And Then There Was You...

Chapter 15: And We Still Fight...

3rd Person POV:

The day before Thanksgiving was a chaotic one at Chicago Med. The ED was bustling with patients, doctors, and nurses moving with a sense of urgency that seemed to amplify with each passing hour. It had been a month since Lucas had entered rehab, and Grace was finally beginning to feel like her life was back on track. Lucas had been clean for a full month, and though the road to recovery was long, she had hope.

Grace and Connor had just finished a grueling surgery, both of them exhausted but satisfied with the outcome. As they stepped into the hallway, they were met by Dr. Laithum, the head of cardiothoracic and trauma surgery. A brilliant surgeon with Asperger's syndrome, Dr. Laithum was known for his meticulous approach and his often blunt observations.

"Quite a busy day," Dr. Laithum commented, his voice lacking the usual inflection but his words carrying the weight of experience. "It's rare for it to be this quiet in the ED."

Grace chuckled, wiping the sweat from her brow. "You know, Dr. Laithum, it's considered bad luck to say the word 'quiet' in the ED."

Dr. Laithum raised an eyebrow, his expression one of mild confusion. "Superstitions are not scientifically supported, Dr. Chen."

Connor smirked, about to respond when the doors to the ED burst open, and two men were rushed in on stretchers. The air in the room changed instantly, the calm before the storm shattered by the frantic energy that accompanied emergency cases.

"Here we go," Grace muttered under her breath, exchanging a glance with Connor. They both rushed forward, ready to assist.

The first man was an American, tall and broad-shouldered, his face twisted in pain but also anger. The second man was Iraqi, his expression calm despite the deep gash on his forehead. Both men were covered in bruises and cuts, clearly having been in a serious altercation.

As the paramedics wheeled them in, two other men rushed in behind them, yelling and pointing fingers. It took only a moment for Grace to realize that these men were their brothers and, by the look of things, also their coaches.

"What happened?" Connor asked as he grabbed the chart from one of the paramedics.

"They're wrestlers," the paramedic replied quickly. "WWE fighters. They got into it during a match, and things went south. Both sustained injuries, but the American guy is really worked up. He's been cursing and throwing a fit since we picked him up."

Connor nodded, already scanning the chart. "Alright, Ethan, you're with me. We'll take Fred—"

"I'll work with Will on Hussain," Grace cut in, her eyes already on the Iraqi man who lay on the stretcher, his breathing steady despite the obvious pain he was in.

As they moved to their respective patients, the tension in the room was palpable. Fred, the American, was raging, his voice loud and aggressive as he cursed Hussain, who was being rolled into the bay next to his.

"That bastard deserved it!" Fred spat, his eyes wild with fury. "He's a damn coward!"

Fred's brother, who was equally heated, was shouting encouragement, further fueling Fred's rage. "You should've knocked his ass out, Fred! You did good!"

Connor exchanged a look with Ethan, both of them clearly unamused by the display. "Fred, you need to calm down and let us do our job," Connor said firmly, his voice cutting through the noise.

"Yeah, save your energy for healing," Ethan added, his tone just as stern. "Right now, your priority is getting better."

Fred glared at them, clearly displeased but too exhausted to argue. "Whatever," he muttered, still seething but finally falling silent.