402-404

Chapter 402: A Chill Through the Heart, Heart Tossed Away! Art comes from life. 

Adam was starting to get a deeper appreciation for that saying now.  

A flirty pregnant woman was throwing him sultry looks while tossing out some classic, cheesy pickup lines.  

This scene…  

It was very artistic! 

But too bad Adam wasn’t that kind of guy.  

“Sorry, Rachel.”  

Adam shook his head. “I’m good. My love life’s pretty stable, so I can’t help you out with that.”  

“Seriously? For real?”  

Rachel wasn’t buying it.  

“Of course it’s real.”  

Adam nodded firmly.  

Monday through Saturday, he spent most of his time privately discussing medical stuff with Bianca. 

Now Alice was jumping in with some serious enthusiasm, demanding to join the party. 

Sundays were for giving Peggy plenty of inspiration. 

End of the month? Heather would fly in from Texas, and they’d either hang out in New York or hit up Boston to catch up with good friends Juno and Karen. 

Occasionally, Max would even bug him for advice on Peppa Pig plotlines. 

And when charity work popped up, Caroline was always super eager to invite him to Ellis Manor to oversee things.  

His love life was solid. 

No way was he about to stir up trouble just for a little temptation.  

Rachel claimed she only wanted something “indescribable.” 

But Adam didn’t believe her for a second. 

Alice was a walking cautionary tale right there in front of him. 

Rachel wasn’t some kid who couldn’t pick a side—she’d definitely want it all in the end.  

Adam had zero interest in being the dad to Ross’s kid. 

Plus, he was good friends with both parents. No way was he going to hurt the kid—not even unintentionally.  

The spark in Rachel’s eyes dimmed instantly.  

“What about the baby daddy?”  

Adam changed the subject. “He’s the one who started this mess. What’s he up to?”  

Work as a doctor had been so hectic lately that he barely kept up with Chandler and the gang, let alone Ross. 

All he knew was that Rachel and Ross had no plans to tie the knot. Leonard’s push for a wedding had flopped, and now he had to watch his first grandchild grow up as a “bastard.” 

Leonard had ranted to Adam more than once about what a jerk Ross was.  

“I asked him already,” Rachel said, annoyed. “He’s all hot and heavy with that Monica chick. Now they’re even sending holiday postcards together.”  

“No way!”  

Adam’s jaw dropped. “How long have they been a thing? And they’re already at that stage?”  

In the U.S., relationships have pretty clear boundaries. 

First date? A goodbye kiss. 

Second date? You can dig into deeper topics and get a little closer. 

Third date? That’s the unofficial home run. 

After that, you hang out for a bit and figure out if you want to take it further—like officially becoming a couple. 

Then it’s moving in, engagement, marriage, divorce, remarriage, divorce again, remarriage… 

It’s like the stages of some epic cultivation journey—early, mid, late, peak, perfection, grand perfection, half-step whatever, and a dozen more titles.  

Even before moving in, there are little milestones. 

Like meeting each other’s friends. 

Or sending holiday cards as a couple. 

That’s a big, obvious sign.  

“Two months, tops,” Rachel griped.  

“Monica brought it up?” Adam asked with a grin.  

“Of course she did,” Rachel scoffed. “Ross nearly freaked out. He stammered through some rant about what stage their relationship was at, and in a sweaty panic, he just handed over his apartment key to Monica.”  

“Ha!”  

Adam chuckled.  

What started as something short of living together was now barreling straight toward it.  

“You know what the funniest part is?”  

Rachel unloaded on Ross—the guy who “got her knocked up”—with sharp, gleeful venom, almost overpowering the hormones practically spilling out of her.  

“The key he gave her? It was his only one. Sure, it got him out of the mess for a sec, but then he was locked out of his own place!”  

“Haha!”  

Adam couldn’t help but laugh out loud.  

Ross was something else. 

Take Ted, for example—another guy who went from sweet kid to total player. Ted could charm a girlfriend into forgetting everything, even after dumping her via voicemail on her birthday in front of all her friends and family. Then he’d win her back, only to dump her again on her next birthday.  

What kind of game was that? 

Ross, though? He gets spooked by a simple “Where are we at?” and falls apart. 

No talent there.  

No wonder his ex-wife—who swung the other way—used him like a total tool. Even now, he was stuck helping raise her and her wife’s son. He couldn’t even buy the kid a G.I. Joe without them chewing him out.  

What’s that? 

Your son can’t play with Barbies? 

What are you scared of? 

You looking down on us or something?  

“But wait, it gets better,” Rachel said, getting more fired up. “He had to call someone to change the locks just to get back into his apartment. And right as they’re doing it, Monica shows up…”  

“Oof, that’s brutal!”  

Adam could already picture Ross’s mortified face.  

“Nope, still not the worst of it,” Rachel said, cracking up. “When Monica questioned him, Ross froze. Out of options, he blurted out the one thing he never wanted to say: ‘I love you.’ Pushed their relationship even further.”  

In the States, “I love you” is a big deal. 

It’s usually something you say after moving in together, right before getting engaged. 

Once it’s out there, the relationship either moves forward or crashes. 

Like that one night Leonard randomly dropped it on Penny. 

Or when Ted met Robin and blurted it out on the spot.  

“I’m guessing that’s not the end of it, huh?” Adam said, grinning.  

“Hahaha, nope!”  

Rachel, belly out and hand on her hip, kept going. “You know why he said it? Because he asked us for advice first, and we told him to! He didn’t even want to—originally, he was just gonna say he loves being with her.”  

“I love you” versus “I love being with you.” 

Totally different vibes.  

“Monica warned him not to say that second one,” Rachel said, still laughing. “Because to a woman, if she’s ready to take things further and you hit her with that? It’s like slapping her across the face.”  

“Then what?”  

Adam stepped up to steady her, playing along.  

“The absolute funniest thing happened,” Rachel said, covering her mouth until she could stop laughing. “So he forces this awkward smile and says, ‘I love you,’ right? And Monica’s response? ‘I love being with you too.’ Can you imagine Ross’s face? He totally misread the room! Hahaha!”  

It’s like when you’re not into someone, but they keep saying stuff. 

Eventually, you start catching feelings, confess, and then realize you were way off.  

Ouch. 

That sting? A chill through the heart, heart tossed right out.  

“You feeling better now?” Adam asked with a smile.  

“Yeah, I’m good.”  

Rachel reined in her laughter, rolling her eyes. “What, you think I’m like that all the time? I’ve got this under control, okay?”  

“I believe you,” Adam said with a nod, though he still figured he’d take her to see an OB-GYN.  

Yup, preferably one who wasn’t too good-looking.  

Chapter 403: Creepy When You Think About It 

Medical Center.  

After dropping Rachel off with the OB-GYN, Adam stepped out.  

"Head to Eighth Avenue—there’s a specialty shop there." 

"Got it." 

"What color? Whatever, just pick what you like." 

"Make sure it’s wrapped up tight—no peeking from the outside." 

"Yeah, and hurry!"  

After hanging up with his assistants—Aida, Lisa, and the ever-reliable "Tool Guy #3"—Adam shook his head and muttered to himself, "Only in a TV drama world, right? Anywhere else, I’d probably get decked for this…  

But hey, a sickness needs a cure, and you’ve gotta treat it right.  

Rachel, you’re lucky you’ve got a friend like me!"  

While Adam was over here hyping himself up, an organ donor from Wicks Hospital rolled in on the other side.  

George was on intake duty.  

"Family been notified?" 

"Yeah, they’re an hour out. Should I page you when they get here?" Nurse Olivia asked, her face blank as ever.  

Yup, that Olivia—the one who hooked up with Alex, passed the "charm bug" to George, and made things awkward.  

But they’re coworkers. Can’t avoid each other forever. These moments were bound to happen.  

And why was Olivia, the one who messed up, the one giving the cold shoulder? Well, she’d apologized, then hinted at wanting to pick things back up with George—only to get blatantly ignored by him in front of everyone.  

"Fair enough. Do they know what’s going on right now?" George asked casually, checking over the organ donor.  

This one was brain-dead—heart and other organs still good to go. They’d signed a donation agreement beforehand, so here they were, prepped for harvesting. Multiple organs, including the heart, were headed to six patients across three states.  

George’s job? Routine check, then call the time of death.  

"They just know we’re still ‘trying to save them,’" Olivia replied, clearly uninterested in the patient. She brushed it off and pivoted back to their drama, her tone pointed. "I think it’s better to hear the bad news upfront—helps you move on faster, don’t you think, George?"  

George played dumb, pressing his fist into the patient’s chest. He wasn’t expecting a reaction.  

But holy crap—he got one.  

The "brain-dead" patient moved.  

"Did you see that?" George shot a look at Olivia.  

She didn’t react, so he tried again, pressing his fist down. The patient twitched again.  

"She’s got involuntary brain responses! Her brainstem’s still active! She’s not fully brain-dead!"  

"We’ll take it from here. Thanks," said the surgeon in charge of the extraction, strolling in with an assistant.  

George explained what he’d seen, even showing them.  

"Probably overlooked," the surgeon said dismissively. "But once the cortex is gone, the brainstem follows. Death’s inevitable—it’s just a matter of time. We’ll wait, of course."  

"But don’t you think—"  

George started to suggest maybe they could still save her, but the middle-aged surgeon cut him off.  

"She was already dead when she hit the OR."  

George stood there, stunned, watching them wheel the not-quite-brain-dead patient away. "But she’s still alive right now…" he mumbled.  

No! 

This isn’t right!  

Adam had fought for over an hour to save a patient, pulling off a miracle. And here George was, knowing this patient wasn’t fully gone, just watching her get rolled into the OR to have all her organs yanked out?  

No way!  

His mind screamed it, but his feet wouldn’t budge.  

The guy was a senior doctor. George was just an intern—what could he say? The surgeon would shut him down in two seconds flat. Chasing after them wouldn’t change a thing.  

Sweat beaded on his chubby forehead as he wrestled with himself.  

"Adam!"  

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a familiar figure and yelled.  

"What’s up?"  

Adam heard him and turned.  

"Get over here, quick!" George waved frantically.  

Adam’s eyes widened. He bolted over at full speed.  

In a hospital, speed is life. Running’s just part of the gig.  

Forget Running Man—they should make Running Docs!  

George spilled the story fast.  

"You sure?" Adam locked eyes with him.  

"I’m sure," George nodded.  

"He’s not lying," Olivia added, dropping her attitude for once.  

"Alright. George, go grab Dr. Shepherd. I’ll stall them," Adam said, then took off after the team.  

A patient who wasn’t fully brain-dead—someone they might still save—getting treated as a done deal and wheeled into the OR for organ harvesting?  

Just because she’d signed a donor agreement? 

Just because she wanted to do some good?  

Why not try harder to save her?  

Was it really hopeless?  

Or did they just not want to—ignoring the obvious signs on purpose?  

And why? Oh, maybe because six patients across three states were waiting for her organs!  

The more you think about it, the creepier it gets!  

"Hold up!"  

Adam caught up and blocked them. "Mind if I take a look?"  

"Yeah, I do," the surgeon snapped. He clocked Adam as George’s backup. If it were another attending, he’d have stepped aside, no questions. But Adam? Just an intern.  

"What are you doing?"  

The surgeon glared as Adam hooked his foot around the gurney’s wheel, stopping it. His assistants kept trying to push.  

"I’m checking her," Adam said, leaning down.  

Sure enough, just like George said, she still had neural responses. Not fully brain-dead.  

"Don’t make a fuss. Yeah, she’s twitching, but she’s in an irreversible coma. Dr. Hans at Wicks already checked her," the surgeon sneered. "Relax—we’ll wait for her to flatline in the OR. We know the drill."  

"But Dr. Shepherd hasn’t checked her yet," Adam said calmly, still blocking the wheel. "We’ve called him. He’s our neurosurgery attending here. Since you’re doing the extraction in our hospital, he needs to sign off. Dr. Hans might’ve missed something. He’s a doctor, not God."  

"I’ll be filing a complaint with your hospital!" the surgeon barked, glaring at Adam.  

"Name’s Adam Duncan," Adam replied, meeting his stare without flinching.  

The standoff froze right there.  

Until George rushed back with Dr. Shepherd in tow.  

"Sorry to interrupt. Derek Shepherd, neurosurgery attending. Mind if I take a look?"  

Shepherd nodded at Adam, glanced at the surgeon, and didn’t wait for an answer before starting his exam.  

The surgeon: "…"  

Chapter 404: Escape from Get Out Town 

Medical Center  

The middle-aged doctor felt a little insulted. 

But, well, tough luck.  

Dr. Shepherd checked the patient’s pupils, tested her response to external stimuli, and glanced at the chart on the stretcher.  

“She’s got a tumor on her brainstem, right? I don’t see an MRI here. We’d need an EEG to confirm brain death.”  

“Yeah, Dr. Hans said he already did it,” the middle-aged doctor said, trying to defend himself. 

His tone wasn’t exactly confident, though.  

You talk differently depending on who you’re dealing with. 

Basic survival skill.  

“I don’t know any Dr. Hans,” Dr. Shepherd cut in. “They’ve already ignored the brain’s involuntary responses. Who knows what else they’ve overlooked!”  

“There are six patients across three states waiting for this woman’s organs,” the middle-aged doctor pointed out.  

“If those organs come from someone who’s brain-dead, I’m sure they’d be thrilled. But she’s not dead yet,” Dr. Shepherd shot back sarcastically. 

“No one touches her while she’s still alive.”  

The middle-aged doctor dropped the act and laid his cards on the table. 

He just wanted to stall until the patient was completely gone. 

Because if she got resuscitated, not only would his organ extraction plan fall apart, but his buddy Dr. Hans might be in hot water too. 

After all, Hans hadn’t even bothered with an MRI and ignored the patient’s involuntary brain activity before declaring her brain-dead. 

If the family dug into it later, it’d be a massive headache.  

But if they could just drag this out and let her slip into full brain death, their approach would be flawless. 

No one could prove she could’ve been saved. 

And the whole thing would probably blow over.  

“Everything okay here?”  

George walked in with Dr. Burke in tow.  

Adam had already clocked the middle-aged doctor’s stalling game. When George got back, Adam had tipped him off to grab Dr. Burke. 

As the acting surgical chief, Dr. Burke had the final say around here.  

“This donor isn’t fully brain-dead yet. I want to run an MRI and an EEG,” Dr. Shepherd explained.  

“That’s a waste of time,” the middle-aged doctor said, making one last ditch effort.  

“I insist,” Dr. Shepherd said firmly.  

“You insist?”  

Dr. Burke flipped through the chart and gave him a look.  

“Yes!” Dr. Shepherd nodded.  

“If my top neurosurgery attending says he needs an MRI and an EEG, then he’s doing it,” Dr. Burke said, snapping the chart shut and making it final.  

“But we’ve got other patients—”  

The middle-aged doctor thought he could still salvage this.  

“Don’t care,” Dr. Burke interrupted, hands on hips. “Who gets the organs? That’s up to the organ-sharing network. 

Who donates them? That’s up to her and her family. 

I’ve got someone in the OR waiting for a liver—maybe they don’t even deserve it, but that’s not my call either. 

So what do I control? 

Everything else!”  

Faced with that kind of badass energy, the middle-aged doctor gave up entirely. 

It’s not that he didn’t try, man.  

“She’s all yours, Dr. Shepherd,” Dr. Burke said.  

“Thank you, Dr. Burke.”  

Dr. Burke smirked, soaking in the middle-aged doctor’s helpless silence and his rival’s gratitude. 

This was the taste of power. 

Better than anything else.  

It reminded him of what Richard’s wife had said when she came to pack up her husband’s stuff and move him home to recover. She’d stared at him sitting in the chief’s office chair and laid it out: 

“I hope he’s forced to retire. That’s tempting for you, isn’t it? We all want that. This job fits you, Preston. You’re independent, a workaholic— the hospital and this gig are enough for you, right?”  

He hadn’t answered her. 

But the answer was obviously “yes” to all of it.  

“Dr. Duncan, want to assist with the MRI?” Dr. Shepherd asked, glancing at Adam and George.  

“Absolutely,” Adam said with a nod.  

Mr. Dean hadn’t been brain-dead, and now here was a case teetering on the edge of it— a golden learning opportunity handed to him on a platter.  

George looked a little down but didn’t argue. 

Sure, he’d been the one to take the case and run around getting Adam, Dr. Shepherd, and Dr. Burke, but it was Adam and the others who’d actually made the difference. 

He’d chickened out when it mattered.  

Just then, a chart caught his eye. 

“O’Malley, you’re in too,” Dr. Shepherd said, handing it over and clapping him on the shoulder.  

“Yes!”  

George lit up. 

What’s better than a pat on the back from a senior doc?  

Adam grinned from the sidelines. 

He got it. 

It was like back in his old life, writing web novels and obsessing over his editor’s every move— caring more about her than a girlfriend. 

He wouldn’t dare bug her unless something was up, and even then, he’d tiptoe around it.  

Is she online? 

Maybe I’ll wait till 9 to message her. 

Nah, 10’s safer. Don’t wanna bother her. 

How do I word this? 

Why hasn’t she replied? 

Should I follow up? 

Still no reply… 

Oh! She’s back! She’s back! She’s back! 

She’s kinda cold, but man, she’s a great editor!  

Yeah… that level of humble.  

MRI Room  

“See that tumor on her brainstem?” Dr. Shepherd said with a smile.  

“Looks rough,” George said, staring at the scan.  

“But her brain’s still alive—and treatable,” Adam added.  

“Exactly! Remove the tumor, and she’s got a solid shot at recovery,” Dr. Shepherd said, nodding. He turned to the organ retrieval team hovering nearby. “You guys can head out. I’m the only one operating on her today.”  

The middle-aged doctor’s team grabbed their coolers and shuffled off, defeated.  

“Dr. Duncan, you don’t seem too happy?” Dr. Shepherd said, noticing Adam’s serious expression.  

“No, I’m happy for her,” Adam said, shaking his head. “Just thinking about something.”  

“What’s that?” George blurted out.  

“When she wakes up, will she tear up that organ donor agreement on the spot?” Adam sighed.  

Dr. Shepherd and George froze, their smiles fading.  

People who sign up to donate organs are, in theory, good folks. 

Their organs can save thousands suffering from pain or facing death— a pretty selfless, noble act. 

But once you sign that “donate after death” form, the risk of dying somehow spikes for reasons no one talks about. 

And if crap like this keeps happening, who’s gonna keep signing up?  

OB-GYN Department  

Rachel finished her checkup.  

“What’d the doctor say?” Adam asked.  

“Everything’s good,” Rachel said with a smile. “Hey, what’s this?”  

“A gift for you,” Adam said, handing her a wrapped box.  

“‘The right medicine for a speedy recovery’?” Rachel read the note he’d written, grinning. “Aw, thanks, Adam!”  

“No problem,” Adam said, straight-faced. “Hope you like it.”  

“I’m sure I will,” Rachel said, fiddling with the box. “What is it?”  

“Open it at home. More fun that way,” Adam said, stopping her.  

“Give me a hint at least!” Rachel shook the box. “What color?”  

“…” Adam’s lip twitched. “Uh… black?” he guessed.  

He hadn’t bought it himself, so he had no clue. 

But as a psych grad who’d read his share of psych books, he figured Tool #3 picked something based on “your preferences”—and he made an educated guess.  

After all… 

Escape from Get Out Town, anyone?