9. Crying At The Discoteque.

Now is the time to act. Fight club with Adam was just what I needed, and oh, that we could have a little show at the club again then, as we always did. Getting mad at Damon and expressing my opinion helped somewhat, even though my heart was more or less in pieces. However, onwards and upwards, let's see where we're going.

I showered and got dressed. After giving myself permission to react, I gave myself light, shorter, curly but blonde hair, then put on a simple, stretchy cotton dress and went to the kitchen to find some food. I had some steaks, not just beef now, but a couple of good pork belly steaks; I made some coffee, a Coca-Cola, and a bottle of Palma. I stashed them away so Adam wouldn't always drink them all down. I also baked myself a big batch of American pancakes and had one maple syrup that worked for me.

I had just finished setting my table when the sleepy Hauptman came into the kitchen and said nothing about me not sleeping. I wasn't even ready to try yet, no matter how safe Adam kept me. I didn't want to close my eyes for fear I wouldn't get out of the darkness.

Adam walked over to the table, started arranging my food in order of how I should eat it, and moved almost all the pancakes out of my reach.

 I didn't notice when I hissed at Adam irritably as he interfered with my food.

He looked at me amused, stroked my head, and said, " Well, kitty, you can't hiss; you have to eat properly; I will not let you clog your bowels. "

I myself was a bit confused by the whole hissy fit and the feeling that had come up. The feeling that I was superior to Adam. It's not a wise feeling. Fortunately, it had already gone away, lest I should have got a bit crazy. Adam can give feedback quickly if he feels I'm challenging him and I don't need it now. I told Adam about my plan, and he agreed with me. I was a good girl, and I drank and ate as I pleased, but I kept my Palma bottle firmly to myself. I wasn't sharing it at all. 

I started searching online for fight clubs, hoping to find some new ones that were challenging enough and of the kill-or-be-killed variety. However, my thoughts were interrupted when Adam's phone rang loudly.

He grunted and said, "Bran again. What does he want now?"

He went into another room to talk and returned ten minutes later, saying, "Sorry, but I had to go to Bran's place. Some alpha war is about to start, so I can't go with you. Have a good time and enjoy yourself. Don't forget to take a blocker of the amplification enzyme if you go to the clubs." Adam quickly gathered his things and left before I could even respond.

I continued eating my meal, but then felt my hip vibrate as my phone rang. It was from New York Central Hospital, which was facing a shortage of surgeons, and asked if I could come in. Without hesitation, I agreed.

I finished my meal and went on a drive. I returned to my apartment on the top floor of the building and found everything in order. Magnum and Higgins occupied the apartment nearby. However, my corner apartment was spacious enough for me, and I ordered food and drinks to stock up.

I had recently learned about a new drink, Spumante, and also had some white wine on hand. Colin and Samuel had approved the wines I had in stock. I ordered a large quantity of different cuts of Wagyu beef and stored them in my freezer and fridge. Once I had all the supplies and food in order, I worked as a surgeon. The job's long hours and high stress served as a great stress relief for me.

However, I encountered a problem with Mimosa. Mimosa had a unique power that was creative and healing in nature. However, the power was overwhelming and difficult to control. To address this issue, I contacted Dresden, who supplied me with some stones that could absorb the power. While it was helpful, the stones accumulated quickly. Still, I continued to use the power in tight situations where I couldn't afford to lose my patient. It proved to be quite useful.

Mimosa had a strong desire to save patients, and the power seemed to grow stronger as she came closer to achieving her goals. When I mentioned my cat-like behavior to Dresden, he found it amusing and promised to examine me magically to see what was causing it. He suspected the Mimosa power handled it. Dresden was also busy chasing coins, but promised to visit me at some point.

My days in the hospital went by quickly. Now, I had to be at work all the time, deciding, operating, and making sure the patients were recovering well and everything was going as it should. I always ate in the cafeteria. I had provided them with a list of what I couldn't eat, and I always ate as long as I had time, but some days, I didn't really have time to eat.

I was on the 18th floor. It was the surgical wards. There were also operating theatres. My co-surgeon, the trauma surgeon with whom I did a hell of a lot of operations, was like a cross between Sean Connery and Robbie Williams; he was a Scotsman on top of everything else. Then, the intern was a mixture of Roger Moore and Timothy Dalton, and the student, or the lowest, was a mixture of Pierce Brosnan and Colin Firth, an Englishman. We pretty much went with this crowd all the time, and I already had quite an excellent reputation. I was a very skilled surgeon, but I was not in a tolerable mood every time I raced around the ER.

It was pretty thrilling to go the OR where there was critical patient and it was up to me save it. And oh my god when I did, I did lose some of them but part and parcel of this work. My reputation was growing operation by operation. I had my surgeon persona as well. I was not kind; I was more or less Dragon. Maybe all of those medical dramas that I used to watch as human, had something to do with it. I had my days full enough to do others work for them if they were bunch of morons.

I'd give up if they didn't know what they were doing, like being called in by a trauma surgeon to look at a cut on a patient's finger. I didn't hesitate to scream at these idiots. I always took them to a soundproof room and taught them a lesson. Then they'd believe me one day. It was just that Mrs. Salvatore had a pretty wild reputation, and I wasn't called out in such idiotic cases anymore.

OR and operating become my other outlet of releasing my rage, somehow or then it calmed me down, gave me thrill. My inner killer did not like when I push it down, this was not a place to feel how I have power over someone's life. 

I had been enjoying working at the hospital for six weeks when, once again, the urgent call came in from the ER. A young woman, the victim of a car accident, was suffering from severe blood loss and a deep cut on her neck. With a determined nod, I led my team toward the elevator, contemplating the mechanism of her injury. Dressed in scrubs with rolled-up sleeves, the sound of my pink sneakers echoed as we exited the elevator.

Entering the chaotic emergency room, I barely had a moment to take a few steps before a young, pimply-faced doctor approached me. He informed me that the patient, had her boyfriend by her side, but he wasn't sure if we were dealing with a code yellow situation—an abusive spouse. Internally sighing, I braced myself for what lay ahead as we maneuvered through the bustling ER.

Amidst the commotion, I could hear coughing, a child's cries, and the feeble complaints of a little old lady. Stretchers lined the hallways, occupied by patients in need, while fatigued nurses hurriedly attended to their duties, lacking even a moment's respite. I overheard someone apologizing to a patient on a stretcher, explaining their rush to find an available ward. The patient was eventually moved to a separate room, albeit one filled with beds and curtained partitions—it was merely a trauma room, signifying little significance.

Maintaining a neutral expression, I entered the designated room, silently assessing the situation. Damon sat calmly in a chair, seemingly unaffected, while his companion lay in the bed. I deliberately ignored my knowledge of Damon's presence and refrained from exchanging pleasantries as I approached the woman. Taking a quick yet thorough examination, I noted her anemia and the deep incision on her neck, narrowly avoiding damage to the carotid artery and vein by a mere millimeter. The wound seemed to have been inflicted by a vampire's claw—such peculiar cases seemed to be more of Damon's handwriting, so to speak. He has been a naughty boy, I see.

It was not my business to think what was his play here, was this mere show off to me he can hurt these two or what. It was his business, and I was focusing on my work. Not going to his play. I kept my surgeon persona out fully and not let anything show from my face. I had learned to this.

The room carried a faint scent of passionfruit, oddly contrasting with Damon's composed demeanor. Swiftly, I packed the wound, instructing the pimply-faced doctor to have the woman sent upstairs for surgery. My conversation with the woman was brief, assuring her that the procedure would be brief yet necessary, with minimal scarring. As an intern explained the situation to Damon, I left, gliding away with a sense of purpose.

I smelled Damon's blood on the woman so it had been played with food, this was the very girl Damon had been talking to so normally, now I wasn't sure if this was just a performance for me or if this was a coincidence but I would do my job. 

I then went to prep for surgery, and when the lady came up and was brought into the operating theatre, I was already prepped. I would operate on the woman. The surgery was a relatively simple suturing of the muscle and skin so that the scar would remain small.

I healed her neck and gave her an injection of long-lasting strong Vervaine if Damon was in the mood, apparently. We don't attack people. I called the social worker over to the woman when she woke up, and the social worker got the woman a safe house, but if Damon killed that woman next time, no one would stop him. I just did what the protocol says.

At no point did the woman deny that Damon hadn't done it to her, nor did she defend him, but she was mostly scared. So she had never seen his dark side. I did not interfere with their problems. Damon is what he is. Let him torture his girlfriends, no matter how much I don't care. Of course how stupid humans are, Damon is vampire god sake, not a puppy dog, despite how charming he is, he is predator and old one. I realized it he was truly playing with his food, trapping them for years and then when he get bored, maybe he kills them or then not. 

I just fix and heal. At least, that's what I can do. My pace was as intense as ever, and I was on call almost all the time. Well, I was supernatural, so it didn't matter. I do not need to sleep, my dentals are good enough to give decent makeup, so I am not looking too worn out. Although I passed out twice when I forgot to eat for over 24 hours, no one noticed. 

I continued working in the hospital, the sound of beeping machines and hurried footsteps filling the air. This demanding job was damn fun, and I found myself spending more time in the hospital than in my hotel room. The sterile smell of disinfectant lingered in the hallways as I made my way through, feeling renewed purpose. It was not so scary anymore. I was on the other side, not as a patient but as a doctor.

After a grueling 13-hour operation and a week on call, the winter season has brought in a flurry of trauma cases, keeping us busy. I got a call again to downstairs. As I was about to finish my shift, a sense of anticipation filled me, longing for a change of scenery, a chance to relax in a bath and sip on white wine. The doctors around me speculated about the upcoming case, wondering if it would be a wasted visit. With a nonchalant attitude, I thought, "Fine, let's go then." If it would be, I would scream my ass off. 

As we descended in the elevator, the nurses chattered away, their voices blending with the mechanical hum of the lift. The topic of conversation was a new doctor who had recently joined the emergency room. This individual captivated the nurses, mentioning how he had turned the chaotic ER into a well-functioning unit in just three days. A smile played on my lips, appreciating the effort to bring order to the chaos.

Stepping out of the elevator, I was greeted by a surprising sight. The corridors were devoid of patients on stretchers, replaced by a multitude of nurses and doctors bustling about. Patients sat scattered here and there, and the atmosphere was controlled by activity. The hushed murmurs of the men discussing amongst themselves added to the ambiance. 

In contrast to my usual scrubs, I now wore heels, their clicking sound echoing on the polished emergency room floor as my team and I made our way toward a vacant cubicle. Drawing back the curtain, I discovered a doctor already attending to the patient. Approaching them, I realized it was Damon, wearing a doctor's coat with "Mr. Salvatore" embroidered on his chest. 

Suppressing any personal thoughts, I focused on my professionalism, examining the patient and agreeing to take him to the operating room. Damon showed me a CT scan, revealing a worrisome leak in the liver. Liver leaks were not something to take lightly, and I knew immediate action was necessary. The middle-aged teacher patient lay on the bed with his wife sitting by his side, their worry palpable in the room.

He had been doing some gardening, taking terrible fall, and this was result. Fine. nothing too complicated. I was going to get ready and make sure we had OR ready too.

I left the cubicle, leaving my colleague to explain the situation to the patient's wife. My colleague was the one who bore a striking resemblance to Sean Connery. He seemed to praise me and my skills. I mentally prepared for the upcoming surgery, which might last another eight hours. 

I was walking towards the elevator when Damon came and grabbed me in the middle of the emergency room and kissed me passionately and for a long fucking time. I was pretty damn helpless and kissed him back with a vengeance. Damon's eyes flashed. There was steel in his gaze. 

Then, in a hoarse voice, he said, "Thank God, baby, you're not on call right now. I'll pick you up from upstairs, and we can go to the restaurant."

All saw the scary dragon Mrs. Salvatore turn into jelly as her husband kissed me so long and good that my legs were limp. I finally got back upstairs, and oh, how I got a lot of questions from the nurses about my husband. He had told everyone that I was his wife and he had to come to the ER so that he could spend even a little time with me when I was so career-oriented.

The operation took eight grueling hours and 15 minutes, and the sterile hospital smelled mingling with anticipation in the air. This was business as usual and I was not any kinder in my operating room. I did not tolerate slackers or incompetent idiots. With me, nurses knew I demanded very best, and I had my own requirements for the surgery.

With steady hands, I repaired the patient's liver laceration and delicately addressed a small hidden leak in his spleen, which could have proven fatal. He would be fine but he was older man, eating whatever so his health was not its best but then again, it was not my problem. I noted his organs health or lack of to my surgical report. As I removed my surgical gown, the coolness of the air brushed against my skin, bringing relief. The weight of the day settled upon me, and I yearned for a moment of respite.

In my mind, I envisioned a luxurious bath awaiting me, accompanied by the effervescent bubbles of an ice-cold white wine spumante. Thoughts of indulging in a well-deserved meal or the possibility of my husband whisking me away to a restaurant was briefly in my mind. I made my way to the break room, expecting solitude, but to my surprise, Damon was already there, dressed in his casual clothes. He had patiently waited for my shift to end. His brow furrowed as he perused my roster.

Having just completed the last surgery of the day, my ritual called for a comforting cup of coffee before venturing elsewhere. This daily act brought closure to the intense demands of the operating room. Approaching the coffeepot with intention, I suddenly felt a wave of dizziness engulf me, a disorienting sensation that always seemed to occur after my surgeries. My vision darkened, and a sense of impending collapse consumed me.

In a moment of urgency, Damon swiftly came to my aid. He cradled me in his arms, guiding me to the nearby couch and gently propping up my legs. Gradually, my surroundings regained clarity, and I realized Damon was seated beside me, concern etched across his face.

His voice was laced with worry as he inquired, "What have you eaten today?"

Struggling to recall, I mentally retraced my steps, attempting to pinpoint the last time I had nourished myself.

"Nothing," I confessed. "Today has been incredibly hectic. I planned to eat at home. The fridge is stocked with food."

Damon reached for my wrist, his touch soothing yet probing, as he assessed my pulse and scratched my arm. He tasted my blood with a hint of resignation, his sigh heavy with concern.

"Now, baby," he spoke gently, "your sugar levels are dangerously low, which explains your difficulty standing. It seems like its time for you to take a break from this demanding career and focus on something that allows you to prioritize your nourishment."

Assisting me in sitting up, Damon guided me out of the room, retrieving the phone, whose number I didn't have. It was clear he needed to make an important call. As I settled in, I placed my coffee cup on the table, a moment of solace amidst the tumultuous day. And I stood up and went to make my big mug of coffee. 

It was quickly prepared as this was a capsule maker, and I'd just had a big mug of piping hot coffee for myself. I was sitting on the sofa, ready to sip. This was another cup of who knows what coffee, as the other doctors were bringing in capsules, and I wasn't studying what coffee it was. It could be a moccachino, latte, espresso, etc. I usually just took two capsules, made them, and poured them into my big mug. It was just agreed that they all had caffeine in them, and that was what mattered.

The door opened, and Damon came back and said, " So you were a substitute here; fine, now we're going to have three regular doctors here. So, baby, you don't have a job anymore. Now, we're going home soon, and then we're going to the amusement park one day, but I'll show you what those women were like. It's another vampire thing you do not know about."

 He grabbed a cup of coffee from my hands, sipped it, and said, " Let me guess, you've been having diarrhea occasionally?" I nodded.

Damon said, "There's one additive in this capsule that's not good for you, so remember that."

I nodded. My team also came into the break room, and Damon chatted with my colleagues for a while. He explained new doctors were coming in, gave them his business card, and told them to let me know if they were still short of doctors. He was now spending time with his wife. I stood up, and then I could go to my car.