Chapter Text
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Brendon Park had never truly felt welcome anywhere, he was gruff and brutish in a way that urged onlookers to run. That was a fact of his life, he’d come of age in an environment that hadn’t truly embraced him. The early years of his life were spent flattening himself into someone small and passive. The fact of his size and perpetually weak resolve had made him a prime target for cruelty.
The more he grew, the more he realized he’d never fit in, not just physically–but emotionally as well. He had learned, in the cruelest of ways, that the world would not accommodate him.
It was then that he decided he would be feared if he could not be loved—it was irrational really, but to a man like Brendon, the former emotion was better than the disdain the people around him must’ve felt.
He’d always been alarmingly tall. He easily towered over all the people who’d tease him, but he was fragile like a house of straw, and the wind of the wolves words had always torn him down. So, it began. He stopped holding doors, stopped speaking, learned to swallow their cruelty like honey. He worked to make sure that his soft skin stretched taught and firm above the mass of his bones.
At the end of it all, he found that the one true place his heart felt at ease was in the operating room. He could not save himself, he was never quite strong enough. But within the sterile confines of his workplace, he could mend bones. He could put pieces of others back together as penance for the bits of himself he lost. That was enough for him.
It remained enough even as others joked about his hardened heart and sharp tongue.
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The fluorescent lights of the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center always nauseated Brendon, they reminded him far too much of the days he’d spent bloodied and battered by his schoolmates.
Still, he would power through his shifts, finally allowing his hands to shake after hours of calculation, a cigarette usually pressed into his fingers as he breathed in what would likely become the flavour of his death.
He stood broadly over one of the balconies that perched over the structure of the hospital preparing to light his cigarette.
“Dr. Park?”
The voice was soft, almost sheepish. He didn’t turn to face her. ‘I’m Emma Nolan,” she introduced herself politely. “I’m a new nurse in the ED,” she continued. He finally turned to face her, intending to give a dismissive quip about her rambling but the words died in his throat.
She was small—dangerously so, especially compared to him. Somehow, she didn’t flinch at the sight of him, she gave him a wide eyed smile. She was achingly beautiful, dark, doe eyes framed by the loose strands of dark hair that escaped her braid. “Sorry for all the rambling. Nurse Dana asked me to come get you myself” she said in that lively voice she approached him with.
Her eyes met his and she could melt from the heat of his stare, suddenly her throat was dry and her heart was beating a million miles a minute. She composed herself beneath his brooding gaze, “As I was saying, we need you to consult on one of our patients, her leg was amputated. Would you please come with me?” she finished, the words coming fast as heat prickled in her cheeks.
He could do nothing but nod to salvage his stoic guise. Had he spoken he was certain he’d turn into a blubbering idiot.
“Great!” She perked, turning gesturing him to walk with her.
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The replantation surgery had gone as well as any surgeon would hope. Still, Brendon felt antsy for a reason he couldn’t quite explain. He smoked his final cigarette out the window of his car before pulling into a gravel gas station parking lot to buy more.
The bell chimed as he entered, his shoes clacking against the tile as he headed for the counter. But as he lifted his head to gaze over at the glass door of the freezers he stopped dead in his tracks.
There she was.
She was in loungewear now, a cardigan wrapped haphazardly around the straps of her tank top. It wasn’t quite enough to mask the ugly mottled map of bruises covering her wrist and jaw.
He felt a sudden, violent surge of the fragile boy he once was, memories flooding back. He knew those marks, he knew the way she stared at the floor trying to disappear into the linoleum.
He should walk away. He had spent years learning that involvement only led to more breakage. He bought his cigarettes in silence, the cashier sliding them across the counter with a look of unease at Brendon’s hulking frame.
He reached the door, his hand on the handle, the cold air calling to him.
But against his better judgement, he went to her, massive frame shrinking everything around him.
As he stepped closer, Brendon felt a familiar, hot roar in his chest. It was the same anger he’d felt when he was twelve, staring into a locker room mirror at his own shattered reflection.
She looked up and froze. Her doe eyes, once lively and bright, were now clouded with a raw, naked fear that she tried to mask with a shaky smile.
"Dr. Park," she whispered, her voice cracking. “What happened, Emma?” he said, voice surprisingly soft. “I-t’s nothing, Dr. Park” she mumbled awkwardly. “It’s not nothing, you’re hurt. Who did this to you?” his voice was firmer now, his big hands gently cradling her wrist.
She took a deep breath, stomach bursting with butterflies at his concern. “This one was from this morning, a patient was agitated by the wait time and he grabbed my wrist.” she said, eyes unable to meet his.
His brows furrowed against his softened eyes. “The one on my neck was from another patient.” she continued, her voice trembling. He set down her wrist gently to look her in the eye. “The neck one was from a confused patient. Dana asked me to check his vitals while he was unconscious and he woke up unaware of his surroundings.” she stuttered out, already embarrassed by the way she rambled, “He placed me into a headlock.” she thought she was finished, but the searing heat of his stare made her want to reassure him.
“He only had me in a headlock for a few seconds, Dana found me and she stopped him, she stopped both of the patients, really” she blurted out, almost forgetting to breathe between the words. His gaze still hadn’t softened. “I’m really okay, Dr. Park” “Brendon,” he corrected, “We’re not in the hospital.”
The gesture catches her off guard, doe eyes widening at the gesture before she can stop them, “I’ll be alright, Brendon. I gave my statement to the police. I walked here for some ice to help with the bruising is all,”
He’s about to object but he fixates on the last sentence, she walked? It had to be past midnight by now and she was in no condition to be walking, let alone by herself. He grabs her in tact hand softly, using his free one to pluck a fresh bag of ice from the freezer.
“C’mon” he said walking her to the counter. She retracts her hand to pay but he absentmindedly slaps ten dollars onto the table and tells the cashier to keep the change as he takes Emma outside.
She wants to object but his touch is soft and warm against her skin, the sensation soothing her shaken body, “Can I take you home?” he says, his voice bordering on sheepish. A soft blush stains her skin at the offer. “It’s okay, I don’t live far and I’d hate to be a bother.” She rejects the offer regretfully, he doesn’t accept it. “It’s late out, you’re hurt, Emma. I don’t want anything to happen to you,” He counters, straying so far away from the image he worked so hard to maintain.
“Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?’ She responds, rocking her feet back and forth against the gravel. “Of course not.” he said finally, taking a hold of her again. Her palms are small and cold against him and he practically melts as they walk. When they reach his car he chucks the bag of ice in the back row before he opens the passenger door for her, waiting for her to sink inside before shutting it.
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The drive to her apartment is quiet, the only words passed between them are directions as Emma fiddles with her hands. When he stops in front of her building he instructs her to stay put as he moves to open her door. When Emma rises to her feet she meets his eyes, soft as he meets hers.
Against her better judgement, she wraps both arms around him, thanking him profusely. To her surprise, he lifts his hand to stoke her spine. The comfort of it all brings tears to her eyes, she felt like a liability the whole day, she was hundreds of miles from her hometown, and she had no one. The truths all came crushing against her ribs as she allowed herself to cry into him.
Brendon stiffened at the first contact, his breath hitching in a chest that felt suddenly too small for his lungs. He was used to being the object of fear or torment, but this, the warmth of it all was something entirely new. He’d never been held that way. He’d never been held at all, really. But he thought back to all the times people had flinched away from him.
The prospect that someone could hold him unafraid and undisgusted made his heart hammer against his ribs. The way she melted into his touch triggered something in him. He was almost disgusted by the way he enjoyed being held, like he was dirtying her sweet soul by being around her. So, he settled on soothing her to absolve himself of his perceived sin.
"You'll be okay, Emma," he rumbled, his voice thick and low, vibrating against her forehead. "You're new, you’re not supposed to know everything, and you certainly shouldn’t be hurt."
The soft words, spoken aloud in his gravelly tone, seemed to break the final dam. She sobbed harder, her fingers bunching into the fabric of his clothes as if he were the only solid thing in a world that had spent the last twelve hours trying to shake her apart.
Brendon rested his chin on the top of her head, closing his eyes. For a moment, he wasn't the feared Dr. Park, and she wasn't the new nurse from the ED. They were just two people standing in the shadow of a Pittsburgh apartment complex, trying to heal themselves.
He stayed like that until her breath hitched and leveled out, until the frantic pounding of her heart slowed against his own. When she finally pulled back, her face was blotchy and her doe eyes were rimmed with red, but the "naked fear" he'd seen at the gas station had been replaced by a quiet, exhausted trust.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm. "I didn't mean to...to do that. You just...you were nice to me. And nobody has been nice today."
"Go inside, Emma," he said, his voice regaining some of its stoic edge to mask how much he had been affected. He reached into the back seat and retrieved the bag of ice, pressing it into her good hand. "Ice that jaw. Lock the door. And don't think about the hospital until tomorrow."
He pulled a card out of his wallet, pressing it between her fingers.“Call me if something is wrong, okay?”
He waited until she disappeared through the glass doors of the lobby. As he walked back to the driver's side of his car, he caught his reflection in the window. He looked the same—tall, gruff, and imposing. But as he gripped the steering wheel, he didn't reach for his cigarettes. He just sat in the quiet, his hand still tingling from the ghost of her weight, realizing that for the first time in his life, he didn't feel so alone
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