𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐗 ━━ 𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐝

eighty three | fatal

"Oh, if she was teaching last week, it can't be that bad." Bailey assures calmly. "Alright, if we resect the liver, maybe we can get it all."

"Can't hurt to try."

But the moment we cut deeper, another problem arises.

"It's encasing the hepatic artery and the bile duct."

"We won't be able to take the artery if we continue."

Bailey sighs under her breath. "It's unresectable."

"Let's finish up and close, then." My lips press together.

After a brief session in the nearest supply closet, I move along to the attending lounge where Cristina has nearly paced a pathway into the floor.

"This is exactly what I was afraid of. The administrative crap is taking over my career. I mean, Russell called me someone on the board. He doesn't even see me as a surgeon. I'm just someone who cuts budgets."

Meanwhile, Baby Phoenix-Shepherd pounds away at my ribcage.

"Kick once if you're choking, twice if you're coming out early, or three times if you're just annoying the fuck out of me."

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

"I guess we're going with lucky number three."

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Of course I am. I'm just a little distracted by the fetus inside me."

She rolls and unrolls a magazine in her fist, eyes narrowed between me and the more-than-obvious baby bump.

"Could you talk to them?"

"Who?"

"He, she, the demon — ow."

"Why?"

"Whenever I tell it to stop, the baby just kicks more. Derek can calm it down most times, but I swear to God I'm gonna rip my uterus out by the end of the day."

"How?"

"What is this, twenty questions?"

With a simple roll of her eyes, Cristina tosses aside the magazine and props herself on the coffee table across from me.

"Hello. This is. . .Cristina. Yang."

"This isn't a job interview, dimwit."

"Well, I don't know. What do you want me to say?"

"Keep talking about any random crap you can pull out of your ass."

Bailey shoves her way through the entrance with a giant binder tucked under her arm. She gestures to Cristina to step aside before taking over.

"Hey, uh, this is Miranda Bailey. I am an excellent surgeon and a forward thinker. Your mother's a surgeon, your father's a surgeon, you'll very likely want to be one, too. But I'm hoping by the time it's your turn, there will be very little surgery left because human genome mapping will have given people information so that they can fight their diseases before they happen."

A brief pause fills the room, and I nod my head ecstatically.

"Well, go on. Keep talking."

"Um, armed with information, people will be able to live longer, healthier lives. Now, I know this is a very expensive undertaking, but maybe if you hadn't spent so much money on coffee sleeves and new logos, there'd be money in the budget to fund a forward thinker like me."

"I think she's talking to us now."

"She could yell at us for all I care. As long as it's working."

At the end of our shifts, Derek and I meet up in the recovery wing where he wishes his patient well and hands over the case to Ross for the night.

"What do you want for dinner?"

"I was thinking I could cook something. Maybe a salad on the side, too?"

"We can pick up dinner. You should be taking it easy, especially after a twelve-hour shift."

Derek palms my abdomen gently, feeling around for any sort of movement. In turn, I brush his hand away.

"What are you doing?" He frowns lightly.

"You shouldn't get too attached." A sigh hums against my throat. "In case something happens to me, or the baby. . .or the both of us."

"Leven, I need you to stop."

"We're magnets for bad things, Der. I just want you to be prepared in case. . ."

"In case I lose you?"

Tears well in my eyes involuntarily, and I cling to his dark blue scrubs as wet stains form over his chest.

"You're not going to die." He mutters gently into my ear. "And neither is our baby. You're both going to live for a very long time."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I just know."