Medical Center, Late Night
"Where's Mr. Tucker?"
Adam, bummed that the "lucky guy" didn't beat the odds, checked on Monica and little Adam before heading to the pediatric ICU to see little George.
"He went home," Dr. Bailey said flatly, leaning over the crib, watching her precious son. She barely glanced at Adam.
"Oh… uh…" Adam picked up on the vibe real quick. Something was off.
"He's packing up. Moving to a hotel tonight," Bailey confirmed his hunch.
"No chance to fix things?" Adam sighed.
He hadn't expected Elizabeth's death to unravel her carefully built truce so fast.
"We're past that point. What's left to fix?" Bailey said, her voice hollow. "Is this all my fault? He's the one who suggested staying home with George. Said my job was better—could give our family more. I've been busting my ass. Is it just for me? We agreed on this! But now, a few months in, he's whining I don't care about family. Doesn't he get I want to? I'm trying so hard! Does he not see how a Black woman has to work double—no, triple—as hard to make it in this world?!"
Her voice cracked as she turned away, choking back sobs.
"Man…" Adam let out a heavy sigh. Every family's got its own mess, and he wasn't about to play judge.
"I've made up my mind," Bailey said, wiping her tears. When she looked up, her face was stone-cold. "I told him—if we can't agree, I'm not forcing it. I can handle society, work, all of it. I can handle being a single mom too! If he won't share the load at home, fine. But I won't take him agreeing on the surface, then griping nonstop and blaming me for not watching George right! No way!"
"You sure about this?" Adam cautioned. "Being a single mom's no joke. Think about Meredith."
"…" Bailey froze.
Adam hit the nail on the head. Meredith was raised by a single mom, and though Bailey kinda liked her, the idea of George turning out like Meredith—with all those mental quirks—made her cringe. Too unhealthy!
"No way!" Bailey gritted her teeth after a long pause. "I won't let George end up another Meredith!"
"Then think it over," Adam said. "A full family matters for a kid's growth. If there's a chance, don't cut it off too quick."
Bailey stared at her sleeping son in the crib, saying nothing.
"Page me if you need me," Adam said before heading out.
Next Morning, Locker Room
"Adam, what're the names of those four interns under me?" Cristina asked.
"Number 1, 2, 3, and 4," Adam grinned.
"Pfft!" Meredith cracked up nearby.
"Stop laughing!" Cristina groaned. "Ugh, why does this weird crap always happen? If they can't handle the heat, why even be doctors? They're screwing themselves and us!"
"Hold onto that attitude!" Adam teased. "Make sure you say it loud when the hospital calls you in for a chat!"
"Alright, Adam, ease up," Meredith chuckled. "She's already losing it."
"She deserves it!" Adam shot back. "I've told her a million times—teaching's about how you do it. Be as tough as you want with the medical stuff, fine! But day-to-day? Give people some respect! They're your interns learning from you, not your minions! You don't get to trash-talk them! And now, after a major teaching screw-up, she's finally worried enough to ask their names?"
"I didn't trash them!" Cristina protested. "If they earn my respect with their skills, I'll treat them right. They just need to step up!"
"That's no excuse!" Adam said, his tone sharp. "Why don't you ask that young intern who just jumped in front of a train if he agrees with you?"
"Ugh…" Meredith, with her own dark tendencies, sighed softly.
Last night, a huge story rocked New York's medical world, and by morning, it was everywhere. At Princeton Teaching Hospital, a young Black intern had jumped onto subway tracks and killed himself. Word was, the pressure got to him—long-term depression, plus his attending chewing him out in front of everyone like usual. It broke him.
No surprise, this was gonna stir up a storm in teaching hospitals, forcing a hard look at the system. Attendings known for being harsh were sweating bullets. Soon, every hospital would probably roll out evaluations—interns rating their mentors. One wrong move in this mess could tank a career.
"Heard the intern was actually amazing," Meredith said. "His attending was too."
"Yeah," Adam shook his head. "Too bad they were both Black."
"Mhm," Meredith nodded.
Being Black, the attending had poured everything into proving himself, refusing to let anyone question his skills. He couldn't stand the idea of his Black intern getting a free pass—reminding him of stuff he'd rather forget. So he pushed the kid harder, gave him the dirtiest, toughest jobs—double, quadruple the load! A slip-up meant a public scolding.
The intern was a star, quietly crushing every insane task. But he was human—not some cheat-code freak like Adam. Interns already work like dogs; a Black intern getting piled on extra? Brutal. He'd fall asleep charting, hit psychological breaking points, and need therapy just to cope.
He'd earned his attending's respect—high marks on the eval forms—but the guy was too proud to show it. Kept scolding him instead, no encouragement. Everyone's got a limit. This time, after another public rant, the intern couldn't take it. Last night, he said nothing, just waited for the train—and jumped.
Smashed to pieces, he ended up at their hospital. His attending and fellow interns tried to save him. When the attending snapped about why he wasn't there ASAP, a pager went off—on the mangled patient. Everyone froze. They pulled it out, confirmed it was him, and his intern buddies lost it. No saving that mess.
When he flatlined, unrecognizable, his colleagues—knowing what he'd endured—snapped. One charged the attending, screaming, punching over and over. The attending just sat there, taking it, head in his hands. No fight left. He needed those punches as much as the interns needed to throw them. 😔
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