Medical Center. Morning.
Rounds kicked off.
Adam and his crew—each leading their four interns—trailed behind the attending, checking on patients in their respective departments.
Dr. Burke glanced at Adam, who in turn eyed his four eager interns. He nodded at Lexie. "Dr. Grey!"
With Meredith out, Adam dropped the "little" when addressing Lexie in front of patients.
"Samantha Jones, 32, early-stage breast cancer, scheduled for a lumpectomy today…"
Lexie stepped up, rattling off Samantha's case like she'd memorized it cold.
This was Adam's patient, so Dr. Burke hung back, letting Adam quiz Lexie on surgical details.
Around here, attendings were basically just a title when Adam was in charge.
"Nice work. Looks like you prepped," Adam said with a nod. "Dr. Grey, you're on pre-op for Ms. Jones."
Samantha probably didn't care if her doc was a guy or a gal, but some things were just easier with a female doctor.
"Yes, Dr. Duncan," Lexie replied.
Adam chatted with Samantha for a bit, then strolled out of the room side-by-side with Dr. Burke. Cristina hustled to keep up, squeezing in on Burke's other side.
Of the four interns, Lexie stayed behind with Samantha. The other three, plus Cristina's 1-to-4 squad, followed Adam, Burke, and Cristina like a pack of ducklings to the next room.
Cases Adam didn't take himself? Mostly handed off to Cristina.
When Burke started asking questions, Cristina jumped in—until she caught Adam and Burke's looks and clammed up.
"Number 3, you take it!" Cristina grumbled, pointing randomly.
"Dr. Gant, go ahead," Burke said, glancing at Cristina and reading the name tag on Number 3's chest.
"Yes, Dr. Burke!"
Number 3—Dr. Gant—lit up like a kid on Christmas. First time getting noticed by the big boss's boss! He launched into the patient's rundown, beaming.
Adam shot Cristina a look that said, "See? They're not as dumb as you think!"
Cristina just rolled her eyes.
Adam chuckled but didn't push it.
This was only their second rotation—newbies still tiptoeing into the "world." Good or bad, their performance made sense either way.
Bad? Easy—they're rookies who didn't check the charts or prep for the higher-ups' grilling.
Good? Also normal—they're not jaded yet, still nervous and busting their butts to impress.
The real test was whether that hustle would stick once they got comfy with the hospital grind!
Rounds Done.
Adam took Lexie and George into the OR for Samantha's lumpectomy.
"O'Malley, looks like Dr. Torres is in a good mood today," Adam said, glancing at George as the surgery went smoothly and chit-chat mode kicked in.
"Heh."
George's mouth twitched under his mask. Clearly not thrilled to go there.
"Guess you really put in work last night," Adam teased. "Spill it—any issues?"
"Dr. Duncan, it's surgery time. I'm not talking personal stuff," George said, his eyes flashing with tragic defiance. "That's private!"
"What personal stuff?" Adam blinked, playing dumb. "Didn't you and Dr. Torres watch those study tapes together last night? No medical questions come up?"
"…"
George was mortified. "That's not what you meant at all!"
"It's exactly what I meant," Adam said with a sly grin. "What else besides studying medicine and leveling up together could put Dr. Torres in such a good mood?"
"Heh."
Lexie, assisting, couldn't hold back a laugh.
"Don't fight it so hard," Adam said, eyeing George's awkward meltdown. "Try rolling with it—your whole mindset might shift. Beats everything else. You know Maslow's hierarchy of needs, right?"
He glanced at Lexie. "Grey, you know it?"
"Maslow said human needs stack up in five layers, like a pyramid," Lexie jumped in. "Bottom's physiological needs, then safety, social, esteem, and self-actualization at the top—the need to realize your full potential."
"An old Eastern philosopher once said: Aim high, land in the middle; aim for the middle, land low; aim low, you get nothing," Adam added with a smile. "We bust our butts in medicine chasing that top tier—self-actualization. Shoot for the highest goal.
Even if you don't fully make it, aim high and you'll at least hit the middle.
In today's world, that 'middle' covers the lower stuff too. Esteem, social, safety, physiological—chase self-actualization, and as long as you want it, those basics fall into place.
What's better than that?"
In this crazy-productive modern age, if you've got a solid skill you love and pour your heart into mastering it, money's not gonna be an issue.
And with money? Esteem, friends, security, food—boom, you've got it all.
The future's unpredictable.
But compared to the past?
This is hands-down the best era.
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"Nope, nothing beats it," Lexie said, eyes sparkling with admiration.
Adam grinned and got back to the surgery.
This pep talk only worked in chill, everyday worlds. In something like Sword and Fairy, where love could literally save the planet, the lowest "physiological need" flipped into the ultimate quest.
Surgery wrapped up smooth as butter.
As Adam left the OR, he spotted a crowd outside a VIP room and wandered over.
It was Dr. Burke, Dr. Shepherd, Dr. Montgomery, Dr. Sloan—the medical center's heavy hitters.
"What's going on?" Adam asked with a laugh.
"None of your business," Mark Sloan snapped. "This is attending territory. You're just a resident—go do your thing."
"The chairman's in there," Dr. Montgomery said, shooting Mark a look before filling Adam in. "He's here sucking up, hoping the chairman'll name him surgical chief."
"Heh."
Adam smirked, doubling down. "That's an option? I thought the next chief was between Dr. Burke, Dr. Shepherd, and you, Dr. Montgomery."
"Same here," Montgomery and Shepherd said in unison.
Burke just smiled, clearly on the same page.
"Plastic surgeons change lives too!" Mark barked, feeling the sting of the medical pecking order. His face darkened.
"Who doesn't?"
Adam gave Mark the same look a physics dean might give Howard—then flicked his eyes away, curious. "What's wrong with the chairman, Dr. Montgomery?"
"No clue yet, but I think I can help."
"I can help too."
"No, I can help."
"Me too…"
The attendings all chimed in, offering their services—Mark included.
But when Mark opened his mouth, Adam locked eyes on him, and everyone else followed suit.
"What?!" Mark snapped, losing it. "What's that look for?!"
"If I'm not mistaken, the chairman's Jewish, right? And 58?" Adam said, deadpan. "He probably doesn't need your help, Dr. Sloan."
"Nope, he's good," the group said, smirking. Montgomery twisted the knife. "What needs doing, the Jewish circumcision elders handled on day eight after he was born.
Wait—Mark, maybe you should convert! Become a full-time circumcision elder. You're the pro—bet you'd be a hit!"
"…"
Mark nearly exploded.
This was straight-up medical hierarchy shade, and everyone here had the rank to laugh at him.
Forget Burke and the others on his level—even Adam, a resident, could only jab at his attending title with zero real damage.
But this casual clapback from Adam?
You're killing me here!!!
(End of Chapter)