𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐗 ━━ 𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐝

eighty four | inept

"Three children. I have not one, not two, but three children."

Scar waits patiently at the foot of the step, his tail sweeping a semi-circle behind him, as Derek leads me down the staircase.

"At least one's a part of me."

"Not for long."

My swollen ankles take me towards the kitchen island where I prop myself onto a barstool, hands cupped into a ball. Scar trots alongside Derek, his paws bouncing off the wooden floor in an attempt to snatch the treat out of his hand.

"Easy, boy." He chuckles under his breath. "You're about as patient as your mother, aren't you?"

I wave a scolding finger. "Hey. You're corrupting my firstborn."

"I think you already did that when you let him sleep on the bed with us."

"Did you expect me to let him sleep on the floor? What is he, an animal?"

Patient as ever, Derek crosses over to my side of the kitchen, pressing a loving kiss to my lips and palming my lower abdomen.

"Baby feels lower than yesterday." He mumbles against my lips.

"Good. Maybe he'll make his appearance soon." My palms smooth over one of his shirts I'd been using as pajamas. "Not like I'll get a break, though. You'll knock me up again soon enough."

"Is that a challenge?"

"You tell me, Shepherd."

Before I know it, his lips cover any and every inch of skin they can find in the crook of my neck. I cling to his figure for support, giggling with every gasp of air.

At the hospital, Owen addresses the hospital staff of the storm arriving in three days and the precautions we'll be taking to prepare.

"I can't believe we're canceling surgeries."

"You can afford to slow down, you know."

"I'm pregnant, not inept. Besides, I'm not the one bordering fifty."

"Take that back."

"Never."

Before continuing with our petty argument, Alex drags Derek away with an emergent case, leaving me to walk idly throughout the hospital.

Until April pages me into an O.R. for her patient.

"Okay, I want to cut down the protruding bars as close as possible to minimize the damage when we pull them out."

"Bone cutter?"

"Maybe."

"I doubt it."

Before Murphy can make an attempt, a groggy voice speaks. "Half-inch rebar. You're gonna want a four-and-a-half-inch angle grinder with a cutoff wheel."

". . .you heard Leon. Get it."

"On it."

Once she returns with the tool and protective wear, the four of us get to work on carefully cutting down the bars.

"Stop, stop, stop!"

"Shut it off! Shut it off!"

Owen and Ben rush into the O.R. and yell.

"You can't grind metal."

"The room is full of oxygen."

"The grinder's gonna give off sparks."

"You'll blow up the room."

Callie heaves a sigh in realization, whilst I grumble to myself over taking home ec instead of woodshop in the eighth grade.

"Oh, God. Okay."

"Good call."

"If I had a nickel for everytime I was in an O.R. that could explode. . .I'd have two nickels."

After coming up with a viable plan to proceed with the surgery, the entirety of the surgical team votes me out of the room — because I brought a baby with me.

"Hey, what's going on?" Derek approaches me outside of his O.R.. "Why am I being kicked out of my O.R.?"

"At least you weren't the first to be voted off the island in your O.R.." My arms cross over my chest.

". . .what?"

"There's a chance the O.R. I was just in could blow up, so Owen ordered me out. Apparently, being pregnant does, in fact, mean I'm inept."

"Leven."

"Alright, fine. It's incredibly dangerous in there, and last time I was in an exploding O.R., I almost died, and. . .that's all I've got."

"I'm glad you're so willing to put our baby's safety over your lust for surgery."

"Well, when you put it like that. . ."

I press a soft kiss to his lips in order to ease his stress — a tell-tale sign of that being his rigid body language and rough nasal exhales.

"Would you check in with Karev? He brought in a friend with a brain bleed. Guy was beaten half to death. Jason Meyers from O.B.?"

"Der, since when does Alex have friends aside from me and Cristina?"

"You don't think —"

"I'm on it."

- - - - - - - - - -

"When I said fight the guy, I didn't mean fight the guy."

"This kind of behavior passes for an intern. But a pediatric fellow?"

"You're supposed to be less stupid now. I mean, you could go to jail, your whole career —"

"Look, I'm not going to jail." Alex sits back into the chair of the attendings' lounge. "He was like that when I found him."

"Yeah, and I got pregnant because I sat on a toilet seat."

"With that kind of a story, no cop is gonna believe you."

"Just tell us what happened."

"I didn't do anything."

And then another person joins the conversation.

"He didn't do it. He just found him."

Jo stands at the doorway, a hood drawn over her head and a concerning black bruise colored around her right eye.

"I did it."

"Explain. Now."

And so Jo spews out in a lengthy breath. "We were having a fight. He-He grabbed my arm. I fought him off. It just — it got ugly. He fell backwards and hit his head on the fireplace, but he was still yelling when I left. He was fine, I swear."

"Alright, you gotta go. Go."

"Uh, no. She has to explain to them what happened."

"No, nobody does anything until we see how Peckwell is." Alex states. "Look, go home. Don't let anyone see you."

And he turns to me and Cristina.

"You two don't say a word to anybody until we know exactly what's going on. Understand?"

"Did somebody say superiority complex?"

"You're lucky you're knocked up, Phoenix."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Baby Shepherd's been saving my ass since conception."

"Leave the bedroom talk for the bedroom."