𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐗 ━━ 𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐝

twelve | dying

"Sydney Heron, fourth year. My philosophy is, just so you know, heal with love."

The bubbly fourth year medical student, who doesn't seem as sleep-deprived or exhausted as a third year, stands in front of us with a bright smile.

But the second she lets us know we can pick what part of the hospital to work in, the five of us — since George is still cowering behind the picket lines — run off.

Meredith and I head towards the O.R. board to scout potential surgeries to scrub in on. But the sight of him is enough to make me leave.

"I've got to talk to the chief." She mutters into my ear. "You can share a few words just like you would with any doctor."

I nod my head once, signaling to her I can do this. She walks to Chief Webber while I take baby steps to the sole man responsible for ruining my life.

"Leven. What a pleasant surprise." Lennox greets me with a gentle grin.

"Hello, Lennox." The smile I give him fails to meet the eyes. "Any. . .interesting cases today?"

He clasps his hands together. "I have a pregnant teen with a spinal tumor. A bit tricky, but I can save them both."

"Good. That's good."

The awkwardness settles into the cracks of our unmendable relationship as I rock back and forth on my heels.

"Has Dr. Shepherd given you the —"

"Yes, he has."

"And?"

"And I came out positive. Few more tests later, it was confirmed." My shoulders shrug nonchalantly. "I still have high levels of hypertrophic cardiomyopathy and chronic obstructive pulmonary disease."

His tongue clicks against his teeth. "God, Leven, I'm —"

"It's fine. There's nothing you or anyone can do about it." I run a hand through my hair. "I just need to start receiving treatment. . .for the rest of my life."

Not wanting to continue the conversation, I leave him by the surgical board. I bump into Dr. Shepherd on my way upstairs.

"Leven. Hi."

"Dr. Shepherd."

His hand grips my forearm comfortably before he leads me to a more private area. I glance behind him, making sure no one can see either of us.

The neurosurgeon slips his hand into his coat pocket and passes me a card.

"What's this?"

"A doctor. For your treatment."

An unnerving chuckle leaves my lips. "Dr. Shepherd, I think I can find a doctor myself."

"Dr. Henry Barrinski, a reputable cardiologist in the area, has been treating your father ever since he arrived." He closes my fingers over the card.

"I really don't think I should —"

"He can help you, Leven."

Only then do I realize both of his hands are on me. His left continues to grip my forearm while his right holds my closed fist.

"I'll take you there myself. Tomorrow morning."

"Damn it, Shepherd, you have a wife."

Reluctantly, I remove myself from his grasp and walk away. But the card is still in my hand as the inner dilemma begins.

Late into the night after the end of our shift, the five of us gather in Joe's bar to drink and complain about our shifts.

"She called me unkind. Unkind and lacking in compassion. In front of my boyfriend!" Cristina downs another shot. "I am not unkind."