Medical Center
"Dr. Duncan, let him go," Dr. Burke said, tilting his head toward Adam.
Adam nodded and released his grip.
Alex rubbed his face where it'd scraped against the wall, turning to glare at Adam. But when he caught Dr. Burke's icy smirk, the bravado he'd had a minute ago deflated instantly.
Back in his wrestling days, Alex lived by the rule that the bigger fist wins. Just now, Adam had pinned him with one hand, and despite swinging like a madman, Alex hadn't even grazed Adam's shirt. The message was clear—Adam was on the winning side of that rule. Plus, Dr. Burke was the big boss, and Alex wasn't dumb enough to challenge his wrath.
And just like that, the chaos fizzled out.
"Nice one, George!" Liz said, slinging an arm around him after the crowd dispersed, her tone half-praise, half-tease.
"I don't wanna talk about it," George muttered, his face stiff.
He'd heard all the gossip from the onlookers—same as Alex had—and now he was starting to regret it. Not one person questioned the story; they all acted like it was obvious.
"Damn it!" he growled under his breath. Why had he blurted out something so easy to twist like that?
"Chill out," Liz said, trying to smooth things over. "You landed a solid punch on Alex. Everyone knows you're a man now."
Cristina, lounging nearby, couldn't resist a jab.
George whipped his head around, glaring at her.
"Alright, knock it off," Liz said, switching gears. "Think Alex is getting canned this time?"
"Who knows?" Cristina said with a shrug. "Burke's seriously pissed, though."
"But do you guys think Alex is really what they're saying?" Liz's gossip radar pinged again. "I mean, how else does he have the guts to pull that stunt?"
"Ask George," Cristina quipped, stabbing him with another verbal dagger. "He'd know best."
George exploded, and if Liz hadn't held him back, he'd have lunged at Cristina right then and there.
"Adam, what do you think?" Liz asked, calming George down with a few quick moves before turning to Adam.
"Hard to say," Adam said, shaking his head with a grin. "A guy like Alex, who's always out playing the field? It's not a stretch he swings both ways. But to say he's out there picking fights with Burke on purpose, playing the Scoop Master? That's a bit of a leap."
"Then why'd he do it?" Liz pressed, puzzled.
"Simple—his personality," Adam said, shrugging. "He can't control himself."
Anyone with a shred of self-control wouldn't tank their career like that, let alone keep doubling down on the chaos.
"Come on, let's hit Joe's Bar and celebrate," Liz suggested.
"Nah, I've got stuff to do," Adam declined politely.
Lately, he'd been pouring a ton of energy into studying math. It's a vast ocean of knowledge, and even with a brain on par with Sheldon or Paige, Adam knew he couldn't catch up to them without years of grind. Those two had been at it for over a decade with their genius-level hardware, and they never stopped.
Adam's schedule was brutal—13-hour shifts on a 5-6-6 rotation. Factor in a couple hours of random downtime, and he's left with 9 hours. Even with his "show-off" stamina, he still needed 3 hours of sleep to function. That left him 6 hours a day—barely half the time Sheldon or Paige could dedicate to studying.
If knowledge didn't have its limits and bottlenecks, Adam figured he'd never catch them in a lifetime. Luckily, he wasn't aiming to outdo them—just to speak Paige's language. Plus, he wasn't starting from scratch; he had a solid foundation. With a few years of effort, he'd get there. And since his IQ was still climbing, it might even take less time than he thought.
Sure, hanging out with people matters, but compared to leveling up his own skills? That's gotta come first. Besides, constant group outings were for tight-knit squads—like the Friends crew, the How I Met Your Mother gang, or the Big Bang Theory bunch. Adam wasn't here to form a doctor BFF club; he just wanted good coworker vibes.
Cristina, Liz, Meredith, George—they all had their quirks. Even if they were as chill as Chandler or Monica, Adam wouldn't dive in like that. Unlike those sitcom pals, he and this crew were colleagues first, friends second—maybe besties way down the line. Friendship's simple; coworkers? Messy. Competition's a massive divide.
That said, it's not the worst part. Intern year's just 12 months—after that, they'd split into specialty residencies. Different departments, less friction. The real killer issue? When a close friend asks for help, you say yes. But what if that favor screws your career? Do you still say yes?
Take a simple example: that time Cristina and Liz broke Burke's orders to keep a crash victim alive for the Chief's VIP heart transplant patient. If they'd asked Adam to back them up, what then? Say no, and they'd hold a grudge, even if they didn't say it. Say yes? No chance—he couldn't afford even a hint of that risk.
Or how about this: the hospital's strict 5-6-6 rule was in place, but Cristina and the gang ignored it to cram in more learning. For most doctors, that's normal—even their uptight boss, Dr. Bailey, turned a blind eye. She'd come up the same way, genuinely believing interns and residents should live at the hospital.
One slip leads to two, two to three. Two months into internship, and they'd already racked up at least three rule-breaking stunts. In that kind of mess, Adam figured keeping some distance was the smart move.
Distance makes things prettier, right?
Turning down a bestie feels personal—it stings, dents the bond. But a coworker saying no? If it's fair, consistent, and not aimed at anyone specific, they'd just see Adam as "upright." After the initial awkwardness, they might even respect him for it.
The devil's in the details, after all.
After parting ways with them, Adam headed back to his apartment. He scrubbed his hands a few times—gotta kill those hospital germs—then sank into a hot bath. With a math book in hand, he let his mind drift into the cosmic mysteries of the universe, soaking in both the water and the knowledge.
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