Medical Center, Surgical Ward Hallway
"What just happened?" George asked, still a little dazed, his face looking all kinds of awkward.
"Are you jealous?" Christina blurted out, totally shocked.
"No, I'm not!" George shot back, denying it hard—but his expression wasn't fooling anyone.
"No way, you're jealous over her already?" Christina said, wide-eyed, then glanced at Meredith.
"Isn't that a good thing?" Adam chimed in with a grin. "Dr. Torres is awesome, and it's totally normal for George to like her. 😏"
The group laughed and teased for a bit before splitting up.
"OMG!" Sheldon's mom, Mary, caught wind of the commotion and wandered over. She took one look and groaned, "Lord have mercy!" with a face full of judgment.
She wasn't a fan of this laid-back vibe.
"Adam, are you doctors always this… casual?" Mary asked, frowning.
"Nah, this is an exception," Adam said quickly. "Didn't you see how mad Dr. Bailey was? This is a hospital—a place to save lives. It's not usually like this."
"Oh, well, that's a relief," Mary replied, grabbing her blushing niece Emilia by the arm. "Girls need to respect themselves. Don't you dare pick up habits like this…"
Adam bolted out of there fast. 😅
Emergency Room
"Dr. Duncan, the trauma center just called. An ambulance is on its way—patient's in bad shape," a nurse said, rushing up to him.
"Got it," Adam nodded. He stretched out his arms, letting the nurse help him into his surgical gown, then headed outside to wait for the ambulance.
Outside the Hospital
An ambulance screeched up, sirens blaring.
"Jill, what's the situation?" Adam asked, jogging over.
He'd memorized every name in the hospital—naturally, he wouldn't forget the paramedics who rolled through all the time either.
"Harry Hernandez, 14, was sledding on his back, lost control, and smashed into a car," Jill explained. "Witnesses say he got launched at least 20 feet into the air, landed in a pile of branches. Pelvis is obviously shattered—I'm betting on serious internal bleeding."
By the end, Jill's face was like, I don't even know how to describe this.
Adam's expression turned dead serious.
No kidding—20 feet? That's over six meters, two stories high! And not just falling, but tumbling out of control. That's a recipe for disaster.
And the ground? Not a soft lawn, but a tangle of branches.
Still, even with all that prep, when the other paramedics carefully wheeled the kid out of the ambulance, Adam sucked in a breath.
"Holy shit!" he thought to himself.
There, on the stretcher, was a teenage boy, lying flat. Behind his head? A patch of green.
Normally, Adam might've cracked a joke about the kid being "green behind the ears," but not now. He couldn't bring himself to say it.
Because that green patch was a literal tree—and a branch, about 10 centimeters thick, was sticking straight through the boy's right side.
Yup, you heard that right.
When he got flung and crashed, the branch had impaled him.
This was way scarier than that thin steel pipe that once skewered two people.
"Harry, you're at the hospital now. We've got you," Adam said, stepping up to help move the stretcher while talking to the kid, who was still awake but fading fast.
"The hospital? What happened to me?" the boy mumbled, pain and fear cracking his voice into a whimper.
"You're an idiot, that's what!"
A car pulled up, and a balding middle-aged guy jumped out, storming over and yelling at the boy in a mix of panic and fury.
"Dad…" the kid muttered, guilty.
"Sir, back off!" Adam snapped, frowning.
The nurses rushed in, holding back the frantic dad as Adam and the team wheeled the stretcher into the hospital.
"You and your friends are idiots! You didn't use the brains God gave you and pulled this boneheaded stunt!" the boy's dad shouted, shoving past nurses and pointing at his son. They kept blocking him, though.
With injuries this bad, Adam sent him straight to the OR. Dr. Burke and Chief of Surgery Richard rushed over, and the operation kicked off fast.
"His kidney's toast—no saving it," someone reported.
"First, let's clamp the renal artery!"
"I've got another bleed here, Dr. Duncan!"
"On it—leave it to me," Adam replied.
"Everyone, this is gonna take hours. Is the blood supply ready?"
Chief Richard ran the show.
"Yes, Chief," a nurse confirmed.
Hours Later
"The frame's locked in."
"No major bleeding—pathway's clear."
"Did his parents come say goodbye?"
"Mom hasn't made it yet. Dad's a wreck and won't come in."
After getting the updates, Chief Richard took a deep breath. "Okay, team, prep to remove the branch. Everyone in position—cut carefully, break it into pieces, and pull it out."
With an injury like this, no one was sure he'd make it.
Chances were, once the branch came out, the kid would bleed out fast. That's why they usually let families say goodbye first—just in case.
But the dad was too pissed about his son's recklessness—or maybe too scared to face losing him—and skipped it.
They'd given him the chance. If he wouldn't take it, Adam and the team weren't waiting. They dove into the riskiest part: removing the branch.
The surgery dragged on into the night.
Miraculously, after losing a kidney and a chunk of intestine, the kid pulled through.
Everyone marveled at the wonder of life.
Same species, same single life.
Some people die from a minor procedure, while others survive this with barely a hitch.
It's hard not to wonder if there's some higher power at play. 🤔
"Thank God!" the boy's dad said when Adam and Dr. Burke went to see him. He launched into a prayer, then collapsed into a chair, looking lost all over again.
"Mr. Hernandez, your son's okay," Dr. Burke said, confused.
"I know," the dad said with a bitter laugh. "It's my fault! I knew that sled was dangerous but didn't put my foot down. Him and his buddies had a track up on the hill. I kept picturing him sliding down while I was waiting—I should've stopped him!"
"Kids can get out of hand sometimes," Dr. Burke offered. "They spiral, and you can't always rein them in…"
"No! I could've controlled it!" the dad cut in. "I should've! Before they're old enough to think straight, it's my job as a parent to keep him safe—at least stop him from killing himself!"
He choked up. "Ever since the divorce, I only get him every other weekend. I never should've bought that damn sled.
"No matter how much he begged, I shouldn't have caved!
"I was weak!
"When he needed a dad, I was weak!
"That's not right!"
Watching this dad break down, Dr. Burke stayed neutral, but Adam? He felt it deep.
He agreed with the guy.
Until kids grow up, it's a parent's basic duty to stop them from doing dumb, deadly stuff.
But with divorce splitting families apart, parents can't raise kids as a team anymore. Instead, they're stuck trying to win over a kid they barely see on visitation days.
That overindulgence, that hesitation to set rules—it's bound to cause problems.
Just a question of how big.
(Chapter End)