Medical Center. Ward.
"Dr. Duncan, you…" Danny trailed off, speechless, managing only a wry smile.
He knew Adam was right, though. Before getting sick, Danny had been a tough guy—always pushing boundaries, breaking rules. Those wild days were now fond memories amid his year-and-a-half struggle with illness. He'd been on the verge of breaking.
He'd thought no one could understand the pain of a strong man trapped in a failing body. But this young, good-looking Dr. Duncan? He got it—maybe even more than Danny did. Adam had already thought ahead, picturing Danny's situation perfectly. What could he even say to that?
Flirting with pretty doctors was just his nature. But surviving? That was his deepest instinct.
For some reason, Adam's words sparked a flicker of hope in him—a day when he'd get a new heart and start fresh. The peaceful waiting, the double dose of good news Adam painted—it was almost too good to imagine.
"As your attending intern, I'm just sharing my take," Adam said with a grin. "Up to you what you do with it."
"I'm with Dr. Duncan," Dr. Burke said, giving Adam a long look—this intern was stealing his thunder. "You've got to live first before anything else matters, Danny. If you're strong enough inside, you've got a future."
"Thanks, both of you," Danny said sincerely. "I'll do the surgery. But I've got one condition."
"Still about seeing Dr. Stevenson?" Burke asked, glancing at Adam.
Adam shrugged, like, I've said my piece—his call now.
"Nah," Danny said, shaking his head with a small laugh. "Dr. Duncan's right. I'm in no shape for a fling right now. No heart, no love, right? I'll wait. When I'm at my best, I'll ask out the best version of Liz. For now, though—I don't want the surgery today."
"You've heard that legend too?" Adam and Burke exchanged a quick look, catching on fast.
In the American hospitals of TV drama land, there's this quirky superstition: the number of patients who die on the operating table each day is either under 3—or hits exactly 3 or 7. The story goes that if more than 3 die, it won't stop at 4, 5, or 6—it'll jump straight to 7.
And today? The medical center had barely started the shift, and 4 patients had already died in surgery.
"I believe in science," Danny said with a grin. "But I believe in God too!"
"It's just something the morgue staff cooked up," Adam explained. "It's more about probability than some cosmic rule."
"I get that," Danny said, his smile turning bitter. "But you've gotta admit, my luck's been garbage. Bad luck plus bad timing—think I'd risk the table today?"
"Sorry, Danny," Burke said, shaking his head. "Your body can't wait. It's got to be today."
Danny looked at Adam, who nodded in agreement.
"Alright, fine," Danny sighed, giving in. "If God really wants to meet me that bad, I can't say no to the big guy. But if He's not ready for me yet, I'll wake up and live right, like you said, Dr. Duncan."
"Love that positivity," Adam said with a laugh. "You can't lose with that vibe."
"Dr. Duncan, get Danny prepped—we're heading to the OR," Burke said, a smile tugging at his lips.
This 3-or-7 death thing was a bit superstitious, sure. But even the brainiest, top-tier doctors—like Burke—bought into stuff like this. He'd never operate without his favorite, comfiest surgical caps, for instance.
A patient's mindset before surgery matters too. No will to live? Death rates spike. Confidence and hope? Success rates soar. It's all a little mystical—mind over body stuff—but Burke was thrilled to see Danny so upbeat.
Prep went smoothly.
Nurse's Station by the OR Board.
"Here, Adam," Dr. Montgomery said, handing him a cup of hot cocoa. "It's our tradition. Four surgeries today, four deaths already. I hear you're heading into the OR soon—we could all use a little good luck charm."
"Hot cocoa's a good luck charm?" Adam asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Montgomery waved a hand. "Don't knock the cocoa!"
"Alright, alright," Adam said, chuckling. He didn't buy it, but she was so earnest—and it was a nice gesture—so he wasn't about to be a jerk. He raised the cup. "Thanks!"
"Go get 'em," she said with a smile.
Ever since Adam treated her poison ivy rash, Montgomery had warmed up to him. No more of that hot-and-cold "Adam when I need you, Duncan when I don't" vibe she'd picked up from her husband, Dr. Shepherd.
"Meredith!" Montgomery's voice rang out a few steps later, calling for Adam's rival.
Curious, Adam glanced back—just in time to see her hand Meredith a hot cocoa too. Wait, Meredith was heading into surgery too? She got the "charm" as well?
"Here, Nikki, you take it," Adam said, passing the cocoa to a nurse. He'd gotten paranoid about food and drinks from others lately—better safe than sorry. Plus, seeing Montgomery give Meredith the same thing? Nope.
"Thanks, Dr. Duncan!" Nikki beamed, taking it as her coworkers shot her jealous looks.
"Adam!" A tall figure came running over.
Adam turned and booked it. Rounding a corner, he caught Meredith tossing her cocoa straight into the trash. He smirked—great minds think alike. 😏
"Meredith, stop Adam for me!" the tall figure yelled, closing in.
"What'd you do to Liz this time?" Meredith sighed, stepping in Adam's path.
"Me? She's the one always starting stuff," Adam said, rolling his eyes. "When have I ever gone looking for trouble with her?"
"Let's hear her out first," Meredith said, playing peacemaker despite her own exasperation.
Adam stopped, giving a nod to Meredith—daughter of his biggest asset, Ellis Grey, and his guardian of sorts.
"Whew!" Liz panted, finally catching up, leaning against the wall. Her dramatic sprint had been quite the show, and Adam watched with mild amusement.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, still catching her breath.
"Nothing?" Adam said, spreading his hands.
"You're operating on Danny today?" Liz snapped, a mix of shock and anger. "Don't you know about the death number legend?"
"Yeah, I know," Adam said, deadpan. "But I also know if Danny doesn't get surgery today, he's not even rolling the dice—he's headed straight to the morgue."
"It's gotten that bad?" Liz's face went white.
She'd been shut out by Adam's no-contact rule, then swamped by the nurses' petty revenge for "stalking" him—constant pages keeping her on her toes. She'd only just spotted Danny's surgery on the board while rushing by.
belamy20