hoping he says no. She doesn't need to see that shit.
    "I draped a sterile sheet over top so she can't see anything unless she's got x-ray vision." He answers patiently, finally not being a major dick.
    I nod once in thanks before looking to Memphis.
    His eyes are already on me, watching.
    I want a hug from him so bad right now I can barely stand it. But my patient comes first, she needs me to maintain sterility so any evidence I collect can't be thrown out because of cross contamination.
    "I'm gonna need a hug as soon as I'm back in my people clothes," I tell him as my shoulders tense.
    The corners of his lips lift barely a millimeter as an answer.
    I get a hug as soon as I'm in people clothes. I can't wait.