Medical Center.
Green Clinic.
Leonard handed a patient file to Adam. "Adam, the Lesters are old friends of mine. Their daughter Claire slipped in the bathtub this morning and has a fever. Mrs. Lester thinks Claire's been off lately—losing weight, not herself—and suspects it might be tied to a trip she took with friends to Mexico a few weeks back. Come with me to check it out."
"Sure thing," Adam said, taking the file and giving it a quick skim before following Leonard to the ward.
"Dr. Green," a voice greeted as they entered.
"Mr. Lester, Mrs. Lester," Leonard replied, nodding to a well-dressed couple who screamed upper-class British vibes.
Adam's eyes, meanwhile, landed on Claire—the patient—sitting on the bed, biting her lip, her gaze flickering nervously. Something was definitely up with her.
"Claire, this is Dr. Duncan," Leonard said after the pleasantries, turning to her. "How about letting him take a look at you?"
"I'm fine," Claire shot back. "I don't need a checkup. Just give me some antibiotics and let me go home."
"You can't just take whatever meds you want," Adam said with a light chuckle. "Antibiotics included. We've got to check you out first before prescribing anything—unless you already know what's wrong?"
Claire's eyes widened in panic for a split second before she shook her head. "I don't know."
"Then we'll need to do a checkup," Adam said, still smiling. "Relax, it's just a quick one."
"Do it, Claire!" her father snapped.
"God, I don't want to spend all day here—hurry up and check her already," her mother added, clearly exasperated.
"No!" Claire shouted. "This is insane! I'm totally fine! I don't need a checkup!"
"Dr. Green," Adam said, turning to Leonard. "Should we get Dr. Sherran instead?"
Leonard blinked, then caught the look in Adam's eyes. Claire didn't want her parents in the loop—whatever was going on was probably personal. Pregnancy, maybe? An abortion gone wrong? Something sensitive. And Adam, being a young, good-looking guy, wasn't exactly the ideal doctor for this situation.
"Go grab Shawnee," Leonard agreed with a nod.
"What's going on?" Claire's parents asked, their voices tight with concern.
"Nothing to worry about," Leonard reassured them. "Dr. Duncan and I are here, but Claire might feel more comfortable with Dr. Sherran checking her out privately."
Adam tracked down Shawnee and filled her in. She headed over right away. With nothing pressing for him to do, Adam figured he'd swing by the ER to see what was up. That's when he spotted Meredith trailing behind a redheaded female doctor, her face blank as a slate.
And who else could it be but Dr. Shephard's wife?
"What's the deal?" Adam muttered, stunned.
A chatty little nurse sidled up to him immediately, eager to spill the tea. Adam listened, his mouth twitching into a grin.
Wow.
Talk about soap-opera-level drama!
Turns out Dr. Shephard's wife was a renowned OB-GYN who'd followed her husband all the way from Boston—invited by the surgical chief, Richard, no less. She hadn't even officially started yet, but she'd already swooped in, snatched Meredith (her husband's mistress) from the Nazis—or rather, the hospital rumor mill—and made her an intern under her command. The combo of legit wife status and top-tier doctor aura was crushing Meredith psychologically.
This was a total beatdown.
The question was: Could Meredith pull off a comeback?
Beep beep.
Beep beep.
Adam's pager went off after he'd been in the ER for a bit, helping with a patient. He glanced at it and bolted back to the Green Clinic.
"Claire had a gastric bypass done at some shady clinic in Mexico to lose weight," Shawnee explained, catching him up.
"Complications?" Adam asked, piecing it together. A back-alley place like that? No sterile OR, no qualified docs—probably a disaster waiting to happen. Screwed-up surgery and side effects were par for the course.
"Yup," Shawnee confirmed. "Subdiaphragmatic abscess, intestinal wall edema. Her parents have signed off on a gastric bypass reversal. Get ready—we're heading into the OR together."
"Got it," Adam said with a nod.
Leonard, as the attending, came in to oversee things personally. The surgery went off without a hitch.
---
Lunchtime. Cafeteria.
"Heard you guys did a gastric bypass reversal this morning?" Bianca tossed out casually.
"Yeah," Adam said, digging into his food. "This college girl—Claire—got swamped with schoolwork, didn't have time to exercise, and wasn't seeing the weight-loss results she wanted. Her mom kept nagging her about it, so she got fed up and took a shortcut. Found some sketchy clinic in Mexico online, went with friends, and got the gastric bypass. Ended up with complications."
"That's so dumb," Bianca said with a sigh.
"No kidding," Adam agreed. "She wasn't even fat to begin with. And honestly, putting on a few pounds isn't the end of the world—plenty of guys out there like a little meat on the bones. But going to a shady clinic for surgery like that? One wrong move and you're dead—or worse, they could harvest your organs and sell them."
Bianca shivered involuntarily. She knew Adam wasn't exaggerating. One organ could save a life, and people desperate to survive would pay insane amounts. The black market for that stuff was ruthless—stories of people getting lured in and dissected for parts weren't rare.
Just then, George plopped down at their table, looking like a sulky kid who wouldn't say why.
Adam ignored him. Bianca frowned. "What's wrong with you?"
"I don't wanna talk about it!" George snapped.
"Then don't," Adam said with a grin. "Whoever spills first is a puppy."
"…" George's face turned red, caught off guard. If he didn't want to talk, he could've sulked off somewhere alone. Instead, he'd plunked himself down, making a scene to get their attention. Obviously, he did want to vent.
"Haha!" Bianca cracked up. "Come on, George, what's up?"
"I'm moving out of Meredith's place tonight," he grumbled.
"Why?" Bianca asked, leaning in. "What'd she do?"
"She—she's too much!" George fumed. "I mean, sure, I'm no Derek Shephard yet, but I'll get there someday. I'm just as good as him—better, even! And I've been nothing but loyal to her."
"And then?" Bianca pressed.
"Last night, I thought it over and decided to go back and be with her," George said. "I remembered what Adam said about drunk Meredith—"
"I didn't say anything! Don't make stuff up!" Adam cut in, his mouth twitching in panic. Oh, hell no. If that rumor got out, everyone would want a piece of the action, and Shephard's Hulk-sized fists would come for him.
"…Anyway, I figured alcohol brings out the truth, so I went back," George continued. "At first, she was all over me. We even found an empty room—"
"You hooked up?" Bianca asked, eyes wide with gossip-fueled glee.
George's voice rose in outrage. "Everything was perfect—until I looked up and saw her crying her eyes out, like she was in pain or something!"
Adam couldn't hold back anymore. "Dude, your logic is wild! Normally, tears in that situation are happy ones—like, a big thumbs-up to your charm. And even if they weren't, so what? She just got hit with a massive blow—never hooked up with you before, just acted on a drunken impulse, then snapped out of it and cried. Totally normal! You're just the guy who happened to be there. How do you jump from that to 'she loves someone else' and throw a tantrum over it? Who gave you that kind of courage?"
George froze. "…"