Seattle Grace Mercy West didn't sleep. Not really. It simply shifted tempo—night into day, adrenaline into exhaustion. The surgical board buzzed with new assignments as residents swarmed in.
Nia stood in the hall outside the hybrid OR, double-checking scans that lived as vividly in her mind as on her tablet. The patient: 29-year-old Cole Bennett, a construction worker who had fallen four stories, impaling his left shoulder on rebar. The rod had torn through his clavicle, grazed the subclavian artery, nicked a nerve bundle near C5, and punctured part of his upper lung.
Neuro. Cardio. Trauma.
A triage nightmare. A surgical dream.
Her dream.
"Nervous?" Owen Hunt asked as he approached, dressed in trauma scrubs and radiating energy that made everyone snap straighter.
"No," she said honestly. "I saw it already."
He frowned. "You 'saw' it?"
She blinked. "I mean, I ran simulations in my head. Over and over. I know what to do."
Owen gave her a nod, unreadable. "Good. Because this guy's hanging on by threads."
Cristina arrived next. She didn't look at Nia. Just went to Owen, speaking low and sharp.
"She's scrubbing in?" Cristina asked, eyes flicking to Nia with practiced coldness.
"She's the one who mapped the fusion plan," Owen replied. "Teddy and Derek both cleared it. It's her OR too."
Cristina's jaw tightened. "Right."
---
Inside the OR – The Trio Dance
"Let's go people," Teddy called. "We've got twenty-eight minutes of safe cross-clamp time."
The team moved like gears in a machine—Nia at the brainstem monitor, Cristina retracting for the cardio port, Owen stabilizing the thoracic field. It was a dance of chaos and choreography.
"Microscopic tear on the artery branch," Nia called out. "Clamp now or we lose perfusion to the arm."
"Confirmed," Teddy said, watching the numbers. "Cristina, clamp."
Cristina moved, precise, but her hand brushed the cord grid near Nia's station. The screen flashed red.
"You moved the probe," Nia said sharply. "We're blind in zone C4!"
"I'm retracting, not doing diagnostics," Cristina snapped.
"You disrupted the visualization," Nia insisted. "Push in again and I'll lose central line feedback."
"Both of you—focus," Teddy barked. "We're live."
Nia exhaled, calming her pulse. She guided the scope back into place and whispered, "Thread line clear… blood flow stabilizing."
Cristina muttered, "First real hybrid, and you want to run the whole OR."
Nia didn't answer.
But the silence between them was razor-thin.
---
Observation Deck – Meredith Watches
Meredith watched from above, her arms folded. Beside her, Bailey stood quietly, chewing on the end of a pen.
"They're going to crash," Bailey said finally.
"No," Meredith said. "They'll save him. But one of them's going to break something in the process."
"Cristina doesn't like competition."
"She doesn't like being surprised," Meredith corrected. "And Nia? She surprises everyone."
---
Post-Op Room – Life Saved
Cole Bennett survived. Barely. The hybrid procedure was a success—vascular patch held, spinal nerve activity returned, lung re-inflated. The team stepped out, peeling off gloves and gowns like layers of tension.
"Good work," Teddy said to them all. Then, to Nia specifically: "Your foresight saved at least twenty seconds. And twenty seconds is the difference between function and paralysis."
Nia nodded, flush with the rush of it all.
Cristina was already gone.
---
Locker Room – The Fallout
Cristina stood at her locker, aggressively pulling off her cap.
"You want to play surgeon, fine. But don't pretend you're the only one who sees things in there," she said without turning around.
Nia approached slowly, keeping her voice even. "I don't want to play anything. I'm here to learn—same as you."
"You're not the same as me," Cristina snapped. "You get golden passes. Everyone's fascinated by the magical intern who 'sees' surgeries before they happen."
"I've worked for this. You don't know me."
"I know you're on every board. I know Altman and Shepherd and Hunt are practically fighting to mentor you. That's not normal."
"No," Nia said. "It's not. But that doesn't mean I didn't earn it."
Cristina slammed her locker. "You're just a phase. They'll get over you."
And then she left.
---
Micah – Safe Ground
Nia found Micah outside near the ambulance bay, his hands tucked in his coat pockets. She fell in beside him without a word.
"Tough day?" he asked.
"I think I made Cristina Yang hate me."
"She probably already did."
That earned a small laugh.
"I keep wondering when it's all going to fall apart," she admitted. "Like, what if they wake up one day and realize I'm just a fraud with a photographic brain and no soul?"
"You've got soul, Nia," Micah said. "I've seen it. Every time you don't let yourself walk away from a hard case. Every time you fight to be better."
She looked up at him, eyes glassy. "You think I'm really meant to be here?"
"I think you've always been meant for more."
---
Patient Parallel – Room 327
That night, Nia checked in on another patient. One who hadn't been part of the hybrid case. A woman named Dana Calloway—early thirties, recent stroke, aphasia setting in. Once a concert pianist, now unable to recognize middle C.
"I used to close my eyes and feel the chords," Dana said softly. "Now, I hear nothing. And I wonder if I even existed before this."
Nia sat down at her bedside. "Your brain knows it still. Maybe not your words. But the music? It's still in there."
Dana studied her. "You sound like someone who sees what others don't."
Nia didn't speak for a while.
"I've always seen things… too clearly," she said at last. "And sometimes that makes me feel like I'm separate from everyone else."
"You're not separate. Just tuned to a different key."
---
Meredith – The Heart-to-Heart
Later that night, Nia found herself beside Meredith at the nurse's station, both of them watching the monitors blink with patient vitals.
"I don't know how to make it easier," Nia said quietly. "The tension. The whispers. The responsibility."
"You don't," Meredith said. "You just survive it."
"I'm not sure I'm built like you or Cristina."
Meredith turned, eyes soft. "Cristina is a storm. You're a current. She tears things down. You flow around them."
"That doesn't sound very strong."
"It's stronger than you think. One cracks the glass. The other changes the shape of everything."
Nia smiled faintly. "She'll never like me."
"She doesn't need to," Meredith said. "You don't owe anyone smallness to make them comfortable."
---
Surgical Board – A Choice Ahead
By morning, the board had a new listing.
Experimental Aneurysm Coiling – Assist Requested: N. Adisa.
Nia stared at it. Next to her, Micah looked impressed.
"Derek again?" he asked.
She nodded. "And if Cristina doesn't hate me yet, she will after this."
"Then maybe stop trying to win her over."
"I'm not trying. I just… I want to belong."
Micah looked at her. "You already do. You're just the only one who hasn't accepted it yet."
---
End of Chapter 6