The helipad was a vortex of freezing Seattle rain and the deafening thrum of a LifeFlight rotor. Christopher stood at the edge of the concrete, his lab coat whipping around his legs like a tattered flag.
When the gurney hit the pavement, Christopher didn't see a patient. He saw the man who had brought him Thai food, the man who had looked past the prodigy to find the twenty-one-year-old underneath. Jack was blue, his skin ashen and slick with Elliott Bay saltwater.
"He's hypothermic, core temp is 88 degrees! Pulse is thready!" the paramedic shouted.
Christopher grabbed the side of the gurney, his knuckles white. "Get him to OR 1. I need a bypass machine and warmed saline now!"
"Wright, stop!"
Richard Webber and Miranda Bailey stepped into his path as the gurney was pushed through the automatic doors.
"Move, Richard," Christopher said, his voice a low, trembling vibration. "He's bleeding internally from the crush injury. I'm the only one who can navigate that anatomy fast enough."
"You are emotionally compromised," Bailey said, her voice unusually soft but unyielding. "You're shaking, Christopher. You can't even hold a chart, let alone a scalpel."
"I am not shaking!" Christopher roared, holding his hands out. They were vibrating like high-tension wires.
"Christopher, look at yourself," Richard commanded, stepping closer. "You've spent two lifetimes being the smartest person in the room. Don't let your ego kill the man you love. Burke is already in the OR. He's the best cardio surgeon we have. Let him do his job."
Christopher felt the mask of the prodigy shatter. He sank onto a waiting room bench, his face buried in his bloody hands. For all his plots and future-knowledge, he was powerless against a submerged car and a tide.
"What if he doesn't wake up?" Christopher whispered into the silence of the hallway. "In the show... people like him are just plot devices. They die to make the leads stronger."
"This isn't a show, Wright," Bailey said, sitting beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "This is Seattle Grace. We save people. Even the ones who date smart-mouthed residents."
Hours bled into eternity. Christopher sat in the viewing gallery, watching Burke perform a miraculous repair on Jack's aorta. He watched the monitor like a condemned man watching a clock.
Finally, Burke stepped back. "He's stable, Christopher. Core temp is back to 98. He's going to make it."
Christopher didn't wait. He sprinted to the recovery room.
Jack looked frail under the hospital blankets, but his color was returning. His eyes flickered open, landing on Christopher's haggard face.
"I told you... to take the I-5," Christopher croaked, a jagged, broken laugh escaping him.
"The I-5 was backed up," Jack whispered, his voice raspy but triumphant. "And I'm a lawyer, Christopher. I never listen to expert advice on the first summons."
Christopher leaned down, pressing his forehead against Jack's, the sarcasm finally returning like a warm tide. "You're a liability, Jack Brady. A massive, expensive liability."
"But I'm your liability," Jack smiled.