The Chief's office was quiet, the only sound the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock that had survived the hospital shooting. Richard Webber sat with a transcript of the deposition in his hands, his face a map of guilt and confusion.
Christopher leaned against the doorframe, his uninjured shoulder taking his weight. He had just finished a twelve-hour rotation and his scrubs were stiff with salt and antiseptic.
"You lied, Christopher," Richard said, his voice barely a whisper. "The security protocols were negligent. I didn't lock down the North Wing fast enough. You told Jack's firm I followed every JCAHO standard to the letter. Why?"
Christopher pushed off the wall and sat in the chair across from him. He didn't use his sarcastic shield this time. He looked at the man who had mentored a hundred surgeons with a terrifying, sober clarity.
"Because I've seen the alternative, Richard," Christopher said, his voice a low, steady monotone. "I've seen the timeline where you lose your license and Seattle Grace becomes a corporate graveyard. I've seen what happens when Meredith loses her anchor and Derek loses his North Star."
Richard frowned, his brow furrowing. "You talk like a prophet again, Christopher."
"I protected you because you are the soul of this hospital," Christopher continued, ignoring the jibe. "If Jack wins that lawsuit, the board fires you. They bring in a bean-counter who doesn't know a scalpel from a letter opener. The Alzheimer's trial collapses. The interns scatter. I perjured myself because your legacy is worth more than a settlement check and my own integrity."
Richard was speechless, his eyes glassing over. He had spent years fearing Christopher's arrogance, never realizing it was a bastion built for his protection.
"Don't thank me," Christopher drawled, his sarcastic shield snapping back into place. "I'm efficient, Richard. Gratitude is messy. Just stay in that chair and lead. I have a Thai food date to apologize for, and Jack doesn't take perjury lightly."
He walked out, the The Wright Way anchor feeling heavier than ever. He reached the valet stand and saw Jack leaning against the Mercedes, his expression unreadable.
"Did you fix it?" Jack asked.
"I secured the foundation, Jack," Christopher whispered. "Now take me to the brownstone. I'm done with hospitals for today."
As they drove away, Christopher's phone vibrated. It was a National Weather Service alert.
Tornado Warning: Heavy winds and storm activity heading toward the Pacific Northwest.
The Plane Crash is moving closer, Christopher thought, a cold dread settling in his gut.