"Dad, don't you think you should be taking it easy?"
"Nonsense. A friend of mine's in the hospital, and I told him I'd visit."
"In the E.R.?"
"He paged me from the restaurant he was at with his grandson."
I trudge through the slipper floors of the hospital behind my dad, who searches through every curtain area and room.
"Over here, Lenny."
An elderly man waves my dad over. I follow after them unsurely. . .until I see Jackson standing at his bedside.
"Young lady tried to diagnose me with ascending cholangitis when I'm showing only one of the symptoms of Charcot's triad."
"She was probably just looking for a case. Although, there better not be one."
And then, he turns towards me.
"Is this your little girl, Lenny?"
"Yes, she is." My dad pulls me forward to stand beside him. "Harp, this is my daughter Dr. Leven Phoenix. Lev, this is Dr. Harper Avery."
". . .you're Harper Avery? As in the Harper Avery of the Harper Avery Foundation and the Harper Avery Award?"
And then it clicks: Avery.
I gaze at Jackson, a familiar twitch returning to my right eye. "You're related to Harper Avery?"
"Leven, honey, I think everyone here knows who the man is now." His hand claps against the middle of my back.
"I'm. . .gonna get back to work."
"Pleasure meeting you, Leven."
"Uh-huh."
Moments proceeding the awkward encounter, Meredith and Cristina have already found out about the celebrity in the E.R..
A throat clears itself from behind. "Um, Lev. . ."
The three of us look back to see Derek dressed in his tailor white coat, a blue button down, and black slacks. The other two part ways, giggles erupting under their breaths.
"How do I look? Chiefly?" He palms his hips.
"Oh, my God." An amusing grin forms on my lips. "You're nervous, aren't you?"
"He's one of the most powerful surgeons in the country."
"Oh, he's just one of Dad's old friends. And he's just another guy with an entire award named after him."
Derek narrows his eyes.
"You already met him, didn't you?"
"Completely flabbergasted on the spot. I couldn't get more than the words Harper Avery out of my mouth."
The newly appointed chief of surgery allows his puckered lips to graze over my own before he leaves for the heart of the E.R..
Dad, Dr. Webber, Dr. Bailey, Derek, Jackson, and I are more than slightly bothered by Dr. Harper Avery's crude jokes and ridiculous requests.
"Ah, here we go." The grandson of the infamous doctor turns his back to the blindless window. "He's giving them the speech."
"Care to further explain?"
"The speech about the wonders of medicine. About how, as surgeons — you know — we're meant to push boundaries and do what no one has ever done. It's cheesy. And you hear it enough times at your grandparents' dinner table, you can't help but wanna be a surgeon when you grow up."
I rest the tip of my chin against my fisted hand. "It's what happens when you're related to someone like him."
"You know, I'd kill for him to be just a little like your dad."
"Without the whole abandonment part, right?"
". . .right. Almost forgot about that."
Panic ensues the O.R. of Harper Avery as well as the gallery when his B.P. drops for a couple of seconds.
Jackson plops down onto one of the benches in the doctors' lounge after a group of residents — a good mix of Mercy West and Seattle Grace — chase after him with pleads to meet his grandfather.
"Here's some coffee. You look like you need it." I pass him a disposable cup of the hot beverage.
"I hate it." He runs a hand over his tired face. "I hate it when they know I'm related to him. The way they treat me, the way they watch me as soon as they find out. And I know the name has. . .helped, but he is not easy. Brilliant, but really not easy to be related to."
An apologetic expression crosses my face. "If you need someone to talk to, at least you can come to someone who's had firsthand experience."
Out of nowhere, the beeps of a pager rings in the room, and the resident jumps out of his seat blurting out 9-1-1.
"What is it? You paged?"
The two of us hurriedly enter through the glass doors.
"What, you're okay?"
"We never got a chance to finish our talk from this morning."
Jackson growls under his breath. "Our talk? What, are you kidding me?"
"You brought Dr. Phoenix." Avery shuts the magazine and displaces it. "That's good, actually."
"How come, sir?"
"Answer me this, Dr. Phoenix. If a spot was being held for you to study at the greatest hospital in this country, would you turn it down?"
". . .I think I'm a little lost."
"Yeah, he saved a spot for me at Mass Gen ever since I graduated. Which is the only reason he came to visit — to try to convince me to take it. Again."
"It's an incredible opportunity."
"An opportunity I don't want! I don't wanna work for you. I don't want your help. I don't — look, it's enough —"
"No!"
Dr. Avery renders his grandson silent.
"I decide when I've said enough. You think I am overbearing and arrogant, and you've made that very clear."
I quietly close the patient file shut.
"Maybe I am. But I am also your only living grandfather, and it has become very clear to me today that my time is coming."
A complication arises from Harper Avery's surgery, to which he insists to not be put down under.
But Derek stands his ground as the new chief.
"You won't make that."
"I'll make it."
"No, you won't."
"I will because I told off one of my heroes today. I can do anything."
The miniature basketball leaves his hands and awkwardly bangs against the edge of the backboard.
"My turn."
Derek, Mark, and Owen glance back at the entrance of the chief's office to see me changed out of the pale blue scrubs.
The trauma surgeon tosses the ball in his hand, I throw it into the air, watching it gracefully swoosh through the basket.
"Beginner's luck, Phoenix."
"Sore loser, Sloan."
Derek clutches his winter coat. "Want me to drive you home?"
"No, no." I shake my head. "I've got girls' night, so I thought I'd let you know."
"Have fun, then."
"I will. And be sure to practice playing with balls."
". . .that was a low one, Phoenix."