Chicago Med fic: Mercy (1/10)

[faye_dartmouth]

Title: Mercy

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Fills my serial killer prompt for hc_bingo. Set post S6 without seeing S7, therefore AU! Unbeta’ed

Summary: The quest to rebuild Will’s reputation could cost him - and the hospital - everything.

PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT
PART NINE
PART TEN



-o-

It’s only 10 AM, and Sharon Goodwin is behind. She’s really behind. Her two morning meetings have run long, and a snafu in the ICU has had her running up and down trying to sort it out and put out fires. She’s tired already, and she’s getting annoyed with the way things are going in her hospital, so when she gets back to her office, she wants to sit down, drink a hot cup of coffee, close the door and ignore the whole sodding mess.

When she gets there, though, her assistant winces, and Sharon knows her fantasy is a fool’s errand. She sighs. “What now?”

“President of the Board,” she says, wincing even more. She gives a furtive look to the side. “If you go now, I won’t tell her I saw you.”

It’s actually a tempting offer, but it’s only 10 AM, and Sharon is decidedly too tired for subterfuge. Besides, she doesn’t figure it will do her any good. “No, no,” she says. “I’ll take it. Just -- hold my calls.”

The assistant nods readily.

Sharon hesitates. Then, she leans closer. “Is she in a good mood?”

She shrugs. “Could be worse.”

Sharon does her best not to sort. Over the last year, she’s had to essentially fire her son for compromising the integrity of drug rep relations. She’s had a doctor shot on hospital premises. And she’s had one doctor steal drugs and another cover it up -- all resulting in a huge loss of pharmaceutical revenue for the hospital.

Truthfully, Sharon’s not sure how anything could be worse.

She adjusted her suit, checks her hair, and hopes for once that something might be better.

-o-

As an administrator, Sharon has learned the art of the schmooze. She knows how to deal with her staff, and she knows how to deal with the powers that be. She is in that position to play go-between, and it is both as rewarding and frustrating as one might expect.

She’s taken it as part of the job for years, but she can’t pretend like things haven’t been worse with Gwen in charge.

Now, to be fair, anyone with that much power usually wields it with questionable authority. At the level Gwen is playing, the balance of greater good and personal profit is always going to be suspect, and she can’t fault the woman for her sense of business or ambition.

That said, the woman’s an asshole. Condescending, superior and utterly annoying. It doesn’t help that she’s never worked a day in her life in the medical trenches, so her understanding of the implications of her decisions is always going to be based on numbers and dollar signs.

And she doesn’t like to get after women of color in their ambitions, but damn it, Gwen just rubs her all the wrong ways.

But Sharon’s not stupid. She knows the pecking order here. No matter how much it makes her skin crawl or his blood pressure rise, she’s all smiles when she goes inside and greets Gwen, who is seated expectantly at Sharon’s desk.

“I didn’t expect you today,” Sharon says with a buoyant tone. That much is at least the truth, even if her smile is a lie. She pauses to shake Gwen’s hand, making keen eye contact before moving around her desk to her chair. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have made you wait.”

No doubt, the unexpected visit is some part of power play, though it’s hard to say what angle Gwen is working right now. Sharon can’t think of anything particularly pressing at the moment, but Gwen’s not been shy about her frustrations with losing the Kender support system. If only Will Halstead knew just how much flak she’s taken for it, he’d understand why he’s still on probation.

Sharon, however, manages to keep smiling as Gwen purses her lips and starts to talk. “It’s not a big thing,” she begins, which tells Sharon it’s not supposed to be a big thing but it invariably is. “But I’ve been concerned about the staffing reports down in the ED.”

Sharon nods readily. “Yes, the ED has been hit particularly hard by the pandemic,” she says. “Some just didn’t want to deal with the stress and have taken jobs in less busy healthcare outlets -- or left the industry altogether. I think vaccinate mandates were responsible for another portion, but staffing issues have been a problem lately.”

She’s not sure why this is news to anyone. Anyone with half a brain knows that employment in the United States is suffering -- there just aren’t workers for the jobs. And healthcare? Being on the front lines? In Chicago?

It’s not a hot draw anymore.

This is all surely information Gwen knows, but she’s clearly fishing for something here. “Yes, but your operation numbers are way down,” she says. “Without adequate staff, we’re not able to field patients as effectively. The nursing situation is particularly problematic. By some estimates, we’re losing hundreds of thousands of dollars due to poor allocation of resources.”

This seems rather obvious to Sharon, and she tries not to appear indifferent. “There’s only so much I can do,” she said. “We have open positions posted. We are pursuing all active lines of recruitment as best we can with pandemic restrictions. There just aren’t very many qualified applicants.”

She knows this because she’s gone over the applicants herself. Gwen is mostly hands-off in her administration style, but Sharon never has been. Which makes her meddling here even more telling.

“Well,” Gwen says, prim and proper. She produces a file folder and puts it on Sharon’s desk, sliding it in front of her. “Then, I’m sure my support could not come at a better time. I’ve got your next ED nurse right here.”

Sharon tries not to be overtly skeptical, even if that is how she feels. Half of her job is learning not to say what she’s thinking. That is, in a nutshell, at the heart of diplomacy.

Instead, she flips open the file. Hiring a replacement for April has been particularly challenging, given her years of experience and her levels of competency in the ED. She’s not opposed to taking suggestions if it brings her the right candidate.

And at first glance, there is certainly nothing overly off putting about this candidate. The file is well worked up, complete with a resume, cover letter, transcript and picture. Emily Novak is her name, and by looks alone, she’s a dead-ringer for Natalie Manning. Dark hair, petite figure, bright eyes. She’s 29, less than a decade out of Michigan State. In six years of practice, she’s been at two different hospitals, after spending her time working on a more private circuit as a home health aide.

“She’s exactly the kind of candidate we need,” Gwen says. “Given our recent record and our current situation, we couldn’t ask for more.”

Gwen is painting a dire picture, but Sharon can’t deny that there’s some truth to it. She flips through the file a few more times, double checking as many details as she can at a glance. Then, at the end of the file, she does a double take. “Well, she’s got no references,” she says. “No wonder she hasn’t made it past the initial screenings. We require at least three professional references upfront to even be considered.”

This is self evident as far as Sharon is concerned. It’s a bedrock policy that’s been in place since before Sharon’s own tenure began.

“Normally, I’d agree,” Gwen says. “But given our needs, I’d say maybe an exception is in order.”

There are some exceptions Sharon does willingly make, but this one seems odd. She looks up at Gwen curiously, trying to get a line on her angle here. “How did she even get on your radar?”

Because Gwen usually had big ticket concerns. An ED nurse would be low on her priority list, even if the production numbers might concern her.

She is confident enough not to demur. “I got a strong recommendation from one of our benefactors,” she says. “Apparently, Ms. Novak has been working as a home health aid, and it seems like her talents are woefully underutilized.”

The idea that this is all just a series of good deeds seems far fetched. “Then, surely Ms. Novak would be able to provide references--”

Gwen looks annoyed by this. “And she has one, that has spoken directly to me and assuaged the need for further concern.”

She’s terse in this, and Sharon can read between the lines. She sits back, narrowing her eyes. “Please, don’t tell me that you’re accepting donations tied to this girl’s job status.”

Gwen feigns indignation. “There are no ties to anything,” she says. “I take suggestions from our donors seriously, but you can see yourself, Ms. Novak’s resume speaks for itself. Her personal reference is overwhelmingly positive. We get a happy donor, an employed nurse and a better functioning ED. I see this as a win-win.”

There’s actually some truth to this. There are no overt red flags in Emily’s file, but the lack of references would keep her from advancing up the pipeline. A personal recommendation has to be met with some scrutiny in this manner, but it’s not all bad. Sharon can’t pretend like it’s been easy to replace someone of the caliber of April Sexton.

And yet, there’s room for discretion here. She looks at Gwen warily. “I’m more than happy to give her a look, but I need to talk to the reference myself--”

Gwen sits forward, visibly annoyed now. “The reference has talked to me, and I’m talking to you.”

“Are you vouching for her, then?” Sharon asks, eyebrows up.

Gwen, to her credit, doesn’t balk. “And if I am?”

Sharon won’t be flippant enough to call the bluff, but she lifts her shoulders coolly. “Well, I’ll take it under consideration,” she posits cautiously. “But I do still make the hiring decisions.”

Gwen smiles, but it’s a sickenly sweet gesture. “Of course,” she says. “Which is why we still have a doctor on staff who cost the hospital millions.”

It’s not a dig she’s not expecting. She can’t even pretend it’s not a sticking point for her as well

All the same, she sets her jaw rigidly. “You’ve read the report on the matter. Dr. Halstead, though complicit, was not responsible. He’s agreed to all disciplinary measures, and I maintain a close eye on him to this day. He’s been nothing if not the epitome of reliability. You’ve studied our numbers. He’s by far our most productive doctor in the ED these days.”

Gwen is not impressed, though she probably should be. If she follows the numbers as closely as she claims, she’d lay off any remarks about Will Halstead for the time being. “So you’ve said,” is the best response she can come up with, and the forced sound of her tone indicates that she’s barely being polite here. “But he still needs to prove his worth. As do you, Sharon.”

Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is a threat.

And not a veiled one.

Gwen sits back, adjusting her shoulders primly. “I strongly encourage you to take my advice. Hire Emily Novak. I will expedite board approval, and she can start as soon as next week.”

It’s unnerving -- the depth of this woman’s nerve. It’s always tempting to spite her just for the sake of things, but Sharon’s not stupid. If she leaves, then Gwen will install a yes-man in her post, and then things will really go to pot.

Sharon won’t give up on her hospital, not like that.

And not over a nursing opening.

Still, she can’t cede too much too quickly. If this is a power play that Gwen will inevitably win, then Sharon at least has to make her fight for it. She smiles back, the epitome of grace. “I will take your recommendation into consideration.”

It’s a ploy, and they both know it. Gwen’s played her hand as much as she can, and she can’t call any more bluffs without putting herself at risk. It’s a dangerous game they play with one another, and what they win is sometimes just a question of what they aren’t giving up.

“Very good,” Gwen says, and she gets to her feet with the fake smile of hers plastered all over her face. “It’s always a pleasure, Sharon.”

Sharon gets to her feet, and she doesn’t stop smiling. “Oh, please,” she says coyly. “The pleasure is always mine.”

As Gwen sees herself out, it really is impossible to say who is lying more.

-o-

Gwen is out of sight, but she’s not out of mind. Retreating back to her desk, this time Sharon sits down with a much wearily stance. Her staffing issues have been pressing enough. Now, with added scrutiny from the board, it’s edging Med closer and closer to crisis mode.

She opens the file again and gives it another cursory look. She doesn’t do as she’s told just because -- she has her own mind, and she sticks to it. That being said, there’s no need to be stubborn just for the sake of being stubborn. Standards are important, but so is staffing an overtaxed ED.

And, to be fair, there’s nothing overtly wrong with Emily Novak’s file. She has the right credentials, and her employment history is sound. There are no red flags on her transcript, and really, if she had a single reference on file, then Sharon wouldn’t have any reason to hesitate.

But Emily has no such references. Not a single one. There’s no glowing letters of recommendation. There’s not even a list of people to call to make sure she’s on the up and up. It could be an oversight -- some people are less adept at navigating the job search process -- or it could be indicative of something else.

For every innocent reason for the lack of reference, Sharon can think of two less desirable takes.

It’s all speculation, of course, and that’s the problem. Sharon is reduced to speculation. If she at least had references, she could pick up the phone and ask the questions herself. But she doesn’t have them. All she has is the hearsay testimony from her boss, who has made it known that her job is always on the line.

All of this is reason to pause.

But is it reason to stop?

Not every one of Gwen’s ideas have been terrible, and, in theory, they both want the same thing. They want a functional hospital, even if for different reasons. And even James Lanik, who Gwen shoehorned into the ED, has turned out to be a passable surgeon and likeable guy. So, not all of Gwen’s ideas should be disregarded just because they are hers.

So what is it about Emily Novak?

Why does Gwen want her hired so badly?

Why is Sharon resisting so inherently?

The whole thing just feels off, and Sharon has no idea why.

All she knows is she has a candidate and an open spot in the ED.

And she has the pressure of her boss bearing down on her more acutely than ever.

-o-

Ethan has always liked his job. He’s a pragmatic guy, to be sure, but he’s always felt very secure in doing what he does. He believes he’s doing something good, and he believes he’s good at doing it. That’s the kind of personal satisfaction that can’t be compensated with a weekly paycheck.

That hasn’t changed -- not really. Ethan still likes his job. He still finds it satisfying. He knows he’s doing the right thing with his life.

And yet, something has changed. It’s not the job that’s different. Maybe it’s just him.

He’d always thought that becoming chief was the thing he wanted, the next step in his logical progression toward the top.

After a year in the position -- a year of bad hired, a stressful pandemic and a painful gunshot wound with a long recovery -- he’s less sure of that. Of it all, actually. In fact, these days, it’s hard to feel like anything’s going right. The rhythm of the ED is all off. Rebuilding after his injury had been hard enough, and now he’s trying to put the pieces back together in an ED traumatized by Dean Archer’s leadership style. Throw a public health crisis into the mix, and it’s probably no wonder that things are different these days.

It just seems like a lot, is all. Keeping himself going all day. Managing the ED on a short staff. Keeping patients alive when they seem intent on dying.

“Hey, Ethan,” Will says, meandering past him to the coffee machine one morning. Ethan is still at his locker, under the pretense of checking his phone. Really, he’s just trying to catch his breath and mentally prepare himself for, well, everything. “How’s it going?”

Ethan forces a smile toward Will. “Great,” he says.

Will snorts as he pours himself a cup. “I doubt that,” he says. “I saw the board today. It looks like we’re understaffed again. And we’re already overbooked from last night.”

Ethan winces, putting his things away and closing the door to his locker. “Well, I’ll get to it,” he says, even if the promise feels empty. “If I call around, I may be able to swing a temp nurse for the day, and I’ll see if we can expedite some transfers. It’ll have to wait until after my meeting with Goodwin, but I’ll get there.”

Will takes a sip and nods. “Well, I can start on the transfers,” he offers. “And sometimes the ICU can float us a nurse, right? I could call up.”

“Could you?” Ethan asks. “I mean, that would give us a head start.”

Will smiles, downing another sip. “I got here early to do my charting and rounding, so I’ve got the time,” he says. “Don’t worry about it.”

There’s a part of Ethan that probably should worry about it. He should be worrying about his ED all the time, and he should be worrying about his staff. He knows Will’s been working crazy hours, and he knows Will’s been doing everything he can to rebuild his reputation and, essentially, earn his way back into Med’s staff. As far as Ethan’s concerned, Will’s more than accomplished that on both fronts already. He should tell Will to take it easy, to focus on himself for awhile.

But the truth is, Ethan needs him. Ethan needs this ready and willing Will. He needs the Will who shows up early and shoulders all the extra work. He needs the Will who will take up the slack because Ethan’s got too much slack to handle.

It’s not fair, in some ways. He knows, at this point, he’s taking advantage of Will’s predicament. No matter how much Will deserves what he got, it’s silly to pretend like he hasn’t changed. Like he hasn’t more than showed his integrity. Ethan could sit him down and tell him that.

If only Ethan had time for that.

Or the energy for it.

Every minute of every day seems spoken for. Between administrative duties to staffing concerns, Ethan’s still got to treat patients. Add that to his rigorous physical therapy regimen, and it’s not easy. To make matters harder, he’s still in pain -- a lot of it. He’d thought going back early would help him get his physical limitations out of his mind, but that’s not how it’s turned out. The pains have turned pervasive now. Almost a chronic reality that he’s mentally struggling to acclimate himself to. He’s sure Dr. Charles would have something to say about that -- his physical therapist and doctor are out of fresh ideas -- but the last thing Ethan has time for is another set of appointments to keep.

No, he just needs to keep going. He needs to stay afloat.

And if he needs Will to be his liferaft for now, then that’s just the way it’ll be.

For Will. For Ethan.

For the whole overworked, overbook, short-staffed ED.

If only April were still here.

Ethan puts it out of his mind and forces a weary smile at Will anyway. “Thanks, Will.”

Affably, Will smiles back. Ethan pretends not to notice how tired the red-headed doctor looks. “Sure,” Will says. “See you around.”

“Yeah,” Ethan says, watching Will leave. “See you around.”

It’s a common cliche, a standard farewell.

These days, it feels like a hell of a burden as far as Ethan is concerned.

-o-

In a more administrative role, it’s part of Ethan’s job to report directly to his superiors. There’s a different level of managerial oversight for what he does, and he’s got weekly meetings with the likes of Ms. Goodwin. At this point, he should be used to it. However, ever since he’s been back, these meetings make him nervous.

He’s not even sure nervous is the right way to describe it. He’s just anxious, generally ill at ease. He gets a strong sense of vague trepidation that he can neither place nor placate. He feels it like all the rest of his new chronic aches and pains. It’s all he can do to breathe through it and just keep going.

Usually, with nothing more than gritting his teeth.

He’s sure there’s a reason for it. He’s sure it has to do with his shattered confidence, which was hollowed out by the shot to his gut. Sometimes, it still feels like there’s a bullet lodged in his spine, and that one wrong move will end everything.

He’d thought he could keep Archer on staff and just get through, but that’d been one ask too many. Seeing the guy was hard enough; but listening to him posture had proven too much for him. Firing Archer had been an absolute necessity.

It isn’t, however, the quick fix he had hoped for. Physical recovery has its limitations -- it plateaus.

He’s not even sure where his emotional recovery is going. He’s thought about stepping back from his role as chief, but he’s not sure he’s ready to admit just how much this has changed him. He’s not sure he’s ready to admit that it might have broken him more than he’s let on.

Mostly, Ethan’s not sure.

Which is difficult. Whenever he goes to meet with Ms. Goodwin, she’s looking for certainties. Staffing numbers, procedural implements, funding issues: things with hard, concrete results. The facts, and Ethan’s sound, unwavering interpretation of them.

Sometimes he can muster up the facts.

The interpretation, however, rarely feels sound and it’s never unwavering.

For all that he’s thought about stepping back, he knows he can’t. Every time he gets to her office, he sees that she’s just as stressed as he is -- and with more reason. Ethan’s operating and ED and his own life. She’s got an entire hospital, with a range of conflicting interests. She’s a busy woman; she doesn’t have time for Ethan’s sob story.

At least, that’s what he tells himself every time he enters. Instead of worrying about his uncertainty, he focuses on what she needs. It lets him grit his teeth with a little more ease, at least. Even if it hurts like hell later.

“I’m swamped today, so I’m afraid we can’t go into the normal pleasantries,” Ms. Goodwin says, sorting through the files on her desk as Ethan settles down across from her. “I’m sure you’ve included everything relevant in your report, and unless you had other concerns, I wanted to just touch base with you -- briefly -- about a couple of staffing issues that’ve been brought to my attention.”

Ethan has many concerns, but there are very few that he wants to bring up with Ms. Goodwin. He shrugs easily, as though this is all perfectly fine.

And it is, he decides. Fine is a relative description with no absolute meaning.

Everything can be fine.

“Sure,” Ethan says. He’s learned to hide his pain rather well, emotionally and physically. No one can see how much pain he’s in. No one can see just how much doubt plagues him. “Though most of our staffing issues have been longstanding.”

“They have been,” Ms. Goodwin agrees, bringing a few files to the fore. She sighs and sits back, pushing her glasses back. “But they’ve recently been moved off the back burner by the powers that be.”

“Okay,” Ethan says with a shrug.

She seems to wince. “Are you noting any particular performance lapses? From your perspective, are there concerns?”

Ethan considers it, but with a noncommittal face. “I wouldn’t say lapses, no. Most of our issues come not from insufficient quality, but quantity. We’re stretched thin. It’s a common refrain during the pandemic, but it’s telling in the ED. When we’re short nurses, it’s really hard to compensate. I’ve worked hard to get the residents and attendings to start stepping up and filling the gaps, but it’s not a good long term fix.”

“Agreed,” Ms. Goodwin says, lips somewhat pursed. “We shouldn’t have our doctors doing nursing responsibilities, though it is good for them to learn all sides of the equation.”

She pauses; she postures.

“And how is Dr. Halstead doing?” she asks. “I know we’re only part way through his probationary period, and his name is a frequent topic of conversation during board meetings.”

This is not an innocent question. Ethan’s been doing this job long enough to know that, and while he’s preferred a straightforward approach, there’s been a sharp learning curve about the nuances involved with management.

Nuances he doesn’t love.

Now, more than ever.

Even so, it’s hard to tell exactly what Ms. Goodwin wants at the moment. She could be looking to throw Will under the bus. Or she could be looking for a reason to get him back on the straight and narrow. Ethan has to keep it benign, even while he wants to speak his mind. “I have no complaints about his performance,” he says. “I still review his paperwork, as per his probationary agreement. I’ve had nothing to note. His work’s been up to all the standards.”

He’s also been an invaluable asset, and his consistent need to prove himself has made him Ethan’s right-hand man. The truth is, Ethan’s not sure he’d be able to keep doing the job without Will there to pick up the slack.

And there is a lot of slack.

They’re not here to talk about Ethan’s performance, however. And that, after months of grueling recovery, is a relief.

Suddenly, he feels like he’s the one throwing Will under the bus, but he’s pretty sure Will would understand right now.

Ms. Goodwin nods, though she doesn’t look overly convinced. “We’ll continue watching him, keep accurate reports,” she says. “I had thought about moving up his probationary hearing a month, but the way things are going in the ED right now, I’m just not sure the time is right.”

Ethan frowns. So this isn’t about Will, then.

Ms. Goodwin, at least, doesn’t leave him in suspense. She draws a breath and transitions to the next topic, the more pressing topic. “The board has been very aware of our staffing mishaps lately. We’ve lost several doctors in the last year, and with Dr. Archer parting ways with the hospital, I doubt that now’s the time to convince them of Dr. Halstead’s rehabilitation. They were against bringing him back in the first place,” she explains. “We need to throw them a bone -- and we need to get this ED back up to speed.”

Ethan frowns, now even less sure where this is headed.

“The open nursing position,” Ms. Goodwin says.

“We have several actually,” Ethan says. “We’ve managed to get some temp help--”

Ms. Goodwin nods along, because this is clearly something she already knows as the hiring manager. “But the gap left by April is more and more obvious. Without an experienced, full-time RN, we’re constantly behind the curve.”

Ethan can only nod, because everything being said is the obvious. “Sure,” he says. “But I thought we were having trouble finding qualified candidates. I said I was open to new graduates, but you were pretty sure we needed to find something with a more robust resume.”

“I am, and we do,” she says. She presses her lips together in a clear indication of displeasure. “And it looks like we may finally have a candidate.”

Ethan doesn’t bother to hide his surprise as she picks up a file folder off her desk and holds it out to him. Ethan is on his guard for some reason -- he always is these days, it’s kind of his new default after being shot -- and he reluctantly opens the file to look.

It’s nothing special. Nothing particularly noteworthy. “Okay,” he says, flipping from one page to the next as he scans her credentials. “I mean, she’s better than most of the people we’ve seen. She has experience.”

Ms. Goodwin nods. “I agree, but I can’t get around how it feels like damning with faint praise,” she says. “The only good thing I can find is that there’s nothing bad to say about her.”

Ethan shrugs, perusing through it a little more closely now. “Well that -- and she’s actually applied here. We can’t take that for granted.”

Ms. Goodwin sighs, a little resigned. “I suppose we can’t,” she says. “So, what do you think?”

Ethan is a little taken aback. “You want to bring her in for an interview?”

“I want to hire her,” she replies flatly. “Fill the vacancy before another month passes us by.”

Ethan puts the file down. “Without an interview? What about the reference check?”

She waves her hand at him dismissively. “We’ll assume all appropriate checks and balances are in place,” she says. “My main question is, do you have any objections to this hire?”

Ethan shrugs. “She’s an experienced nurse who wants to work here,” he ventures with a smile. “How bad could it be?”

Ms. Goodwin chuffs as she picks up the file again. “Damning with faint praise, indeed,” she muses. “Thank you, Dr. Choi. I’ll keep you updated of any changes.”

That’s that, then.

He doesn’t need to obsess over policy this time. He knows the procedural issues -- the interviews, practical tests, reference calls, and so on -- but Ethan only has so much left in him. Expending himself on rigid adherence to policy is tedious. Not unimportant -- to be sure -- but he’s learned to pick his battles.

Someday, he’ll be able to fight them all. He believes that.

But Dean Archer has exhausted him.

And the bullet to his torso hasn’t helped either.

So it’s not policy. But it’s also not his call. All he has to do is go along with it.

And enjoy the benefits of the decisions he is not responsible for making.

This ED could use some good news for a change.

A new nurse is exactly what they need to start turning things around.

So, Ethan leaves Ms. Goodwin’s office, finding himself relieved. He can’t handle more conflict. He doesn’t want to deal with more unrest. He’s ready for a quiet, stable tenure as chief.

And nothing more.

-o-

If Sharon is being honest, she’s been hoping for more out of Dr. Choi. Now, there’s no question he’s good at his job. He’s competent and thorough, but when she’d hired him to be her ED chief, she’d been expecting something….more.

More decisive?

More commanding?

More inspiring?

It’s not just his injury that’s complicated things, though she’s noted his loss of confidence since coming back. He’s struggled to make his rigid sense of order work in a dynamic ED system. The rules are always followed under Ethan’s purview, but sometimes it’s missing that magic.

Of course, that magic’s been suffering for years. No one had liked or trusted Lanik, and so he’d been somewhat poorly equipped to lead. By the time everyone did like him, he’d had the sensibility to quit. Before him, Stahl had been a bit of a joke, but he promoted a shared sense of dislike. Everyone liked to eyeroll him together, and that had worked well enough of a measure of solidarity. In his incompetence, he’d allowed for enough freedom of expression. Things had felt smooth, functional.

Ethan had clearly hoped to provide order.

Instead, he’s managed to create chaos. It was no question that people had resented some of his efforts, and his choice to bring in Dean Archer had proved disastrous on every level. Ms. Goodwin has no intention of firing him -- she doesn’t have the energy to look for someone new -- and she can’t bring herself to penalize a man who took a bullet in the line of duty, so to speak.

That said, this whole thing is a bit difficult. Sharon has to bring in new blood, and she’d like to have a strong ED system to integrate them into. With his flagging confidence, Ethan’s going to have a limited ability to do this, and Sharon finds herself grateful for Will Halstead.

She knows the board doesn’t understand why he’s still around after his role in the trial debacle, and she gets it from an intellectual point of view. Will Halstead is something of a loose cannon when he gets the wrong idea in his head. He can be an idiot, plain and simple. It’s why she never considered him for ED chief.

And yet, there’s something about him. His passion, his dedication, his overwhelming need to do what he thinks is right. It draws people to him, and it makes him a damn good doctor. It leaves him prone to mistake, to be sure, but it also makes him inclined toward success. It’s a tossup sometimes, but there’s no way she could keep Ethan Choi in charge without a repentant Will Halstead to play back up.

She’s not telling that to Ethan, of course. And there’s no way in hell she’s going to stroke Halstead’s ego like that. But that dynamic works. It’s the leadership balance that she needs. With the two of them to take charge, maybe skipping the vetting process for this nursing candidate might actually work.

And it certainly would alleviate a lot of burdens. If she can get Dr. Choi the staff he needs, the functionality of the ED can go up once more. This can satisfy Gwen and the board, and it’s a win-win for everyone.

She likes policies and protocols, just like Ethan. But there are moments you can’t cling to them.

This, she decides, is one of them.

For the good of the ED. For the good of the hospital. For the good of Dr. Choi. For her own damn good, thank you very much.

Decided, she picks up her phone and dials Gwen’s office. The fact that she answers indicates just how much she wants this, too. Why? That’s somewhat of a mystery, but Sharon knows beggars should not be choosers. Sometimes, you just accept the miracle for what it is.

“Sharon, hello,” Gwen greets her, voice dripping with forced niceties. “How are you?”

This is not a real invitation for small talk, which is just as well. The idea of small talk with this woman is nothing short of excruciating. For both their sakes, Sharon cuts straight to the point. “The new ED nurse,” she begins.

It’s the answer Gwen is expecting. “Emily Novak,” she replies, not even trying to hide her readiness for Sharon’s total compliance.

Sharon forces herself to smile just to keep gritting her teeth through this. “Yes, Emily Novak,” she says, somehow staying unflinching. “I have reviewed the file with our ED Chief.”

“Good,” she says. “Impressive, yes?”

That was overstating it a bit, but Sharon didn’t much feel like debating semantics. “Yes, she certainly is qualified on paper,” she said, because she always wasn’t inclined to give Gwen more than she needed to. There was some principle involved, and she wasn’t ashamed to own up to her own pride. “I have no objections, assuming that the proper background check is conducted and we verify her credentials.”

“You don’t need to worry about the logistics or the paperwork,” Gwen said, sounding genuinely pleased. It’s pretty clear that Sharon has made her day.

She doesn’t like giving that woman satisfaction, but she won’t object to currying favor. Sometimes, everyone really can win. “Well, I’ll trust your judgment to handle the rest,” she says. “I can say that I’ll submit the paperwork pending your approval process.”

“That would be excellent, Sharon,” she says, and she sounds like she’s beaming. “It is nice that we can work together for once, I think. It shows what the two of us are capable of.”

Sharon smiles because it’s all she can do. “It is a remarkable moment,” she agrees. “Hopefully this sense of goodwill can be extended into future project.”

“I think maybe we can arrange that,” Gwen says. “I’ll look for that paperwork, then.”

“On its way,” Sharon assures her.

She hangs up the phone, shuffles the papers and puts them in her outbox. She has her doubts; she has her reservations; but her schedule’s full. This is one less thing to worry about.

Now she can get back to the list of a hundred other things.

Maybe, for now, she can be a little less behind.

-o-

There have been a lot of changes in the ED. Will’s worked there long enough; he’s lived through more than his share. And, given the way he’s lived his life, he’s always gravitated toward change. Change, at one point, had been his safety net. Instead of facing reality, he’d tended to opt for change.

That’s ironic now. Now, he’s looking for stability -- and all he’s got in front of him is one change after another.

Now, to be fair, a lot of this is his own doing. He made the choice to help Natalie steal the meds for the trial. He knew what he was doing, and he did it anyway. Now, his career is in shambles -- instead of enjoying tenure, he’s back on probation -- and Natalie has left for Seattle once and for all.

Ethan’s been shot; Archer’s been fired; April’s gone; and the pandemic lingers. Maggie’s married, and Crockett is no longer the new guy on the day shift. They can’t keep the nursing staff happy, and the residents keep coming and going, and Will’s finally hit his limit for change.

No wonder Jay had always found him exhausting. It’s his turn to endure it, and he’s more than ready for it to be done.

But all in good order. First things first, he has to normalize his career. As long as he’s on probation, this whole thing feels like a house of cards, and Will is well aware that any wrong move on his part will bring the whole thing down.

So he’s been careful. He’s been diligent. He’s been the critical overachiever he never was before. He adheres to every protocol, and he’s the first to volunteer for any extra duty. Will Halstead is finally the model employee.

Yes, he’s aware that is probably the biggest change of all. If he can do that, he can do anything.

Even survive the countless other changes thrown his way on a daily basis.

Case in point: today.

Everyone is all excited because they’ve finally approved a new ED nurse. She’s starting today, and Will figures this will help streamline things and get things back to normal. Until Ethan pulls him aside in the lounge and gives him that look.

That look of apology.

Ethan’s perfected it since getting back. At first, Will thought he was just wincing, but now it always seems targeted at Will. And it always precedes a hemming and hawing and a request for help.

A request, by the way, which Will has not refused. Not once.

So he braces himself, the growing sense of dread in his stomach as he waits to see what Ethan wants next.

“The new nurse,” Ethan starts. “She starts today.”

“I know,” Will says, trying to stay upbeat. “It’s all anyone can talk about. We definitely need the help, someone to lighten the work load.”

Ethan nods, but his grimace seems to deepen. “She’s going to need time to adjust, though,” he explains. “New hospital, all that. Plus, she’s coming from a home care setting.”

Will nods as if this is relevant to him, even when it is clearly not. “It’s always a bit of a learning curve.”

Ethan sighs. “I was hoping you could help me out. Show her around. Get her acclimated,” he says, and he at least doesn’t drag the request out. “I would do it myself, but I’m swamped. Between my own patients and the ED administration tasks, I just don't have time to do it right.”

Will frowns now as he contemplates this. This proves that no good change is ever without its consequences, but truthfully, the request doesn’t make much sense. Will’s a doctor -- on probation or not -- he’s still got a different skill set than the nurses. “Shouldn’t she have a nursing mentor?” Will asks, trying to politely point out the obvious.

“She does, but it’s Doris, and she’s not thrilled,” Ethan says with a quick nod. This is something he’s clearly considered already. “And honestly, I’m a little worried about that match. Given how busy the nurses are, I think some additional support might help.”

It seems reasonable, but only in theory. In practicality, Ethan is asking him to give up more of his time and energy to a nurse, whose jurisdiction is largely out of his purview.

He’s an attending, though. Even on probation, this isn’t his job.

But he’s on probation.

And Ethan needs him

And he needs Ethan.

He’s handled all the changes so far.

He can handle this.

He doesn’t have much choice, anyway.

“Sure,” he says, and he sounds like he actually means it. He smiles. “Of course I’ll help out.”

Ethan looks immediately relieved, immediately grateful.

Because change is hard.

Unless someone like Will can be the constant for once.

-o-

If Will is being honest, part of him wants to run. He’s been fighting the urge for years now, and the pressure for it has mounted over the last few months. This whole facing the consequences thing: it really doesn’t suit him.

But he’s committed to it.

At least, he’s trying to stay committed to it.

Not that Ms. Goodwin or Ethan make it particularly easy for him.

The extra hours. The added scrutiny. The lack of fundamental professional respect.

And now, a nurse to mentor.

Him, an attending.

Mentoring a nurse.

If Will’s looking for a reason to bolt, there it is, plain as day. But he’s not going to. He’s committed. He’s going to prove himself. He’s going to earn his place.

He is.

As he heads out to find his new charge, Will consoles himself with the idea that this might not be so bad. He’s mostly an affable guy. He’s good at playing nice with others -- at least, at first. He can be gracious, egregious, and he does know a lot about the operations of the ED. Plus, this is a new nurse. An experienced nurse. Her presence can only make things better.

It reasons -- it really does -- that some changes have to be good.

Will doesn’t think he’s one for blind optimism, but he needs something to work with here.

Fortunately, she’s easy to find. Doris is just finishing up a tour of the ED, and Will swoops in before the more experienced nurse can either start foisting all the worst cases on the new girl or try to create her into a sarcastic mini-me. Ethan’s request is exhausting, but his concerns are not unwarranted.

After telling Doris he’s got it from here, the older nurse gives him a skeptical look. Only then, when Doris is safely away, does he really look at the new nurse.

She’s not as young as Will expects her to be for some reason. Ethan had shown Will her resume in passing a few days ago, and he noted her as a 2010 graduate. It’s not important, of course, but it’s just that Will’s felt so old these days. He’s to everyone seeming like babies to him.

No matter.

He smiles. “Emily Novak?”

She brightens at his question. “Yes,” she says. “I think I was supposed to meet Dr. Choi next?”

That figures, but Will doesn’t let any hint of his frustration show. “Yes, Dr. Choi’s busy this morning,” he says. “Honestly, it’s kind of chaotic around here most days. But I’m Dr. Halstead, and I’m another one of the attendings here. Dr. Choi asked if I’d be willing to show you the ropes. I know Doris has already given you the tour, but I can help you with some more of the nitty gritty. Procedures, patient processes, that kind of thing.”

These are important practicalities, and Will knows just how overwhelming it can all be on the first day. He recalls his own first day, when a bomb had gone off.

It’s probably pretty sad that he remembers that time fondly.

Not for the death and destruction.

But for the confidence he’d had. The standing he’d gained.

And lost.

That’s not the point, though. “You can stick with me, go through a couple patients,” he says, and he smiles. “We’ll get you acclimated real fast.”

She’s taller than average, with long dark hair she wears pulled back. Her eyes are dark, and her skin has a slight olive hue. When she smiles back, it’s a little crooked. She has side swept bangs, and even though it’s her first day, she doesn’t look remotely nervous. “Personalized time with an attending?” she quips. “Either I’m doing something very wrong or very right. Usually, they just throw the one of the charge nurses as the new girl.”

Will shrugs. “I’d say we do things differently at Med, but we’re just stretched thin,” he says. “As it turns out, nurses are the only ones who aren’t indispensable. Me? They can spare for a few hours. Doris? Not so much. And don’t you dare think about disturbing Maggie.”

She holds up a hand jokingly. “Oh, I got the lay of the land early,” she says. “Maggie is the most formidable charge nurse I’ve ever met.”

Will nods. “It’s not as bad as it seems -- really,” he says, trying to sound confident in that. And there’s no reason to think it will be bad -- for her. As long as she doesn’t go off and botch a clinical trial, that is. That’s just sort of the stuff most people know. “Once you get used to things. How does it seem so far?”

She looks around, this time with a little less certainty. “I did just get here,” she says. “And I have to admit, it’s pretty crazy in here.”

“This?” Will asks, bobbing his head around the ED. “This is just another day in the office. If anything, it’s a little slow.”

This seems to amuse her, and Will remembers, if only vaguely, that he did used to be charming. Back when he first arrived in Chicago, he’d been quick to hook up with the prettiest girls in the bar.

He’d stopped asking; they’d stopped coming.

But maybe he’s not lost his touch entirely.

Not that he’d trying to bed the new nurse. But it’s a novelty to make someone smile for once instead of causing havoc. He swears, Jay still cringes every time he sees him, and Goodwin looks like her blood pressure rises every time he enters a room.

The novelty is strange.

He goes with it.

She smiles at him, looking grateful for the chance to talk. “Honestly? It’s been awhile since I was in an ED,” she says, her voice lowered as she leans a little closer. She shrugs with a self deprecating smile. “There are moments when I worry I’m in over my head.”

“Oh, everyone thinks that on their first day,” Will says. “You’ll be fine. And where were you before?”

It’s the kind of question you ask in this get-to-know-you phase. It’s polite and it’s friendly -- and it’s also pretty informative. If Will’s going to be helping her along in the ED, then he needs to know a little about her background. It’s the best way to gauge what to expect out of her right away.

She smiles eagerly at this. “I was a home health aide,” she says brightly. Her eyes light up; this is clearly a job she loved. When smiling like that, she looks older than Will had thought at first glance. “Pretty intense work sometimes, but so much quieter.”

Will chuckles. “Anything is quieter than a Chicago ED,” he jokes. “But home healthcare -- that’s important work. And it takes a special kind of person, I think. It must be nice, though. I imagine you built up some good relationships with your patients, really had a chance to provide quality, long-term care.”

She seems genuinely pleased that he understands this. “Definitely,” she says. “I loved the intimacy of it. I mean, that’s what medicine should really be about, at its heart. We always talk about outcomes and protocols -- but patient care. It’s all about the patients, and when I worked with them one on one, sometimes it was just the two of us, hours at a time. They needed me for everything, and I was able to provide comprehensive care. It’s beyond rewarding.”

She’s passionate. For someone to make it healthcare, during a pandemic no less, passion is essential.

But passion has to be tempered with reality.

Will knows that.

He really does.

He smiled, faint and taut. “I imagine the emotional investment would get exhausting.”

Something changes in her expression, something hard to place. There’s a sincerity in her voice that almost seems intense. “Exhausting but exhilarating,” she says. “I mean, it forces you to care about people, to spend time with them, know them. If more people practiced medicine with that mindset, I think the whole system would look very different. It would change all our parameters, alter the endgame.”

She’s passionate, but Will’s not following. “What do you mean?”

She nods toward him emphatically. “I mean, just look at how you operate the ED,” she says. “What’s the saying? Treat them and street them?”

It’s dated, and it’s a little too blunt. Will blushes a little with a scoff. “We’ve never said that.”

“I’m not trying to impugn you, Dr. Halstead,” she says quickly “It’s just the system, how it’s set up. We’re designed to look at success at the number of patients who go home.”

Will draws his brows together, somewhat thoughtful. “I think the amount of time we spend with patients, how we get to know them -- it matters,” he agrees. “But getting a patient through to discharge? Is a pretty important goal to have.”

He’s ready for that to be that. In fact, he expects that to be enough.

To his surprise, however, she looks disconcerted by his response. The friendly demeanor seems to have faded, and behind the smile is a firmness that he hadn’t recognized in her face before. “But the quality of life is more important,” she says. “I see people all the time, people who are suffering. And we think we need to fix their bodies when it’s their souls that suffer.”

He’s not honestly sure what to say to that. It’s off putting, somehow. And just…odd.

And she seems to realize it. She leans back with an awkward little chuckle. “Listen to me,” she says. “Working so closely with patients, seeing their strife upclose -- it just changes you. I’m sorry if I seem a little passionate about it.”

“Well, it’s not just passion,” Will reasons, trying to put the discomfort behind him. “It’s compassion, too. And that’s a good thing. You’ll need it here.”

Her mood has shifted once again. The air of confidence has fled, and she’s back to perky and eager once more. “I’ll do my best,” she says. “But I am admittedly a little worried about keeping up.”

To this, at least, Will can offer some reassurance. “I wouldn’t worry. You’ll get the hang of it soon enough,” he says. He gestures to one of the exam rooms. “I’ve got a patient in two. You ready to get your hands dirty?”

She nods eagerly. “You bet,” she says. “Lead the way, Dr. Halstead.”

He does his best not to flinch as he pulls up his patient file on his iPad. She has no idea how terrifying that prospect really is.

-o-

It goes okay.

To be honest, Will’s actually expecting a little more. Ms. Goodwin has strong hiring standards -- that’s why the position’s been open this long -- and there’s nothing overtly wrong with Emily, but she’s just not quite the candidate he would have picked.

Not that his judgment is all that sound, so he keeps his thoughts to himself.

But he still has them.

And no matter how many times he puts the thoughts aside throughout the day, they keep coming back. On every case. With every patient. With every order he gives.

He can’t put his finger on it. She knows her way around an ED. She understands the basics of medicine, and she is truly committed to patient care. She’s friendly and receptive.

And she’s just off.

She knows her way around an ED, but is always just a few steps behind.

She understands the basics of medicine, but doesn’t seem to be interested in it.

And her patient care is intense. Instead of taking vitals, she’s got the chair pulled up and is learning their life story. Instead of setting up IVs, she’s squeezing the patient’s hand to tell them everything’s going to be okay.

She learns the names of her patients’ cats, but she can’t tell Will whether they’re on any medications. She has them calm and stress-free, but none of their monitors are set up correctly, and Will ends up starting half the IVs himself just to get things moving.

And he knows what he told her about compassion, and he knows that he has a lot to learn about learning to listen to patients, but watching her, he knows that’s not what it looks like. She’s in charge of their care; she comes across as their best friend.

It’s weird, but it’s not quite unexpected.

She does come from home health care. She’s admitted that much. She has a different approach; she doesn’t know the policies or procedures, and even if Will has started to tell them to her repeatedly, it takes time. If Goodwin thought she was good enough to hire, if she got Ethan’s go-ahead, then he can’t really second guess.

These are the people, after all, who gave Will back his job.

If this is penance, he tells himself as he sets up his fourth IV of the day, then he will serve it willingly.