Paging Dr. Disaster
Regulus balances his phone between his ear and shoulder as he struggles to pull his scrub pants up one-handed. His locker door hangs open beside him, revealing neatly folded clothes and a few medical textbooks stacked precariously on the shelf.
"You’re not coming to dinner. Again." Sirius’s voice crackles through the phone, exasperated.
"I have the graveyard shift," Regulus replies, finally managing to tug the drawstring tight.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. But, Reggie, it’s been weeks. Remus misses you."
Regulus sighs, rubbing his temple as he leans against the locker. "I know, but I’m in my first year of residency, Sirius. I need to make a good impression."
"You’ve already made a good impression," Sirius argues. "Hell, I bet they think you’re some kind of machine, the way you never take a break. What are you trying to prove?"
Regulus clenches his jaw. He knows where this is going.
Sirius lets a beat of silence pass before speaking again, softer this time. "Ever since… you know."
Regulus freezes. He grips the edge of the locker, staring blankly at the inside of it. He doesn’t need Sirius to say it. He knows exactly what he means.
Ever since James.
Ever since the accident. Ever since he made the choice to disappear from James’s life. To let him start over without the weight of them. Without the memories of what they had been, of what they could have been.
"Sirius." His voice comes out tight, warning.
"I know, I know. We don’t talk about it," Sirius mutters. "But, Reg, you’re running yourself into the ground. He’s not the only one who lost something that day."
Regulus swallows hard, looking at his reflection in the metal of the locker door. His face is sharper, leaner than it was a year ago. The sleepless nights, the long shifts, the way he throws himself into his work, it’s all taken a toll.
But he’s still standing. Still moving. Still pretending.
"I have to go," he says, grabbing his coat.
Sirius sighs. "Yeah. Of course you do."
Regulus hangs up, tucking his phone into his pocket as he steps out of the locker room. The hospital halls are quiet at this hour, the fluorescent lights humming softly.
He exhales slowly and squares his shoulders. Another night. Another shift. Another distraction.
And, as always, another day of trying not to think about James Potter.
...
Regulus’s night had been uneventful so far. He had settled into his shift smoothly, reviewing patient charts and assisting where needed. It was one of those rare, quiet nights in the ER where nothing urgent seemed to be happening. By the time 10 p.m. rolled around, he was stationed at the nurses' station, going over paperwork with Dorcas, a nurse and friend.
They had been chatting idly, exchanging complaints about the coffee in the break room, how it somehow always tasted burnt no matter who made it, when a sharp, panicked yell shattered the calm.
Regulus and Dorcas froze for half a second before instinct kicked in. They turned toward the sound, their bodies tensing as adrenaline surged through them. Then, without a word, they took off, their footsteps quick and urgent as they raced toward the front of the hospital.
As they reached the entrance, they found a man in visible distress. His breathing was erratic, chest rising and falling too fast. His hands clutched at his hair, pulling at the strands as if trying to ground himself, but it wasn’t working, he was spiraling, almost lost in panic. His eyes darted wildly around the room, unfocused, as if he was looking for someone or something.
Regulus, already stepping forward, steadying himself as he took in the distressed man before him. The guy was practically vibrating with panic, his words spilling out in a rushed, frantic mess.
“My boyfriend, oh God, my boyfriend, I was supposed to meet him at his apartment, but when I got there, he was on the floor, unconscious, he wasn’t moving, and I tried... I don’t know what to do, I called 911, but they took him, and I—I—his family doesn’t even like me, they’ll blame me if he...if he...”
The man kept going, his words tumbling over each other, his breaths short and shallow. Regulus’s head began to ache. He had dealt with plenty of panicked loved ones before, but this one wasn’t even answering his questions.
Regulus raised a hand, trying to cut through the frantic rambling. “Sir, I need you to slow down,” he said, keeping his tone even. “Can you tell me your boyfriend’s name? Do you know what happened before he lost consciousness?”
But the man wasn’t listening. He was too caught up in his own spiral, his panic feeding itself as he kept repeating the same fears over and over. “His family hates me, they already think I’m bad for him, and now this...I don’t even know what happened, I just found him there, I swear, if he dies...”
Regulus exhaled sharply through his nose, his patience thinning. “Where is he now?” he asked, firmer this time.
The man finally stopped, blinking as if the thought had just occurred to him. He turned, looking around wildly only to realize his boyfriend wasn’t there. “Wait... Where... Where is he?”
Regulus rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Calm down, okay?” He turned to the receptionist, who had been watching the scene unfold. “Where did the paramedics take him?”
The receptionist, unfazed, checked the system and replied, “They brought him in a few minutes ago. They mentioned something about a CT scan.”
Regulus nodded. That made sense. If the guy had hit his head hard enough to be unconscious, they’d want to rule out anything serious. “I’m going to check on him,” he said, already preparing to walk away.
But before he could take a step, the man reached out, gripping Regulus’s coat with desperate fingers. “Please, you have to save him. His family already doesn’t like me, if something happens to him, they’ll—”
Regulus closed his eyes for a brief second, summoning every ounce of patience he had left. He needed to get to the actual patient, not stand here listening to the boyfriend spiral.
“What’s your name?” he asked, his voice tight. “Mr…?”
“Hale,” the man said, barely pausing before launching back into his panicked rambling.
Regulus had had enough. His temple throbbed, and before he could stop himself, he snapped, “Mr. Hale, shut up.”
The words cut through the air like a slap. Hale’s mouth hung open in shock, and for a moment, there was blessed silence.
Then Dorcas gasped. “Regulus!” she hissed, smacking his arm.
Regulus exhaled through gritted teeth, forcing himself to rein it in. He rolled his shoulders, recomposing himself before speaking again, this time with forced calm. “I apologize,” he said, though his voice was still tight. “What I meant to say is that you need to take a breath. Your boyfriend fell. That’s it. People fall all the time. He hit his head, yes, he lost consciousness, but that doesn’t mean the worst. The doctors are handling it now, and you brought him to the right place.”
Hale was still looking at him like he’d been slapped, but at least he was listening now.
“I’ll check on him personally,” Regulus continued, his tone softening just a fraction. “And I’ll come back to update you myself. But for now, you need to sit down and wait.”
Hale hesitated, still wringing his hands, but eventually, he nodded and sank into one of the waiting room chairs.
Regulus turned on his heel and walked toward the patient rooms, exhaling hard as he went.
Regulus made his way back to the nurse’s station, running a hand through his hair as he approached the desk. He glanced at the patient board and then at Pandora, who was still organizing some paperwork.
“The unconscious patient that just came in, can I take him?” he asked, keeping his voice casual.
Pamdra looked up, raising an eyebrow. “You want him?”
“Yeah,” Regulus said simply.
She shrugged. “Sure. He’s yours.”
Dorcas, who had just come up behind Regulus, leaned on the counter and smirked. “Want me to call Dr. Rowle to help you?”
Regulus made a face, scrunching his nose in immediate disgust. “Ew! No!”
Dorcas burst into laughter, shaking her head. “You’re going to break that man’s heart one of these days.”
“Not my problem,” Regulus muttered, already turning away. He needed coffee before heading to the radiology department.
He grabbed a cup from the break room, took a sip of the bitter liquid, and sighed before making his way toward radiology. When he arrived, the tech was just finishing printing the results, but the patient had already been taken back to the ER.
Regulus picked up the CT scan results, flipping through them as he walked, his eyes scanning the images carefully while making his way back to the ER.
Regulus stepped back into the nurse’s station, still scanning the CT results in his hand. Without looking up, he asked, “Where did they send the unconscious guy?”
Pandora checked the patient chart. “Room 304.”
Regulus gave a nod and started toward the room, his eyes still skimming the scan results as he walked. His mind was already piecing together the possibilities, mild head trauma, exhaustion, maybe dehydration. Nothing severe, there was no bleeding or swelling, he was almost sure the man was okay, but he’d need to confirm.
When he pushed open the door to 304, he wasn’t expecting the man to be awake, sitting up in bed, animatedly talking to the nurse.
“I’m fine,” the man was saying, holding up his hands. “Look, I can touch my nose.” He did so with one hand, then the other. “And I can do math. Two hundred times four? Eight hundred.”
The nurse crossed her arms. “That’s not how concussions work, sir. You need to be cleared before you can leave.”
“Cleared?” the man scoffed. “I just fainted. I’ve been sleep-deprived, that’s all. I’m telling you, I’m good. Can I go now?”
Regulus barely heard any of it.
Because the man sitting on the hospital bed, the man who had been unconscious, the man who was now trying to charm his way out of staying, was James.
James in his rounded glasses.
James with his kissable lips.
James, his James.
Or, the James he used to love.
Regulus’s entire body locked up. His heart slammed against his ribs, his stomach twisted so violently he thought he might be sick. A year. A year of forcing himself to move on, of pretending he didn’t feel like a phantom of himself, of running from the ghost of a love that had left him hollow. And now, just like that, James was here.
Alive. Breathing. Talking.
Completely unaware that Regulus was standing in the doorway.
Regulus’s mouth went dry. His grip on the scan results tightened, fingertips pressing into the paper. The edges of his vision blurred as his pulse roared in his ears.
“Dr. Black?” The nurse’s voice cut through the fog. “Are you okay?”
Regulus forced himself to swallow, to breathe. He tore his eyes away from James and looked at her. “Yes.” Then, immediately: “No.”
James turned his head toward him then, finally noticing his presence. The room was silent for a minute. James watches him, his expression somewhere between curiosity and something else, something searching.
Do I know you?” James asked, squinting slightly, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle that didn’t quite fit.
Regulus’s throat went dry. His stomach lurched. He could barely think, barely breathe.
“No,” he said quickly, too quickly. “We’ve never met before.”
James frowned, unconvinced. “Are you sure? You look... Familiar.”
Regulus forced a tight, professional smile. “I think I’d remember.”
James narrowed his eyes slightly, studying him. “I swear I know you from somewhere.”
Regulus’s grip on his clipboard tightened. "No, you don’t."
James frowned, unconvinced. “No, I’m pretty sure… Did you go to bording school? To Hogwarts?”
The name alone sent a shock through Regulus’s system. A flood of memories rushed in before he could stop them.
*Hogwarts, the sprawling campus, the cold stone corridors echoing with laughter.
Jmes, always surrounded by people, effortlessly charming, his smile too bright, too warm.
James at the piano in the music room, fingers gliding over the keys, a melody that sent shivers down Regulus’s spine.
James leaning over his desk in class, tapping his pen against Regulus’s notebook, grinning as he whispered, ‘C’mon, you already know all the answers. Just let me peek.’
James at a party, laughing too loudly, tousled hair and hazel eyes shining under dim lights, looking at Regulus like he was something worth figuring out.*
Regulus swallowed hard. The past threatened to pull him under, but he couldn’t let it. Not here. Not now.
He forced himself to shake his head. “No,” he said, his voice steady, though his insides churned. “You must be confusing me with someone else.” Regulud then pretended to look at the results from the CT scan before saying. “I will get another doctor to assess you.” His voice was tight, hoarse..
James blinked. “Why?”
Regulus didn’t answer.
He turned on his heel and walked out the door.
Outside the room, Regulus braced his hands on the nurse’s station and exhaled sharply. His heart was hammering, his skin felt too tight, and his mind was spinning in a way that made him feel sick. He needed to get out of here. He needed to get James out of his head.
For fuck’s sake, there was a man sitting in the waiting room right now, a man who had all but begged Regulus to save his boyfriend, to keep him alive. That was the reality. James was not his anymore.
Regulus dropped the CT results on the desk with a forceful slap. “I can’t treat the patient in 304. Conflict of interest,” he said quickly, voice still uneven.
Dorcas blinked. “Conflict?”
Before she or anyone else could press, Regulus turned on his heel. “I’m taking a break.”
The words felt like an excuse, and maybe they were. He needed air, something to quiet the heat still spreading under his skin, the hot, sticky sensation of seeing James again, so close and yet impossibly far away.
But as soon as he stepped into the hallway, he crossed paths with him.
Thorfinn Rowle.
Tall, broad-shouldered, confident in that lazy, assured way that had always grated on Regulus. Tonight, though, Regulus didn’t hesitate.
His body was thrumming, his skin felt feverish, and his mind was screaming at him to do something, to drown out the memory of hazel eyes looking at him like a stranger. He needed a distraction, a way to silence the ache clawing at his ribs.
“Thorfinn,” Regulus said, voice still rough.
Thorfinn raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the urgency in his tone. “Black?”
“Do you want to grab a coffee?” Regulus asked, forcing his voice into something steadier. It was casual, perfectly reasonable, colleagues getting coffee.
But something in the way Regulus said it must have tipped Rowle off, because his lips curled into a smirk. “Now that’s a surprise,” he mused. “I thought you didn’t want to be on a first-name basis.”
Regulus didn’t dignify that with a response. His heart was still racing for all the wrong reasons, and if he stopped to examine why he was doing this, he might fall apart.
“Do you want the coffee or not?”
Rowle chuckled. “Oh, I definitely want the coffee.”
They walked side by side down the hall, and Regulus barely registered the motion. His body felt disconnected from his mind, every step dragging him further from the room he had just left.
By the time they reached the break room, Regulus’s pulse was still hammering, but it had nothing to do with Thorfinn. He barely registered closing the door, barely registered turning toward the coffee machine until, suddenly, he wasn’t thinking at all.
Instead, he turned, grabbed Rowle by the collar, and crashed their mouths together.
Rowle made a startled noise, but he recovered quickly, hands sliding down to Regulus’s hips, gripping him tight. The kiss was harsh, all teeth and desperation, a distraction wrapped in heat and pressure.
Regulus’s nails dug into Rowle’s shirt, holding on as if this could replace the ghost of James Potter still burning behind his ribs. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t right.
But right now, he needed to forget.
So he didn’t stop.
Regulus could feel the press of strong hands on his butt cheeks, roaming, gripping, needing. His own fingers trying to unbutton Rowle’s shirt, his heart hammering in his chest.
He wasn’t thinking, not about James, not about anything, just about the way the ache in his chest dulled with every press of lips, every graze of teeth.
Then the door swung open.
“Did I interrupt something?”
Dorcas.
Regulus and Rowle pulled apart so fast it was almost comedic, except there was nothing funny about the mess they must have looked. Regulus’s hair was no doubt in disarray, his lips red and swollen, and Rowle’s shirt was wrinkled where Regulus had gripped it.
Regulus cleared his throat, smoothing his coat as if that would somehow erase what had just happened. “Oh, no, nothing really,” he said, voice steady despite everything. “I was just running a, uh… scenario through Dr. Rowle.”
Dorcas arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “A scenario,” she echoed, skepticism dripping from every syllable.
Rowle, to his credit, smirked like he found the whole thing amusing. “I should get back,” he said smoothly, straightening his shirt as he stepped away. “See you around, Black.”
Regulus didn’t respond, and Rowle slipped past Dorcas, leaving the room with an easy stride. Dorcas watched him go, eyes narrowed slightly.
The second the door shut, she turned back to Regulus.
“What the hell was that?”
Regulus sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Nothing is going on.”
Dorcas scoffed. “Oh, nothing, sure.” She tilted her head, gaze sweeping over him. “Oh, wait, you’ve got something right—” She pointed vaguely at his cheek.
Regulus frowned, reaching up to wipe at the spot.
Dorcas’s smirk widened. “Oh no, forget it,” she said. “Just your lies dripping from your mouth.”
Regulus groaned, shoulders sagging. He should’ve known Dorcas wouldn’t let this go.
She crossed her arms. “So, is there anything you’d like to tell me?” she asked, tone just on the edge of teasing, but her eyes were sharp. “Maybe about, I don’t know, conflict of interest?”
Regulus exhaled slowly. He didn’t want to talk about this. He didn’t want to put it into words, to make it real. But if there was anyone he could trust, it was Dorcas. She wouldn’t judge.
He closed his eyes briefly, then said, “The man in 304. That’s James.” A beat of silence. Then, softer, “My ex-fiancé.”
Dorcas blinked. “Shut up.”
Regulus let out a humorless laugh. “I wish I was kidding.”
She stared at him, like she was waiting for the punchline, but Regulus didn’t say anything else. Eventually, realization dawned in her eyes.
“No,” she said, as if the very idea was impossible. “No way.”
Regulus nodded.
“What? How?” Dorcas looked vaguely unhinged, like she didn’t know what to do with this information. “You mean to tell me that James Potter, your James, THE James, is in 304?”
Regulus’s throat felt tight, but he forced the words out. “He doesn’t remember me,” he said. “He... He was in an accident. Lost his memories.”
Dorcas’s expression shifted, the teasing fading into something softer. “Oh, Reg,” she murmured.
Regulus swallowed hard. He could feel it again, that horrible ache, the one he’d been trying so hard to push down.
“You still love him.”
It wasn’t a question.
Regulus didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to.
Dorcas sighed, shaking her head. “And yet, you’re here, making out with Rowle in the break room.”
Regulus groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “I know,” he muttered. “It’s not my proudest moment, alright? I just—” He exhaled sharply. “I just wanted to get him out of my head.”
Dorcas gave him a long, assessing look, then sighed. “Well, if that was the plan, I’d say it was a spectacular failure.”
Regulus let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “Yeah.”
Dorcas hesitated for a second, then said, “James was discharged.”
The words hit Regulus like a punch to the gut. He felt his stomach drop, his chest tighten.
James was gone.
He should feel relieved. This was good, wasn’t it? He wouldn’t have to see James again, wouldn’t have to deal with the way his heart twisted every time those hazel eyes looked right through him.
But somehow, all he felt was worse.
Regulus sank into a chair nearby, his fingers pressing against his temples as if that could ease the pounding headache that had suddenly taken over his mind. Dorcas, glanced at him, her expression softening. "Do you need some time alone to gather your thoughts?" she asked quietly.
He nodded, his throat tight. "Yes, please."
She hesitated for a moment, before giving a small nod in return. "Alright, I'll leave you to it." With that, she stepped out, the door clicking softly behind her.
Alone at last, Regulus let out a shaky breath, but he couldn’t stop the flood of emotions that rushed over him. His eyes burned, and for a moment, he thought he might crumble right then and there. How could James just walk back into his life after all this time? After everything that had happened, it wasn't fair that he still felt this way around James.
Regulus quickly wiped his face, swallowing hard. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t. James was already someone else’s. James had a boyfriend now. Regulus wished Sirius had told him, but at the same time, he was relieved he hadn't. He wasn’t sure how he would have handled it if he’d known sooner, if he’d been forced to confront the truth before now. A part of him wanted to scream, wanted to throw something against the wall, but he pushed it all down. He couldn’t afford to let himself fall apart. Not now.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to straighten up, to center himself. People’s lives were at risk. He wasn’t some lovesick teenager anymore. He was a doctor. His duty, his responsibility, was to his patients, to saving lives, not dwelling in the past. That was what mattered. James was a part of his past, a chapter that had closed. Regulus had to remember that, no matter how much his heart wanted to betray him.
He breathed in again, slower this time, focusing on the rhythm of his breath. He wasn’t going to let James get to him. Not now, not when lives depended on him.
The next morning, Regulus stumbled back to his apartment, the image of James in the hospital still haunting him. He turned on a U2 album, hoping to drown out the thoughts swirling in his mind. Dropping onto his bed, eyes closed, exhaustion pulling him under, he let Bono’s voice wash over him.
But even in sleep, James lingered. In his dreams, Regulus saw James, but every time he reached for him, the distance between them grew, and with each failed attempt, his chest tightened.