Medical Center
VIP Ward
"…So that's the surgery plan. Once the babies are born, we'll need to operate right away—no time for Q&A then. So, if you've got any questions, now's the time to ask."
Dr. Montgomery, the neonatal chief heading up this case, laid out the whole procedure step by step.
But Mrs. Rusabin just stared blankly, lost in her own world. The bad news had clearly hit her like a truck.
"We get it. No questions," Mr. Rusabin said, his face etched with sorrow as he gave a stiff nod.
Ring ring!
His phone went off again.
"Sorry, it's from home. My mom's in her seventies, and she can only handle our three four-year-old boys for so long. Could you guys keep an extra eye on Doree for me?"
He glanced at his phone, gave a bitter smile, and made the request.
"Of course," Dr. Montgomery replied with a quick nod.
"Mom?"
Mr. Rusabin kissed his wife's forehead, picked up the call with a soft "Hey," nodded to everyone, and stepped outside.
"Dr. Duncan, Dr. Stevenson, you two figure out your schedules and handle round-the-clock care," Dr. Montgomery instructed.
"Yes, ma'am," Adam and Liz replied in sync.
Once everyone else cleared out—
"Wait, weren't you just on standby?" Liz asked, giving Adam a sideways look.
"It's all work, standby or not," Adam said, brushing it off with a straight face. "Let's sort out the shifts. With Mrs. Rusabin's condition, she's delivering tomorrow or the day after, tops. So, our main watch is these next few days. How about you take the first half of the night, and I'll take the second?"
"Deal."
Liz jumped at it. Night shift was Adam's burden now, and she wasn't about to complain about him picking up the slack.
She didn't mind an extra hand, honestly. But it still rubbed her the wrong way.
She'd started out as the "host" here, with Adam as the "guest." Now? He'd totally flipped the script and taken charge.
And the worst part? She had no choice but to roll with it. It felt like this damn, ruthless, shameless, unfair life all over again!
Adam, meanwhile, grabbed the ultrasound scans and headed to Dr. Alice Grey's office to go over Mrs. Rusabin's case. They brainstormed ways to optimize the surgery.
Dr. Grey's past ops hadn't involved quintuplets, after all. Some details Adam had tossed around with her back then hadn't even crossed their minds.
Every case is its own beast.
But Dr. Grey—legendary for a reason—brought experience, perspective, and ideas that sparked something in Adam when tackling this new challenge.
---
Nightfall
After wrapping up the case discussion, knowing the next few days would be eaten up by the quintuplets, Adam slipped over to the ER while Liz held down the fort.
Might as well sneak in some work and bank a little "life credit" while he could.
Nurse Station
"Hey, Violet, any fun cases tonight?" Adam asked the sharpest nurse on the floor.
"Oh, you bet."
Violet smirked, fishing a chart from the stack and handing it over. "Dr. Duncan, this outpatient's a riot."
"Really?"
Adam grinned, snagging the chart and heading to Exam Room 7.
"Mr. Patrick? I'm Dr. Duncan," he said, stepping in and smiling at the young white guy inside. "What's bothering you?"
Then he clocked it: the guy's finger was broken.
Before Adam could point it out, though—
Mr. Patrick started talking. He poked his left leg with the busted finger. "Oof, hurts here." Then his right leg. "Oof, here too."
He kept jabbing at random spots—his arm, his side—wincing each time. "Oof, hurts everywhere."
Finally, he looked up at Adam with a dead-serious face. "Doc, am I dying? Is this some big disease?"
"…"
Adam's lip twitched. He studied the guy's expression—no sign of a prank—and a hunch clicked into place.
"Mr. Patrick, you been doing any drugs?"
"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "Never touch the stuff."
Adam nodded, holding up three fingers. "How many?"
"Three!"
"What day was yesterday? Halloween, right?" Adam asked casually.
"November 1st," Mr. Patrick said after a pause.
"And the day before?"
"Uh… October 30th? Or 31st?" He scratched his head.
"Here's one I've always wondered," Adam said with a chuckle. "Why's your reflection in a mirror flipped side-to-side, not top-to-bottom?"
"Uh…"
Mr. Patrick froze, scratching his ear, racking his brain, but came up empty.
"Guess I'm not the only one stumped," Adam cut in. "No one's got that figured out."
"Oh, okay," Mr. Patrick said with a goofy grin.
"But good news—I've got your diagnosis," Adam said, smiling. "You're not hurting all over. Your finger's broken. Every time you poke yourself, the pressure makes it hurt more, so it feels like your whole body's in pain."
"Ohhh, that makes sense!" Mr. Patrick's eyes lit up. "Can you fix me, Doc?"
"You bet."
Adam patched up the injury—nothing fancy, just enough to help.
But it was a band-aid fix. If he had to guess, Mr. Patrick wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders upstairs.
"Dr. Duncan, over here!"
He'd barely stepped out of the room when Violet waved him over.
Adam glanced her way, did a double-take, and hustled over.
A kid's face was stuck in a tiger head.
"He climbed a stool at home, shoved his head in, and started freaking out," the dad explained, exasperated. "I've taken him to see The Lion King nine times. Guess this is payback."
"The teeth are caught on his neck," Adam said, checking it out. "We'll need to pull the tiger's teeth off."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" the dad yelped. "This thing's been in my family for ninety years—my great-granddad brought it back from the Three Kingdoms with Teddy Roosevelt. It's a priceless antique!"
"Your kid's neck is bleeding," Adam pointed out.
"I tried yanking them out earlier—might've made it worse," the dad admitted, wincing.
"Dad, it hurts!" the kid whined.
"Do it," the dad said through gritted teeth.
Kid trumped antique, apparently.
"Dr. Duncan, I'll grab a saw," Violet offered.
"No need," Adam said, shaking his head.
He reached into the tiger's mouth, gripped a tooth, and with a quick twist, popped it loose from the root. A few more tugs, and all the teeth pinning the kid were out. He freed the boy's head and handed the stunned dad a fistful of tiger fangs.
While Adam cleaned up the kid's neck—
"ADAM!"
A familiar, furious female voice cut through the air.
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