The scrub room was still foggy with the humidity of a six-hour surgery when the door burst open. Christopher was mid-rinse, his surgical loupes hanging around his neck like a talisman, when Alex Karev collided with him.
It wasn't a polite tap or a handshake. It was a visceral, bone-crushing embrace from a man who had spent the last several hours expecting a funeral. Alex gripped Christopher's lab coat, his forehead buried in Christopher's shoulder, his breathing ragged and uneven.
Christopher froze. In his internal script, Alex Karev was a blunt instrument, a jerk who hid behind bravado. But the man currently clinging to him was shattered.
"You saved her," Alex croaked, his voice muffled by Christopher's scrubs. "She's clear. Shepherd said the margins are clean. You... thank you."
Christopher stood there, his hands hover-clenched for a beat before he finally patted Alex's back with a clinical, awkward rhythmic thud. He felt the heat of Alex's relief, the raw human electricity of it. It was the kind of unscripted moment that made The Wright Way feel less like a game and more like a heavy responsibility.
Slowly, Alex pulled back, wiping his eyes with his forearm, looking embarrassed by the leak in his armor.
Christopher adjusted his glasses, his sarcastic shell snapping back into place with the audible click of a closing vault.
"Careful, Karev," Christopher drawled, flicking a stray thread off his sleeve. "If you wrinkle the silk any further, I'm sending you the dry-cleaning bill. And for God's sake, go wash your face; you look like a Golden Retriever who just found a tennis ball in a landfill."
Alex let out a jagged laugh, shaking his head. "You're a jerk, Wright."
"I'm a triple-board certified genius who just cured your girlfriend's brain," Christopher shot back, heading for the exit. "There's a significant difference."
He walked out of the hospital, his phone vibrating with a text from Jack. "The brownstone smells like victory and Thai basil. Hurry up before I litigate your absence. - J"
Christopher smirked, stepping into the cool Seattle night. He was winning. But he knew Season 6 was looming, and with it, the Hospital Shooting.