"What good will playing the martyr do? Are you going to stay up all night holding her hand, is that it? Think that'll cure her paralysis?" The image of Eric curved over a stool, clasping those warm, soft hands of his she knew so well around one of Casey's pale ones pierced Amber through, spiking her with venomous jealousy. And why not? If they broke up it'd be because of her. God he was infuriating, pig-headed and irrational and an idolater of his own brilliant ideas.
"I wasn't trying to be right!" Amber exclaimed. Now the hurt spread with the after-shock of her sudden and sharp jealousy, merging into the urge to scream. Why couldn't he believe her? She wasn't lying. "I was doing what I thought was best for her, how is that so wrong?!"
Wrong because now Casey couldn't move her legs. Wrong because it could be her fault. But it wasn't. The problem couldn't be with her immune system. Amber wouldn't believe otherwise until there were results declaring so. She might not have handled the treatment as picture-perfect as Eric liked, but Amber hadn't fucked up to that extent.
They were face to face now and never did Amber feel further away from him. Eric’s nostrils flared slightly, as if he took in such sharp breaths they couldn't stay still. "You did," Amber returned, quieter than her near-yells but so very bitter. "You ignored the test pointing to lupus."
You didn't give me a chance at all. Amber looked away, staring down at the floor. That much was true. She hadn't trusted him to try out his own idea, which had been (and was) just as likely as lupus. But she returned his gaze before long, eyes narrowing. Boohoo. Was she supposed to coddle him when she didn't agree? Would he have rather she sit back when she believed he was harming a patient? With all the cool strength of her determination, Amber repeated: "I was doing what I thought was best for her." If-- and very unlikely so-- she'd hurt Casey, then he could scream at her and her methods all he liked. But for her intentions? Amber wouldn't hear of it.
God, he was harping again about her work being all about him. "The patient comes first," Amber said. "Always." How could he gloat about being such a great doctor if he couldn't get that most basic notion down? "Look, do whatever you want-- ignore me, laugh in my face, stick gum on the sole of my shoes-- if you think that's what'll help best." Results. That was all that mattered. Why didn't he see that?
Eric went back to the door, turning to leave. Disgusted, Amber just crossed her arms. Let him. If he couldn't understand, or believe in, her words, then there was nothing else she could do.
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"I wasn't trying to be right!" Amber exclaimed. Now the hurt spread with the after-shock of her sudden and sharp jealousy, merging into the urge to scream. Why couldn't he believe her? She wasn't lying. "I was doing what I thought was best for her, how is that so wrong?!"
Wrong because now Casey couldn't move her legs. Wrong because it could be her fault. But it wasn't. The problem couldn't be with her immune system. Amber wouldn't believe otherwise until there were results declaring so. She might not have handled the treatment as picture-perfect as Eric liked, but Amber hadn't fucked up to that extent.
They were face to face now and never did Amber feel further away from him. Eric’s nostrils flared slightly, as if he took in such sharp breaths they couldn't stay still. "You did," Amber returned, quieter than her near-yells but so very bitter. "You ignored the test pointing to lupus."
You didn't give me a chance at all. Amber looked away, staring down at the floor. That much was true. She hadn't trusted him to try out his own idea, which had been (and was) just as likely as lupus. But she returned his gaze before long, eyes narrowing. Boohoo. Was she supposed to coddle him when she didn't agree? Would he have rather she sit back when she believed he was harming a patient? With all the cool strength of her determination, Amber repeated: "I was doing what I thought was best for her." If-- and very unlikely so-- she'd hurt Casey, then he could scream at her and her methods all he liked. But for her intentions? Amber wouldn't hear of it.
God, he was harping again about her work being all about him. "The patient comes first," Amber said. "Always." How could he gloat about being such a great doctor if he couldn't get that most basic notion down? "Look, do whatever you want-- ignore me, laugh in my face, stick gum on the sole of my shoes-- if you think that's what'll help best." Results. That was all that mattered. Why didn't he see that?
Eric went back to the door, turning to leave. Disgusted, Amber just crossed her arms. Let him. If he couldn't understand, or believe in, her words, then there was nothing else she could do.