The Queen Anne brownstone was a fortress of Guerlain-scented air and silence, a world away from the blood-stained tiles of Grey Sloan. Christopher lay on the Italian leather sofa, his left shoulder immobilized in a clinical sling that looked offensively white against his charcoal cashmere robe.
"You're calculating the tensile strength of the vicryl sutures in your arm, aren't you?" Jack asked, stepping into the room with a crystal glass of Hibiki 21.
"I'm calculating the probability of me stabbing the next person who calls me a 'hero'," Christopher drawled, his sarcasm returning as the morphine haze finally subsided. "It's a nauseating label. I didn't save Derek to be noble; I saved him because his death would have made the surgical schedule a nightmare for the next fiscal year."
Jack sat on the edge of the sofa, his hand heavy and warm on Christopher's knee. "And tackling a gunman? Was that logistics, too?"
"That was annoyance, Jack. He was messing up my lobby," Christopher whispered, his eyes softening as they locked with Jack's. "And he was aiming at the only person in this city who actually knows how to make a decent cup of coffee."
Jack leaned down, pressing a kiss to Christopher's unwounded shoulder. "The Chief called three times today. Derek is awake. Meredith is crying. The hospital is a shrining circus of gratitude. I told them you were clinically unavailable."
"Good. Tell them I'm dead. It'll save me the emotional labor of avoiding their hugs," Christopher muttered, leaning back into the plush cushions.
The script had fractured. Gary Clark was in custody, Stan was alive, and Christopher was bleeding for a man who didn't exist in the original DVD box set. He felt a strange, terrifying lightness. He was no longer a passenger in Grey's Anatomy; he was the lead architect of a new timeline.
"Jack," Christopher said, his voice dropping into a hushed monotone.
"Yeah?"
"I think I'm done playing God for a few weeks. I just want to stay here and listen to the rain."
"The The Wright Way includes sick leave, Christopher," Jack smiled, pulling a throw blanket over them. "I've already blocked the Chief's number."