At the medical center.
Night had fallen.
The patient's daughter rushed in. No drama, no fuss—she just signed the papers to remove the ventilator right away.
It was her mom's wish.
She didn't think Adam saving her mom without knowing the full story was wrong either.
"I'll give her a sedative first to ease her discomfort, then we can remove the tube," Adam said, standing by the bedside. He took the signed consent form and glanced at them. "Ready?"
"Yeah," the daughter nodded, tears in her eyes.
Adam was about to inject the sedative when—
"Wait."
The daughter stopped him.
Adam paused steady as a rock.
"Goodbye, Mom."
She leaned in, kissed her mom's forehead, and said her farewell.
"Ready now?"
Adam had to ask again. After she nodded, he gave her a few seconds, then administered the sedative, turned off the monitor, and pulled the tube.
"How long will it take?" the daughter asked, voice shaky with tears.
"It'll take a little while," Adam replied gently.
They waited together. After a bit, Adam checked the patient's pulse and heartbeat, then nodded to the daughter. "Time of death: 8:23," he announced before stepping out of the room.
Down the hall at the corner—
Christina, Liz, George, and Meredith were half-leaning on a gurney, each with a complicated look on their faces.
"What's up with you guys? Someone boil you alive?" Adam teased with a grin.
"Pretty sure you're the one who almost got cooked," Christina shot back, rolling her eyes. "What's this? The great Dr. Duncan finally getting threatened with a lawsuit by a woman? Your charm's wearing off?"
"Heh," Adam chuckled, brushing it off. He switched gears. "So, you did that flesh-eating bacteria surgery today?"
He wasn't exactly the teacher's pet, and that was fine. After all, he wasn't Leonard!
"Ugh, don't get me started," Christina said, sitting up straight and glaring at Adam. "Dr. Shirland used to be your resident, right? Now that Bailey's out on maternity leave, she's stuck with us. It's a total disaster."
"Come on, it's not that bad," Adam laughed. "Shirley's great—way easier to deal with than Bailey."
"That's the problem!" Christina snapped. "We're interns. We're supposed to be learning skills from our resident, not playing 'hi, hello, everyone's happy' like it's some kiddie game. 'Love and care therapy'? Give me a break."
"Did you guys clash?" Adam asked, curious.
"Nope," Christina said, her face stone-cold. "I just didn't agree with her surgery plan. The patient had flesh-eating bacteria—leg infection spreading fast. The right move is to amputate ASAP to stop it from hitting the bloodstream and killing them. But nooo, she got all emotional, insisting on clearing out every last bit of bacteria first. She's gambling with the patient's life!"
"She even called Dr. Burke in to check it out," Meredith added quietly.
"No way," Adam said, stunned, turning to Christina. "You got your boyfriend to pull rank on Shirley? Did she lose it?"
Questioning the lead surgeon in the OR? That's a big no-no.
An intern calling in her attending boyfriend to challenge her superior? That's straight-up crossing the line. Any surgeon with a shred of pride would flip out.
"Oh, she flipped alright," Meredith chimed in again. "She tore into Burke, left him speechless, and kicked him out of the OR."
"I was just worried about the patient's life," Christina said, stubborn as ever.
"The patient's a marathon runner. If you amputate, even if they live, they'd be miserable," Meredith countered. "Dr. Shirland's plan wasn't wrong. She consulted the patient and their newlywed husband, decided to try clearing the bacteria first, and only amputate if the infection spread further."
"By then, the patient might already be dead," Christina argued back.
"The first rule for us surgeons isn't just keeping the patient alive, is it?" Adam shook his head. "It's about respecting their choice and doing our best to keep them alive within that."
"And the results proved Dr. Shirland right," Meredith said with a smile. "She stood there for eight hours straight, cleared all the bacteria, saved the patient's life and their leg. Now Burke's making Christina apologize to her."
"That was a fluke—one-in-a-million luck. What about next time?" Christina grumbled.
"The issue isn't whose plan was right or wrong," Adam pointed out. "You can have your opinion, sure, but once the lead surgeon sets the plan, you don't call in someone—especially your boyfriend—to pressure them. Shirley's chill, so you got off easy. Anyone else? They'd escalate it, make you and Burke look like fools. You should apologize."
"Fine, I'll admit I got a little impulsive," Christina said after a pause, still stubborn. "But I still think my plan was the right one."
"Nope, you're wrong," Adam said, shaking his head. "Remember that patient who got off to Liz's modeling mag, nearly got castrated, and wouldn't let her near him?"
"Yeah, what about it?" Christina blinked.
"Who was the lead surgeon? What's his nickname? Why'd he earn it? A full-on attending—why doesn't he get respect from juniors, even interns who talk back?"
Christina froze.
The lead was Dr. Victor, an old-timer nicknamed "Softie." His motto? "Young docs gamble with cancer; at my age, you learn to be efficient."
His go-to move: cut it all out. Nerves? Doesn't matter—anything near the cancer zone gets sliced off. Clean and simple.
The cost? Patients who could've had some quality of life end up worse than dead.
That near-castrated patient? Liz fought hard, and even rule-stickler Bailey bent the rules, shooing Softie away. They operated themselves, saved the nerves, and let the guy keep his dignity. Sure, the recurrence risk went up, but the patient thanked them endlessly.
"Christina, the clean cut is the most effective way," Adam said earnestly. "Your scalpel could save more lives, no doubt. But their quality of life post-op? You can't ignore that. And by always going for the clean cut, aren't you just dodging the tougher surgeries that balance saving lives and quality—like you're scared of the challenge? What's next? Only taking cases you're 100% sure of, chasing a perfect record for bragging rights?"
Christina went quiet, and the air got heavy. 😬
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