Chapter Text
Kate’s fingernails drummed across the top of her satchel, heavy on her shoulder, as she walked through the gate, her heels clicking over the marble floor, anxiety fluttering in her stomach.
“Er, Hi, I’m not sure if I’m… in the right spot but I’m starting work today?” Her voice wobbled only just, fighting to maintain eye contact with the man raising his eyebrow at her.
“Your name, love?”
“Kate- Katharine maybe- Kate Sharma?” Her fingernails were digging into the palm of her hand.
Just relax, you know what you’re doing, you’re good at your job, just… take a deep breath and relax.
“Dr Sharma, of course.” The man said after several seconds, his eyes widening, flickering over her, surprise practically radiating off him. Just like always.
She ignored it “So am I-?”
The man startled, standing, straightening his navy and blue tie, quickly, “Er right, you’re in the right place for now, Um, I’m sending you up to HR first, and then they’ll take you over to the City football academy, that’s where the main medical facility is.”
Kate forced herself to smile, “And HR is-?”
“Level two, up the stairs, to the right.” He nodded, his hands still fiddling with his tie.
“Thank you…” Her eyes flicked down to his name badge, pinned neatly to his blazer. “Jack.”
Kate turned away from the desk dodging the cardboard cutout of one player or another, Kate was too nervous to notice who, her heels clacking up the steps, fingers drumming nervously, nervously, nervously.
When Kate had graduated from St. Andrews this was the very last place she expected to find herself, but plans changed, people do, twisted and shaped by grief, a cardiothoracic specialty abandoned for orthopaedics and here she was. Manchester City FC. With no real idea how she came to be here.
She’d been sitting in her office six months ago, shovelling salad into her mouth between patients, humming as she looked at a radiograph of a fractured hip when her phone had rung.
She’d sighed, “Lucy, can I just have one pathetic Tesco salad without us having to talk?”
Her assistant had hummed, “I personally love that journey for you, but there’s an Agatha Danbury on line one for you.”
That had pulled Kate up short, “I don’t know an Agatha Danbury.”
“Even so, she knows you and she’s being rather insistent. Don’t groan.”
Kate, who had been intending on it, bit it back. “Fine.” And seconds later she’d said, “Kate Sharma.”
A very firm voice had answered almost immediately, “Agatha Danbury, Dr Sharma, I’m not sure if you know who I am.”
She’d felt a little embarrassed to be saying, “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.”
“Oh we’ve not met, I’m the Chairwoman of Manchester City Football Club and I have a… proposition for you.”
And inexplicably, now here she was. Resigned from her job, Lucy joining her next week, her life entirely different than the way she’d imagined it.
Hours later she found herself, horribly out of place as strolled through the cement tunnels at the CFA, her heels clacking against the polished floor ignoring the murmurs of Who the fuck is that?! That seemed to have followed her since she’d arrived.
Medicine, as much as everyone liked to think it was no longer true, always seemed like such a male field. Particularly specialties like orthopaedics, sports medicine maybe the most of all. There was a reason that people always startled when she introduced herself, could almost see their minds ticking over before they said the inevitable, Sorry, I just thought you’d be older.
Chin up, Katie, shoulders tall. A different voice echoed through her head as she slipped inside her new office, her eyes flicking over the equipment she could see, a standard exam table splitting the room in two, the desk on the left covered in little trinkets, pictures of a blonde woman on the shoulders of a tall dark haired man, smiles bright, two plain desks shoved into the opposite side, two desks squeezed into the space where one had clearly been before. After Kate had said
“I’d like it if my assistant, Lucy, could follow me, she’s at university, studying physiotherapy and I-“
Agatha Danbury had let out a startled laugh, “This is your one request? A part time assistant? I’m sure we can accomodate.”
“Sorry, can I help you?” The woman from the photographs had walked into the room from one adjoining, frowning down at a clipboard, a pen tapping against in a rhythmic fashion once, twice, three times before she looked up, her eyes widening. “Oh! You must be Dr Sharma, I’m Sophie, the ah-“ she gestured to her desk- “-physio.”
Kate forced down her nerves, trying to sound much more commanding that she’d felt, as though she’d been in charge of something like this before. “Just Kate’s fine, it’s lovely to meet you Sophie, I’ve heard such wonderful things.”
Sophie’s smile was so kind it was nearly a little startling, “I’m a bit embarrassed to say I googled you and your research into artificial joints is really fascinating.”
Kate’s stomach lurched. Please don’t ask, please don’t She kept the smile on her face. “Well, I was young, and a little too idealistic.” And I thought I could have saved him.
Sophie laughed, “Weren’t we all at one point?”
“Probably, and then we sell out and work for multimillion pound football clubs, no?” Kate smirked resting her satchel on one of the empty desks, perching herself on the edge, even as Sophie laughed again, clicking her tongue.
“Apparently we do.” Sophie hummed.
“At least there’s eye candy.” Kate quipped, “If you can get over the egos.”
“Most of the boys are nice, and if any of them aren’t just look them dead in the eye and tell them to fuck off, but something tells me you don’t let people walk over you very easily.” Sophie was looking at her so shrewdly, and god she wished it was true.
“I try not to.”
Silence echoed in the room for a long moment before Kate sighed, “I suppose I should probably do some work around here. Wanna fill me in?”
____________________
“Soph, I’ve really fucked my knee can you-? Oh! Sorry.”
The man’s voice fell flat, Kate assumed at the sight of the top of her head. She looked up from behind her desk where she’d been crouching, rifling though the filing cabinet, looking at the previous doctor’s plans, and she startled just a little. Anthony Bridgerton was standing in the door way, leaning a little gingerly against it, his muddy socks rolled down, boots still on, fresh from the training field.
Everyone in Manchester knew Anthony Bridgerton, maybe most people in England. Playing professionally since he was eighteen, a veteran really now at 32, team captain, England’s captain, almost as notorious off the field as on, woman after woman paraded in front of the press. And here he was, standing in her office, the embodiment of everything she’d tried to avoid in her career, a hulk of testosterone, his eyes wide as she straightened from the floor.
“You must be the new Martin.” His arms were crossed over his chest, his muscles bulging.
Kate’s eyebrow quirked, her hands tucked into the pocket of her skirt, “I think I prefer to think of myself as the current Kate.”
His face twitched just a little, but he said nothing, just stood there, staring back at her.
“You hurt your leg at training?”
His fingers drummed on his arm, their eyes seemingly locked together, “Sorry, I thought you’d be older, we’re kind of just used to an old school guy.”
It grated at her for some reason, “Yes, and would you believe I manage to practice medicine without my tits getting in the way.” It had snapped out of her before she could stop it.
Anthony’s eyes widened in surprise, is mouth falling open, and she shouldn’t have said it, but something about that made her feel a little victorious as he floundered for barely a second before he cleared his throat, “If you just give me a muscle relaxer I’ll get out of your hair.”
That irked her even more, she’d read his file, injury after injury to his right knee, failing far quicker than he’d like.
“I’ll be the judge of that. Take a seat.” Kate said quickly, gesturing to the exam table, as she snapped on a pair of gloves, “Sorry, do you need a hand?”
He had been staring unmovingly at her, his arms still crossed, silence stretching between them, almost as though he was trying to decide if she would give up, and then she won again. He groaned, pushing off from the wall, limping towards her, hopping onto the table. And the second Kate stepped towards him, she realised she’d made a huge mistake.
His brow was furrowed as he stared down at her, his dark eyes burning against her skin as she studied his knee carefully, palpating gently, he flinched under her hands, and when she looked up at him her heart stopped, his hair was falling in his eyes, his face pinched in discomfort but still so handsome, the air thickening all around them and Kate felt her cheeks growing warm.
You’re a fucking doctor, will you get it together?! Kate hissed at herself. And besides, he seems like a complete arsehole!
“Sorry, was that sore?”
Anthony gritted his teeth. “Yes.”
“You’ve strained a ligament. Why do you not strap this?” Good, good, focus on the medicine.
“Am I going to get in very much trouble if I tell you I left my strapping tape at home, Kate?” Her name fell easily from his lips in his deep, rich voice, His smile was lopsided, and it made him look so much younger, even more handsome. “Or sorry, do you prefer Dr Sharma?”
Kate hummed, picking up her stethoscope, gesturing to his shirt, “Can I? I’d like to do a full physical of everyone, make my own judgements and seeing as you’re already here-”
Anthony cleared his throat, “Is that necessary?”
Kate felt a muscle in her own jaw twitch, being undermined once more, again and again and again. “Yes. Lift up your shirt and let me see please”
He lifted his shirt with a dramatic gesture. One that seemed to say Very well, go ahead though I’m very busy and important. Kate fought the urge to roll her eyes, sliding her hands under his shirt, and again, he flinched away from her, even as she tried to change the topic.
“Either.”
“What?” It echoed oddly through the stethoscope, her hands stilling under his shirt as she found his heartbeat, thrumming away steadily, her eyes meeting his again.
“You asked, what I prefer to be called. Either’s fine, and yes if you forget your strapping tape again and don’t come down here, you’re in trouble.”
He said nothing, just stared back at her, as though he hadn’t heard her at all, hadn’t been listening, silence stretching on and on between them and then-
“Sorry, I don’t have time for this, I have to go.” He stood abruptly, knocking her hands out of the way, hobbling as fast as his leg could carry him.
“I wasn’t finished.” It sounded so stupid, so juvenile.
“I have um- a meeting to get to.” It was a lie, surely it was, because he’d come down here for help, so the problem must be her, the doctor, the woman.
“Right well, you need to ice that, strap it,” She said pointedly, ignoring his look of discomfort, “And Sophie’ll be back soon if you need help.”
“It’s fine! Thanks Dr Sharma, loads better already, a miracle worker.”
And she wasn’t sure why disappointment bloomed in her chest. “So Dr Sharma’s where we’ve landed?”
He barely even looked over his shoulder. “Yep.” And he left her staring after him.