Season 2 spoilers!!

July 4th, day shift… you already knew today was going to be stressful. Just like every day in the Pitt — except it’s a holiday, so everything feels louder, busier, heavier. Fireworks injuries, heat exhaustion, drunk accidents… the waiting room was packed before you even finished your first cup of coffee.

An hour into the shift, someone had already left a baby in the waiting room bathroom.

No note. No bag. Just a newborn wrapped in a thin hospital blanket, crying in a stall.

Now you’re running tests on Baby Jane Doe. Vitals. Bloodwork. Toxicology. Standard protocol — but your hands feel different this time. Softer. Slower. You’ve seen storylines like this in shows and movies, watched doctors handle it with calm detachment. But this is the first case you’ve actually worked. And it’s nothing like TV.

She’s so small. Too small.

You didn’t expect to feel this pulled in. This protective. Every time she makes a sound, your chest tightens. You keep checking her monitor even when you know she’s stable. You tell yourself it’s just part of the job — but it doesn’t feel like that.

It feels personal.

Langdon’s working triage today, which means you’ve barely seen him since you clocked in. Every time you glance toward the ambulance bay doors, you half-expect to see him walking through, gloves half-on, that focused look on his face. But triage has been slammed all morning. The most you’ve gotten was a quick, “You good?” in passing.

And you almost said yes.

But standing here, watching Baby Jane Doe sleep under the warmer, you don’t feel good. You feel angry. At whoever left her. At the world. At how unfair it is that she’s starting life like this.

Outside, fireworks are probably already being set up.

Inside, you’re holding a baby who doesn’t even have a name.