Keifer pov
Jay might have been the patient, but her soul was still wearing a white coat.
Three days after her "first stand," the physical exhaustion was being replaced by a much more dangerous symptom: boredom. A bored Jay was a terrifying prospect for the Peralta Hospital staff. Her ICU room had effectively been converted into a command center, with medical journals scattered across the cashmere blankets Kit had provided
I walked into the suite carrying a fresh change of clothes, only to find a huddle of terrified-looking surgical residents standing at the foot of Jay's bed. Jay was propped up on three pillows, her oxygen cannula still in place, but she was holding a tablet with a look of pure, cold clinical judgment.
"That's a subcostal incision," Jay was saying, her voice still raspy but regaining its sharp, authoritative edge. "If you close it like that, the patient will have a hernia before they're even out of the PACU. Go back, tell Dr. Santos I said he's being sloppy, and redo the suture line."
"But Dr. Watson," one of the residents stammered, "Dr. Santos is the Head of Trauma—"
"And I'm the woman who survived a bilateral hemorrhage and a thoracotomy," Jay countered, raising one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "I have a higher perspective on trauma than he does right now. Move."
The residents scrambled out of the room like they'd just been chased by a lion.
I sighed, setting my bag down. "You're supposed to be resting, weify. Not running the hospital's trauma department from your pajamas."
"I am resting, Keif," she said, not looking up from the digital X-ray she had somehow hacked into. "My brain doesn't need a gait belt to walk. And besides, if I don't watch them, they're going to kill Bed 7. His potassium is trending low and no one is noticing."
C in walked in just then, rubbing his temples. "Keifer, please. Tell your wife to stop paging my nurses. She's currently 'consulting' on three different cases in the Step-down unit via the internal messaging system."
"The nursing staff is calling her 'The Ghost of the OR,'" C in continued, though he was smiling. "They're scared to walk past her door because she critiques their sterile technique through the glass."
Section E wasn't helping the situation. They were gathered around the small table in the corner, acting as Jay's "intelligence agency."
Felix was using his high-zoom lens to look at the monitors of the nurses' station down the hall. "Boss, the nurse in the blue scrubs just dropped a syringe and didn't change her gloves."
Mica was taking notes on a clipboard. "Noted. Adding it to the 'List of Failures' for the 4:00 PM briefing."
Kit was busy measuring the residents' heights as they walked by. "If they're going to be incompetent, they should at least be tall enough to reach the high shelves."
"You guys are enabling her," I muttered, walking over to Jay and gently taking the tablet out of her hand.
"Keifer! I was looking at a CT scan!" she protested, reaching for it with a frustrated huff.
The Reality Check
I sat on the edge of the bed and looked her in the eye. "Jay. You've been awake for five days. You still get dizzy when you sit up too fast. The only patient you need to consult on is yourself."
She slumped back against the pillows, the fire in her eyes dimming just a fraction. "It's hard, Keif. When I'm 'Dr. Watson,' I'm not the person who almost died. I'm not the person who can't hold her own babies for more than ten minutes without getting tired. When I'm a surgeon... I'm whole."
The room went quiet. The squad stopped their joking. I took her hand, the one with the pulse oximeter still attached, and held it to my chest.
"You're whole because you're here," I whispered. "The hospital can find another surgeon for Bed 7. But the twins? They only have one Mumma. And for me i only has one wife"
Jay looked toward the bassinets where Alexander and Aurora were sleeping. She let out a long, slow breath. "Fine. But tell C in that if he doesn't order a repeat CBC for Bed 7, I'm going to haunt his dreams."
"I'll tell him," I promised, kissing her forehead.
...
The surgical insurancy
The "Ghost of the OR" had officially graduated from a medical anomaly to a full-blown workplace hazard.
Jay wasn't just bored; she was territorial. She had realized that from her bed, she could see the reflection of the hallway monitors in the glass partition of her suite. It was like a game of chess, and she was playing with the lives of every staff member on the fourth floor.
I walked into the room to find a scene of absolute, calculated chaos.
C in was standing in the middle of the room, looking like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Section E was no longer just a support squad; they had been mobilized into a clinical reconnaissance team.
"Keifer, do something!" C in hissed, pointing a trembling finger at the bed. "She's hacked the internal paging system!"
Jay was sitting bolt upright, a headset (courtesy of Felix) perched over her bandaged head. She had a laptop on her lap and was currently dictating orders like a battlefield general.
"No, I don't care if the pharmacy is closed!" Jay was saying into the mic, her voice raspy but terrifyingly cold. "The patient in 412 has a history of penicillin allergy. If you hang that IV bag, I will have your medical license framed above my fireplace by dawn. Switch to Vancomycin and tell the attending he's an idiot!"
The Squad's "Intelligence" Network
Mica was standing by the door with a stopwatch. "Shift change in thirty seconds, Boss. The 'lazy' nurse is coming on duty."
Felix was using his camera's 600mm lens to peer through the tiny gap in the curtains of the room across the hall. "She's not washing her hands, Boss! She just walked in!"
Kit was busy at the small table, sewing together a custom "Dr. Watson" patch onto a hospital gown. "If she's going to run this place, she needs to look the part. The standard hospital blue is so... pedestrian."
"Jay!" I shouted, trying to get her attention over the sound of the cardiac monitor beeping (which she had adjusted to a higher pitch because 'the default setting was depressing').
She looked up, eyes sharp and focused. "Not now, Keifer. I'm mid-consult. 412 is about to have an anaphylactic shock because the resident can't read a chart."
The Confrontation
I didn't ask. I walked over and closed the laptop. I reached up and gently pulled the headset off her head.
"The paging system is for emergencies, Jay," I said, my voice low and firm.
"It is an emergency!" she snapped, her face flushing with a bit of her old fire. "Incompetence is an emergency! I didn't survive a brain bleed just to watch someone die of a preventable drug interaction ten feet away from me!"
"She's right, Keifer," Keigan whispered from the corner, where he was busy charting Jay's own vitals on a whiteboard. "She actually saved 412. The nurse came in with the wrong bag and Jay screamed through the intercom so loud the woman dropped the tray."
The Breakdown of Order
At that moment, the door burst open. The Hospital Director, a man who usually only moved for royalty or lawsuits, stormed in.
"Dr. Watson!" he gasped, out of breath. "I have three surgeons threatening to resign, the head of nursing is crying in the breakroom, and someone—I suspect the tall one in the silk shirt—has been 'auditing' our supply closet!"
Kit looked up, unbothered. "Your thread count on the bedsheets is appalling. I was merely documenting the trauma to my skin."
Jay didn't blink. She leaned forward, the oxygen cannula trailing behind her. "Director, if your surgeons are threatened by a woman who is currently 60% morphine and 40% spite, then they aren't surgeons. They're technicians. Now, are we going to talk about the potassium levels in 408, or do I have to call the Board of Trustees?"
The Director looked at me, a silent plea for help in his eyes.
I looked at Jay—her bandages slightly askew, her hands shaking from the effort of sitting up, but her spirit absolutely, terrifyingly alive. I looked at the Squad, who were ready to go to war for her.
"Director," I said, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across my face. "I suggest you listen to her. My wife is a very expensive consultant. You're getting her services for free."
The Quiet After the Storm
Once the Director fled, Jay slumped back against the pillows, the adrenaline leaving her body in a rush. She looked exhausted, her chest heaving as she fought for breath.
"You're a menace," I whispered, sitting on the bed and pulling her into my arms.
"I'm... a surgeon," she panted, her head resting on my shoulder. "I can't... just be... the girl in the bed, Keif. I can't."
I held her tight, feeling the sync of our hearts. The "Surgeon Mind" was a beautiful, chaotic thing, but it was also her shield. If she was worrying about Bed 412, she didn't have to worry about how close she came to never seeing the twins again.
"Okay," I murmured. "But tomorrow, we start physical therapy. If you can't walk to 412, you can't save them."
She looked at me, a spark of challenge in her eyes. "Watch me."
.......