The Chief's office was a pressure cooker. Richard Webber was pacing behind his desk, his breathing heavy with the kind of righteous fury that usually ended in a permanent blacklisting.
"You lied, Christopher," Richard snarled, slamming a hand onto a stack of patient files. "You stood in that room and practically coached them on how to commit perjury. I should have your license for breakfast and your residency for lunch."
"I provided an alternative perspective on administrative liability, Richard. Don't be so dramatic; it doesn't suit your bone structure," Christopher retorted, though his fingers were subtly digging into the leather of the chair.
A sharp, confident knock echoed through the room. Before Richard could bark a refusal, the door swung open. Jack Brady stepped in, looking every inch the high-priced shark Christopher had met at the bar. He wasn't in a rumpled suit this time; he was in a bespoke navy three-piece that screamed six-figure retainer.
"Who the hell are you?" Richard demanded.
"Jack Brady. Brady, Vance, & Associates," Jack said, his voice a smooth, terrifyingly calm baritone. He didn't look at Christopher—not yet. He kept his eyes locked on Richard. "I'm here as a legal consultant on behalf of Dr. Wright, and by extension, the interests of this hospital's malpractice insurance carrier."
Richard froze. "I didn't call for legal."
"No, but the board of directors did when they saw the 'preliminary' report on the Duquette incident," Jack lied smoothly, sliding a briefcase onto the desk. Christopher blinked. Jack was good. He was script-level good. "Chief, if you pursue a criminal investigation against those interns right now, you aren't just firing five kids. You're inviting a discovery process that will expose the fact that your Lead Surgeon—Dr. Wright here—warned the administration about staffing shortages during mass casualties forty-eight hours ago."
Christopher raised an eyebrow. He hadn't done that. Jack was inventing "patterns" faster than Christopher could recall them.
"I have the internal memos," Jack continued, tapping his briefcase. "Or rather, I will have them when my firm finishes the audit. If you crucify the interns, you crucify the hospital. The PR nightmare alone would shutter your ER. My advice? A private reprimand. A 're-education' period. And we all agree that the monitors failed."
The silence that followed was heavy. Richard looked from Jack to Christopher. He saw the trap. If he pushed, the lawyer would tear the hospital's reputation to shreds to protect the "prodigy."
"Get out, Mr. Brady," Richard said, his voice barely a whisper.
Jack nodded once, his expression professional and cold. "We'll be in touch." He turned and walked out, the air in the room seemingly following him.
Richard sank into his chair, looking older than the hospital itself. He looked at Christopher for a long time. "You're dangerous, Christopher. You think you're playing God, but you're just playing with fire. Jack Brady won't be there to bail you out when the real disasters hit."
"I'm counting on it," Christopher said, his sarcasm finally returning.
"Fine. The interns stay. For now," Richard sighed. "But consider this your final warning. Tone down the insubordination. Work with your peers. If I hear one more word about you obstructing a hospital inquiry, I'll fire you myself, board be damned."
Christopher stood up, smoothing his lab coat. "I'll go tell the children they've been granted a stay of execution. I'm sure their gratitude will be appropriately annoying."
He stepped out into the hallway, where Jack was waiting by the elevators. The lawyer's "shark" persona vanished, replaced by a look of genuine concern.
"You owe me more than a dinner for that one," Jack whispered.
"I owe you a kidney at this rate," Christopher replied, his voice soft. He looked at Jack and felt a sudden, sharp pang of reality. He was breaking the rules of the world he was trapped in. He was using a man who wasn't in the script to rewrite the script.
"Go back to work, Dr. Wright," Jack said, pressing a hand briefly to Christopher's lower back. "Try not to commit any more light treason before 8 PM."
As Jack walked away, Christopher saw Cristina Yang watching from the end of the hall. She hadn't heard the conversation, but she had seen the lawyer. Her eyes were narrowed, the wheels of her competitive, suspicious mind already turning.