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Chapter Text

Yang Jaewon knows exactly when his professor surrenders to unconsciousness, right when they turn that corner before the ER. Panic grips him like a tourniquet to a severed main artery, his mind spiraling to the worst place possible in an instant. 

What if this is the last time I see him? What if I make the wrong decision and mess this up? 

He tries not to think about each time his brain told him to go by the book and he helplessly watched, frozen, costing them precious seconds until Dr. Baek snapped him out of it and performed what was best according to the patient’s current condition.

What if we lose him because of me? 

Jaewon’s feet pound against the floor in time with his breath, white-knuckled fingers crushing rubber gurney handles.

He studies the face of the man who practically raised the doctor in him; who single-handedly ignited his sense of duty and purpose and kept it burning through every late night shift, every emergency patient, every blatant seed of corruption; who committed to calling him anything but his given name but always made sure he ate a proper dinner and got as much rest between shifts as possible; who was inexplicably terrible at having soft, vulnerable conversations yet made the effort to be there for him, at the very least physically, whenever they lost someone or he was drowning in doubt; who believed in him when he couldn’t even believe in himself; who saw him running down the hall again and again and again and thought yes, it’s got to be him; who leapt back into the fray barely minutes after they returned to Korea and nearly got himself blown to bits trying to save one more patient; who shouldn’t be lying here with a scorched organ and not moving at all—

It’s your call and yours alone.

Dr. Han and Nurse Cheon’s frantic voices ground Jaewon as the weight of his decision and what he has to do slams into him and he whips them all towards the operating room, slapping his ID against the scanner.

“Dr. Baek,” he chokes out under his breath, allowing himself one last moment before he scrubs in. 

The golden hour…

He swears all the way down to his bones. It almost feels like an oath.

I’m going to seize it.

Chapter Text

Hyungwook rolls his eyes as Jaewon rambles on beside him, holding up a few doctors and nurses waiting in line at the vending machine.

“It just— It feels so weird being called Dr. Yang now? It almost makes me want to beg him to go back to calling me Number One. Heck, I’ll even take Anus! I tried talking to Nurse Jangmi about it but she just told me to be grateful and stomped away muttering something about graduating from your nickname early. Is it bad that I want to be Anus again? Hyungwook, am I actually going crazy?”

“You’re crazy for taking seven minutes to choose a drink, that’s what—“

Nurse Bang chuckles from about… three people behind them, glancing around in secondhand embarrassment. “Jaewon-ah, do you want the entire hospital to call you that? Forever?”

“D-de?!”

Jaewon’s ringtone comes to his rescue as some of the staff start to giggle and he excuses himself, leaving Hyungwook and the what must be limitless pack of gummy bears he brings to work every single day to deal with the aftermath.

“Dr. Yang from the Trauma Center speaking.”

Gyeongwon’s voice is low, or well, lower than usual, when he picks up. “Jaewon, come to the on-call room right now.”

“If you guys ordered another butt-shaped cake and left it on my bed again, you can go study the journal articles Dr. Baek assigned us this week all by yourself. You know how hard it was for me to get rid of all the ants?”

“It’s about Dr. Baek, actually,” Park barely manages to finish before Jaewon is sprinting. He groans and exits the room as quietly as possible, shaking his head at telltale footsteps growing closer and closer until Jaewon comes to a crocs-screeching halt.

“Gyusunim— hey!”

Gyeongwon slaps a hand over his mouth and shushes him with the other. “Be quiet. He’s sleeping.”

Jaewon’s eyes widen to an almost comical degree and Park releases him. After he squirms and bleakly raises his palms in surrender.

“Dr. Baek is sleeping?” he whispers, dumbfounded. He scrunches his nose at a distinct and somewhat familiar scent on Park’s fingers, staring at the door in disbelief.

There are three truths in the Trauma Center of Hankuk National University Hospital. First, prioritize and assess the patient’s condition over textbook information. Second, trauma can happen to anyone, anywhere, and anytime hence they must remain as prepared to respond as plausible when a situation arises. And lastly, no one in the entire hospital has ever witnessed Baek Kanghyuk sleep. 

Except after his surgery. Gods, maybe that’s why it felt so wrong back then.

“Do you… do you think he’s okay?” Jaewon takes a step closer. “Should we go in and check on him?”

“There’s no need.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because,” Gyeongwon explains; direct, enigmatic, and Jaewon would argue just shy of psychotic. “I drugged him.”

The surgery was done. 

You did well, Yang Jaewon, Dr. Han told him, squeezing his shoulder gently. 

Gyeongwon nodded. You made the right decision.

Go get some rest, uri lead surgeon, Jangmi teased politely, looking exhausted yet so, so relieved. They all did. 

We’ll take it from here.

Jaewon heeded her advice and miraculously survived climbing into the upper bunk out of pure habit after treading the corridors like a full-fledged zombie. At this point, maybe he was one. He gives in the moment his head hits the pillow, utterly spent.

Since then, Dr. Yang couldn’t get a wink of sleep. Dr. Baek, in the meantime and in his sedated state, decided to haunt his living thoughts anyway. He could almost hear his voice from the bunk under him in the on-call room.

Oi, idiot, he’d prod mercilessly, do you expect to be able to save patients in that condition? Go to fucking sleep.

Dr. Han peered at him curiously from the doorframe for an unknown number of minutes Jaewon desperately asked him to omit from any hospital gossip for the sake of his already questionable dignity, bringing in a (mostly) fresh cup of tea.

He dragged himself out the covers and motioned for Dr. Han to take a seat before personally settling down. “You really didn’t have to, Dr. Han. Thank you.”

“Aigoo, stop that now.” Yurim batted his hand in the air, pushing the warm drink towards him with a frown. “You really need to get some rest, Jaewon-ah. When was the last time you got a decent amount of sleep?”

He didn’t even realize he spaced out until he met his former attending’s concerned gaze, mumbling a quick apology. 

“…It’s been a while, huh?” Yurim looked at him sadly. “Hold on, let me get something.”

Jaewon followed him with his eyes as he stood up and temporarily left the room, coming back with a full pot of brewed tea. 

“Nurse Cheon and I will do our best to handle any patients for the rest of the day. Go rest, Jaewon.”

“But Dr. Han—“

Yurim pretended not to hear his former protege and closed the door, already heading down to the Trauma Unit for the next couple of shifts.

The guilt hit Jaewon like the walls of their prestiged ambulance in Dr. Baek’s drifting hands. He had nothing to show him except the TA patients they saved and his own horrendous dark circles. He stared at the empty lower bunk and semi-gratefully, semi-numbly, downed another cup. 

Jaewon found himself tiptoeing into the ICU two big gulps later, throwing his tired body into the plastic chair beside Dr. Baek’s bed. The sound of the vital signs monitor and his slow yet steady breaths tugged him to sleep like an unexpected lullaby, his torso sagging over folded arms at the empty spot next to his mentor’s legs. 

Jangmi completed her rounds around an hour later and promptly advised everyone to leave Dr. Baek’s room alone unless absolutely necessary. She smiled a little at the sight of them and carefully secured the sliding door, walking to the on-call room to fetch a blanket.

“You what?!” Jaewon sputters and Park silences him again, this time with a stare.

“I noticed he was wincing during one of our earlier surgeries and he’s done four back to back already in the past six hours. I figured he’s been overworking himself and aggravating his injury so I went to Dr. Han for advice.”

Gyeongwon reaches into his pant pocket and pulls out a bottle of red-brown paste, tossing it to him. Jaewon fumbles and nearly drops it, finally recognizing the smell. “Fortunately, he already had a specific kind of tea that aids in sleep.”

“You dosed Dr. Baek… with jujube tea?”

“Yup.” Park says, popping the p, and starts to walk away when Jaewon yanks him backward by the collar of his shirt. “Yah, what—“

“What the heck were you thinking?!” He snaps, the same flash of conviction that consumed him in the OR that day briefly resurging. “What if he bumped into something because he was uncoordinated and drowsy? What if he fell asleep somewhere and strained his stitches? Is ingesting that even safe given his present liver function?”

Gyeongwon almost retaliates with a harsher retort before letting out a calm sigh, understanding his worries better than anyone else other than Nurse Jangmi.

“First of all, Dr. Yang former Number One Anus—“

“They are separate nicknames and you know that—“

“Must I remind you that I am an anesthesiologist? And second, yes, of course I checked. Now can you stop fretting and get ready for surgery? Nurse Jangmi needs us in five, max.”

“O-okay,” Jaewon stammers, reluctantly following behind him after glancing at the door a couple more times. He not-so-subtly peeks at Gyeongwon’s on-screen messages before they break into a run.

“Don’t tell me—“

“Yes!” Park answers as they go faster. “Your codename is still Anus.”

He huffs in ironic satisfaction, laughing. “Of course it is.”

Jaewon enters the on-call room with a long, big stretch, suppressing a yawn as soon as he notices Dr. Baek still asleep on the bottom bunk. The tension in his shoulders releases and he crawls into his own bed, at ease at last.

A quiet moan rouses him less than thirty minutes later and he blinks himself awake. His head reacquaints itself with the ceiling as a strong kick jolts the surface below him.

“Yah, Yang Jaewon,” Baek Kanghyuk groggily calls out. “What time is it?”

Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm.

“D-Dr. Baek! Hi! Uh, it’s—“ he squints at the digital clock— “eight… thirty?”

“What?!” 

Jaewon scrambles as close to the wall as possible when his mentor stands up and they make eye contact. The passing seconds seem to stretch on forever along with the unprecedented silence.

“You dosed me,” Dr. Baek realizes, somehow both angry and impressed.

A drop of cold sweat makes its way down Jaewon’s temple. “Actually, Dr. Park did.”

Kanghyuk raises his eyebrows and tilts his head, considering the empty cup of tea on the table. “Huh.”

“Number One!” he barks, eventually.

“Yes sir! I mean, Dr. Baek!”

To his surprise and relief, Dr. Baek is grinning.

“Next time, tell that Park kid to up the dose.”

Jaewon gapes at him in confusion.

“I love jujube tea.”

Chapter Text

It’s a relatively slow day at the Trauma Center of Hankuk National University Hospital. Do not, however, under any circumstances say that to any member of the team. Or utter it in the middle of the emergency room. It is an unspoken curse, a forbidden word, the greatest taboo—

“Sure looks like a slow day today!” Dr. Han Yurim gleams as he waltzes into the ER, unaware of what he has just done. Everyone stares at him as he happily skips his way to their maverick attending surgeon and his talented and tormented star pupil. “Jaewon-ah, Kanghyuk-ssi, how about we get some lunch together?”

Dr. Baek makes a funny face that essentially means “uh-oh” at Jangmi by the nurses’ station and leans back, ready to watch the show when Dr. Yang leaps out of his seat, shaking his former mentor by the shoulders. 

“Don’t— aiii.. mmhMMMMM…!” Jaewon reels himself in with as much difficulty as snatching a fish desperately swimming in turbulent waters. Jangmi giggles in the background and Dongju looks on, amused. “Please, Dr. Han, we literally just got back on track after that thankfully small gas leak fire yesterday.”

Kanghyuk loudly boos as Yurim extracts himself from Dr. Yang’s grip and straightens out his coat with furrowed eyebrows, pouting. “What’s wrong? I just thought it would be nice since you two are rarely free around lunch hour…”

The trauma surgeon scoots a little to the left just as Jaewon plops down beside him like a deflated balloon, defeated. “It’s over, gyusunim. We’re never having lunch on time this week ever again. We might as well start self-administering parenteral nutrition.”

“Pardon me, but is he always, er, like this?” Dongju politely asks with a hint of laughter in his tone, accustomed to scarcer, more serious conditions around the battlefield. 

“Not to this degree but he does have a point. He can’t go around saving patients if he can’t even save himself from hypoglycemic delirium.”

“Come on,” Dr. Baek drawls and taps Jaewon’s hunched back. “Your beloved Anus Senior here already said it anyway. We might as well try getting some food in you before anything happens.”

“Yeah, my treat!” Dr. Han agrees.

Jaewon raises his head, grateful. He wonders what he must have done to deserve not one but two such kind and caring people—

The entire emergency room stills for the briefest of moments as the landline rings and Jaewon reflects on the meaning of life. Jangmi picks up the phone, nodding quickly before putting it down.

“Multiple vehicle collision caused by a sudden landslide. We’re expecting at least seven patients, one with suspected lung injury arriving in less than fifteen minutes and the rest to follow,” she summarizes.

Dr. Baek claps his hands together and stands. “Alright. Gangster, prep the OR and call Dr. Park. Dongju, get ready to leave; you’re coming with me to the site. There might be more people in critical condition we need to get to first.”

“Yes, sir.” Dr. Seo leaves for the supply room without further instruction.

“And someone,” Kanghyuk yells, “get this kid a sandwich. Go!”

Yurim nods at him and Jaewon. “I’ll set it aside for you later. You start scrubbing in, I’ll assist. Take care, Dr. Baek!”

“Neodo!”

The Trauma Center bursts into life as everyone flows into their roles and positions, nothing like its former shadow. Sure, it’s rough around the edges and it still (and always will no matter what I do, sighs Director Choi at every board meeting) has one less OR than Kanghyuk would prefer, but it’s functional and it’s theirs.

Dr. Baek and Dongju are about to head to the helipad and depart when his phone blares, echoing throughout the quiet stairwell. 

“Baek Kanghyuk.”

He puts Captain An on speaker as him and Dr. Seo slow near the railings, listening.

“There’s been a high magnitude earthquake in North Gyeongsang and several infrastructure have collapsed, trapping everyone in the vicinity. We’ve dispatched as many medics as we can, but—“

“I’ll go,” he confirms. “Sorry, but please pass by HNUH if possible. Our helicopter is already dedicated to a major collision.”

“Roger. Thank you, Dr. Baek.”

Kanghyuk ends the call. “You’ll have to go alone. Ask Emergency if they have anyone to spare. Assess the situation and be careful out there, Dongju. Stay in touch.”

Dongju passes him one of the trauma kits and helmets before forging ahead. “You too. Stay safe, Dr. Baek.”

Baek Kanghyuk tries and fails not to grimace at the under repair sign on the helipad lift, knowing that the level of traffic their department entails directly translates to wear and tear. He hefts the trauma kit onto his back and runs, speeding up as he hears the rescue helicopter approaching. 

The sight of the orange vessel brings back memories. He catches his breath, not yet at a hundred percent since the operation, and chuckles at the Yang Jaewon in his mind screaming for his life.

Should I take him along? He shakes his head slightly. No, Dr. Han has a colectomy for a cancer patient after lunch. Someone needs to stay and oversee the TA victims until Dongju and I return—

“DR. BAAAAAEEEEKKKKK!!!”

Kanghyuk whirls around, not sure whether to feel proud, relieved, insulted, or all of the above. 

“You…!” He stammers. “Why aren’t you at the ER?!”

“Dr. Seo told me you were planning to go to a disaster zone all on your own. I couldn’t just—“ Jaewon cuts himself off as Kanghyuk’s nostrils flare dangerously. Get to the point. “Dr. Im and the Emergency Medicine department are backing us up; the earthquake is being broadcasted on every single news channel in the country.”

Kanghyuk narrows his eyes at him, only looking away when the chopper completes its landing and his student dashes past him with no trace of the hesitation he bore mere months ago.

“What are you waiting for, gyusunim?!” Jaewon shouts. “Let’s go!”

Dr. Baek stares at him for a quarter of a second, repositioning and clutching the trauma kit close to his chest. A reversal, huh? The right corner of his lip quirks and he takes Jaewon’s hand, letting his protege carefully haul him up.

“Yah, gaesekki!” Dr. Baek growls, throwing an arm around Dr. Yang and roughly ruffling the hair on his head. “When did you stop shitting your pants at the sound of a propeller?”

Captain An stifles a laugh despite himself. “Give him a break, Dr. Baek.”

“As if I would ever,” Kanghyuk scoffs, feigning offense.

“Panicking is literally my job description, Captain An,” Jaewon laments, having reached the cruel but necessary stage of acceptance.

“How’s the situation on the ground?” 

Jungheon sobers immediately. “Not great. They’ve already identified half a dozen missing people, most of them expected to be buried under the rubble. Those with life-threatening injuries are being treated as best as possible in the makeshift medical tent prior to transportation.”

Dr. Baek nods. “And the responders?” 

“Some have been injured during the rescue and the Chief is considering whether or not to evacuate given the risk of aftershocks but there’s also been… an ongoing issue on site.”

“What kind of issue?” Jaewon leans in closer, frowning.

“One of the building owners has been trying to access a part of his office with a construction crane and the ground team is too busy getting everyone out to sufficiently deal. They’ve tried to reason with him, but he refused to cooperate and is now under supervision.”

“Selfish son of a bitch,” Kanghyuk swears. “I’ll take care of him myself once the evacuation is done.”

“Captain An, sir!” The pilot calls out from the front of the chopper. “We’ve just crossed the provincial boundary. Please prepare for landing!”

Jaewon pales as they reach Gyeongsang, gulping down the painful knot in his throat when the suspended debris clears and the full extent of the carnage makes itself known.

“Shit.”

“Shit,” Jungheon mutters.

Baek Kanghyuk focuses on a logo on one of the fallen buildings, the same universal healthcare symbol tattooed onto his arm cracked in two. 

“…shit.”

Chapter Text

The air is thick with smoke as the Hankuk National University Hospital Trauma Center helicopter arrives at the scene, the winding road and abandoned vehicles buried in rocks and sediment. Dr. Seo pulls on a mask and scans the perimeter for any unattended survivors as first responders continue evacuation, directing everyone to rescue vehicles waiting in the designated safe zone.

He tracks the landslide flow from boulders to smaller debris until he finds its area of deposition, rising from his seat with urgency as he spots an overturned car with its front doors thrown wide open. A responder on the ground waves them over with a visible sigh of relief and Dongju drifts for a moment, suddenly reminded of why he chose to apply to trauma surgery as soon as he could after the end of his enlistment.

What can I do, at the Trauma Center?

Two packs of blood, a patient to save, and the will to do what had to be done to save them. That was all Dr. Baek had, the first time they met. Many times it was all he had, those months in South Sudan; lives slipping through his fingers as supplies trickled terrifyingly down to zero. So he fought, one sleepless night at a time. Through every staved off infection, minimum transfusion, pyrrhic amputation, and impossible situation. He fought because what else were you supposed to do when the world seemed so desperate to take the lives you’re giving everything to save away from you? He witnessed the same, agonizing war in Dr. Baek’s eyes in that split-second time froze before he made his decision, wondering if this, too, would be yet another illustration of Death’s ascendancy.

And then Captain Lee Hyeonjong lived, and Seo Dongju achieved his first true taste of victory. A life that, by Baek Kanghyuk’s nearly thaumaturgic hands, Yang Jaewon’s perseverance, Cheon Jangmi’s resilience and sacrifice, and Park Gyeongwon’s prudence and loyalty, was not merely granted a cruel extension but a new lease that carried with it a hope that Dongju had barely seen before on his chosen battlefield. The hope that one could fight the impossible and make it. 

You can save lives, Dr. Baek proved to him that day, and it’s all he’s wanted to do since. To make a difference no matter how dire and lost and hopeless things deemed themselves to be. To help give someone that chance that the sun will rise with them around to personally savor its warmth again.

Today that hope, that chance… 

Lies in his hands.

“Thank you, Captain Park,” Dongju addresses HNUH’s assigned emergency pilot and carefully casts the thick cord, preparing to rappel. “Please standby. There may be patients in critical condition who will require immediate transport.”

“See you in a bit, Dr. Seo.” He sends the young yet incredibly mature doctor a reassuring smile, pushed by a mysterious feeling that he needed it. Ever since he started flying for HNUH, he had developed a soft spot for each member of the Trauma Center team alongside a sense of deep respect, witnessing their work without rest day in and day out.

“Thank you, sir,” Dongju looks up in surprise before smiling back. “See you in a bit.”

He lands with a steadiness that refuses to betray his inner turmoil and runs up to the life-changing-revelation-slash-reflection-inducing responder, quickly bowing his head and introducing himself. 

“Song Sanghyun,” he replies, returning the gesture with subtle admiration. “With me are Pyo Jisoo and Dr. Lee Chiyeon. Thank you, Dr. Seo. We couldn’t be more grateful for Hankuk’s assistance.”

“It’s no trouble at all—“

“Chief Song! We found the passengers!” Jisoo yells, their conversation screeching to a halt.

Dongju picks up the pace as they rendezvous with the rest of the team, helping them push off a small boulder crushing a young girl’s leg. A few feet away, Sanghyun directs his attention to the second passenger.

“She said they were right below the landslide when it happened and got knocked off the road. She’s been trying to wake up her older sister this entire time,” Chiyeon exhales, heart aching in sympathy.

The girl lets out a piercing wail as they finally manage to free her, tearfully reaching for something to hold. Dongju closes his hand around hers and wipes the dust and moisture from her eyes.

“You’ve been so brave,” he says gently, glancing in Chief Song’s direction. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of your sister.”

“Dr. Seo,” Jisoo sucks in a breath, eyes locked on her left limb. A portion of her thigh is completely exposed, torn skin and muscle flanking the partially fractured femur. The girl cries out again when Jisoo swiftly passes Chiyeon a bandage and he applies direct pressure on the wound to staunch the extensive bleeding, Dongju comforting her as she begins to sob.

“The femoral artery must be damaged as well— we need to bring her to the hospital immediately.” He affirms and apologizes with sincerity before tightly wrapping the upper part of her thigh using a larger piece of dressing, immobilizing her leg with a splint. He leaves her in their hands for now and passes the message to Captain Park via radio, deciding to move on to and check on the girl’s sister.

Dongju takes out his penlight while Songhyun cleans the lacerations on her forehead, observing the discolored surrounding tissue in addition to the wounds she sustained from the fall. “Delayed pupillary response and anisocoria with GCS Score E2V2M4. She'll need a CT scan to verify the location and status of suspected ICH before we operate.”

Chief Song squints at the helicopter. “How many passengers can that handle?"

"Two," he answers, looking up with him as Captain Park deploys the rescue basket near Jisoo and Chiyeon, the pair carefully loading on the younger sister. 

“Dr. Seo!” Songhyun raises his voice over the sound of the propellers. "Let Chiyeon accompany you. He may be young, but he has the most experience with trauma between the three of us and can help with your other patients. Jisoo and I will focus on completing the evacuation here onsite."

“Thank you for all your support, Chief Song,” Dongju thanks him with a tinge of sadness, knowing that both the local response team and Trauma Center will need all the help they can get.

“It’s just our job, isn’t it?” Songhyun grins, an unspoken understanding between them of their duty that never stops.

They really happen like this most of the time, don’t they? Dongju can’t help but think and maybe even selfishly want a little longer. These brief, transient moments we cross paths and share over preserving a life.

They firmly strap the older sister to the stretcher with a head immobilizer before exchanging goodbyes, wishing each other well. He recalls the once painful memory of being left behind at Piny Ala Pek vividly and gets on, letting the scene in his head and the scene below him float away.

It was worth it, he thinks. It’s worth it.

Chiyeon, despite rivaling the pale complexion of the patient, maintains pressure on the younger girl’s leg and passes Dongju a tracheal tube from the trauma kit upon his request. Dongju tries not to think about Dr. Baek’s stories about a similar certain someone during his first ride and instead initiates a breathing exercise with his anxious fellow doctor as he starts securing the older sister’s airway.

“Dr. Lee— ah, Chiyeon-ssi; focus on my voice and follow my timing. Breathe in…” He makes a short incision and slowly inserts the tube into her throat. “Breathe out… two, three, four. Breathe in… breathe out.”

Chiyeon manages to calm down after a few rounds and leans back, relieved.

“How are you feeling?” Dongju brows knit together as he performs another examination and notices her pupils have become nonreactive.

“Better now, thanks,” Chiyeon flushes a little. “How did you know…?”

“Trust me, you’re not the first person who’s panicked in this helicopter. Byungsoo-nim, how soon can we arrive at Hankuk?”

“In around three to four minutes, Dr. Seo.”

Dongju strongly grips the older sister’s shoulder, waiting for a reaction.

“Please hurry,” he insists after a beat.

“What’s wrong?” Dr. Lee mouths, careful not to alarm the younger girl already exhibiting early signs of shock.

“Lack of pupillary and pain response means that ICP is increasing. The longer we take,” he murmurs, grave, “the less likely she’ll make it.”

Nurse Kim and Nurse Hong meet them as they land two minutes later, the fact that they were handling one gurney each despite its considerable weight informing Dr. Seo of the severity of the situation in the ER. They move the patients as swiftly as possible and wheel them in, the former army doctor instructing Nurse Hong and Dr. Lee to get a CT scan of the girl’s head while he and Nurse Kim start treating her younger sister. The group parts ways at the symbolic corner and the state of the emergency room is… not what Dongju was expecting.

Several Emergency Medicine interns and fellows fill the area, performing triage on the landslide-collision victims before redirecting them to their respective specialties under the guidance of the one and only Nurse Cheon Jangmi, manning the nurse’s station with an aura not exactly saintly nor reminiscent of the legendary Florence Nightingale, but that of a mafia boss.

“The patient has a complex clavicular fracture with level eight pain. Really? That’s perfect, thank you, we’ll transfer them to you now.” Jangmi puts down her phone and points at an intern while dialing another number. “Jungwoo, take him to orthopedics. Trauma Center Nurse Cheon Jangmi speaking! We have a patient with second-degree burns following a car engine explosion. Is Dr. Hwang available? Yes, I’ll hold. He is? Thank you so much! Jaeyong, get her to dermatology, 4th floor. Go, go!”

Dongju feels like he’s the one out of breath, listening. Maybe it was also just plain sheer awe.

“Dr. Seo!” Jangmi exclaims as soon as she sees him. “Dr. Im is covering the patient who arrived earlier with a pneumothorax and punctured spleen caused by rib fracture. We saved an OR for you right after Captain Park called in.”

“Kamsahamnida!” He responds with even deeper respect for her than before as they whip past. Nurses are truly incredible.

“You’re the best, Jangmi!” Nurse Kim Seongyun adds with a thumbs up, earning a wide smile from her very sweaty, very amazing, and very talented friend.

Nurse Kim and the OR crew prepare the patient for surgery while Dongju quickly sends an inquiry about the status of her older sister through the hospital system before scrubbing in. He begins the operation by locating the damaged vessel, Dr. Park already administering heparin to prevent coagulation.

“DeBakey.” Nurse Kim places the vascular clamp in his hand and he temporarily occludes the artery, completing local debridement as a precaution for infection.

“6-0 prolene.”

The assistant surgeon holds the other half of the vessel with a pair of forceps and Dongju starts suturing both ends in a continuous pattern, tying a knot after initially puncturing each end and passing the needles from inside to outside the arterial walls. Completing the posterior suture line and majority of the anterior row, they sequentially remove the forceps and clamp, flushing the artery with saline before reapplying the block. Finally, the assistant surgeon releases the distal forceps to eliminate any air from the system as Dr. Seo secures the final knot and unclamps the proximal portion of the artery. 

They pause and watch for any leaks as blood flow is restored, Gyeongwon’s eyes locked on the vital signs monitor. Dongju applies light pressure on the area between the patient’s pelvis and limb, checking for the femoral pulse. The entire operating room regains their ability to breathe the second his eyes crinkle above his mask.

“We’ve successfully repaired her femoral artery,” he says at last, looking at every member of their current team with pride. “We shall proceed with external fixation—“

Nurse Kim hurriedly picks up the phone near the main door, shares their progress, and ends the call. “Dr. Seo, you requested for an update on another patient?” 

“Yes, her sister, how is she?”

“Nurse Jangmi said her CT scan revealed a subdural hematoma and she was transferred to neurosurgery. She promised to provide further updates on her condition as soon as possible—“

The phone rings again, and suddenly Dongju’s stomach drops, gut wrenching with a sickening feeling as he recalls his earlier promise. 

“You’ve been so brave. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of your sister.”

Whatever he had been preparing for, Nurse Kim delivers much, much worse.

“Dr. Seo, they need you in the ER now. Yoojung just performed an ultrasound on a victim complaining of severe lower back pain— it’s an abdominal aortic aneurysm. Nurse Jangmi has contacted ortho to continue this case. We’ll take care of it. Please, go!”

Dongju tears off his surgical gown and gloves and runs.

“Sorry?”

Captain An gapes at the Hankuk head of trauma surgery as he puts on heat-resistant gloves, the aircraft hovering over what was once a small subdivision and rendered unable to land due to scattered debris and the risk of agitating already unstable buildings to people still on the ground.

“Hand me the fast-rope,” Dr. Baek repeats. “Hey, Number One, still remember Bukhansan?”

Jaewon gulps as his body briefly relives the sensation of falling through the air, feeling weightless yet too heavy at the same time. He shudders. “Unfortunately.”

“Well then, it’s unfortunately time for you to get ready; Captain An is going to rappel you down. Thanks.” He catches the end of the fast-rope and yanks open the door. 

“W-what about you?” Jaewon stutters, not liking where his mentor seemed to be heading one bit. “Ow!”

Kanghyuk gives him a tough punch to the leg and beams. “Watch carefully, my chicken protege. I’m going to show you what it really takes to be a member of Black Wings.”

“Sir, you’re not seriously going to—“

“Ah jinja jebalyo— DR. BAEK, YOUR STITCHES!!!”

Jungheon’s sentence is cut off by Jaewon’s sporadic shrieks as Kanghyuk slides down the rope at what appears to be breakneck speed, landing on the ground with a restrained grunt and running towards the laid-out victims without a single wasted step.

The two abandoned passengers stare at each other for a few, incredulous seconds before Captain An regains his bearings and sets up the rope descent system. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jaewon whines, slugging the trauma kit and additional supplies over his back, still talking to his professor who was probably done checking over at least five people by now. “Do you know how hard we worked to put you back together? And you decide to jump out of the helicopter anyway? Who are you, Tom Cruise?!”

An Jungheon clears his throat. “Dr. Yang, I understand where you’re coming from, but we need to catch up and besides, wouldn’t you want to scold him in person?”

Jaewon stills. 

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, Captain An.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassures him, chuckling, “your Dr. Baek truly is something else. Hang on.”

Jaewon manages to not scream during their descent and Captain An doesn’t toss him off his shoulder when they land. He runs up to the nearest medic, considering both things a win while Jungheon meets with the present rescue team.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Yang Jaewon from the Hankuk Trauma Center, have you—“

“Ah you must be that Dr. Yang! I’m Dr. Kang Moyeon, trauma surgeon. Thank you for coming. Your professor asked me to pass on a message. Um, forgive me for the language…”

“Thank—“ She hands him her phone and he holds the speaker to his ear, instantly regretting his decision when Dr. Baek’s voice blasts through.

“Oi, Yang Jaewon!” He winces. “Once you get your sorry ass down here, start tagging the remaining patients near the residential area and coordinate with Dr. Kang and Captain An for anyone red. I’ll tackle those around the office and hospital. Don’t do anything stupid until I get back, arachi? See you in a bit! Bye.”

The recording abruptly ends and Jaewon sighs before turning to Dr. Kang, mumbling under his breath. “At least he said bye this time. Sorry, can you please guide me to the patients? Is there anyone critically injured?”

“Of course; come with me. There are several patients with varying degrees of head trauma, fractures, and soft tissue injuries endured from the unanticipated evacuation.” Moyeon provides a stack of triage tags and motions him towards one of the last groups of patients, others under the wing of first-aid volunteers and medical professionals not significantly injured during the disaster.

“We’ve managed to identify most residents who are in critical condition due to severe fractures, infection, and potential organ damage but they need more care than Dr. Yoon and I alone can handle. Please join us in the tent as soon as you’re done.”

Jaewon nods and shifts his weight over to one knee, focusing on his first patient: a teenager with a shallow yet painful laceration from his shoulder to outer elbow but otherwise no reason for immediate concern. He quickly places a green tag on his uninjured arm and promises help will come as soon as they can before moving on.

Dr. Baek alternates between everything but green as he surveys patients retrieved from the hospital and its surrounding buildings, going from open fractures to impalement and cardiac arrest. He closes eyes, covers parents, hugs their kids. He stops first responders desperately administering CPR and drags them to the next patient by force, reminding them that there will always be someone left to save and to focus on them instead.

He’s just about finished, ready to meet up with Jaewon and transport their combined critical patients to the Trauma Center for emergency treatment and surgery when he feels faint tremors beneath his feet.

“Mister, mister!”

A boy pulls on his pant leg crying and Kanghyuk drops down, leveling with him. “What’s wrong?”

“My dad— you need to s-save appa! Please!”

“Don’t mind him,” one of the medics groans, exhausted. “He keeps saying he ran back into the hospital but it’s basically impossible. I tagged the man! He had a broken ankle and a glass shard stuck in his other foot. He must be around here somewhere.”

“I’m not lying, I p-promise! Pinky promise! Appa said he was going to save eomma and my baby sister!” He whimpers, begging Dr. Baek to believe him.

“Shut up! We said we’re looking!” The annoyed medic snaps at the boy and reaches for him in frustration.

Kanghyuk slaps his hand away and snarls in his face, roughly grabbing him by the collar of his uniform. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

He watches conflicting emotions flicker across the man’s eyes as he considers fighting back, loosening his grip when he eventually decides to surrender. The medic bitterly tuts and looks away.

“With all due respect, we’re trying our best here, alright? It’s been a long day—“

“If you’re not going to do your job, FUCK. OFF.” Dr. Baek huffs and lets go of him, disgusted. “He’s just a kid, you bastard.”

Kanghyuk lowers his voice and pats the boy’s head. “Sorry. I believe you. Your sister, is she still in your mom’s belly?”

“Mmhm,” he sniffles quietly, rattled by the entire affair.

Dr. Baek straightens, the disjointed Rod of Asclepius looming over him like some kind of divine test, hanging by a persistent, lone screw on the hospital visage. He recalls the Greek tale, Zeus striking Asclepius down for his medical arrogance, thinking he could salvage a soul already lost. 

Sorry, God, he apologizes. Like the ink says, I’m on call for life. 

Kanghyuk stumbles as the ground begins to shake, yelling at the nearest soldier.

Is that you, Thunderbringer?

“Hand me your pack!” he shouts. “I’m going in!”

The soldier, Sergeant Im Gwangnam, refuses. “Sir, we can’t let you! The entrance is blocked and the building could collapse any minute. It’s too dangerous!”

Another soldier, Sergeant Gong Chelho, moves closer to stop him. “Dr. Baek, your patients—“  

“Shit. I don’t have time for this,” he mutters.

Kanghyuk wrenches the equipment from one of them himself and sprints towards a broken window, ignoring their protests, the sting in his side, and whatever object decided to fall out of his pocket when an entire family’s life was on the line, not turning back once.

“Redirect all critical patients to Dr. Kang and Dr. Yang!” He orders, praying to a god that probably hates his blasphemous guts that Jaewon is safe. “You hear me?! Get everyone out of here and MOVE!”

“Dr. Baek—!” Sergeant Im guides the kid away and his comrade chases after him, a second too late. 

The hospital collapses barely moments later and the boy picks up the brave doctor’s noisy phone, slowly reading out the characters Yang Jae Won until Sergeant Gong hauls him onto his shoulders and it slips out of his tiny hands.

Lee Ikjun, a general surgery professor who recently started volunteering at the community hospital, sends Jaewon an appreciative smile as they finish looking over and approving patients for transport in coordination with the ambulance operators, catching their breath for a moment as they watch the vehicles depart.

“You’re the best, Dr. Yang!” He casually claps him on the shoulder, oozing with charisma.

Are all general surgeons like this? Jaewon idly wonders, talking to the figment of his best friend in his head, complete with bottomless gummy bears. Maybe I really wasn’t meant to be one. And shut up, Hyungwook.

“I’ve heard a lot about you. Yurim and I spent some time together before I transferred to Yulje and he wouldn’t stop raving about his favorite student,” Dr. Lee continues, nudging him. “Until, of course, you betrayed him for Dr. Baek.”

“B-betrayed?!” He coughs. “Isn’t that a little harsh, Dr. Lee?”

Ikjun guffaws. “Ah, please, call me hyung! I’m just teasing you. I know you and Yurim are on good terms now.”

“Mm, we are.” Jaewon thinks back to a fresh, warm pot of jujube tea and smiles, startling when Dr. Lee hollers out of the blue.

“Kang Moyeon! Is that really you?”

“Hello, Dr. Yang,” Dr. Kang greets Jaewon kindly before rolling her eyes. “Hello, nuisance. Are you interrogating fellows again? Do you want me to report you to your wife?”

“No, please, not Songhwa!” Ikjun gasps and dramatically puts his palms together, pleading with her.

She shakes her head at his antics and lightly shoves him in the direction of the tent. “One of your old liver transplant patients is looking for you. Shoo, shoo.”

Jaewon tries not to snort as Ikjun futilely resists against Moyeon’s surprising strength, leaning on the wall of a dilapidated house near the ambulances serving as a temporary supply station. He takes his phone out, checking for any messages from Dr. Baek or the hospital when Dr. Kang returns and passes him a bottle of water.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Moyeon crouches to tie her boot laces and Jaewon grasps for something to say. It’s not that he wasn’t comfortable with her— how could he not be when they’ve had their hands in the same cavities multiple times within the past half hour—but it was his first time working with a trauma specialist other than Dr. Baek and watching her work quickly but effectively, make decisions in an instant, and single-handedly evaluate each situation drove him to ponder whether or not he was really living up to the kind of doctor a trauma surgeon was supposed to be.

“Something on your mind?”

Jaewon snaps out of his reverie, still a bit lost in his thoughts. 

Mind reading, he panics. They’re both psychic, too.

Dr. Kang tilts her head at him curiously before letting whatever she perceived in him pass. “So, you said it’s been almost a year since you joined trauma surgery. We both know that in no way is it the easiest profession. If you don’t mind me asking, what has it been like for you? Are you happy, working with Dr. Baek?”

Who’s interrogating who now? Dr. Lee’s voice echoes.

“It’s been…” Jaewon pauses. “It’s been hard, but fulfilling like nothing else.”

Moyeon nods, encouraging him to go on.

“I’m happy, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve just been— there are times I get consumed by the fear of not, well, not being enough.” He gazes down at his feet, emotional. “I don’t regret my decision, but sometimes I can’t help but think I’m learning too slow, that someday after one totally avoidable mistake Dr. Baek will realize how far behind I am and regret choosing me.”

Dr. Kang bristles. “Dr. Yang, forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I’ve only known you for less than two hours and I think you’re a great trauma surgeon already. And Dr. Baek?”

Jaewon gingerly raises his head.

“He agrees with me. Why do you think he entrusted you to handle this entire area with Dr. Yoon and I and stay?”

Moyeon pulls him into a friendly hug while he gapes at her, teasing. “If you can’t believe two of the best specialists in the country, who else can you believe?”

Jaewon’s rueful, teary laugh is cut short as people start to scream in the distance, turning to Dr. Kang in concern when ominous, suspiciously consistent waves rattle the ground.

“Is that…?”

“An aftershock? No, it’s too soon,” she frowns and jogs towards the growing commotion, Jaewon following suit. He’s speeding ahead before he even fully registers the reason, heading straight for the newly collapsed building, vision tunneling.

His heart hammers against his chest as he frantically whirls around, darting between patients and soldiers until he hears a familiar ringtone. The screen of his phone cracks as it hits the pavement. He doesn’t remember taking it out.

“Dr. Yang, wait!” Moyeon calls after him, panting with exertion as she finally catches up when he stops dead in his tracks. “What’s wrong?”

The color drains from Jaewon’s face.

“This,” he croaks out, throat spasming, “this is Dr. Baek’s area.”

He clutches his mentor’s broken cell like a lifeline, his feet dragging him to the fallen hospital opposite the tide of people and the rest of the world seems to slip away with every step he takes. 

Dr. Baek. 

No, no no no no no.

“…ctor Yang. Jaewon. Jaewon-ah. YANG JAEWON!”

Kang Moyeon strikes his cheek with the back of her hand. They’re sitting on a mat, friends and families huddled around them and hugging each other close.

Jaewon inhales after what feels like forever, gasping into his sleeve.

“Dr. Yang,” Moyeon stresses, “are you with me?” 

She softens as he nods at her five times and carefully presses her thumbs into his palms, drawing tiny circles. “Good. You had me worried for a while there.”

“What happened?” he inquires, drained.

Dr. Kang sends a venomous glare at the man across Captain An, the latter scolding him loud enough that Jaewon manages to catch the words crane and unnecessary danger. 

“That selfish tyrant tried to excavate a part of his office while evacuation was ongoing. The equipment he used.. triggered the collapse,” she hesitates, observing his reaction. “They’re planning a way to rescue Dr. Baek and the family he ran in to save as we speak.” 

Moyeon abruptly sits back as Jaewon stands up and staggers past her.

“How dare you undermine the rescue team and jeopardize the safety of almost a hundred people over a single folder?!” 

“Would you take responsibility if I lost those documents? Is anyone here even qualified to do that?”

“There is a pregnant mother, an injured father, and a doctor who’s saved countless of lives in there and they might all be dead because of you and your greed,” Captain An rages on, the flame of his rarely enkindled fury blazing.

“He’s wrong.”

Jungheon forces himself to relax at the sight of Jaewon, temples throbbing with the effort of maintaining composure. “Dr. Yang—“

“Everyone who dies today,” he emphasizes, “is on you.”

The businessman trips over himself, scrambling away in fear of the menacing look in the young doctor’s eyes as he harshly raises his fist. 

Do no harm.

Jungheon quickly grabs Jaewon’s wrist, trying to pull him back. He lets go in shock as Jaewon slams his hand into the table next to them without warning, blood dripping from his knuckles.

“Captain An,” he asks after a breath, the tension in the air palpable, “have all of the critical patients been transported?”

“There are still some in the medical tent waiting for an ambulance. Other hospitals have temporarily offered their support while Hankuk deals with the recent collision.”

“Okay,” Jaewon says, and nothing more.

Jungheon cautiously walks three paces behind him and shares a concerned look with Moyeon as she joins them, both of them staring at his wounded fist still clenched by the small of his back.

Dongju mentally flips through each and every journal article on AAAs he’s ever read as they run the CT scan, stuck on which course of action would be best for the patient. 

Endovascular repair is associated with lower short-term mortality and is a less invasive procedure. However, it’s only a temporary fix and has an increased risk of future ruptures. 

He bites his lip and stares blankly at the screen, not noticing someone walk in and observe the developing image from the swiveling chair next to him. 

Open repair carries a higher risk of complications during surgery and within the initial months of recovery but exhibits more positive results in the long-term. It would be non-negotiable for an emergency in hostile settings, but with the hospital’s resources and facilities, wouldn’t EVAR…?

Jangmi, taking advantage of this limited, golden instance of rest by propping her tired feet on the desk, seems to sense his gnawing anxiety and sighs.

“Dr. Seo,” she attempts, nudging him with her elbow until he jolts backward, the wheels of his chair emitting a faint squeak. “Aigoo, what am I going to do with you? Alright that’s it, I’m calling Dr. Baek.”

Dongju opens and closes his mouth like a fish drawing water. “Nurse Cheon— wait, you don’t have to, I’m fine—“

“Hello?”

The two of them glance at each other, confused.

“Jaewon? It’s Jangmi. We have a patient with an abdominal aortic aneurysm and Dongju needs advice. Is Dr. Baek with you?”

The surroundings on the other end seem to quiet down as Jaewon opens a tap with a slight hiss and enters…

“Are you in the bathroom?”

“N-never mind that.” She can imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose in stress and dread over the knowledge that they can and will nag him over this once he gets back. “What’s up?”

Dongju reviews the image and exhales. “The patient is a fifty two year old male with a history of smoking and hypertension. Symptoms are present and the scan confirms the high risk of rupture, the aortic diameter currently measuring 5.6 centimeters.”

“5.6? Why haven’t you started surgery?”

“I… can’t decide on the procedure,” Dongju swallows. 

The sound or running water stops as Jaewon turns off the faucet. “What?”

“Endovascular repair is the conventional method used in hospitals for at-risk patients with regard to surgical complications but has greater aneurysm-related mortalities eight years post-operation. It is also something I have never performed before, stent-grafts being uncommon on the field and most aneurysms rupturing in transit before our patients arrive,” Dongju confesses, painfully.

“And o-open repair?”

“I’ve done it several times in the past, but is it worth it, Dr. Yang? Would you and Dr. Baek elect to—“

“Dr. Seo,” Jaewon returns the advice Dr. Baek had given him when he needed it the most. “It’s your call and yours alone. He, no, we know you will do your best, so don’t worry about it and start.”

Dongju’s eyes flick to Nurse Cheon for a moment and she nods, supporting him with a small yet confident smile.

“…thank you, Dr. Yang. How are things over there?”

The group startles as someone pounds on the bathroom door. Jangmi takes Dongju’s phone during the bout of silence that follows, worried.

“Jaewon, is everything—“

The line ends.

“Dr. Yang!”

Jaewon nearly collides with Captain An as he stumbles out, apologizing.

“Dr. Baek,” he begs, “how is Dr. Baek?”

Jungheon leads him to one of the patients being treated by Dr. Yoon. 

“Is this Dr. Yang?” He moans, breathing heavily as she takes out the large shard in his foot.

“Y-yes, sir,” Jaewon answers, snapping on gloves and helping her disinfect and pack the wound. 

“I’m Jihoon’s father. Dr. Baek shielded us after the hospital caved in. He told me to get out through one of the openings created by the shock and report that my wife—“ he falters before correcting himself— “an impaled w-woman in her early sixties is slowly going into hypovolemic shock and needs treatment ASAP.”

Captain An rushes out and relays the information to the rescue team to expedite the extraction, the mother and child’s life at stake if they delay any further.

“Dr. Yang, wait!” Jaewon makes to dash out the tent when the dad reaches for him.

“I think Dr. Baek is hurt as well; he was favoring his right side and he felt too warm when he pushed us out of the way. My wife said it seems like he’s running a fever and he needs help, too. Please, y-you need to save them.”

Jaewon clings to his palm, the grazes on his knuckles stinging as they press against the man’s coarse skin. 

“I will,” he swears.

Kanghyuk cringes each time he changes positions, busy wrapping gauze around Mrs. Ju’s leg and carefully avoiding the thick, broken off fragment of an IV stand poking out of her shin. He inserts a line through the soft junction in her arm and hangs the pack of blood from the kit on a nearby pole jutting from a slab of concrete. 

“Are you okay, Dr. Baek?”

He laughs, despite everything. For some reason he feels strangely comfortable with her, unlike most of his recent patients.

“Yah, did you obtain a medical degree since the last time I checked your BP? I’m fine, imo-nim.”

“And did you become a mother of three?” she banters back, beckoning him towards her. “Come on, let me check your temperature.”

Dr. Baek gives her a look, unimpressed.

“You want me to go to you myself? Omo, what about my leg?”

Ah, that’s why. He scoots over by an inch or two, acquiescing. Her skin is cool to the touch. She reminds me of my mother.

She frowns. “You’re burning up.”

Mrs. Ju glances at the backpack he wrestled from the soldier lying on the floor. “Don’t you have any paracetamol or painkillers in there?”

Kanghyuk shakes his head. I have to keep monitoring her condition.

“Nope. Gotta stay awake until we can get that beam out of you. Unless you’re trying to say that you’re tired of me already?”

“You rascal,” she jeers fondly, feeling the muscles in her leg relax as he administers a local anesthetic. “Thank you, for coming to save us. It’s not that we’re not grateful, but, especially with the situation right now… why did you?”

He discards the needle in the portable sharps container and sits back, resting on a scrap of drywall. 

“My dad passed away from an accident when I was young. Several hospitals refused to admit him, thinking he was a lost cause and not wanting to stain their perfect records.” He breathes as the grief mingled with his reason for living briefly resurfaces, no matter how much he’s made peace with it. “By the time he arrived at the last hospital, he was already beyond saving, but the doctor on-call continued chest compressions long after he was gone. Since then, I vowed to never give up on a patient with even the smallest chance of living, no matter what.”

Mrs. Ju hastily wipes her face against her shoulder, eyes brimming with tears. 

“Ah, and your son asked me to,” he adds, trying to lighten the mood. “Who was I to say no?”

“My Jihoonie,” she sobs. Kanghyuk looks down and she solemnly appreciates the moment of privacy and respect. “Did you hear that, aegi? Your brother saved us.” Mrs. Ju gently rubs her stomach, talking to her second daughter.

“Dr. Baek, I truly cannot thank you enough—“ she turns back to him and pauses. “Dr. Baek?”

She gasps when his head lolls to the side, tattooed arms carelessly splayed out like a string-cut marionette. 

Mrs. Ju crawls, using her arms to prop herself up in place of her leg. She grasps Dr. Baek’s clammy hand and squeezes it, hard. “Dr. Baek, please, wake up!”

They’re bathed in light as the setting sun shines through, voices filtering in as the rubble above is removed piece by piece. She shouts for help the second she hears them.

“Mrs. Ju! Gyusunim!”

She runs slightly wrinkled fingers through his hair, straining her injuries to carefully lay his head on her other leg, cushioning him with her husband’s discarded cardigan he left to keep her warm.

“Your family will protect you; you’re going to be okay,” she whispers, a sweet yet oft meaningless comfort to the living. “It is not yet your time, Kanghyuk-ssi,” she says, reading his first name on his ID sadly.

Didn’t you promise you’d stay with me?

Yang Jaewon hauls aside the last block of debris himself and jumps in; praying, praying, praying.

“THEY’RE HERE!!!”

Chapter Text

The Trauma Center team gathers in front of the television at the hallway nearest the ER, accompanied by a few patients working on their daily exercise routine and a handful of relatives stopping by last minute before the end of visiting hours.  

“You don’t think Dr. Baek…” Dongju nervously trails off, watching the news report covering the North Gyeongsang earthquake following his abdominal aortic aneurysm open repair’s success and the hospital finally winding down from the day’s mess.

“No.” Nurse Cheon’s expression tightens, her lips flattening into a thin, wobbly line as an aerial shot of the subdivision comes into view and her fear transitions to disbelief. “He wouldn’t.”

Dr. Park lays a hand on her shoulder heavily. She doesn’t want to hear what he’s going to say, what he always does—

The truth. 

“He would,” Park Gyeongwon grimly confirms, and suddenly the gravity of the situation becomes all too real. Dr. Han shakes his phone by the railings pleading, still in scrubs having come straight from his afternoon surgery.

“Come on, Jaewon, pick up.” 

They all close in as the camera focuses on a pair of patients being wheeled into the medical station, white coattails and emergency responders disappearing behind the tent’s doors.

Dr. Kang shoves the curtains aside and immediately clears two booths, folding the divider away as Captain An and members of the rescue team lay Mrs. Ju and Dr. Baek down separately. 

“Yeobo!”

Mr. Ju hobbles over and takes his wife’s hand, tears streaming down his smiling face in pure and utter relief. 

“Gwenchana?” He gently caresses her cold, moist cheek. “Does it hurt? Can you breathe okay?”

“I’m fine, nae sarang. Dr. Baek gave me medicine and wrapped my leg well. I’m okay.” Mrs. Ju meets her husband’s eyes and sighs softly, reassuring him before slowly turning to the right, worried. “Dr. Baek— is he awake?”

Treat her first.

Jaewon freezes as Kanghyuk’s voice pierces through his mind. He remembers the way the light in his all-knowing eyes faded as he lost consciousness on their way to the ER; how Dr. Han told him days after the surgery that he insisted on prioritizing the last patient near the fire and stayed awake without so much as a sedative because he needed to tell him that he trusted him; how he risked his entire career and kept operating until their patient was undeniably stable, the malpractice suit against him mere seconds from going through; how he blazed through an armed private military company’s base under open fire and they all staked their lives for Captain Lee’s; how Mr. Ju said he protected him and his wife not once but twice as the walls fell after he ran in with no hesitation to save them; how Dr. Baek put his patients first again and again and again and Jaewon thought, yes, that’s the doctor I want to be.

Despite the clear discomfort on his unconscious professor’s face, his furrowed brows and pained expression only seemed to spur his protege further. 

I fought so hard to save our patients’ lives, they say, almost daring him to let his concern take over. I got them here, to you. Will you let my efforts go to waste?

Jaewon lets out a world-weary sigh, waging the battle he might as well have been destined to fight each time an emergency occurred since day one, knowing that their best warrior is and will always be his mentor. Moyeon analyzes him carefully, watching him deliberate his decision.

Trust my faith in you, Kanghyuk asserted back then, sending him off as he faced danger alone. Now his and his patient’s lives were in his hands, but this time Jaewon was allowed to stay, the choice passed down to him like it was weeks ago; the habile vanguard to his unflappable spear.

I trust you. Do you trust me?

Jaewon unclenches his jaw and manages to refrain from running his hands down his face, done. He peeks under Dr. Baek’s shirt, frowning at the increased swelling, redness, and warmth on his opened surgical incision, the torn stitches all but mocking him as his lead surgeon.

Gyusunim, you really are the worst.

“He’ll be alright,” Jaewon declares, not willing to accept any other possibility, and tears his gaze from his mentor’s flushed, supine form beside her, Dr. Kang nodding as he discreetly advises a nurse to start administering broad-spectrum antibiotics and asks for the handheld x-ray machine. Another nurse kindly assists Mr. Ju back to his bed and Dr. Yoon checks him over before leaving to monitor other patients waiting for an ambulance with the outside responders.

Dr. Yang carefully positions the flat, black panel for image detection below Mrs. Ju’s shin and holds the device still for a few seconds until the developed radiograph appears on the monitor, displaying the path of the IV pole through her skin. 

“The beam is embedded by approximately one and a half inches with no broken material fragments and damage to the tibia,” he gratefully exhales and shows Dr. Kang the image for verification, pausing as he notices what must have been the reason for Dr. Baek’s earlier diagnosis and conviction.

“What is it, Jaewon?” Moyeon demands, subtly picking up the pace as she hears the high-pitched whine of sirens approaching.

“Without an exit wound and given the relatively shallow puncture in this position… the bleeding was likely caused by damage to the peroneal artery,” he realizes suddenly, setting down the portable machine.

She gawks at him, for once as panicked as he was. Any forceful movement during transport could drive the metal deeper in, ripping the artery. They had to remove it now.

“Shit.” 

The trauma surgeons turn away from each other and leap into action, Dr. Kang calling for additional blood and fluids while Dr. Yang prepares the site for excision. He injects another dose of nerve blockers and applies a topical anesthetic, confirming the numbness of the area with Mrs. Ju and permitting Moyeon to unwrap the dressing, tightening it above the beam to reduce bleeding.

Dr. Kang holds her leg still and Jaewon carefully pulls the foreign object out, blocking the small artery with his gloved finger as he discards the extracted pole on a tray. They repair the vessel as quickly as possible, following procedure before Jaewon ties the final knot, irrigates the wound, and closes it up.

The moon is hanging high in the sky by the time Jaewon tiredly climbs into the last ambulance with Dr. Kang, Dr. Yoon having gone ahead to oversee the tests for Dr. Baek’s infection. He had taken over his treatment after they ensured Mrs. Ju’s condition was stable, cleaning his wound and draining the accumulated pus before bittersweetly replacing the torn stitches, Moyeon allowing herself to be entertained by Jaewon’s justified anger and frustration as soon as they were certain Dr. Baek was not in imminent danger, at least for the moment. 

“His fever still hasn’t gone down much,” she comments, tucking the thermometer back in her pocket. “He might need a more targeted antibiotic once Myeongjoo identifies the bacteria causing the infection from his nasal swab sample.”

“Thank you, Kang-seonsaengnim.”

Dr. Kang’s head whips up and she rubs at her neck with a wince. “W-what for?”

Jaewon lightly dabs the sweat on Dr. Baek’s forehead with a towel and brushes some loose strands of his hair away, lingering on his mentor’s somewhat peaceful face.

“For taking care of Dr. Baek and…” he looks at her, trying to properly convey the weight behind his words, “for getting me through the day. Despite the circumstances, I’m really glad I was able to meet someone like you.”

She softens, hunching forward as the ambulance makes a left towards the next town’s hospital and keeping her hold on the stretcher. “I’m glad that I met you too, Dr. Yang Jaewon. Thank you for reminding me why I stayed in trauma surgery. Dr. Baek must be so proud of you every day—“ she lifts a finger up when he opens his mouth to speak— “and yes, he is for sure. Now be quiet and get ready to transfer your crazy professor.”

Jaewon laughs, gathering his things and double-checking the bag of antibiotics hanging over them.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Zzz… zz.. hrrrk— zzzzzzzzzz… 

Baek Kanghyuk, not for the first time, wakes up to the sound of his protege snoring, squinting at the new label on the half-empty pouch above his head. 

Vancomycin.

He lets out an unintentional moan as he attempts to sit up, grabbing something from the cart.

“MRSA?” Kanghyuk mutters to himself, lying back down. He raises an eyebrow at his reading indicating a low-grade fever and sighs.

Judging by the dampness of my clothes and overall fatigue, it must have been much worse until the fever broke around just a few hours ago. 

Dr. Baek casts a worried glance at Jaewon, feeling as exhausted as his student looks. The alluring tide of unconsciousness temptingly laps at his feet, about to drag him in when Dr. Yang suddenly leans on his shoulder, wrapping a protective arm over his chest. Kanghyuk almost flinches at the abrupt pain from the pressure exerted by Jaewon’s elbow near his ribs, instead gently patting his student’s fluffy, tangled hair and quietly expressing his gratitude, letting sleep claim him once more.

Jaewon falls out of his chair the minute he realizes the bed is empty the next morning, slapping on his glasses and scrambling to his feet. He leaves the room and stumbles around the ICU looking for Dr. Baek, Dr. Kang, anyone. He’s at his third room when he hears an elderly woman chastising a figure hidden behind the privacy curtains.

“Aigoo, shouldn’t you be resting?” she complains. “When your cute doctor finds out you’ve been treating patients instead of recovering when you’re a patient yourself, he’s going to scold you to hell and back, Kanghyuk-ssi.”

Jaewon whips the fabric aside and screams.

“GYUSUNIM!!”

Mr. and Mrs. Ju giggle as he bursts in, catching Dr. Baek precariously bent over her leg with a stethoscope red-handed. “Seeee~?”

Kanghyuk suppresses a groan, straightening with obvious difficulty and effort before meeting his gaze.

“Ah, Number One! I see you’re finally awake!” he non-nonchalantly exclaims, strained and trying to gauge how he was feeling. “Can you pass me that chart and pen over there? I need to add some notes for her general physician.”

“I’ll take care of her from here,” Dr. Kang cordially enters the room like a miracle and confiscates the clipboard herself, batting her fellow trauma surgeon away and ordering him to rest. “You, listen to your doctor. Go ahead, Dr. Yang.”

“Yah, I was just checking on— mmh!” Dr. Baek grunts as Jaewon wordlessly tucks his arm beneath him and supports his stubborn attending’s weight while they safely limp back to his room, Mrs. Ju waving at them as they go.

Jaewon sits by his bed, unable to utter a single syllable until he stands up to leave and Kanghyuk unexpectedly reaches out.

“Whuh—“ he roughly clears his throat— “what’s wrong, Dr. Baek?”

He fumbles in his coat for a thermometer and snatches a bottle of painkillers from the table, sticking the instrument in his ear and handing him a pill that he shockingly and obediently swallows.

“Number One—“

His eyes narrow as they scrutinize him.

“Are you feeling dizzy? Sore?”

Kanghyuk pulls away slightly, not used to open concern or being fretted over like this, whether or not the room was starting to spin. “Jaewon-ah, I’m fine—“

Jaewon motions to lift his shirt and inspect the wound, halting in place as Dr. Baek finally gives up and grabs his wrist.

“Gyusunim, please,” he begs, trying to break free, fed up. “I almost lost— why won’t you just let me check on you?!” 

“Dr. Yang Jaewon,” Kanghyuk relents in a tone almost too sincere that it pulls at Jaewon’s heart, “you saved me. Again. Thank you.” 

His eyes instantly well with tears and his voice falters against his will just when he gathers enough strength to reply.

“I’ll save you as many times as you need me to.” 

Dr. Baek stares at him, a faint blush creeping its way onto his cheeks that he will later blame on his temperature.

“Y-yah, I’m supposed to be the one saying those kinds of things…”

Jaewon wetly chuckles at that and Kanghyuk weakly kicks his forearm by the edge of the bed. “Since when did you get so cool, huh?”

“Since you roped me into the hell that is trauma surgery along with you,” he responds, a little smug. He’s earned it.

“Hah, hell, huh?” Dr. Baek cackles, somewhat proud. “So, did I succeed in making you regret it?”

“Never.”

The sound of vital signs monitors and nurses making their rounds briefly fill the room as they lapse into silence, Dr. Yang nervously running a thumb over his bandaged fingers and waiting for Dr. Baek to tease him or kick him in the arm.

Kanghyuk does neither, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I never regretted choosing you.”

Jaewon almost goes into cardiac arrest as he shoots forward. “Dr. Baek, I—“

…only to find his mentor fast asleep. He laughs to himself eventually and snaps a picture, securing the thin sheet over his chest before folding his arms and resting his head on the space next to him, content and overwhelmingly happy and definitely not getting snot all over his side of the bed.

“Thank you for choosing me, too.”

Dr. Baek sleeps the entire ride home as Dr. Han arrives to pick them up, only managing to stay awake long enough to mumble his address before passing out. Jaewon makes another call to Jangmi, asking her to bring something when they come.

“What do you think Dr Baek’s going to say the first time he wakes up?” Nurse Hong asked a few hours after they wrapped up the operation on his liver. 

“How are the three patients that came here with me?” Dr. Han, now arguably his biggest fan and everyone loves him for it, confidently insisted. 

“Where is that bastard Number One and three-thirds of my liver?” Jaewon added, ten percent joking and ninety percent terrified. 

Gyeongwon lifts a hand to his chin in contemplation. “No, wait, that can’t be it. All patients after major surgery always wonder the same thing, Dr. Baek’s brilliance and expertise be damned.”

“You’re right,” Jangmi agreed, the room falling into a momentary, reflective mood until she jumps out of her chair with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “I have an idea.”

Agnes perks. “Oh, you mean that?”

“Yes,” she smiles innocently. “That.” 

Kanghyuk blinks himself awake, finally feeling a bit more like a living human being before rubbing his eyes and reevaluating his life decisions because he might actually be mistaken and currently stuck in a hallucination. Muted snickers erupt from somewhere behind his dresser and he sits up, recognizing the colorful banner in front of him tied across his flatscreen TV.

The Trauma Center team floods in with mischievous grins and synchronously reads the text out loud, proving that he is never, ever, going to be able to live this down.

“Congratulations, you’re alive!” they cheer and Dr. Baek ducks under the covers, wondering what in the world he ever did to deserve this special flavor of chaos and care again.

Chapter Text

“Dr. Yang?”

Jaewon stirs as someone calls his name, sounding too close yet too far away at the same time. 

Had he dozed off, waiting?

“Jaewon-ssi, please wake up.”

Myeongju’s silhouette greets him as his gaze wearily flicks towards her, the rest of his body hastily following suit as he realizes first, he did fall asleep when he was supposed to be monitoring Dr. Baek and second, the reason she was rousing him at this hour.

“Sorry, Dr. Yoon. The— are the results… were any of the tests positive?” Jaewon incoherently manages to get out in one hitched breath. The quiet, secluded dimension every ICU seems to slip into during the dead of night does nothing to soothe the sudden chill in his spine, hand throbbing with full force now that he was awake.

He wonders what Dr. Yoon and Dr. Kang see on his face whenever they deliver news; whether it’s the same thing Jangmi and Gyeongwon and Dr. Han and even Dr. Baek do, too. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to treat Dr. Baek like anyone else and not feel like the world was ending whenever he faltered.

For some reason, they decided to spare him this time around— the heavens. They didn’t subject him to witnessing the kind of faith that brought people to their knees shining through the hazy windows to the soul of the person he valued most without knowing until he almost lost him.

Tonight, Baek Kanghyuk’s eyes are closed but fitful, darting from end to end as if in desperate pursuit of long faded memories. 

It’s a mercy, Jaewon thinks, feeling a little hypocritical considering how hard he was begging Dr. Baek to stay awake and to for goodness’ sake, look at him the first (and only) time he found him passed out after the surgery white as a sheet on the bathroom floor, weakened and unable to keep anything down for nearly a week.

“We still need a few hours for any bacteria to properly culture,” she says slowly as if afraid he’ll misunderstand.

He sinks in his chair, just a little. He knows, of course he does, but the information simply hurts more when it’s personal. Like tenured doctors stubbornly denying symptoms and thinking they were the exception only to come to terms with the fact that they were human like everyone else. 

How many times will Dr. Baek have to get hurt to remember that?

Kanghyuk curls onto his side, the sheets twisting around him as he shivers slightly. Jaewon shakes away flashes of healed-over scars after hurried showers and shudders at the mere notion of him ever being hospitalized or wheeled into the ER again, gently adjusting the blanket to cover his feet.

“He’s not getting better,” Dr. Yoon interrupts his train of thought, her casual but professional observation unintentionally brutal. The passiveness of her expression does not waver as she goes on, almost detached. “A nurse called the lab to inform me that Dr. Baek was experiencing chest pain and difficulty breathing about half an hour ago.”

“What? Why didn’t they—“ he turns to Dr. Baek, hurt. “Gyusunim, why didn’t you tell me?” 

A glimpse of bittersweet understanding settles on the beautiful, rigid lines of Myeongju’s face, a certain soldier and friend coming to mind. “He didn’t want you to worry.”

Jaewon resists the urge to violently shake his mentor awake and tell him exactly how stupid he was or how worried him and the entire Trauma Center were about his well-being every day because if there was one thing they learned it was that Baek Kanghyuk would stop at nothing to save everyone’s life but his own. 

“Of course I worry. I’m your doctor, you idiot…” he sighs, dabbing the beads of sweat on Dr. Baek’s forehead like it was his duty. “Don’t you know how much you mean to us? To me? You’re more than our hot-headed, secretly caring boomer professor.”

Dr. Yoon gives Jaewon some space as he sits on the edge of the bed and holds Kanghyuk’s trembling hand. It scares him, the sensation. His hands are always stable in the OR.

“Dr. Baek, you’re like—“ he corrects himself— “no, you are family. So please, stop risking your life and making me put you back together when I’ve barely finished picking up the pieces, alright?”

He sighs again, not sure whether or not to regret confessing all of this when the man wasn’t even awake or if he would be able to say anything if Dr. Baek wasn’t in this state. Myeongju stays silent the entire time, only making a sound when she adjusts the fluid packs hanging over them.

Jaewon pulls himself together, feeling lighter than he’s ever felt since Captain An told him about the situation beneath the rubble. His thoughts clear suddenly and a pathway opens, the monologue impeccably cathartic.

“What if it’s Staph? He was in the hospital when his wound reopened. Shouldn’t we be putting him on the right antibiotics now?”

Dr. Yoon rechecks the dose and frowns, hearing him out regardless. “You know as well as I do how risky it is to prescribe without confirming the cause of infection. Dr. Baek could develop a resistance or undergo renal failure.” 

Jaewon runs a thumb over his bandaged fist. Dr. Baek always taught him to act quickly and seize the golden hour, but being rash would only make it end faster.

“…you’re right. I’m sorry, Yoon-seonsangnim.” 

He misses what she says in response as Kanghyuk suddenly squeezes back, half-lidded eyes staring at him in panic.

“D-Dr. Baek,” Jaewon stutters.

“Don’t leave, please..”

He swallows past the lump in his throat, gripping his palm tighter. “I’m right here, gyusunim.”

“Don’t leave… appa, eomma,” Kanghyuk pleads and Dr. Yoon immediately stands, taking his chart from the foot of the bed.

Dr. Baek unconsciously clings to Jaewon as he rises to follow her. He doesn’t have the heart to let him go, not now and, as he was quickly coming to learn, ever. 

Myeongju nods in understanding.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she promises, leaving the two of them behind as she swiftly heads to the lab, chart in tow.

Don’t leave me, Dr. Baek asked of him.

Jaewon pushes back damp strands and tears prickle the skin on his cheeks as Kanghyuk feverishly leans into the touch. He wonders, grievingly, if anyone’s held and comforted him like this when he was sick since his father died.

I couldn’t even if I tried, Jaewon answers with each gentle stroke of his hair. Besides… how could I ever leave you?

He prays that Dr. Baek knows— that he feels how much he cares. 

As long as you never leave me first, goes unspoken. 

“Hey, Jaewon. Yang Jaewoooooooooon.”

Nurse Cheon rocks him back and forth by the shoulder again, simultaneously amused and starting to worry.

“If you don’t get up this instant I’m going to tell Dr. Baek you were the one who banned him from hanging around the ER. And yes, I’m still angry at you for insisting on staying at a literal active disaster site; circumstances be damned, condemned, and exorcised to hell.”

“You wouldn’t,” Jaewon rebuts sleepily, uncoordinatedly slapping the mattress in search for his glasses.

He finds them under a pillow and pouts. “Also, I said I was sorry the moment we got back, remember? I am sorry, Jangmi. Really.” 

She harrumphs, giving in despite everything. “Fine, but you, me, and Dr. Baek are going to have a good talk about this once you’re both free, got it?”

He climbs down the bunk and offers her a compulsory salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Jangmi narrows her eyes for a moment before softening. “How are you really, Jaewon?”

He gawks at her. “Me? I’m fine. Why?”

“It, um, looked like you were having a nightmare when I first came in..”

“Oh,” he says, avoiding eye contact.

Jangmi walks over to the monitors to pick up his ID and carefully hangs it around his neck. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? And before you ask, I promise: it’s not a burden at all.”

Jaewon looks up, eyes glimmering and lip quivering slightly. 

Compassion! You need to be more compassionate! 

She laughs inwardly as she recalls her conversation with Dr. Baek, Jaewon being the softest person they know. Sure, they couldn’t protect him from everything, especially not in a specialty like trauma surgery, but the least she could do was go through the best and worst of it with him.

Aish, she really loves them, doesn’t she?

“Or we could just scream into the cafeteria vents again, of course. Whatever you want, Yang-seonsangnim,” she suggests instead, duly presenting options. “We’re— I’m right here if you need anything, okay?”

Jaewon smiles sheepishly. “Thanks, Nurse Cheon.”

“Oh so now I’m Nurse Cheon?”

“You called me seonsangnim first,” he retorts as she pushes him out of the on-call room.

“Aigoo, someone’s cheekiness is really rubbing off on you, eh? Come on, Dr. Baek’s been looking for you.”

“He has? Crap, did I forget something?”

They stop in the middle of the corridor and Jangmi raises her hands in surrender (and damage control.)

“Okay, actually, I’m the one who’s been looking for you. You haven’t had breakfast yet and our favorite attending keeps insisting on working AMA. This is an intervention.”

Jaewon groans. “Please don’t tell me Gyeongwon dosed him again.”

“Worse.”

“Worse?!”

Park locks the door without a word the minute Jangmi shoves him inside the emergency supply closet. Jaewon nearly loses a quarter of his lifespan as he flicks the light switch, revealing one Dr. Baek sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Hangmun! How nice of you to join me,” he chirps, looking absolutely pissed. Jaewon slowly bends down and hugs his knees a few inches away from him, knowing better than to test his patience. His nose scrunches involuntarily and he turns around for the source of the smell, stopping at…

A bucket of flavored shrimp. With gloves.

He has never been so confused in his life.

Dr. Baek cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, that? It was a peace offering. Those little shits. If I weren’t—“ he exhales heavily, trying to calm down and barely succeeding but at the very least enough to pass the food to Jaewon without snapping. “Here, have some. You haven’t eaten.”

“How did you—“

“Eat,” Kanghyuk orders with no room for argument, and Jaewon helplessly reaches for a shrimp.

“Wait, give me your hand.”

Jaewon tries not to wince as Dr. Baek quietly unwraps the dressing around his palm, appearing more his age than Jaewon’s ever seen him. He yanks a box from the shelves and pours some Betadine on a cotton ball before dabbing it on his wounds with a frown. 

“You shouldn’t leave your bandages overnight,” he mutters, securing the clip and releasing him. “In case I forget, remind me to change it before you go to sleep.”

“O-Okay,” he replies. Was Dr. Baek…?

The metal shelf creaks loudly as Kanghyuk leans back and sighs, stretching his arms behind his head like a cushion. “Now eat.”

Jaewon does as he’s told, mechanically eating the food before emotionally digging in, just like when he comforted him in the cafeteria after the helicopter was grounded and their patient fell into a coma, precious seconds lost because of corruption and unnecessary bureaucracy.

“Aren’t you going to have some too, gyusunim?” he asks after devouring, like, four large peeled shrimps.

Dr. Baek hums in refusal, seemingly waiting for something. For what, he can’t really begin to guess; but the guilt on Kanghyuk’s face, reminiscent of when they lost someone because they weren’t there no matter how quickly they left that overly fancy restaurant, evokes such a penetrating ache in him that he has no other choice but to latch on to it, this glimmer of vulnerability he equally loves and hates to see from his mentor.

“It’s not your fault,” Jaewon blurts because it’s the first thing that leaps out of his mouth. Dr. Baek closes his eyes, for once letting his student elaborate at his own pace instead of forcing it out of him like he’d usually do.

“What happened to my hand. I-I was—“ he puts the bucket down— “I was so scared that we were going to lose you again. But unlike before, I couldn’t do anything until they got you and Mrs. Ju out.”

Kanghyuk shifts a little as his calves stiffen. “I heard. You made the right call treating her first.”

Jaewon nods, numbly. He wishes he didn’t have to choose.

Dr. Baek lightly bumps his leg against Jaewon’s injury, the subtle motion screaming repentance.

I’m sorry for making you go through it a second time, he doesn’t say.

“Let me take you and the team out for dinner later after our shift,” he offers instead and Jaewon nearly bursts into laughter in spite of it all, thinking of Asian moms and plates of sliced fruit. Kanghyuk is as patient as an owl, cold yet clearly concerned eyes boring into Jaewon as he waits for his response. 

A few seconds pass like this, Hankuk’s original trauma surgeon duo silently locked in the supply room with a half-empty shrimp bucket between them, until Jaewon nudges Dr. Baek’s knee back in forgiveness at last.

“Promise you’ll be more careful?”

“I’ll do my best,” he pledges to his protege, palm raised in the air and everything.

Jaewon isn’t convinced. “No more running into fallen or burning buildings? Or sliding out of helicopters? Or drinking too much tea?”

“That jujube incident really got to you, huh,” Kanghyuk chuckles.

“Because I never see you…! Whatever. And since you so graciously reminded me— get at least ten hours of sleep,” he adds.

“Weekly?”

Jaewon, in a rare moment of audacity, smacks him. “Daily. Alright we’re done, you can let us out now!”

“…so will you let me back into the ER?” Dr. Baek whispers playfully as they hear the door unlock. Dr. Yang snorts and allows himself to savor his sweet, sweet vindication.

“No.”

“Huh?!” Kanghyuk childishly exclaims. “Why not?”

Jaewon pinches the bridge of his nose with a long-suffering groan. “Because you’re supposed to be resting, gyusunim, that’s the whole point— ah, forget it.”

He opens the door to Jangmi furiously rubbing her eyes and Yurim clapping in tears, Park Gyeongwon nowhere to be found probably for his (and Hankuk’s overall) benefit. 

Dr. Baek jabs a finger at Nurse Cheon. “You are excluded from picking dinner, no matter how tasty those shrimp were. And you—“ he turns to Dr. Han— “are the head of General Surgery, for Christ’s sake. Stop. Crying.”

The three of them fondly watch as Dr. Baek grumpily paces back to the on-call room, Jangmi pulling her coworkers into a huddle when he closes the door.

“So,” she hops on sore, rubbered feet, smiling. “What do you guys think about goditang?”

Gyeongwon takes another swig and hands the shot glass to a newly-bandaged Jaewon whose ears are redder than the kimchi laid in front of them, Jangmi swooping in for the steal and downing the whiskey in one go. Yurim and Kanghyuk whistle as she happily exhales, impressed.

“You should have just let me have it again,” Dr. Park complains, “or Dongju—“

He turns but alas, the former army doctor is blissfully snoring on the table, an unexpected lightweight.

She shrugs, somehow looking less tipsy than she probably was at this point. “Do I have board exams this week? Nope! Jaewon, pass me some soup. Pali-pali!”

Dr. Baek scoops some extra meat into a bowl and slides it over. “Aigoo, now that’s our gangster. Also quit taking my drinks, it’s been months since the initial surgery; I can handle liquor.”

“Not according to your recent tests, you can’t,” Dr. Han blubbers, still emotional from checking his enzyme levels after they got back from Gyeongsang. “It’s not our fault you’re such a daredevil.”

“Hear, hear,” Jaewon slurs, ignoring the death glare Dr. Baek was sending him.

Jangmi wobbles and thrusts her glass in the air for a toast. “Cheers to our reckless, beloved department head!”

“CHEEEEERS!!!!!” 

“Maybe it is a good thing they gave us a private room,” Gyeongwon reflects. “They would have kicked us out the minute Dr. Han started bawling and Dr. Seo nearly hurled on that poor server.”

“If I had known you lot were this hardcore, I would have taken you out for drinks sooner,” Dr. Baek jokes.

Jangmi calls his bluff. “We could never remain functional or stay out of the hospital long enough to get wasted like this and you know it, gyusunim.”

Almost on command, the group sobers as Dr. Yang’s phone rings, Kanghyuk already snatching it from him before he’s able to churn out a drunken hello. He exchanges a few words with the dispatcher on the other end of the line and moves to the counter to settle the bill.

“Nurse Cheoooon!!” Yurim whines. “Why’d ya have to say that?!” 

She sticks her tongue at him, Drs. Park and Yang half-bent by their stomachs, dying. “You said it first, Mister Looks-like-a-slow-day!” 

“Okay, kids! Time to go home!” Dr. Baek booms, thanking (and apologizing to) the cashier as Gyeongwon and Jaewon haul Dongju out by his underarms, Jangmi and Dr. Han humming along to some recently released girl group song on the radio as he starts the car.

“Seatbelts!” is the only warning the inebriated bunch get before Dr. Baek steps on the gas and makes a sharp turn, sending them all screaming and tumbling in the backseat. He peeks at the rearview mirror and wheezes at their cheeks smushed against the windows, accelerating further.

The car comes to a screeching halt right outside the Trauma bay, Gyeongwon giving him a thumbs up as Kanghyuk tosses him the keys.

“Get those rascals home safe, Dr. Park!”

“Yes, sir.”

Jangmi rolls down the window and hollers, Jaewon fast asleep and drooling on her shoulder. “Good night, gyusunim~!” 

“Thanks for dinner, Kanghyuk-ssi!” Yurim blows him a kiss. Dr. Baek opens his mouth in mock shock before roughly wiping his hand across his lips and throwing it onto the floor, cruelly smothering the gravel with his leather shoe. Yurim simply stares at him; affection rejected, jaw dropped. 

“See you tomorrow, gyusunim,” the anesthesiologist bids from the driver’s seat, and if Jaewon’s too drunk to remember any of this tomorrow, that’s on him.

“My office?”

“10 AM,” Gyeongwon agrees. He honks the horn as he pulls out of the driveway and Dr. Baek gives him a quick wave, entering the Trauma Center unsupervised at last.

“Finally,” he grins, playfully skipping to the nurse’s station. Nurse Kim shakes her head at him and chuckles. “So that was your plan all along, sir.”

“Shhhhh, they needed it. Besides,” he gestures to the otherwise empty emergency room, “who else is gonna be the trauma surgeon on duty?”

Nurse Hong hands him a file, teasing. “You’re lucky we like you, gyusunim.” 

Kanghyuk flashes her his winning smile and scans the report on the way to the ICU, wishing them a good night.

“Jangmi is going to give us so much shit tomorrow,” she gripes.

“She won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because Nurse Cheon,” Seongyun smirks, “owes me another ten thousand won.”

Dongju, the sole medical professional who looks remotely human among the post-night out Trauma Center crew having basically slept through the havoc, politely approaches the reception.

“Excuse me, has anyone seen Dr. Park or Dr. Baek?”

“Not since yesterday, no. Why?” Nurse Bang replies, subtly tucking a few papers and sticky notes into her drawer.

Dongju pretends not to notice, distracted by his deepening confusion. “He wasn’t in the on-call room this morning.”

“Maybe he’s running late? You guys did go home after midnight,” Nurse Hong posits.

“Did we?”

Jangmi pops out from the emergency OR with Jaewon, stretching her limbs.

“I’d be more surprised if you remembered, Dr. Seo, seeing as you were barely awake for a fourth of it,” she laughs. 

“What’s up, Number Two?” Jaewon asks, seeming more upbeat today. 

Dr. Baek will be glad to know that Dr. Yang is feeling better, Nurse Kim smiles to herself. As for the bet, though…

“I can’t seem to find Dr. Baek or Dr. Park,” Dongju frowns. “Were any of you able to talk to them before the start of our shift?”

“Gyusunim wakes up much earlier than me and usually does his own thing unless there’s an emergency,” Jaewon supplies.

Jangmi shakes her head. “Gyeongwon isn’t at the gym or in any surgeries for the day yet either.”

The three of them turn to each other, suspicious. 

Something’s wrong.

Gyeongwon raps his knuckles against the wooden door to Dr. Baek’s office a couple more times, the possibility of revealing their plans to Jangmi and Jaewon increasing with each second that ticks by. 

“Gyusunim,” he repeats, palms starting to sweat, “it’s Dr. Park. Can I come in?”

He strides past the doorframe as he discovers Dr. Baek slumped over his desk, putting two fingers on his neck and checking for a pulse before seeing the slow but steady rise of his chest.

“Fuck,” he whispers, sagging in relief. “He’s just sleeping, fuck.”

Okay maybe now he understands how Jaewon feels because he never wants to see Dr. Baek unconscious ever again. It was already terrifying enough the first time around, when they held his life in their hands. He hopes the operation remains an isolated case and he won’t have to forcefully sedate him any time soon.

Gyeongwon scours the room for any hint of information, a small smile growing on his face as he passes the wall of photographs and picture frames. He sets his notes down on the coffee table, thinking of studying there at least until Dr. Baek wakes up when he spots the sneaky culprit: an empty blister pack of some heavy-duty antibiotics lying atop a familiar black and white patient file.

So he didn’t go home after last night, Park surmises. Then he took them after his shift. No wonder.

He glances at Dr. Baek’s hunched form.

“That’s going to knock him out for a while,” he says, settling into the couch and taking out his laptop. “Might as well review for a bit—“

A distinct pair of footsteps come running down the hall and Dr. Park sighs, accepting the fact that he won’t be able to stop them. He looks at Dr. Baek again in sympathy and clicks on an ebook, waiting for the inevitable. He winces as the door slams into the adjacent wall with the kind of sound only the combination of metal doorknobs and concrete walls can create. 

“A-HA!” Jangmi yells, first to enter the room, triumphant. “I knew you two were— huh…?”

Jaewon trips, panting, and before he manages to give himself another mini-heart attack, Gyeongwon calmly explains the situation as if he totally didn’t panic when he found him sprawled on the table either: “Antibiotics. He’s sleeping, but with the ruckus you two are making, he won’t be for long.”

“You could have told us!” Jangmi whispers as Jaewon looks around for Dr. Baek’s coat and unhangs it from the rack, carefully blanketing his mentor’s shoulders. 

Gyeongwon shrugs, scrolling. “Do you know how fast you run?”

“He’s right though. Seriously, Nurse Cheon, were you a track star in your past life?”

“Dakcheo,” Dr. Baek mumbles, and the three ducklings crowd his desk instantly.

“How are you feeling, gyusunim?” Gyeongwon asks anxiously, surprising Jangmi and Jaewon. He wasn’t one to show his concern so freely, often acting in silence and looking after everyone from behind the scenes.

Kanghyuk bats them away like flies, groggily sitting up and checking his phone for the time.

“Shit, it’s already past ten. Sorry, Gyeongwon-ah.”

“It’s no problem at all, gyusunim. I’m sorry we—“ he glares at Nurse Cheon and Dr. Yang— “well, they woke you up.”

Jangmi peers at the articles and books littered across table, tilting her head at Dr. Baek when she connects the dots.

“You were helping him study?” she realizes.

Dr. Baek nods. “Mm.”

“That’s… really nice of you,” Jaewon admits. “I know you’re technically our professor and all but I didn’t expect you to be the type that does sit-downs.”

“Yah, what do you take me for? Of course I teach.”

“No, you just drag me into helicopters then grill me in surgery,” Jaewon pouts.

It seems like Dr. Baek’s taken a liking to you, Dr. Park told him after their first surgery together, back when he was still deciding on a specialty and being tormented by his former nickname. Like he’s taking you under his wing.

“You enjoy it anyway,” Kanghyuk gruffly accuses his protege, and Jaewon finds that it actually doesn’t bother him at all.

“Yeah, I do,” he says, cracking a smile.

Gyeongwon crosses what Jangmi admits to be remarkably toned arms across his chest. “Are you gonna let us study now?”

“Mhm. Good luck, Park-seonsangnim. Fighting!” she cheers, holding up her fist.

“See you later, Dr. Baek!”

The door shuts and Kanghyuk holds out his hand, grinning.

“So, Dr. Park, I believe you owe me something?” 

Gyeongwon sniggers, passing him a xeroxed case file and a pad of sticky notes.

“A deal’s a deal, gyusunim.”

Days later, a server from the upscale restobar scurries behind the counter the moment he hears the unique cacophony of voices. “Oh god, it’s them again.”

Dr. Baek slaps Jangmi’s arm in laughter as Dongju dashes for the bathroom, Gyeongwon unfortunately sandwiched between Jaewon and Yurim and on his way to throwing up as well, three celebration and alcohol-filled hours in.

“Bah! Let them be,” the manager chuckles. “They deserve it.”

“To Trauma Surgery’s very first board-certified anesthesiologist!” Jangmi shouts.

Gyeongwon buries his face in his hands, flustered. “Guys, this is like the sixteenth time—“

“CHEEEEEEEERS!!!”