Chicago Med fic: Redemption (4/8)
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT
-o-
He’d been nervous about it, but Will couldn’t deny that the date was nice.
In fact, it was nearly effortless.
When he was able to let go and stop thinking, he could just be. He was out of practice, sure, but it came back pretty quick.
Helena picked the restaurant, and she made things easy by ordering on separate checks from the start. He got a beer and she ordered a cocktail, and they chatted while they waited for their meals to arrive. He and Helena were good friends by now, but small talk was small talk. And first dates always had the same conversation topics, no matter where you lived or how old you were.
“No, no,” she said, brushing off any other insinuation. “I was born and bred in England, going back generations. My mother claims we’re distant relations to Henry V, but I’ll be damned if I can trace the family tree as well as she can. I prefer to keep it simple. I’m just a girl from Cornwall.”
“I have no idea where that is,” Will admitted.
“Ah, pity,” she said. “It’s lovely. Lots of cliffs and green hills. I miss it something terrible.”
“Then why don’t you go back?” Will asked. He took a sip of his drink. “I mean, why here? Surely they need brilliant surgeons in Cornwall.”
She looked amused by the suggestion. “Because I miss it, but I know better,” she said. “Home is beautiful and lovely and safe. And so very boring. It just didn’t present any challenge.”
“So the only solution was to work at literally the worst hospital in the world?” Will said, only half joking.
Her smile was just slightly rueful. “Not the worst in the world anymore,” she quipped. “So thanks for that. I’ll have to be bored again. You can expect my resignation within the month.”
Smiling back at her, Will put his beer down. “Somehow I doubt that.”
Breezily, she took a drink of her cocktail. “I guess we still do have a ways to go up from the bottom, so I may not need to job shop any time soon,” she conceded. “But that’s enough about me. You’re the one here that doesn’t make sense.”
“What do you mean?” Will asked with a slight knit of his eyebrows.
“I don’t get you,” she said, fiddling with the straw in her drink. “I’ve seen lots of doctors come and go, so I know all the types by now. But you don’t fit any of them.”
He chuckled, a little embarrassed. “I’m just trying to do the job.”
“That’s my point,” she said, bouncing on his words now. “There are jobs everywhere, even in Cornwall or Chicago. I didn’t want to be bored, but you -- you do all the boring stuff. But you refuse to give up the exciting stuff, too. So why exactly are you here?”
“Helena, I’m not making things up or feeding you a line,” he said, picking up his beer again and giving it a swirl. He shrugged. “I’m just here to work.”
He took a drink while she rolled her eyes and huffed. “But that is the most boring answer imaginable, and you -- Dr. Halstead -- are not a boring person.”
He put the drink back down again and grinned at her. “I think you’re wrong there. I’m actually a very boring person.”
“No, you want everyone to believe you’re boring,” she said. Then, she waggled her eyebrows and pointed a finger at him. “But I’m the kind of girl who does my research.”
“On what?” he asked.
“On you!” she said, not missing a beat.
“Wait, you researched me?” Will asked with a sudden skepticism. “Isn’t that a little creepy?”
“Oh, please. If it makes you feel better, I looked you up long before I asked you out,” she said with a perfunctory flair.
“I’m not sure it does,” he said. “I mean, how did you even find anything? About me?”
She gave him a look of pained exasperation. “It’s called the internet, love. And it’s really quite easy to use.”
Her point was easily made, and he deferred. “Okay,” he said, sitting back now and lifting his hands out wide. “So enlighten me. What did you find out?”
The invitation seemed to make Helena eager. “For starters, your last job wasn’t just in Chicago. You’re from Chicago,” she said. “So, a home town boy. You’ve still got family there. I got a little sidetracked with some brother cop, but that felt a little too much like stalking, so I tried to stick to the point.”
“Jay is by far the most interesting Halstead brother,” he said demurely.
She shook her head decisively. “Hardly. Soldier boy, decorated cop -- he seems like he does everything expected of him. I’m sure he’s a lovely man, but he’s not the more interesting one in my book.”
That point was debatable, but Will decided that first dates were not well suited for that kind of thing. “You still have to back that claim up,” he deflected instead.
She looked eager to rise to the challenge. “Okay,” she said. “How about this, then? You graduated near the top of your class and could have taken any number of fellowships or residencies. Instead, you chose Africa. You’ve been here before.”
The revelation was pronounced smugly, as though it was a secret. Will laughed again, because there still was no gotcha moment. “And?”
His nonchalance came as a surprise to her, but she recovered quickly. “And then you left -- early,” she said. “You never finished your first tenure with this organization. Instead, you took the most opposite job you could by becoming a plastic surgeon in New York, of all places. I mean, that’s a 180. I don’t even know how you transitioned from emergency medicine to plastics so quickly.”
“Work,” Will said. “And a little bit of finesse. I think I got lucky.”
“One lucky break, sure,” she said. “But two? Because you abruptly left New York and within three weeks, there you are. Freshly hired at Med, which is a surprisingly good hospital by the sounds of it.”
Will nodded in agreement. “It is a good hospital.”
“And you stayed there quite a long time,” Helena continued, laying out his history with a flair that almost did make him sound exciting. “You were published a few times. You were on a few trial studies. You helped stop some epidemic that I’d never even heard of, and then, you came back here to Africa, no reasons cited.”
“Well, when you update your LinkedIn, it doesn’t make you say why,” Will told her.
“True,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to know.”
“Helena,” he said, sitting forward again and reaching for his beer. He looked at her. “Maybe there isn’t a reason. Maybe I just like change the same way you like a challenge.”
She pursed her lips and shook her head. “No, you used to like change, but you spent a decade in Chicago. Your home. With your brother. And then you quit? That doesn’t parse for me.”
“Well,” he said, positing his next words carefully as he watched for her response. “Maybe I didn’t quit.”
The realization of that lit up her face. “Oh! So you were fired!” she said with enthusiasm. She sat forward a little more herself. “That’s provocative, isn’t it?”
“There is nothing provocative about getting fired,” he said, as though such a vague statement could account for the pain and humiliation that had occurred.
Helena, however, was adamant. “Don’t be inane! Of course there is!”
He scoffed slightly. “For all you know, I killed someone.”
“Nah,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “That’s way too predictable.”
He had no choice but to laugh. “How is that too predictable? We’re doctors. We deal with life and death all the time.”
The logic didn’t remotely phase her. “But your medical license is still intact. Plus, there are no outstanding lawsuits against you. So it’s not true.”
He raised his eyebrows. For some reason, he was offended at the notion being dismissed so easily. “It could be.”
“Will, please. Even if I did believe that you’re capable of killing someone, it was the first argument you gave. You’ve played coy with all the rest, but that’s the part you expect me to believe? You’re just going to have to try harder, I’m afraid.”
Her logic was pretty good -- he had to give her that. But that was all he was willingly going to give her. “It was a complicated situation,” he said, as specifically vague as possible. “But I can tell you that I did deserve to be fired.”
The answer was one she seemed to find interesting. “Oh. Okay.”
Her ready acceptance made Will unexpectedly bristle. “Okay? What does that mean?”
She reached for her drink, picking it up with a trained nonchalance. “It just makes sense,” she said. “You, being here, doing this. It’s a way to redeem yourself.”
He sat back, feeling put off. Stiffly, he tipped his head to the side. “I don’t think it works that way.”
She was finishing a small sip. “Doesn’t it?” she wondered. “You feel like you failed in Chicago. You came here, to the hardest place imaginable, because you want to prove to everyone you failed that you can still do it.”
He did his best not to gape, though the simplicity of her assessment certainly was a little hard for him to swallow. He’d suffered in relative silence over the past year, and he’d taken his efforts seriously. She had readily surmised his motivation and boiled his entire life in Africa down to a single pair of sentences over cocktails.
It hurt, somehow.
Everything still hurt.
But he was on a date, he reminded himself. Helena wasn’t there to dismiss him. She was there because she liked him -- and he liked her.
Swallowing hard, Will forced his posture to ease. And then, he provided the critical clarification. “I just wanted to prove it to myself, mostly.”
“That’s fair,” she said easily, and she put down her drink again. “And how’s it going?”
He had been put out of his comfort zone here, and Will still struggled to keep his cool. “How’s what going?”
“This little proving process of yours?” she asked.
How she managed to ask it in such a disarming way without sounding overbearing, Will wasn’t sure.
But, then again, Will wasn’t sure of a lot of things at the moment.
He looked at her, suddenly realizing just how flummoxed he was. He’d been in Africa for nearly a year now, and he still couldn’t answer the question. Three hospitals, countless ups and downs -- and he didn’t have a clue.
Blinking at her, he had nothing but honesty. “I don’t know.”
Fiddling with her straw, she gave him an incredulous smile. “You don’t know?”
“What, and that’s funny?” he asked, feeling embarrassed now.
“It is,” she said. She flitted her hand through the air. “Will, you’re literally the biggest success story in the entire organization. Everyone knows about you and the things you’ve done. You’re going to be their poster boy, and everyone you’ve worked with says the same thing about you: you’re just brilliant. So, I guess I’m just curious. What are you looking for if you haven’t found it yet?”
He looked up at her, almost shyly now. When he swallowed, his throat was dry. “Honestly?”
She inclined her head earnestly. “Please.”
“I’m not sure anymore,” he admitted. “I thought I knew, but now -- I just don’t.”
The sharpness in her expression softened somehow, and there was a newfound gentleness in her smile. “Well, that’s okay,” she said, and she lifted her drink again, holding it out for a toast. “Here’s to find it out.”
Will picked up his own drink and tapped it against her. “Here’s to finding it out.”
“Together,” she added, before they took their drinks in tandem.
-o-
In his life, Will had been on a lot of dates. In his younger years, he’d been a prolific ladies man, and he’d wooed many. Natalie had changed him, and he’d been ready to settle down. And here he was, somewhere in between.
Not ready to settle down, probably.
But not looking to play the field.
With Helena, she seemed to know precisely how to thread that needle. It was a date; it was a friendship. Somehow, it was everything.
They shared stories about med school, talking about the horror stories of their residencies. They talked about their families, and all those people they’d left behind to save lives. And they talked about their favorite movies, the songs that got stuck in their head and the best vacations they’d ever been on.
When dinner was over, Helena insisted on ordering dessert, which neither of them were hungry for. They shared a piece of cake, picking at it as the night went on. When they were done, Helena asked for separate checks, outside on the street, she asked if he would walk her home.
Will obliged her, of course, and as they walked along, Will realized for the first time since moving to Africa, it felt something like home.
Under streetlights, outside still bustling restaurants, he watched Helena’s eyes dance in the lights of the city as she laughed.
It definitely felt like home.
-o-
After several blocks, Helena started to slow down. She turned to Will, stopping with a purpose and smiling at him.
“Well, this is me,” she said, coming to a stop outside a modest but well maintained building. “I wouldn’t mind some company, though. If you’d like to take this upstairs.”
The invitation was subtle, but they both knew what it meant. Helena had been leaning into this idea for weeks now, and standing face to face with her, Will couldn’t say that he didn’t want it. He liked Helena. He respected her, and he enjoyed spending time with her. She made him laugh; she made him comfortable.
It had been a long time since someone made him feel like that.
And it would be easy. Just nod his head and walk up the stairs, and he was confident that Helena would handle everything else. There had been a time when he wouldn’t have thought twice about saying yes.
The idea of it: being happy, letting go, living his life.
It was too much.
He had come to Africa to finish something, not start it.
“Helena, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said.
She laughed at him. “I think it’s a brilliant idea.”
“I can’t,” he said, feeling sweat start to break out across his back. His hands were clammy and he had to swallow hard. “I really can’t.”
Traffic was light on the street, and the night was warm. She was bathed in the light from a streetlight as she looked him plainly in the eye. “And why not?”
“Protocol,” Will said, barely allowing himself to think about his answer. “They actively discourage romantic relationships among the staff. Especially since I am your boss.”
To that insinuation, she looked nearly incredulous. “You do realize that no one actually reads the full protocol binder, right?” she asked, clearly skeptical. “Much less memorize it. Or, heaven forbid, abide by it.”
“That’s not true,” Will shot back.
“It is,” she said. “I mean, look at Jessica and Maria.”
“They’re together?” Will asked, confused.
“And have been for three months,” Helena continued. “And before that, Jessica was with Eden.”
Will tried to not look so surprised this time. “That’s all rumor.”
Helena laughed, as if he was telling a joke. “Then, Miguel and Carmen? Xoie and Seb? Even Josiah and Lulu?”
Will was readily gaping now as he fumbled for a response that both defended his rejection and his complete lack of knowledge of the social scene here. “And that’s all the more reason why the rules matter,” he said. “I mean, just how complicated are things here?”
“Life is complicated,” she said soundly. “And protocol creates rules for the idealized world, not the one we live in. So, if you don’t want to go out with me, I find that perfectly acceptable. But I do not wish to be trivialized by a line.”
Will sighed. “But it’s not a line.”
“It is!”
He backtracked, almost despite himself. “Well, maybe.”
She pursed her lips, crossing her arms over her chest. “So?”
“So,” he said, venturing ahead uncertainly in the conversation. “I’m not ready.”
She made a face. “Ready?”
“Look,” he said, trying to sound reasonable and sane even while he felt completely unreasonable and insane. “I just haven’t been great at relationships. Like, overall. I’m bad at them.”
Helena seemed to believe him less the more he spoke. “Which is why literally everybody loves you,” she said dryly. “I mean, seriously, no one ever likes the boss, but no one can say one bad thing about you.”
“That’s not true--”
She unfolded her arms coolly, and tucked her hair behind her ear. “It is.”
Flustered once more, he shook his head. “It’s not even what I’m talking about,” he said. “Professionally speaking -- whatever. My personal life has been a mess, okay? Every time I get involved with someone, I tend to blow things up.”
Her eyebrows arched. “Considering you’ve been involved with two hostile takeovers in this organization, I’m really hoping you mean that figuratively.”
Will blushed, despite himself. “You know what I mean.”
Her shoulders slumped slightly as she sighed in exasperation. “I know what you’re saying, but I don’t get it,” she said. “I’m not blind, Will. And I’m certainly not stupid. You’re great at everything you do.”
The compliment was one he would have relished in the past. Even now, he couldn’t deny that his ego liked being stroked.
But it was also hard to hear. He felt like he was teetering on the edge of his control, and he couldn’t afford to lose it now.
And this was ridiculous anyway.
Helena was a successful doctor and a beautiful woman. She was smart and compassionate and capable. There was no way he could do this.
He’d buried his last relationship with Sabeena by resurrecting his unbidden feelings for Natalie, somehow managing to let both relationships flame out in equally spectacular ways. And his track record before that wasn’t all that stellar either. Maybe he was just one of those people who couldn’t have a career and a relationship. Maybe he’d forfeited his right to seek personal happiness when he’d been so brazenly stupid.
Maybe he just wasn’t ready.
Maybe someday he would be.
But not today.
Not yet.
Not her.
“Helena,” he said, and his voice trembled a little as he said her name. She noticed, and he summoned all his courage to finish his thoughts. “You’re being too kind -- really. I’m putting the best I can into this job, this hospital -- this community. To do this -- and to do it right -- takes all my focus and discipline. I’m still getting there.”
He was trying to be honest, and though she seemed to doubt what he was saying, she clearly didn’t doubt his intent. “All this hard work and discipline,” she said, shaking her head. She leaned forward knowingly. “You are doing better than you think. You should give yourself more credit.”
The idea of it was tantalizing, honestly.
To think that he’d grown.
To think that he’d changed.
And that was precisely why it was terrifying to contemplate. Was he ready for life as normal again? Was he ready to start living life again?
It was too much, really. Just entirely too much.
As far as he’d come, he wasn’t sure he could risk it yet.
“Just believe me,” he said, as earnestly as he could now. “I’m just no good for you.”
She lifted her brows with the smallest, condescending look. “Noble as your sentiment is, you don’t get to decide what’s good for me.”
He backpedaled quickly. “Helena, that’s not--”
She shook her head to let herself finish. “I don’t doubt your sincerity here, but I just want to make it clear what’s happening,” she said. “You’re not protecting me, Will. You’re protecting yourself. Which is perfectly fine, for the record. And totally understandable, and I respect that you need to do it. But just know what it is you’re doing, okay? For your sake much more than mine.”
It was impossible how good she was. For her to understand that and forgive him for it all at the same time. Will wished again he was a different person, but he was so grateful that she was in his life. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I’m an idiot, I do. I know I’ve made a mess of this--”
She made a dismissive sound, waving a hand through the hair. “Oh, please. You know yourself well enough to stop before it gets messy. I’m a big girl, and I like you well enough to respect what you need, too.”
“I know, but -- I just, I don’t know what I’m doing half the time,” Will admitted.
“Well, you could have fooled me -- and literally everyone else,” she told him.
He laughed and looked at her fondly. “Can we still be friends? Despite -- this?”
Her eyes brightened in return, and she reached up, brushing his cheek with her hand. “Just try to stop me.”
For a moment, he leaned into her touch, but she willingly drew her hand away. “See you tomorrow?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said. “You did plan a staff meeting first thing.”
“Right,” Will said with a small wince. “Coffee first?”
“But you’re buying,” she told him with a little jab at his chest.
“Fair enough,” he agreed. He hesitated one more time and looked at her. “Goodnight, Helena.”
She smiled back. “Goodnight, Will.”
-o-
Will had some trepidation about facing work -- and Helena -- the next day, but those fears were unfounded. Work was the same as always, and Helena was the consummate professional. Will bought her coffee. She brought her best smile.
Then, it was business as normal.
-o-
There was a lot of business. That was what was normal: there was always something to do. The budget constraints had been eased since his arrival, but his ambitious plan to push the hospital to the next level required more revenue to keep things in the black. Now that staffing turnover rates had been reduced, he was faced with the long term perils of retaining staff. He had to handle time-off, interpersonal relationships and petty squabbles involving everything from parking to lockers.
To cope, Will relied heavily on the only resource he had: the policy guidebook. He’d made a point to study it from the start, and he referred to it often in order to make clear, fair delineations. When he found the rules insufficiently expressed, he started making tweaks, clearing each change with the hospital leadership team and the organizational board.
After submitting another change suggestion to the board, Dr. Ho got back to him personally.
“Is everything okay?” Dr. Ho asked.
“Sure, of course,” Will said. “I mean, why do you ask? Have you heard something?”
Dr. Ho sounded quizzical on the call. “It’s just all the protocol clarifications and suggestions. Given how many changes you’re positing, it seems like you may be dissatisfied with the performance.”
“Oh, no,” Will said quickly, surprised by how easy it was to construe his good intentions with something more critical. “I just found that the policies left in place were a little vague sometimes. When trying to promote a successful hospital, you need order. Clarifying the rules seemed like a good place to start.”
“Honestly, that doesn’t come up most of the time,” Dr. Ho said. “We give our hospitals latitude to develop policies that reflect the needs of the community they serve. But some of the changes you are suggesting are quite strong. We have considered recommending several of the changes to our facilities across the board. Your attention to detail is impressive, Dr. Halstead.”
“It’s a learned skill,” he admitted. “And I just want to do things right. That’s all.”
“Well, you’re certainly doing something right,” Dr. Ho agreed. “Keep up the excellent work.”
“So those changes?” Will asked. “Are they okay?”
“Yes, of course,” Dr. Ho said. “Make sure to use gender neutral language when describing employees, especially in the context of interpersonal relationships. I’ll have my assistant make sure I get back an updated copy for you to finalize.”
“Thank you, Dr. Ho,” Will said.
“I feel like I should be thanking you, Dr. Halstead,” Dr. Ho mused. “You’ve been beaten, shot and now you’re refining protocol? Is there any torture you won’t endure?”
Will smiled and shook his head. “Just doing my job.”
“That’s the thing! It’s not!” Dr. Ho said. “But you are something else, I guess. Something special.”
Will knew better than to believe that.
He had to keep working
-o-
He worked late, and he got in early. Will brought in an outside expert to train the staff on a new medical procedure. He implemented a new patient management system, and he created a new lounge for the nurses.
Helena smiled at him.
That was all there was.
For now, that was all Will needed.
-o-
One night, working late on his paperwork, his phone rang. It wasn’t his office phone -- thank goodness, because anyone calling this late would have a fire for him to put out -- but his cell phone. He thought it might be Jay, but when he looked at the caller ID, he was surprised.
April Sexton.
People from Med texted him still, some more regularly than others. He’d taken to replying a bit more often, but his responses were still nothing more than sporadic most of the time. He made an exception for Maggie, who was the only one outside of Natalie who he’d spoken to at all.
His finger lingered over the decline button, but he found himself hesitating.
What if he answered?
What if he talked to her?
Was that so bad?
Was it wrong?
Would it be dangerous for his growth?
The questions were pressing, but ultimately, his instinct won out. Picking up the phone, he slide up the accept button and said, “Hello?”
“Will?”
“Yes,” Will said.
There was a funny, breathless little noise on the line. “You answered! You actually answered?” April said, her voice sounding pitched with surprise.
“Yeah, I just had a few minutes down here,” he said. “Just winding down for the night before I clock out.”
“Oh,” April said. “I mean, yeah, of course. I just -- everyone else I’ve talked to -- they said you’re a ghost. Maggie says you answer your text once every two weeks. No one else has even heard from you except Natalie, but I mean, that’s Natalie.”
“I’ve just been focused on things here, is all,” Will said. “And after how things went down at Med, I figured it was best to get some distance.”
April scoffed over the line. “Best for who? I mean, you, probably. Everyone says you’re doing great. I mean, you’re Chief of Staff?”
Will rolled his eyes, shuffling the last pile of paperwork to the done side of his desk. “That’s an exaggeration. This is a small hospital, part of a larger network--”
“That you’re in charge of,” April said, matter of fact. “And don’t think people aren’t talking. About you in the terrorist standoff. Getting taken over by gangs.”
Even across the world, Will found himself blushing. “I was a minor player in both events,” he assured her. “And how do you even know about that?”
“Oh, please,” she said. “Everyone knows about that.”
“You’re not even at Med anymore,” he reminded her.
“But I still talk to people,” April reminded him. “I mean, that is what people do. They leave jobs, not friends. At least, some of us do.”
Will took the criticism for what it was. “April, it’s not exactly the same thing--”
“Oh, it’s not?”
“April, I was fired,” Will said, seeing no reason to downplay it now. Coming to terms was coming to terms. That was why he’d been able to answer this call in the first place. “It’s not the same thing.”
“And you think Goodwin’s judgment is always impeachable?” she asked, a little caustic now. “I mean, did you hear what happened when she hired Archer?”
Will found himself surprised by the question. He hadn’t considered it, really -- he certainly hadn’t made a point to ask. He’d just assumed his own mess was so substantial that everything else by contrast would be mild. That without him there, everything would just go back to normal.
“Because I’ll tell you -- it’s still a mess because of that one,” April went on, sounding indignant now. “I can’t even believe half the stories Ethan tells me anymore.”
Will perked up at the name drop. “Hey, how is Ethan? After everything he went through.”
“Oh, he’s doing really well, thanks,” she said. Then, she paused. “But I mean, you’d have known that if you called. Or, you know, answered a text from him.”
Will sighed, too tired to even bother being sheepish now. “April--”
“Ethan said that recovery -- which, by the way, involved learning how to walk again -- was a piece of cake compared to what it took to finally get Archer out and undo the damage he did,” she continued like there had been no aside. “I’m not kidding you when I tell you about Med. It’s not the same place it was when we left -- not even close.”
Will rocked back in his office chair, wondering if he had time to finalize the acquisition forms in the morning or if he should just do them now. “I’m sure Med is just fine. Ethan is a great doctor. And I mean, Goodwin’s always run a tight ship.”
“A tight ship?” April snarked back. “Ethan sounds like he’s drowning, there’s so much water on Goodwin’s ship right now.”
Will shook his head, sure that April was overstating things. “Well, they’ll figure it out, right? They always do.”
April huffed a little. “I hope so. I mean, it was my plan to go back there once I finish school.”
The change in topic was welcome to Will. “Hey, how is school? How far along are you?”
“Oh, it’s great!” she said, suddenly enthusiastic. “I really like it, and I actually think I’m pretty good at it. It’s a fast-track program, lots of field work. Should have my degree in less than two years.”
“Wow, that’s great -- not that I’m surprised,” Will said, and he meant it, too. He decided the acquisition forms needed to be done; he had an early meeting with the Chief of Surgery. He sat forward, fishing out the forms from under the stack on his desk. “And you know, wherever you end up, you’ll be great. Med would be lucky to have you back.”
“And not just me,” she chirped along without hesitation. “I mean, what about you?”
Will drew back in surprise. “April, I literally took a job on another continent.”
“Sure,” April said, as though that were some minor point. “And you can take a job back in Chicago. I know how jobs work, Will. You can come and go as you please.”
“April--”
“I’m just saying,” she said, backtracking neatly to avoid any actual conflict. Then, she hesitated. “Don’t you miss it? Like, at all?”
Didn’t he miss it?
Med’s top of the line facility. The streamlined procedures and seamless patient care. The cutting-edge research, the top-notch doctors.
And more: the familiar sounds of the city. Kicking back after work at Molly’s. Catching a game. Playing pickup basketball. Grill outs and secret Santa gift exchanges.
How could he not miss it?
Maggie’s no-nonsense operation. Dr. Charles’ fatherly patience. Crockett, Ethan -- and all the rest.
“Of course I miss it,” he replied, his voice subdued.
“And they miss you,” she said, letting the words fall emphatically over the phone.
There was no reason to doubt her -- why would she call him just to tell him lies -- but he had no basis by which to believe her, either. He’d been there, after all. He could still see the hard look on Ms. Goodwin’s face when she fired him and sent him away without a word. All his years of work, and she’d been unable to tolerate the sound of his voice. He couldn’t forget the rush of surreal adrenaline as he packed up his locker that last time, stuffing his doctor’s coat inside and walking away.
“I doubt that,” he said, his throat feeling suddenly tight.
April wasn’t the type to just take a line like that, though. “But why?”
The question was valid, but that didn’t mean Will had an answer. “I just do.”
“Well,” she said, sounding a little smug. ‘You should really answer your phone more.”
He inclined his head, sitting forward again, deciding that he was well and truly done for the night -- nothing on his desk couldn’t wait until tomorrow. “Point taken.”
“Mmhmm,” she said knowingly. It was just the way Med nurses talked to Med doctors, and it made him smile. “It’s good to talk to you, though.”
“You, too,” he said. “And thanks for calling.”
“And thank you for actually answering,” she said with bemusement. “It’s a novelty, I’m told.”
Will was appropriately chagrined, though it didn’t feel like a burden for once. “I’ll try to do better,” he said, and he thought he actually might this time.
“You better,” she chided, and Will was struck by a sudden, strange thought.
Maybe he wasn’t alone, after all.
-o-
Maybe Will wasn’t alone.
Maybe Will wasn’t even unhappy.
He’d been so focused on doing the right thing, rebuilding his life -- maybe he’d missed the part where he’d gotten back to the point where he was standing on his own two feet. Maybe, in all this effort to start living again, he’d started without realizing it.
Things were falling into place now, and he was no longer able to pretend like it was just chance. Things at work were smooth, and the hospital’s situation was improving. Will was developing a social life, and he was making real connections. And at home, he was taking time for himself. Sure, he still worked long hours, but the time he had was time well spent. He learned to cook more. He explored the local parks and jogging trails. He even broke out his guitar, strumming a simple chord progression, singing to himself like he hadn’t in years.
There were no performances now.
This was, he decided, just for him.
-o-
And Helena.
He stopped trying to work around her. He no longer tried to put her off. When they were scheduled to the same shift, he was inordinately happy the whole day.
He wasn’t totally sure it was right.
But he knew for a fact that it didn’t feel wrong.
-o-
One afternoon, the air conditioner was out -- again -- and after a long string of traumas in the ED, Will was tired and soaked through with sweat. Feeling too grimy to see more patients, he retreated to the locker room to find a fresh pair of scrubs.
The locker room was a shared space, and it doubled as a lounge and a breakroom all at once. There were stalls for private changing, and there were separate bathrooms with shower stalls, but most people didn’t bother with the privacy. Working in close proximity with the same people day in, day out, changed how you felt about those things. To call it family wouldn’t quite be enough. But it was what it was, and though Will was Chief of Staff, he found himself there more often than not after a long shift.
One of the residents was sleeping on one of the benches, looking uncomfortable and precarious, but she was so deeply passed out that Will so no need to bother her. He passed an attending on his way in, who mumbled a hello on his way out, and Will knew how he felt. The heat and the rigorous schedule could leave them all strung out. Even when you loved the job, it inevitably exhausted you.
Will found his locker, pulling it open. This was the first place where he’d started to allow himself personal effects. A few pictures, a clipping from the newspaper. And, at the bottom, the clean scrubs he had on reserve. He changed quickly, taking a fresh coat for good measure. He turned to tossed the soiled clothes into the laundry, when he almost ran into Helena.
“Hey,” she said brightly. “You look wrecked. Long morning?”
“The longest,” Will said. “Haven’t you noticed that the air is out? And we were slammed by a highway pile up.”
Helena made a face, but she was smirking somewhat. “I have been in the OR all morning with a bowel repair,” she said, matter of fact. She waggled her eyebrows. “Air conditioning the whole time.”
“Damn,” Will said. “I know we agreed that ORs should be prioritized--”
“For the good of the patient!” Helena objected, opening her own locker. She laughed, though, putting her scrub cap away. “That was your idea, you know.”
“I know, I know,” Will said, adjusting his coat. He gave himself a glance in the mirror just to make sure he looked presentable. “Sometimes it’d be nice to put my own good over the good of the hospital, just once.”
Helena took to putting her coat back on. “Oh please,” she chided him. “You would have a conniption fit at the very thought.”
“Maybe,” Will said, and he sat down on one of the benches to tie his shoes again. Across the way, another resident had entered and grabbed her clothes to head to the back. “Though, I have to admit, with all the work I’ve put into this place, I think I’ve neglected the locker room.”
Helena made a face. “The locker room?”
“Sure,” Will said. “I mean, we haven’t put one penny in here.”
“And why would we? It’s a fully functional place,” Helena pointed out skeptically.
Will gave the place another look. “It’s literally a unisex locker room that has been updated since it was originally retrofitted 20 years ago,” he said. “I mean, even if people don’t mind the crappy, industrial decor, the lack of privacy might make people uncomfortable.”
“There are bathroom stalls,” Helena argued, pointing to the back where the second resident had retreated.
He gave her a plaintive look because he knew she knew better. “It’s incredibly subpar. Staff safety and morale is important.”
She rolled her eyes and sat down next to him. “Well, you’re fortunate that we all have very low expectations,” she said. “Of all the things in this place to complain about, I’m pretty sure no one is giving the locker rooms a second look.”
“Maybe,” Will said, finishing up his second shoe. “Becuase it’s probably a sexual harassment suit waiting to happen, and there’s no way in hell we could afford the legal fees.”
To this, she actually laughed. “Now you’re talking like an administrator!” she said. “But seriously, Will, we have private bathrooms, which is where the toilets and showers are.”
“Showers that no one uses because the hot water doesn’t work half the time,” Will pointed out. “There’s no way around it. This place just isn’t fit.”
She inclined her head, seemingly bemused. “Fine. Then, put that on your budget. Better locker room space with private, gender neutral changing rooms.”
Will nodded back. “I’ll get right on that. After I update the x-ray machines, invest in additional ultrasound equipment and make another attempt to get everyone off of paper charts.”
“And there’s the doctor I’ve grown so fond of,” she said with a small laugh. “Best of luck with that, mate.”
He grunted back, putting both his feet on the ground. “I’ll need all the luck I can get -- and then some.”
She was quiet for a moment, and she gave him a curious look. “You know, I do find it odd,” Helena said.
“What?” Will asked. “That no one cares about the locker rooms but me?”
“That you keep working shifts, same as everyone else,” she said, and she got up again. She closed her own locker and turned toward him thoughtfully.
He made a small shrug of indifference. “I take far fewer shifts than everyone else,” he said. “I’m barely on the board, no more than three times a week.”
“Which is insane,” she said, looking at him tellingly. “You’re Chief of Staff. You have enough paperwork to drown you. You spend some days in meetings from dawn until dusk. I can’t even imagine how you have time to pull shifts.”
“Well,” he said, laughing, though he wasn’t sure what the punchline was. “I mean, I’m a doctor. I’m in this to save lives. The administrative stuff -- it’s necessary. I’ll do it the best I can. But that’s not really why I’m here.”
Her eyes passed over him, more appraisingly this time. “Sometimes, I don’t think you know why you’re here, Will.”
To that, he could only let out a low chuckle. “Honestly, Helena? You may be right about that.”
She tweaked his nose just so, playful and soft. “Oh, Will,” she teased, starting away from him and back to the ED. “I’m always right.”
-o-
It didn’t actually get easier.
If anything, it got harder. The hospital was gaining more notoriety, which meant more people were trusting them with their care. When mass casualty events occurred, they were no longer the hospital of last resort. This put pressure on every part of the system Will put into place, and it took constant to work to make sure his staff and the facilities were up to the new found demand.
But with the policies in place. With the staff coming together. With Helena at his side.
It seemed so much easier.
-o-
Besides, Will was still an ED doc at heart. Crazy, hectic, bloody -- he was in his element when things got dicey. He still didn’t trust himself to make calm, rational decisions, but in the heat of the moment, his gut generally knew how to do the right thing.
This was still what it was all about for him.
So, you better believe it, when there was a big trauma, Will was always the first one on the line.
Today, it was a train derailment. One of the lines in the heart of downtown. Will got the heads up from the police commissioner, who wanted to know how many casualties they could take.
Will said 5 serious, 15 minors.
When the commissioner asked if they could take 10 and 20, Will was struck not by the audacity of the request but by the trust it conveyed. This was the first time they’d been asked to go above and beyond.
Will wasn’t about to let him down.
“10 and 20 it is,” Will said. “We’re standing by.”
“Good,” the man said. “The first bus is five minutes out.”
-o-
Downstairs, he was pleased to find that his team was already assembled and ready. The trauma protocols had been activated. The med students were clearing out the waiting room and transferring as many patients as possible. The nurses were setting up the trauma bays, and the charge nurse already had the first assignments ready to go. Will got there in time to see the first two ambulances roll in, and the seamless distribution started in earnest.
With the next one on the way, the charge nurse gave him a knowing look. “This one for you, Dr. Halstead?”
Will grinned. His staff knew more than the policy. They were starting to know him, too. “You bet,” he said. “Do we know what we got?”
The charge nurse handed him a chart. “Today’s a grab bag,” she said. “Never know what you’re going to get.”
Will took it, moving to the ambulance bay doors as they swung open. “And I’m always ready to find out!”
-o-
Will loved the thrill of a trauma, but he wasn’t flippant about it. His own adrenaline rush was entirely pragmatic, after all. He needed to be on his game to save lives, and the life in front of him now was the one that mattered.
“53-year-old male, conscious and alert,” one of the medics reported as they wheeled theri way inside. Will started moving them to one of the vacant trauma rooms. “High impact collision, probable head injury. He’s tacky with blood loss, decreased breath sounds on the right, but pulse and BP are stable.”
“Where’s the blood coming from?” Will asked as they walked.
“Impalement,” the medic said, bobbing his head to the man’s side. Will saw it then, the shard of metal that was coated in blood. It had penetrated from the side, but how long and deep, Will couldn’t say until they got in there.
“Are you going to take it out?” the man asked from the stretcher.
Will guided the stretcher as they turned, and he smiled as reassuringly as he could. “We’re going to do everything we can,” he said.
-o-
Everything was usually just a panacea, a thing they said.
In this guy’s case, it seemed kind of like the real deal. Will had the nurse get him on the monitors, and they hung the IV and double checked his vitals while Will cleared his c-spine and made a quick check of the head injury. The gash on his head would need stitches, but with good reflexes and obvious cognition, the precautionary CT scan could probably be put off for now.
There were more pressing issues.
Vitals were still relatively stable, but the heart rate was dropping and his O2 stats were starting to slow. Will put him on a mask, and then he turned his attention to the real problem
Visual inspection of the wound suggested that it was actually worse than it looked. Only a small portion of the metal was sticking out, but give the size of the wound and the amount of blood, it was probably that most of the object was inside.
“We need x-ray,” Will said. “Do we have access to the portable machine?”
The nurse nodded. “I think it’s next door,” she said, moving to duck out. “Good thing we bought one.”
“Good thing,” Will said, not wanting to think about how much more blood this guy would lose if they had to drag him to radiology. As it was, things were already pretty precarious for him. Will looked at him and smiled. “Do you remember what happened, sir?”
“An accident, on the train,” he said. He grimaced as Will used a stethoscope to listen to his lungs. “I was -- on my way to work. I could have driven, but I like the train. I like it…”
He was drifting off a little, and Will put the stethoscope down. “Sir? Can you stay awake? We’re trying to figure out just what happened. Do you remember anything else?”
He opened his eyes, though he seemed wearier than before. “Everything was toss about, you see. When the train left the track. The whole car was ripped open, and I was flung through it.”
Will nodded sympathetically. “It looks like a piece of the metal from the train got lodged in your side. We’re going to see what we can do about taking it out, okay?”
As he finished, the nurse came back with one of the techs, pushing the machine. It took just a few seconds to sit it up, and Will covered the man’s lower half, giving his shoulder a small squeeze. “Just hold still for a second,” he said, stepping out of the room and waiting for the image to take.
With the all clear, he was back inside. The machine they’d purchased was used, and the technology was a bit more antiquated than what he’d had at Med, but it still the job done. Within a minute scan was up, and Will winced, biting back the urge to curse.
“Okay, so it’s probably a foot long,” he said, tapping the screen. “Definitely got the lung, and probably nicked one of the arteries, which is why he’s bleeding.”
“Should I get the OR on hold?” the nurse asked.
“Yeah, we’ll need to get him up,” Will said.
Then, before he could finish the thought, an alarmed wailed. The man bucked, moving wildly in pain before Will or one of the nurses could stop him. This only made things worse. Now, a fresh set of alarms sounded, as the man’s blood pressure plummeted and his heart went out of rhythm.
“Damn it,” Will said, quickly stepping forward to look at the wound again. It was practically gushing blood now. “It shifted. Whatever artery it nicked has been perforated now. He’s bleeding out.”
“The OR is ready,” the nurse reported.
“There’s no time,” Will said. He gritted his teeth, looking at the man again. He glanced at the monitors. “We have to stop the bleeding. We can clamp it off.”
“An artery?” the nurse asked. “How long can we clamp it?”
“20 minutes, tops,” Will said. “But if we don’t, he’ll bleed out in less than three.”
Will wasn’t looking for permission. He wasn’t looking for a second opinion. This was his decision, and he wasn’t afraid to stand by it. Moving down, he got level with the man’s torso. Then, carefully, he pulled the metal, having to shift his grip as it was extracted on the exact path it came in. He had to be mindful not to make a bigger mess, but it didn’t matter much.
By the time Will was done, blood was everywhere, and Will ordered the nurse to start manual ventilations. They would have to intubate later.
“Okay,” he said, gathering a breath and reaching his hand up. I need a scalpel so we can make a bigger opening into the chest cavity.”
A second nurse handed it to him, and she looked a little green around the gills. Even for an experienced trauma team, this was a lot of blood -- and Will was about to make more.
It was the only course of action, however. Will made the cut, giving his hand room to slip inside. “I need traction,” he said, grunting it out as he tried to around the ribs.
The nurse complied, blanching as she reached down and pulled.
Visibility was still poor, but Will knew the anatomy well enough and the gash from the metal had left things pretty open. Moving his hand in, he felt slowly and carefully, mentally mapping each part of the anatomy as he went. The veins, the arteries, the lung, the rib -- and then he found it.
“There,” he said, using his fingers to get a hold on the artery, finding a spot above the gash. He pinched down, feeling the artery pulse beneath his fingers as he shut off the flow of blood. “Got it.”
The alarms scaled back for a moment, his heart and breathing steady as the blood loss was stymied. “He’s stabilizing,” the nurse ventilating him said.
Will nodded, gathering a breath as he reassessed the situation. “Stable is good, but we’re on the clock now,” he said. “We need to alert the OR. They need to be ready to cut right away. 20 minutes or this guy’s dead.”
The other nurse nodded, scurrying off to place the call. Will was still squatting next to the patient, and he got himself upright, careful to maintain the pressure. He could feel the lactic acid already start to build, but he didn’t dare let his fingers twitch. This was all about saving lives, after all. And this life was in his hands right now.
He didn’t take that lightly.
The nurse came back. “Okay, we’re good to go,” she said, moving around to help with the gurney.
“I need you two to manage the rest,” Will said. “I can’t move my hand.”
“We’ve got your back, Dr. Halstead,” the first said. She smiled. “We always will.”
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT
-o-
He’d been nervous about it, but Will couldn’t deny that the date was nice.
In fact, it was nearly effortless.
When he was able to let go and stop thinking, he could just be. He was out of practice, sure, but it came back pretty quick.
Helena picked the restaurant, and she made things easy by ordering on separate checks from the start. He got a beer and she ordered a cocktail, and they chatted while they waited for their meals to arrive. He and Helena were good friends by now, but small talk was small talk. And first dates always had the same conversation topics, no matter where you lived or how old you were.
“No, no,” she said, brushing off any other insinuation. “I was born and bred in England, going back generations. My mother claims we’re distant relations to Henry V, but I’ll be damned if I can trace the family tree as well as she can. I prefer to keep it simple. I’m just a girl from Cornwall.”
“I have no idea where that is,” Will admitted.
“Ah, pity,” she said. “It’s lovely. Lots of cliffs and green hills. I miss it something terrible.”
“Then why don’t you go back?” Will asked. He took a sip of his drink. “I mean, why here? Surely they need brilliant surgeons in Cornwall.”
She looked amused by the suggestion. “Because I miss it, but I know better,” she said. “Home is beautiful and lovely and safe. And so very boring. It just didn’t present any challenge.”
“So the only solution was to work at literally the worst hospital in the world?” Will said, only half joking.
Her smile was just slightly rueful. “Not the worst in the world anymore,” she quipped. “So thanks for that. I’ll have to be bored again. You can expect my resignation within the month.”
Smiling back at her, Will put his beer down. “Somehow I doubt that.”
Breezily, she took a drink of her cocktail. “I guess we still do have a ways to go up from the bottom, so I may not need to job shop any time soon,” she conceded. “But that’s enough about me. You’re the one here that doesn’t make sense.”
“What do you mean?” Will asked with a slight knit of his eyebrows.
“I don’t get you,” she said, fiddling with the straw in her drink. “I’ve seen lots of doctors come and go, so I know all the types by now. But you don’t fit any of them.”
He chuckled, a little embarrassed. “I’m just trying to do the job.”
“That’s my point,” she said, bouncing on his words now. “There are jobs everywhere, even in Cornwall or Chicago. I didn’t want to be bored, but you -- you do all the boring stuff. But you refuse to give up the exciting stuff, too. So why exactly are you here?”
“Helena, I’m not making things up or feeding you a line,” he said, picking up his beer again and giving it a swirl. He shrugged. “I’m just here to work.”
He took a drink while she rolled her eyes and huffed. “But that is the most boring answer imaginable, and you -- Dr. Halstead -- are not a boring person.”
He put the drink back down again and grinned at her. “I think you’re wrong there. I’m actually a very boring person.”
“No, you want everyone to believe you’re boring,” she said. Then, she waggled her eyebrows and pointed a finger at him. “But I’m the kind of girl who does my research.”
“On what?” he asked.
“On you!” she said, not missing a beat.
“Wait, you researched me?” Will asked with a sudden skepticism. “Isn’t that a little creepy?”
“Oh, please. If it makes you feel better, I looked you up long before I asked you out,” she said with a perfunctory flair.
“I’m not sure it does,” he said. “I mean, how did you even find anything? About me?”
She gave him a look of pained exasperation. “It’s called the internet, love. And it’s really quite easy to use.”
Her point was easily made, and he deferred. “Okay,” he said, sitting back now and lifting his hands out wide. “So enlighten me. What did you find out?”
The invitation seemed to make Helena eager. “For starters, your last job wasn’t just in Chicago. You’re from Chicago,” she said. “So, a home town boy. You’ve still got family there. I got a little sidetracked with some brother cop, but that felt a little too much like stalking, so I tried to stick to the point.”
“Jay is by far the most interesting Halstead brother,” he said demurely.
She shook her head decisively. “Hardly. Soldier boy, decorated cop -- he seems like he does everything expected of him. I’m sure he’s a lovely man, but he’s not the more interesting one in my book.”
That point was debatable, but Will decided that first dates were not well suited for that kind of thing. “You still have to back that claim up,” he deflected instead.
She looked eager to rise to the challenge. “Okay,” she said. “How about this, then? You graduated near the top of your class and could have taken any number of fellowships or residencies. Instead, you chose Africa. You’ve been here before.”
The revelation was pronounced smugly, as though it was a secret. Will laughed again, because there still was no gotcha moment. “And?”
His nonchalance came as a surprise to her, but she recovered quickly. “And then you left -- early,” she said. “You never finished your first tenure with this organization. Instead, you took the most opposite job you could by becoming a plastic surgeon in New York, of all places. I mean, that’s a 180. I don’t even know how you transitioned from emergency medicine to plastics so quickly.”
“Work,” Will said. “And a little bit of finesse. I think I got lucky.”
“One lucky break, sure,” she said. “But two? Because you abruptly left New York and within three weeks, there you are. Freshly hired at Med, which is a surprisingly good hospital by the sounds of it.”
Will nodded in agreement. “It is a good hospital.”
“And you stayed there quite a long time,” Helena continued, laying out his history with a flair that almost did make him sound exciting. “You were published a few times. You were on a few trial studies. You helped stop some epidemic that I’d never even heard of, and then, you came back here to Africa, no reasons cited.”
“Well, when you update your LinkedIn, it doesn’t make you say why,” Will told her.
“True,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to know.”
“Helena,” he said, sitting forward again and reaching for his beer. He looked at her. “Maybe there isn’t a reason. Maybe I just like change the same way you like a challenge.”
She pursed her lips and shook her head. “No, you used to like change, but you spent a decade in Chicago. Your home. With your brother. And then you quit? That doesn’t parse for me.”
“Well,” he said, positing his next words carefully as he watched for her response. “Maybe I didn’t quit.”
The realization of that lit up her face. “Oh! So you were fired!” she said with enthusiasm. She sat forward a little more herself. “That’s provocative, isn’t it?”
“There is nothing provocative about getting fired,” he said, as though such a vague statement could account for the pain and humiliation that had occurred.
Helena, however, was adamant. “Don’t be inane! Of course there is!”
He scoffed slightly. “For all you know, I killed someone.”
“Nah,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “That’s way too predictable.”
He had no choice but to laugh. “How is that too predictable? We’re doctors. We deal with life and death all the time.”
The logic didn’t remotely phase her. “But your medical license is still intact. Plus, there are no outstanding lawsuits against you. So it’s not true.”
He raised his eyebrows. For some reason, he was offended at the notion being dismissed so easily. “It could be.”
“Will, please. Even if I did believe that you’re capable of killing someone, it was the first argument you gave. You’ve played coy with all the rest, but that’s the part you expect me to believe? You’re just going to have to try harder, I’m afraid.”
Her logic was pretty good -- he had to give her that. But that was all he was willingly going to give her. “It was a complicated situation,” he said, as specifically vague as possible. “But I can tell you that I did deserve to be fired.”
The answer was one she seemed to find interesting. “Oh. Okay.”
Her ready acceptance made Will unexpectedly bristle. “Okay? What does that mean?”
She reached for her drink, picking it up with a trained nonchalance. “It just makes sense,” she said. “You, being here, doing this. It’s a way to redeem yourself.”
He sat back, feeling put off. Stiffly, he tipped his head to the side. “I don’t think it works that way.”
She was finishing a small sip. “Doesn’t it?” she wondered. “You feel like you failed in Chicago. You came here, to the hardest place imaginable, because you want to prove to everyone you failed that you can still do it.”
He did his best not to gape, though the simplicity of her assessment certainly was a little hard for him to swallow. He’d suffered in relative silence over the past year, and he’d taken his efforts seriously. She had readily surmised his motivation and boiled his entire life in Africa down to a single pair of sentences over cocktails.
It hurt, somehow.
Everything still hurt.
But he was on a date, he reminded himself. Helena wasn’t there to dismiss him. She was there because she liked him -- and he liked her.
Swallowing hard, Will forced his posture to ease. And then, he provided the critical clarification. “I just wanted to prove it to myself, mostly.”
“That’s fair,” she said easily, and she put down her drink again. “And how’s it going?”
He had been put out of his comfort zone here, and Will still struggled to keep his cool. “How’s what going?”
“This little proving process of yours?” she asked.
How she managed to ask it in such a disarming way without sounding overbearing, Will wasn’t sure.
But, then again, Will wasn’t sure of a lot of things at the moment.
He looked at her, suddenly realizing just how flummoxed he was. He’d been in Africa for nearly a year now, and he still couldn’t answer the question. Three hospitals, countless ups and downs -- and he didn’t have a clue.
Blinking at her, he had nothing but honesty. “I don’t know.”
Fiddling with her straw, she gave him an incredulous smile. “You don’t know?”
“What, and that’s funny?” he asked, feeling embarrassed now.
“It is,” she said. She flitted her hand through the air. “Will, you’re literally the biggest success story in the entire organization. Everyone knows about you and the things you’ve done. You’re going to be their poster boy, and everyone you’ve worked with says the same thing about you: you’re just brilliant. So, I guess I’m just curious. What are you looking for if you haven’t found it yet?”
He looked up at her, almost shyly now. When he swallowed, his throat was dry. “Honestly?”
She inclined her head earnestly. “Please.”
“I’m not sure anymore,” he admitted. “I thought I knew, but now -- I just don’t.”
The sharpness in her expression softened somehow, and there was a newfound gentleness in her smile. “Well, that’s okay,” she said, and she lifted her drink again, holding it out for a toast. “Here’s to find it out.”
Will picked up his own drink and tapped it against her. “Here’s to finding it out.”
“Together,” she added, before they took their drinks in tandem.
-o-
In his life, Will had been on a lot of dates. In his younger years, he’d been a prolific ladies man, and he’d wooed many. Natalie had changed him, and he’d been ready to settle down. And here he was, somewhere in between.
Not ready to settle down, probably.
But not looking to play the field.
With Helena, she seemed to know precisely how to thread that needle. It was a date; it was a friendship. Somehow, it was everything.
They shared stories about med school, talking about the horror stories of their residencies. They talked about their families, and all those people they’d left behind to save lives. And they talked about their favorite movies, the songs that got stuck in their head and the best vacations they’d ever been on.
When dinner was over, Helena insisted on ordering dessert, which neither of them were hungry for. They shared a piece of cake, picking at it as the night went on. When they were done, Helena asked for separate checks, outside on the street, she asked if he would walk her home.
Will obliged her, of course, and as they walked along, Will realized for the first time since moving to Africa, it felt something like home.
Under streetlights, outside still bustling restaurants, he watched Helena’s eyes dance in the lights of the city as she laughed.
It definitely felt like home.
-o-
After several blocks, Helena started to slow down. She turned to Will, stopping with a purpose and smiling at him.
“Well, this is me,” she said, coming to a stop outside a modest but well maintained building. “I wouldn’t mind some company, though. If you’d like to take this upstairs.”
The invitation was subtle, but they both knew what it meant. Helena had been leaning into this idea for weeks now, and standing face to face with her, Will couldn’t say that he didn’t want it. He liked Helena. He respected her, and he enjoyed spending time with her. She made him laugh; she made him comfortable.
It had been a long time since someone made him feel like that.
And it would be easy. Just nod his head and walk up the stairs, and he was confident that Helena would handle everything else. There had been a time when he wouldn’t have thought twice about saying yes.
The idea of it: being happy, letting go, living his life.
It was too much.
He had come to Africa to finish something, not start it.
“Helena, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said.
She laughed at him. “I think it’s a brilliant idea.”
“I can’t,” he said, feeling sweat start to break out across his back. His hands were clammy and he had to swallow hard. “I really can’t.”
Traffic was light on the street, and the night was warm. She was bathed in the light from a streetlight as she looked him plainly in the eye. “And why not?”
“Protocol,” Will said, barely allowing himself to think about his answer. “They actively discourage romantic relationships among the staff. Especially since I am your boss.”
To that insinuation, she looked nearly incredulous. “You do realize that no one actually reads the full protocol binder, right?” she asked, clearly skeptical. “Much less memorize it. Or, heaven forbid, abide by it.”
“That’s not true,” Will shot back.
“It is,” she said. “I mean, look at Jessica and Maria.”
“They’re together?” Will asked, confused.
“And have been for three months,” Helena continued. “And before that, Jessica was with Eden.”
Will tried to not look so surprised this time. “That’s all rumor.”
Helena laughed, as if he was telling a joke. “Then, Miguel and Carmen? Xoie and Seb? Even Josiah and Lulu?”
Will was readily gaping now as he fumbled for a response that both defended his rejection and his complete lack of knowledge of the social scene here. “And that’s all the more reason why the rules matter,” he said. “I mean, just how complicated are things here?”
“Life is complicated,” she said soundly. “And protocol creates rules for the idealized world, not the one we live in. So, if you don’t want to go out with me, I find that perfectly acceptable. But I do not wish to be trivialized by a line.”
Will sighed. “But it’s not a line.”
“It is!”
He backtracked, almost despite himself. “Well, maybe.”
She pursed her lips, crossing her arms over her chest. “So?”
“So,” he said, venturing ahead uncertainly in the conversation. “I’m not ready.”
She made a face. “Ready?”
“Look,” he said, trying to sound reasonable and sane even while he felt completely unreasonable and insane. “I just haven’t been great at relationships. Like, overall. I’m bad at them.”
Helena seemed to believe him less the more he spoke. “Which is why literally everybody loves you,” she said dryly. “I mean, seriously, no one ever likes the boss, but no one can say one bad thing about you.”
“That’s not true--”
She unfolded her arms coolly, and tucked her hair behind her ear. “It is.”
Flustered once more, he shook his head. “It’s not even what I’m talking about,” he said. “Professionally speaking -- whatever. My personal life has been a mess, okay? Every time I get involved with someone, I tend to blow things up.”
Her eyebrows arched. “Considering you’ve been involved with two hostile takeovers in this organization, I’m really hoping you mean that figuratively.”
Will blushed, despite himself. “You know what I mean.”
Her shoulders slumped slightly as she sighed in exasperation. “I know what you’re saying, but I don’t get it,” she said. “I’m not blind, Will. And I’m certainly not stupid. You’re great at everything you do.”
The compliment was one he would have relished in the past. Even now, he couldn’t deny that his ego liked being stroked.
But it was also hard to hear. He felt like he was teetering on the edge of his control, and he couldn’t afford to lose it now.
And this was ridiculous anyway.
Helena was a successful doctor and a beautiful woman. She was smart and compassionate and capable. There was no way he could do this.
He’d buried his last relationship with Sabeena by resurrecting his unbidden feelings for Natalie, somehow managing to let both relationships flame out in equally spectacular ways. And his track record before that wasn’t all that stellar either. Maybe he was just one of those people who couldn’t have a career and a relationship. Maybe he’d forfeited his right to seek personal happiness when he’d been so brazenly stupid.
Maybe he just wasn’t ready.
Maybe someday he would be.
But not today.
Not yet.
Not her.
“Helena,” he said, and his voice trembled a little as he said her name. She noticed, and he summoned all his courage to finish his thoughts. “You’re being too kind -- really. I’m putting the best I can into this job, this hospital -- this community. To do this -- and to do it right -- takes all my focus and discipline. I’m still getting there.”
He was trying to be honest, and though she seemed to doubt what he was saying, she clearly didn’t doubt his intent. “All this hard work and discipline,” she said, shaking her head. She leaned forward knowingly. “You are doing better than you think. You should give yourself more credit.”
The idea of it was tantalizing, honestly.
To think that he’d grown.
To think that he’d changed.
And that was precisely why it was terrifying to contemplate. Was he ready for life as normal again? Was he ready to start living life again?
It was too much, really. Just entirely too much.
As far as he’d come, he wasn’t sure he could risk it yet.
“Just believe me,” he said, as earnestly as he could now. “I’m just no good for you.”
She lifted her brows with the smallest, condescending look. “Noble as your sentiment is, you don’t get to decide what’s good for me.”
He backpedaled quickly. “Helena, that’s not--”
She shook her head to let herself finish. “I don’t doubt your sincerity here, but I just want to make it clear what’s happening,” she said. “You’re not protecting me, Will. You’re protecting yourself. Which is perfectly fine, for the record. And totally understandable, and I respect that you need to do it. But just know what it is you’re doing, okay? For your sake much more than mine.”
It was impossible how good she was. For her to understand that and forgive him for it all at the same time. Will wished again he was a different person, but he was so grateful that she was in his life. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I’m an idiot, I do. I know I’ve made a mess of this--”
She made a dismissive sound, waving a hand through the hair. “Oh, please. You know yourself well enough to stop before it gets messy. I’m a big girl, and I like you well enough to respect what you need, too.”
“I know, but -- I just, I don’t know what I’m doing half the time,” Will admitted.
“Well, you could have fooled me -- and literally everyone else,” she told him.
He laughed and looked at her fondly. “Can we still be friends? Despite -- this?”
Her eyes brightened in return, and she reached up, brushing his cheek with her hand. “Just try to stop me.”
For a moment, he leaned into her touch, but she willingly drew her hand away. “See you tomorrow?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said. “You did plan a staff meeting first thing.”
“Right,” Will said with a small wince. “Coffee first?”
“But you’re buying,” she told him with a little jab at his chest.
“Fair enough,” he agreed. He hesitated one more time and looked at her. “Goodnight, Helena.”
She smiled back. “Goodnight, Will.”
-o-
Will had some trepidation about facing work -- and Helena -- the next day, but those fears were unfounded. Work was the same as always, and Helena was the consummate professional. Will bought her coffee. She brought her best smile.
Then, it was business as normal.
-o-
There was a lot of business. That was what was normal: there was always something to do. The budget constraints had been eased since his arrival, but his ambitious plan to push the hospital to the next level required more revenue to keep things in the black. Now that staffing turnover rates had been reduced, he was faced with the long term perils of retaining staff. He had to handle time-off, interpersonal relationships and petty squabbles involving everything from parking to lockers.
To cope, Will relied heavily on the only resource he had: the policy guidebook. He’d made a point to study it from the start, and he referred to it often in order to make clear, fair delineations. When he found the rules insufficiently expressed, he started making tweaks, clearing each change with the hospital leadership team and the organizational board.
After submitting another change suggestion to the board, Dr. Ho got back to him personally.
“Is everything okay?” Dr. Ho asked.
“Sure, of course,” Will said. “I mean, why do you ask? Have you heard something?”
Dr. Ho sounded quizzical on the call. “It’s just all the protocol clarifications and suggestions. Given how many changes you’re positing, it seems like you may be dissatisfied with the performance.”
“Oh, no,” Will said quickly, surprised by how easy it was to construe his good intentions with something more critical. “I just found that the policies left in place were a little vague sometimes. When trying to promote a successful hospital, you need order. Clarifying the rules seemed like a good place to start.”
“Honestly, that doesn’t come up most of the time,” Dr. Ho said. “We give our hospitals latitude to develop policies that reflect the needs of the community they serve. But some of the changes you are suggesting are quite strong. We have considered recommending several of the changes to our facilities across the board. Your attention to detail is impressive, Dr. Halstead.”
“It’s a learned skill,” he admitted. “And I just want to do things right. That’s all.”
“Well, you’re certainly doing something right,” Dr. Ho agreed. “Keep up the excellent work.”
“So those changes?” Will asked. “Are they okay?”
“Yes, of course,” Dr. Ho said. “Make sure to use gender neutral language when describing employees, especially in the context of interpersonal relationships. I’ll have my assistant make sure I get back an updated copy for you to finalize.”
“Thank you, Dr. Ho,” Will said.
“I feel like I should be thanking you, Dr. Halstead,” Dr. Ho mused. “You’ve been beaten, shot and now you’re refining protocol? Is there any torture you won’t endure?”
Will smiled and shook his head. “Just doing my job.”
“That’s the thing! It’s not!” Dr. Ho said. “But you are something else, I guess. Something special.”
Will knew better than to believe that.
He had to keep working
-o-
He worked late, and he got in early. Will brought in an outside expert to train the staff on a new medical procedure. He implemented a new patient management system, and he created a new lounge for the nurses.
Helena smiled at him.
That was all there was.
For now, that was all Will needed.
-o-
One night, working late on his paperwork, his phone rang. It wasn’t his office phone -- thank goodness, because anyone calling this late would have a fire for him to put out -- but his cell phone. He thought it might be Jay, but when he looked at the caller ID, he was surprised.
April Sexton.
People from Med texted him still, some more regularly than others. He’d taken to replying a bit more often, but his responses were still nothing more than sporadic most of the time. He made an exception for Maggie, who was the only one outside of Natalie who he’d spoken to at all.
His finger lingered over the decline button, but he found himself hesitating.
What if he answered?
What if he talked to her?
Was that so bad?
Was it wrong?
Would it be dangerous for his growth?
The questions were pressing, but ultimately, his instinct won out. Picking up the phone, he slide up the accept button and said, “Hello?”
“Will?”
“Yes,” Will said.
There was a funny, breathless little noise on the line. “You answered! You actually answered?” April said, her voice sounding pitched with surprise.
“Yeah, I just had a few minutes down here,” he said. “Just winding down for the night before I clock out.”
“Oh,” April said. “I mean, yeah, of course. I just -- everyone else I’ve talked to -- they said you’re a ghost. Maggie says you answer your text once every two weeks. No one else has even heard from you except Natalie, but I mean, that’s Natalie.”
“I’ve just been focused on things here, is all,” Will said. “And after how things went down at Med, I figured it was best to get some distance.”
April scoffed over the line. “Best for who? I mean, you, probably. Everyone says you’re doing great. I mean, you’re Chief of Staff?”
Will rolled his eyes, shuffling the last pile of paperwork to the done side of his desk. “That’s an exaggeration. This is a small hospital, part of a larger network--”
“That you’re in charge of,” April said, matter of fact. “And don’t think people aren’t talking. About you in the terrorist standoff. Getting taken over by gangs.”
Even across the world, Will found himself blushing. “I was a minor player in both events,” he assured her. “And how do you even know about that?”
“Oh, please,” she said. “Everyone knows about that.”
“You’re not even at Med anymore,” he reminded her.
“But I still talk to people,” April reminded him. “I mean, that is what people do. They leave jobs, not friends. At least, some of us do.”
Will took the criticism for what it was. “April, it’s not exactly the same thing--”
“Oh, it’s not?”
“April, I was fired,” Will said, seeing no reason to downplay it now. Coming to terms was coming to terms. That was why he’d been able to answer this call in the first place. “It’s not the same thing.”
“And you think Goodwin’s judgment is always impeachable?” she asked, a little caustic now. “I mean, did you hear what happened when she hired Archer?”
Will found himself surprised by the question. He hadn’t considered it, really -- he certainly hadn’t made a point to ask. He’d just assumed his own mess was so substantial that everything else by contrast would be mild. That without him there, everything would just go back to normal.
“Because I’ll tell you -- it’s still a mess because of that one,” April went on, sounding indignant now. “I can’t even believe half the stories Ethan tells me anymore.”
Will perked up at the name drop. “Hey, how is Ethan? After everything he went through.”
“Oh, he’s doing really well, thanks,” she said. Then, she paused. “But I mean, you’d have known that if you called. Or, you know, answered a text from him.”
Will sighed, too tired to even bother being sheepish now. “April--”
“Ethan said that recovery -- which, by the way, involved learning how to walk again -- was a piece of cake compared to what it took to finally get Archer out and undo the damage he did,” she continued like there had been no aside. “I’m not kidding you when I tell you about Med. It’s not the same place it was when we left -- not even close.”
Will rocked back in his office chair, wondering if he had time to finalize the acquisition forms in the morning or if he should just do them now. “I’m sure Med is just fine. Ethan is a great doctor. And I mean, Goodwin’s always run a tight ship.”
“A tight ship?” April snarked back. “Ethan sounds like he’s drowning, there’s so much water on Goodwin’s ship right now.”
Will shook his head, sure that April was overstating things. “Well, they’ll figure it out, right? They always do.”
April huffed a little. “I hope so. I mean, it was my plan to go back there once I finish school.”
The change in topic was welcome to Will. “Hey, how is school? How far along are you?”
“Oh, it’s great!” she said, suddenly enthusiastic. “I really like it, and I actually think I’m pretty good at it. It’s a fast-track program, lots of field work. Should have my degree in less than two years.”
“Wow, that’s great -- not that I’m surprised,” Will said, and he meant it, too. He decided the acquisition forms needed to be done; he had an early meeting with the Chief of Surgery. He sat forward, fishing out the forms from under the stack on his desk. “And you know, wherever you end up, you’ll be great. Med would be lucky to have you back.”
“And not just me,” she chirped along without hesitation. “I mean, what about you?”
Will drew back in surprise. “April, I literally took a job on another continent.”
“Sure,” April said, as though that were some minor point. “And you can take a job back in Chicago. I know how jobs work, Will. You can come and go as you please.”
“April--”
“I’m just saying,” she said, backtracking neatly to avoid any actual conflict. Then, she hesitated. “Don’t you miss it? Like, at all?”
Didn’t he miss it?
Med’s top of the line facility. The streamlined procedures and seamless patient care. The cutting-edge research, the top-notch doctors.
And more: the familiar sounds of the city. Kicking back after work at Molly’s. Catching a game. Playing pickup basketball. Grill outs and secret Santa gift exchanges.
How could he not miss it?
Maggie’s no-nonsense operation. Dr. Charles’ fatherly patience. Crockett, Ethan -- and all the rest.
“Of course I miss it,” he replied, his voice subdued.
“And they miss you,” she said, letting the words fall emphatically over the phone.
There was no reason to doubt her -- why would she call him just to tell him lies -- but he had no basis by which to believe her, either. He’d been there, after all. He could still see the hard look on Ms. Goodwin’s face when she fired him and sent him away without a word. All his years of work, and she’d been unable to tolerate the sound of his voice. He couldn’t forget the rush of surreal adrenaline as he packed up his locker that last time, stuffing his doctor’s coat inside and walking away.
“I doubt that,” he said, his throat feeling suddenly tight.
April wasn’t the type to just take a line like that, though. “But why?”
The question was valid, but that didn’t mean Will had an answer. “I just do.”
“Well,” she said, sounding a little smug. ‘You should really answer your phone more.”
He inclined his head, sitting forward again, deciding that he was well and truly done for the night -- nothing on his desk couldn’t wait until tomorrow. “Point taken.”
“Mmhmm,” she said knowingly. It was just the way Med nurses talked to Med doctors, and it made him smile. “It’s good to talk to you, though.”
“You, too,” he said. “And thanks for calling.”
“And thank you for actually answering,” she said with bemusement. “It’s a novelty, I’m told.”
Will was appropriately chagrined, though it didn’t feel like a burden for once. “I’ll try to do better,” he said, and he thought he actually might this time.
“You better,” she chided, and Will was struck by a sudden, strange thought.
Maybe he wasn’t alone, after all.
-o-
Maybe Will wasn’t alone.
Maybe Will wasn’t even unhappy.
He’d been so focused on doing the right thing, rebuilding his life -- maybe he’d missed the part where he’d gotten back to the point where he was standing on his own two feet. Maybe, in all this effort to start living again, he’d started without realizing it.
Things were falling into place now, and he was no longer able to pretend like it was just chance. Things at work were smooth, and the hospital’s situation was improving. Will was developing a social life, and he was making real connections. And at home, he was taking time for himself. Sure, he still worked long hours, but the time he had was time well spent. He learned to cook more. He explored the local parks and jogging trails. He even broke out his guitar, strumming a simple chord progression, singing to himself like he hadn’t in years.
There were no performances now.
This was, he decided, just for him.
-o-
And Helena.
He stopped trying to work around her. He no longer tried to put her off. When they were scheduled to the same shift, he was inordinately happy the whole day.
He wasn’t totally sure it was right.
But he knew for a fact that it didn’t feel wrong.
-o-
One afternoon, the air conditioner was out -- again -- and after a long string of traumas in the ED, Will was tired and soaked through with sweat. Feeling too grimy to see more patients, he retreated to the locker room to find a fresh pair of scrubs.
The locker room was a shared space, and it doubled as a lounge and a breakroom all at once. There were stalls for private changing, and there were separate bathrooms with shower stalls, but most people didn’t bother with the privacy. Working in close proximity with the same people day in, day out, changed how you felt about those things. To call it family wouldn’t quite be enough. But it was what it was, and though Will was Chief of Staff, he found himself there more often than not after a long shift.
One of the residents was sleeping on one of the benches, looking uncomfortable and precarious, but she was so deeply passed out that Will so no need to bother her. He passed an attending on his way in, who mumbled a hello on his way out, and Will knew how he felt. The heat and the rigorous schedule could leave them all strung out. Even when you loved the job, it inevitably exhausted you.
Will found his locker, pulling it open. This was the first place where he’d started to allow himself personal effects. A few pictures, a clipping from the newspaper. And, at the bottom, the clean scrubs he had on reserve. He changed quickly, taking a fresh coat for good measure. He turned to tossed the soiled clothes into the laundry, when he almost ran into Helena.
“Hey,” she said brightly. “You look wrecked. Long morning?”
“The longest,” Will said. “Haven’t you noticed that the air is out? And we were slammed by a highway pile up.”
Helena made a face, but she was smirking somewhat. “I have been in the OR all morning with a bowel repair,” she said, matter of fact. She waggled her eyebrows. “Air conditioning the whole time.”
“Damn,” Will said. “I know we agreed that ORs should be prioritized--”
“For the good of the patient!” Helena objected, opening her own locker. She laughed, though, putting her scrub cap away. “That was your idea, you know.”
“I know, I know,” Will said, adjusting his coat. He gave himself a glance in the mirror just to make sure he looked presentable. “Sometimes it’d be nice to put my own good over the good of the hospital, just once.”
Helena took to putting her coat back on. “Oh please,” she chided him. “You would have a conniption fit at the very thought.”
“Maybe,” Will said, and he sat down on one of the benches to tie his shoes again. Across the way, another resident had entered and grabbed her clothes to head to the back. “Though, I have to admit, with all the work I’ve put into this place, I think I’ve neglected the locker room.”
Helena made a face. “The locker room?”
“Sure,” Will said. “I mean, we haven’t put one penny in here.”
“And why would we? It’s a fully functional place,” Helena pointed out skeptically.
Will gave the place another look. “It’s literally a unisex locker room that has been updated since it was originally retrofitted 20 years ago,” he said. “I mean, even if people don’t mind the crappy, industrial decor, the lack of privacy might make people uncomfortable.”
“There are bathroom stalls,” Helena argued, pointing to the back where the second resident had retreated.
He gave her a plaintive look because he knew she knew better. “It’s incredibly subpar. Staff safety and morale is important.”
She rolled her eyes and sat down next to him. “Well, you’re fortunate that we all have very low expectations,” she said. “Of all the things in this place to complain about, I’m pretty sure no one is giving the locker rooms a second look.”
“Maybe,” Will said, finishing up his second shoe. “Becuase it’s probably a sexual harassment suit waiting to happen, and there’s no way in hell we could afford the legal fees.”
To this, she actually laughed. “Now you’re talking like an administrator!” she said. “But seriously, Will, we have private bathrooms, which is where the toilets and showers are.”
“Showers that no one uses because the hot water doesn’t work half the time,” Will pointed out. “There’s no way around it. This place just isn’t fit.”
She inclined her head, seemingly bemused. “Fine. Then, put that on your budget. Better locker room space with private, gender neutral changing rooms.”
Will nodded back. “I’ll get right on that. After I update the x-ray machines, invest in additional ultrasound equipment and make another attempt to get everyone off of paper charts.”
“And there’s the doctor I’ve grown so fond of,” she said with a small laugh. “Best of luck with that, mate.”
He grunted back, putting both his feet on the ground. “I’ll need all the luck I can get -- and then some.”
She was quiet for a moment, and she gave him a curious look. “You know, I do find it odd,” Helena said.
“What?” Will asked. “That no one cares about the locker rooms but me?”
“That you keep working shifts, same as everyone else,” she said, and she got up again. She closed her own locker and turned toward him thoughtfully.
He made a small shrug of indifference. “I take far fewer shifts than everyone else,” he said. “I’m barely on the board, no more than three times a week.”
“Which is insane,” she said, looking at him tellingly. “You’re Chief of Staff. You have enough paperwork to drown you. You spend some days in meetings from dawn until dusk. I can’t even imagine how you have time to pull shifts.”
“Well,” he said, laughing, though he wasn’t sure what the punchline was. “I mean, I’m a doctor. I’m in this to save lives. The administrative stuff -- it’s necessary. I’ll do it the best I can. But that’s not really why I’m here.”
Her eyes passed over him, more appraisingly this time. “Sometimes, I don’t think you know why you’re here, Will.”
To that, he could only let out a low chuckle. “Honestly, Helena? You may be right about that.”
She tweaked his nose just so, playful and soft. “Oh, Will,” she teased, starting away from him and back to the ED. “I’m always right.”
-o-
It didn’t actually get easier.
If anything, it got harder. The hospital was gaining more notoriety, which meant more people were trusting them with their care. When mass casualty events occurred, they were no longer the hospital of last resort. This put pressure on every part of the system Will put into place, and it took constant to work to make sure his staff and the facilities were up to the new found demand.
But with the policies in place. With the staff coming together. With Helena at his side.
It seemed so much easier.
-o-
Besides, Will was still an ED doc at heart. Crazy, hectic, bloody -- he was in his element when things got dicey. He still didn’t trust himself to make calm, rational decisions, but in the heat of the moment, his gut generally knew how to do the right thing.
This was still what it was all about for him.
So, you better believe it, when there was a big trauma, Will was always the first one on the line.
Today, it was a train derailment. One of the lines in the heart of downtown. Will got the heads up from the police commissioner, who wanted to know how many casualties they could take.
Will said 5 serious, 15 minors.
When the commissioner asked if they could take 10 and 20, Will was struck not by the audacity of the request but by the trust it conveyed. This was the first time they’d been asked to go above and beyond.
Will wasn’t about to let him down.
“10 and 20 it is,” Will said. “We’re standing by.”
“Good,” the man said. “The first bus is five minutes out.”
-o-
Downstairs, he was pleased to find that his team was already assembled and ready. The trauma protocols had been activated. The med students were clearing out the waiting room and transferring as many patients as possible. The nurses were setting up the trauma bays, and the charge nurse already had the first assignments ready to go. Will got there in time to see the first two ambulances roll in, and the seamless distribution started in earnest.
With the next one on the way, the charge nurse gave him a knowing look. “This one for you, Dr. Halstead?”
Will grinned. His staff knew more than the policy. They were starting to know him, too. “You bet,” he said. “Do we know what we got?”
The charge nurse handed him a chart. “Today’s a grab bag,” she said. “Never know what you’re going to get.”
Will took it, moving to the ambulance bay doors as they swung open. “And I’m always ready to find out!”
-o-
Will loved the thrill of a trauma, but he wasn’t flippant about it. His own adrenaline rush was entirely pragmatic, after all. He needed to be on his game to save lives, and the life in front of him now was the one that mattered.
“53-year-old male, conscious and alert,” one of the medics reported as they wheeled theri way inside. Will started moving them to one of the vacant trauma rooms. “High impact collision, probable head injury. He’s tacky with blood loss, decreased breath sounds on the right, but pulse and BP are stable.”
“Where’s the blood coming from?” Will asked as they walked.
“Impalement,” the medic said, bobbing his head to the man’s side. Will saw it then, the shard of metal that was coated in blood. It had penetrated from the side, but how long and deep, Will couldn’t say until they got in there.
“Are you going to take it out?” the man asked from the stretcher.
Will guided the stretcher as they turned, and he smiled as reassuringly as he could. “We’re going to do everything we can,” he said.
-o-
Everything was usually just a panacea, a thing they said.
In this guy’s case, it seemed kind of like the real deal. Will had the nurse get him on the monitors, and they hung the IV and double checked his vitals while Will cleared his c-spine and made a quick check of the head injury. The gash on his head would need stitches, but with good reflexes and obvious cognition, the precautionary CT scan could probably be put off for now.
There were more pressing issues.
Vitals were still relatively stable, but the heart rate was dropping and his O2 stats were starting to slow. Will put him on a mask, and then he turned his attention to the real problem
Visual inspection of the wound suggested that it was actually worse than it looked. Only a small portion of the metal was sticking out, but give the size of the wound and the amount of blood, it was probably that most of the object was inside.
“We need x-ray,” Will said. “Do we have access to the portable machine?”
The nurse nodded. “I think it’s next door,” she said, moving to duck out. “Good thing we bought one.”
“Good thing,” Will said, not wanting to think about how much more blood this guy would lose if they had to drag him to radiology. As it was, things were already pretty precarious for him. Will looked at him and smiled. “Do you remember what happened, sir?”
“An accident, on the train,” he said. He grimaced as Will used a stethoscope to listen to his lungs. “I was -- on my way to work. I could have driven, but I like the train. I like it…”
He was drifting off a little, and Will put the stethoscope down. “Sir? Can you stay awake? We’re trying to figure out just what happened. Do you remember anything else?”
He opened his eyes, though he seemed wearier than before. “Everything was toss about, you see. When the train left the track. The whole car was ripped open, and I was flung through it.”
Will nodded sympathetically. “It looks like a piece of the metal from the train got lodged in your side. We’re going to see what we can do about taking it out, okay?”
As he finished, the nurse came back with one of the techs, pushing the machine. It took just a few seconds to sit it up, and Will covered the man’s lower half, giving his shoulder a small squeeze. “Just hold still for a second,” he said, stepping out of the room and waiting for the image to take.
With the all clear, he was back inside. The machine they’d purchased was used, and the technology was a bit more antiquated than what he’d had at Med, but it still the job done. Within a minute scan was up, and Will winced, biting back the urge to curse.
“Okay, so it’s probably a foot long,” he said, tapping the screen. “Definitely got the lung, and probably nicked one of the arteries, which is why he’s bleeding.”
“Should I get the OR on hold?” the nurse asked.
“Yeah, we’ll need to get him up,” Will said.
Then, before he could finish the thought, an alarmed wailed. The man bucked, moving wildly in pain before Will or one of the nurses could stop him. This only made things worse. Now, a fresh set of alarms sounded, as the man’s blood pressure plummeted and his heart went out of rhythm.
“Damn it,” Will said, quickly stepping forward to look at the wound again. It was practically gushing blood now. “It shifted. Whatever artery it nicked has been perforated now. He’s bleeding out.”
“The OR is ready,” the nurse reported.
“There’s no time,” Will said. He gritted his teeth, looking at the man again. He glanced at the monitors. “We have to stop the bleeding. We can clamp it off.”
“An artery?” the nurse asked. “How long can we clamp it?”
“20 minutes, tops,” Will said. “But if we don’t, he’ll bleed out in less than three.”
Will wasn’t looking for permission. He wasn’t looking for a second opinion. This was his decision, and he wasn’t afraid to stand by it. Moving down, he got level with the man’s torso. Then, carefully, he pulled the metal, having to shift his grip as it was extracted on the exact path it came in. He had to be mindful not to make a bigger mess, but it didn’t matter much.
By the time Will was done, blood was everywhere, and Will ordered the nurse to start manual ventilations. They would have to intubate later.
“Okay,” he said, gathering a breath and reaching his hand up. I need a scalpel so we can make a bigger opening into the chest cavity.”
A second nurse handed it to him, and she looked a little green around the gills. Even for an experienced trauma team, this was a lot of blood -- and Will was about to make more.
It was the only course of action, however. Will made the cut, giving his hand room to slip inside. “I need traction,” he said, grunting it out as he tried to around the ribs.
The nurse complied, blanching as she reached down and pulled.
Visibility was still poor, but Will knew the anatomy well enough and the gash from the metal had left things pretty open. Moving his hand in, he felt slowly and carefully, mentally mapping each part of the anatomy as he went. The veins, the arteries, the lung, the rib -- and then he found it.
“There,” he said, using his fingers to get a hold on the artery, finding a spot above the gash. He pinched down, feeling the artery pulse beneath his fingers as he shut off the flow of blood. “Got it.”
The alarms scaled back for a moment, his heart and breathing steady as the blood loss was stymied. “He’s stabilizing,” the nurse ventilating him said.
Will nodded, gathering a breath as he reassessed the situation. “Stable is good, but we’re on the clock now,” he said. “We need to alert the OR. They need to be ready to cut right away. 20 minutes or this guy’s dead.”
The other nurse nodded, scurrying off to place the call. Will was still squatting next to the patient, and he got himself upright, careful to maintain the pressure. He could feel the lactic acid already start to build, but he didn’t dare let his fingers twitch. This was all about saving lives, after all. And this life was in his hands right now.
He didn’t take that lightly.
The nurse came back. “Okay, we’re good to go,” she said, moving around to help with the gurney.
“I need you two to manage the rest,” Will said. “I can’t move my hand.”
“We’ve got your back, Dr. Halstead,” the first said. She smiled. “We always will.”