Medical Center
After Lunch
Ward
Adam took over a sulky "Ouyang Feng" from Cristina.
"Carter, you're on bedside duty," Adam said after finishing his check-up, handing the task to Carter, who'd been staring at him eagerly. "If anything goes wrong again, page me immediately!"
"Yes, Dr. Duncan!" Carter straightened up, chest puffed out, eyes gleaming with determination.
Being back under Adam's wing felt amazing to him.
Adam caught the vibe and smirked. That kind of enthusiasm reminded him of his past life—stuck in an office, relegated to the seat closest to the door, facing away from it. There was a weird sort of familiarity to it.
Sure, he needed to test if this could "farm some lifespan," but Adam couldn't babysit Ouyang Feng forever. That'd raise eyebrows. For something this minor, other residents handed it off to interns—Adam was no exception.
Stepping out of the room, he headed to check on the "Future Madame Curie" to see how she was doing post-surgery.
As he approached her ward, he peeked through the window. The patient was awake, staring at Lexie with a pained expression, desperately asking questions.
The surgery had gone well, but her burns were severe. She was wrapped up like a mummy, only half her face exposed.
"How did I…" she rasped.
"You were heating methamphetamine, and the stove exploded," Lexie said, her voice soft with sympathy.
"Oh…" The woman's memory clicked into place. She struggled to ask, "My…"
"Your husband and son are okay," Lexie jumped in, knowing what she meant. "But your son's addicted from passive exposure. He had a stroke earlier, just went through surgery—it went well. Your husband's been taken by the police. I think they'll come for you next…"
The visible half of the woman's face twisted in agony. Her eyes screamed despair, but she couldn't cry—just opened her mouth as her tightly wrapped body began to tremble.
"Mrs. Christ, are you okay?" Lexie asked, suddenly nervous.
"Breathe!" Adam stepped in, moving to the bedside. He demonstrated a deep breath, urging her to follow. "Come on, slow it down—breathe!"
Meeting her hopeless gaze, he softened his tone. "I know it feels like everything's over, but this is just a hurdle. You can get through it. Think about your son."
"Phew." Mrs. Christ locked eyes with Adam, mimicking his breathing. After a while, she steadied herself from the brink of hyperventilation and managed to croak, "My son… will he…"
"His custody's going to his grandmother," Adam explained.
Once she was calm, Adam left the room, motioning for Lexie to follow.
"Dealing with patients takes skill," he said. "When you deliver bad news, you've got to be careful—stay polite and objective, no emotions, but don't come off cold."
"…" Lexie blinked. "How do you manage no emotions and not cold at the same time?"
"Politeness keeps it from being cold; objectivity keeps the emotions out," Adam clarified. "Look polite, speak factually—that's the balance. If you, as a doctor, slip from that—whether you get teary with them or go too detached—it can rile up a grieving patient or their family. That's when things spiral out of control, and we can't let that happen. Understand?"
"…Yeah," Lexie said with a wry smile.
She was an emotional person—full of empathy for patients and their families, naturally drawn into their pain. Not being cold? Easy—she couldn't be cold if she tried. But no emotions? That went against her very nature.
"I know you don't fully get it yet," Adam said with a nod. "That's fine—it's something you can train. Part of my job is teaching you. Starting tomorrow, you're on diagnosis delivery duty. Oh, and Melendez—you two are a team.
When you can stop cheering for a patient's good news or crying over their bad news—staying polite, objective, and composed—that's when you're done."
"Ah!" Lexie's face fell. "What if I can't do it?"
"Can't do it?" Adam gave her a meaningful look. "I believe you can. Otherwise, while everyone else is busy with surgeries, you'll be stuck handing out results every day. After a while, even if the patients and families are thrilled, you won't be able to muster a smile."
"…" Lexie shuddered.
Usually, only good-news diagnoses got dumped on a single intern to distribute. Bad news? That was for attending or bedside docs to handle personally. Good news brought smiles—anyone could deliver it. Bad news, though? Patients and families couldn't handle it—they'd pepper you with questions about details and alternatives. An intern like Lexie wouldn't stand a chance.
For someone ambitious like her, being stuck with grunt work anyone could do would drain her. Emotional as she was, when she couldn't smile anymore, she'd hit that ideal state: no feelings, yet not cold.
As for pairing her with Shorty Melendez? One, he'd show her what "no emotions" looked like, helping her adjust. Two, it'd force him to work on not being cold. That guy's arrogance? If he didn't tone it down and ran into a patient or family with the same vibe, their grief could turn into resentment—thinking he was too callous. Things could get ugly.
Don't say it's impossible. Look at Dr. House next door—his sharp tongue had earned him complaints and even fists. Regular patients, with no pull, just had to suck it up. But if he ever ticked off someone with power who wouldn't back down? He'd be toast. With all his flaws, they wouldn't even need to overstep—just follow protocol strictly, and he'd be miserable.
House had dodged that bullet so far—pure luck. It's why Adam figured he was a protagonist.
House's cautionary tale was right there in New Jersey. So Adam believed in training his interns right from the start—instill good habits early. In a world this harsh on doctors, non-protagonists had a high chance of crashing and burning.
He hadn't watched much medical TV, so he didn't know the original fates of his four interns. But he'd bet George and Lexie weren't destined for smooth rides. They were probably from Grey's Anatomy—he'd caught a few episodes in his past life. With Meredith as the lead, George and Lexie were sidekicks. Sidekick doctors tend to get the short end of the stick, so their original paths likely sucked.
Lexie being a Grey, though, might mean she could outshine her half-sister and rise up. As for Neil Melendez and John Carter? No clue—they didn't ring any bells.
Ring ring ring.
The phone rang.
"Hey, Rachel," Adam answered, only to freeze at her next words. "…I'll be right there!"
He hung up and bolted for the ER.
(End of Chapter)