Medical Center.
Isolation Ward.
Two burly, uniformed men stood guard outside the room, keeping watch over the death row inmate whose hands were cuffed to the bed.
"So, what's your decision?"
The inmate looked at Meredith as she walked in. "That kid doesn't have much time left. He needs healthy organs, and I just happen to be dying—with organs that'd be a perfect match for him."
"We're working on it," Meredith said, recalling Adam's warning. The smug curve of the inmate's mouth made her skin crawl—it looked like he was toying with her, and she wasn't having it.
"You don't have a better option than me," he said with a grin. "If you did, you'd have started already. He needs me, and I like him."
They'd crossed paths in the hallway once and even chatted a bit.
"Oh, really?" Meredith shot back sarcastically. "The same way you 'liked' your coworker? Enough to slit her throat the second you got the chance?"
"Someone's been talking to you," the inmate said, eyeing her with surprise. He couldn't believe this naïve doctor—who he'd nearly manipulated—had broken free on her own. No way she was that smart.
"No one had to tell me anything," Meredith snapped, refusing to admit how close she'd come to falling for it. "It's obvious if you just think about what you've done. Yesterday, you were refusing surgery, saying you weren't afraid to die—but you didn't want to be strapped to a table like some animal. Now today, you're ready to donate your organs to save a kid who'd be just another victim under your knife? Willing to become the 'animal' you despised yesterday? Listen to yourself—you're all over the place! You don't even make sense! Did I really need someone to spell out that you're playing games?"
"Heh," the inmate chuckled. "Guess not, huh?"
"…" Meredith ignored him, focusing on checking his vitals.
Taking advantage of her bleeding heart like that? It was too much.
"Alright, fine, I'll come clean," he said, noticing she was done with him. "I was a little inconsistent before, but there's a reason for it. I just wanted to cheer you up a bit. You know, so when you dream about me tonight, you won't jolt awake in a panic—you'll sleep soundly. That's my real goal. Truth is, I don't give a damn about that kid's life."
"Ha!" Meredith laughed coldly. "You really think highly of me! So the one you actually want to slit open is me!"
"Nah," he said, smiling at her. "I want to cut open your heart, crawl inside, and stay there forever."
"…" Meredith's hazy eyes met his, which seemed oddly sincere. Her resolve wavered.
What if he meant it? She'd seen people turn their lives around under her influence before. And little Jackson really did need those organs soon…
Just then, Dr. Shepherd walked in.
Meredith flinched, guilt creeping in as she asked, "What are you doing here?"
"Just checking in," Shepherd said, giving her a deep, searching look. "We're doctors. We have to keep him alive… so he can face justice."
Meredith avoided his gaze.
"I'll take the night shift," Shepherd added. "Dr. Grey, Dr. Yang's looking for you. I've got this."
Yup, that's right! Christina knew her best friend all too well. To play it safe, she'd gone to Shepherd, spilling Adam's analysis. It freaked him out enough to rush over.
Back when the inmate had refused surgery, perfectly content to die, Shepherd had asked Meredith to co-sign the paperwork to get him into the OR. She'd hesitated, almost ready to grant the guy's wish instead. Christina had snatched the pen and signed it herself, ensuring he got wheeled in just in time.
Shepherd's backstory was a bit like Batman's—except it was just his dad who'd been gunned down. That's why he despised criminals like this guy and wouldn't let him off easy with a quick death.
"Uh…" Meredith wavered. "Any word from the transplant center?"
"They're on standby," Shepherd said, his face blank. "Everything's by the book. If we don't find a match in time, it's in God's hands—we can't do more than that."
Seeing her boyfriend's stance, Meredith could only nod uncertainly and leave.
"Shame," the inmate said, watching her go before turning to Shepherd with a grin. "She was this close to biting."
"With us around, your little scheme's dead in the water," Shepherd said, barely containing his anger. "You'll die in despair and pain."
"I was just messing with her," the inmate said with a soft smile. "She's too easy to fool. Toying with her's no challenge—just a casual game. I wanted to see her open up to me, then rip her apart and watch her face when she loses her job. That'd be fun."
He smirked at Shepherd, who was visibly fuming. "And you're wrong. Unless you kill me on that table, I'm not dying."
"Your execution's in two days!" Shepherd snapped, staring him down.
"Two days is an eternity—anything could happen," the inmate said, his smile dripping with meaning. "Maybe two days from now, I'll be stroking Dr. Grey's long, pale neck right in front of you… How about it? While you've still got me on the table, one slip of the hand, and I 'accidentally' don't make it? It's your only shot at making sure I'm gone. Otherwise, I promise you, your nightmare's coming true."
"What—so I'd prove we're two sides of the same coin, that I'm just like you?" Shepherd sneered. "Dream on. I'd never do it."
"Too bad," the inmate said, shaking his head with a laugh. "For the sake of your precious principles, you'd let your woman die in agony right in front of you. That's cold-blooded. Oh, wait—you don't believe me. You don't think I can pull it off. Fine, I'll give you the rundown. You really think anyone would dare mess with a death row guy like me? Especially a week before my execution? Heh. Here's the truth: I made that inmate sharpen a toothbrush into a shiv and stab me in the back. Guess why?"
"You're planning a jailbreak!" Shepherd's eyes widened, darting to the handcuffs.
"Relax, not yet," the inmate said with a soothing grin. "But now that we're here, you still think I'm a dead man? Still want to save me? Or are you tempted to 'slip' in the OR and end it once and for all?"
"You're a damn devil!" Shepherd couldn't tell what was real anymore.
Deep down, part of him was starting to lean toward making that "mistake" in surgery…
"Not my doing—just good blood," the inmate murmured with a smirk. "And this is what you call a devil? You haven't seen a real one. I'm just a spawn of the true devil. Kill one of me, and there's still 532 more…"
(End of Chapter)