Some Random Blog

Fluorescent bulbs lit the lecture hall too brightly for comfort. The cold air from the vents kept the atmosphere moving as people settled into their seats. Law stayed close but left just enough distance to avoid prying eyes. And they did pry, scrutinizing as you made your way across the room.

Hogback had already taken his seat near the front. He crossed one skinny leg over the other, his presentation materials already nestled against his large belly like a delicate treasure. He held his chin pompously upturned, and the very sight of his smug grin made your stomach churn. 

“You alright?” Law whispered just below the room’s roar. 

The very sound of his voice made the tension in your shoulders melt just slightly. It was almost as if it didn’t matter that this was the biggest moment of his career to date. He spoke with the same even tone as he always did. 

The thought occurred to you again.

He was made for this.

You nodded too quickly. “I should be asking you that,” you huffed out a nervous laugh. 

Law let out an almost inaudible snort. “You seem like you have a lot more going on.”

A small, sheepish smile returned to your lips.

“I’ll give you the backstory later, I promise.” 

But as you approached the row, gravity entered the atmosphere like a meteor. Shachi and Penguin looked up with a strange, pensive cast to their faces. 

You glanced between them. “Hey,” you greeted tentatively, to no response. 

You turned your attention to Marguerite for an explanation. But she said nothing, offering you only a small smile as you slid into the third seat between her and Penguin. Further in, Jean Bart, Bepo, and Chopper didn’t greet you at all.

Your eyes ran across the row as you swiveled your head. 

“What?” you asked.

Penguin, who almost always had a comment ready, said nothing. Shachi had practically folded into himself. Instead, they both looked at Law, who still lingered at the end of the row.

“I need to head up front,” Law said curtly. He spared you one last glance, pausing for the briefest second before giving a decisive nod. “I’ll see you soon.”

He headed down toward the front of the room without another word, and somehow the air only felt heavier once he was gone.

You looked around again, but no one would meet your eye.

“Is this about Kid?” you asked.

Shachi wrapped his arms around himself. “It’s nothing,” he muttered.

You frowned. “It doesn’t feel like nothing.”

Marguerite brushed your arm lightly. “Everyone’s just on edge,” she said. “That’s all.”

The answer, though plausible, felt a bit too convenient to settle your nerves. 

The conference. 

Sure. 

You had been running yourselves ragged, stressing long hours about this very moment all month, but that didn’t explain why Bepo was clutching his hands so hard his skin was turning white. It didn’t explain the absence of sneaky banter between Shachi and Penguin, or why Jean Bart held himself more upright than usual. 

You placed a hand on Penguin’s knee. 

He met your eye instinctively, catching himself too late as he became the first one to look you in the face. He held his breath.

“What’s going on?” you asked, firmer this time. 

Penguin’s gaze ticked to the side, then he breathed your name. 

“When you have someone who’s like a sister to you—” He slowly brought his hand over the back of yours. “—you get certain rights as a brother.”

Your forehead crinkled. Your breath hitched in your throat for a reason only your instincts knew as you glanced between Penguin’s face and his hand. 

“What are you talking about?”

“The right to snoop,” he breathed. “And the right to tell you that—”

Before he could finish, the lights dimmed a fraction. 

His attention snapped to the front. 

Your other hand grasped the back of his, shaking him slightly. 

“Tell me what?”

A hush fell over the room as conversation settled, and several members of the administrative board stepped up to the podium. The microphone crackled once, then twice, before a member of IT rushed up to correct the audio system. A subtle red light on the recording device blinked at an angle you were sure only you could see. 

That would be a pleasant distraction for the entire conference. 

You barely registered the opening pleasantries and polished thanks to the most important people in the room. Not even the polite applause grounded you. 

Penguin withdrew his hand to clap twice next to you, but fell quiet again shortly after. 

The first presenter stepped up to the podium. 

You tried to listen. You really did, but your gaze kept drifting between Penguin and the front row. 

Law had settled to the side with the other presenters. Shadows made by the stage lights fell over him like a shroud. He leaned back with one hand on the presentation materials tucked at his side. Even from where you sat, he looked more composed than anyone in the room. Assured. Certain. Just like he always was. 

You shifted toward Marguerite. “How long before his talk?” you whispered. 

“Not for a while,” she said softly. 

Right. She said he was going last. 

You glanced back toward the front to find Law already looking at you. He met your eye for only a second. You offered him a small smile. He offered you a curt nod, then he looked away. 

Your stomach turned, but Law didn’t look back at you again. Something about the slight rigidity he held in his neck made it difficult to settle into the lecture. 

The first presentation was dense and number-heavy, one you might’ve been interested in under any other circumstances. Something technical. Something niche. Today, you hardly even retained the topic alone.

You hardly retained any of the presentations, yet you remained painfully aware of how much time had passed. What had always seemed like heaven every other year now dragged on like a punishment. The number of speakers seemed to drone on forever.

Presenters cycled through, introduced to muted applause and followed by far too many slides for your liking. Every so often, a presenter would be granted a Q&A section, and each drawn-out answer made your skin crawl.

Nerves.

Just conference nerves.

And whatever the fuck Penguin didn’t finish saying. 

Meanwhile, Law hadn’t moved an inch, which was better than you could say. You shifted in your seat, your weight from one hip to the other. You picked your feet up in countless uncomfortable combinations as the clock ticked by. 

Around the end of the lecture session, Hogback rose to a smattering of applause. 

A cold sensation made your skin bristle. 

Hogback approached the podium with a confidence born of nothing less than arrogance and tenure. He waved at the room as if he were a movie star, then adjusted the tie that sat too tightly around his neck.

Hogback smiled before cracking a corporate joke to polite laughter from the crowd. He cleared his throat, making an ugly sound into the microphone just before the first slide filled the presentation screen, and when he spoke, he used the same voice he always used when schmoozing important people. 

The same voice you remembered from your training days. 

He spoke with authoritative confidence at a pitch that felt like ringing in your ear. Hogback fidgeted with the clicker as if it were a conductor’s wand. 

At the front, Law watched Hogback steadily.

You looked toward the other side of the room. Kid leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on his bouncing knees. He watched Hogback with the precision of a panther hiding in the tall grass. 

Two rows ahead of you, someone leaned over to whisper to their colleague as Hogback moved to his next slide. Charts. Numbers. Imaging stills with Franky’s name in the corner.

Hogback looked like an experienced doctor, and at first he sounded like one too. But he quickly started clicking through unrelated data and talking in a blur of jargon and buzzwords. The longer you sat with what he was saying, the less it held up, which you supposed was on brand for Hogback. 

Not even his presentation offered anything special. Despite the politics that had dominated the hospital since Saturn’s collapse, Hogback stuck with what he knew: non-specific LVH. The very idea sounded like a death sentence, but perhaps Hogback was arrogant enough to think a conference stage could salvage his reputation. Given the review, though, it was hard to imagine what possessed him to present at all, and if the LVH cases had not already buried him, his performance nearly did.

“As always, the challenge in complex cases is distinguishing clinically meaningful findings from well-intentioned overinterpretation,” Hogback said with a pompous intonation, like a punchline. 

You clutched your fists in your lap. A few people nodded along. 

When the presentation finished, the entire team, except for Marguerite, didn’t clap. 

Then the moderator stepped back up to the podium. You drew in a breath, your stomach dropping even though it wasn’t even you about to be called up to the stage. 

Law stepped up after his introduction and met with muted applause. 

A thick silence overtook the room as he plugged his flash drive into the port. His presentation pulled up right away. 

You held your breath as Law remained quiet for a beat. He stood in front of the microphone, his hair as perfect as always. The harsh stage lights only highlighted his dark brow and sharp cheekbones. 

When he glanced over the crowd, he didn’t indulge in the attention, looking just briefly enough to find you before glancing away. 

He drew a breath in.

“Good afternoon.” His voice carried cleanly across the hall, cutting through the silence like a knife. “Today I’ll discuss a patient who came to me after an earlier workup proceeded under an incorrect anatomical assumption; the final diagnosis was cor triatriatum dexter.”

A hushed murmur passed across the room. 

Law continued through his presentation exactly as he’d practiced it. He narrated the early timeline in a steady rhythm, gliding swiftly through initial assumptions, the previous treatment plan, and the mismatch between symptoms and anatomy.

Everything just as practiced.

“Cor triatriatum is itself uncommon. In most cases, when encountered, it involves the left atrium and is typically identified far earlier in life. This case was three things: already uncommon, in the right atrium, and identified later in adulthood, which only emphasizes the importance of questioning the original diagnostic framework rather than anchoring to the initial impression.” 

“The turning point and the starting point for this case came during repeat transthoracic imaging.” Your initial scan bloomed across the presentation screen. Law didn’t even glance up. “Our lead echo technologist flagged a right atrial structure that was not consistent with previous documentation.”

The entirety of Law’s team turned to you. Shachi hissed out the quietest cheering noise while Penguin subtly shadowboxed your knee. Chopper offered you silent applause from down the row. 

Law advanced to the repeat views. 

“This is more than confirmed on the repeat views, which, as you can see, the membranous division became clear enough to alter the procedural pathway entirely. Without that catch, we would have continued to plan around the wrong anatomy.”

Law outlined the follow-up study, the confirmation of the membranous partition, the hemodynamic implications, and the procedural reconsiderations that had followed. He spoke with the cool authority he brought to most everything in the hospital, like he’d spent his entire life preparing for this exact moment. 

Every sentence flowed off his tongue exactly as practiced and perfectly memorized. His scribbled notes flashed across your mind as he flipped through the slides. And despite the countless revisions, Law remembered every tweak and every aside. He moved from one beat to the next with clinical assurance. 

Law was, as usual, perfect. 

Your pulse pounded steadily in your ear. You leaned forward, gripping the edge of your seat. Each word of his presentation morphed silently over your lips, and then,

“In addition to imaging, this case relied on the flexibility and coordination efforts from staff across research, nursing, and clinical support,” Law said. 

He hadn’t practiced that one with you. 

Then he began naming people, every single person who so much as touched this project. Law didn’t dwell on the names, nor did he pause for praise for his recognition. He meticulously—though swiftly—rattled off the list as if he’d been ruminating on names all morning. 

“I was aiming for thirty seconds under,” you remembered Law muttering. 

Thirty seconds under. To make room for this. 

Shachi exhaled a tiny sound of approval through his nose. Penguin’s hand morphed over yours, giving the back of your hand a soft pat. Down the row, Bepo sat up straight, beaming with pride. Jean Bart’s lips formed a crooked line, just barely suppressing bashfulness at the gratitude. Chopper had gone completely red.

Then, Law moved to his last slides. He narrated the corrected plan and outcome, each word concise and measured. Elegant. Clean. And when he was finished, silence overtook the lecture hall. 

Law hooked one thumb lightly in the front pockets of his slacks, back straight. He didn’t look for roaring applause, nor did he invite it. He stood, leaving the last slide suspended on the screen. He didn’t need a one-liner to close. He didn’t need the approval to know he did well.

But he got it anyway. 

The room broke. 

Applause cardioverted the room back to life, dwarfing the reaction yielded to Hogback just previously. It was a professional roar despite the interrupting whoops and hollars from Shachi and Penguin. You were one of many to stand, offering your applause with glittering eyes, only to be pulled back to your seat by Penguin. 

The moderator swiftly stepped back to the stage to invite questions, which came quickly. A microphone runner stepped up to a raised hand. 

“Given the rarity,” an older physician started, “what made you confident this was cor triatriatum dexter rather than hypoplastic right ventricle?”

“Because it was simply inconsistent with our findings,” Law answered, clicking the remote back to the slide with the repeat views. “The underdevelopment one could expect from hypoplastic right ventricle simply wasn’t there, whereas the pathology here in the right atrial membrane is consistent across repeat views.” 

Another hand popped up across the room. 

“CTD is typically diagnosed in adolescence, and for a reason. Do you believe that the delay in recognizing the membrane materially changed the amount of risk the patient has faced up until now?”

“Yes,” Law said curtly. “Upon confirmation of the membrane, the treatment plan was immediately tailored to our new findings.”

A handful of questions popped up across the hall, and Law answered each one with clinical precision that didn’t look too dissimilar to watching a professional pool player lining up shots. He didn’t waver for a moment. He didn’t lecture or stall, keeping steady eye contact as he delivered each answer without hesitation.

The moderator stepped forward again. “Last question?” he offered, but none followed. 

A ripple of light laughter moved through the hall. For once, perhaps in the conference's history, the crowd of academics was left speechless. 

Law glanced over the room just briefly enough to find your eyes amongst the sea of people. For the second time that day, you could feel the smile on your face, the way it crinkled the skin around your eyes and puffed up your cheeks. But again, Law didn’t smile back, only offering a slow blink before his gaze flickered away.

Then, the lecture portion of the conference concluded. The moderator barely made it through closing statements before people stood from their seats. The dull murmur of conversation crossed the room as the lights came back up.

People blocked the aisle before you could even rise from your seat. A large crowd gathered around Law at the front of the stage, with Albert Vegapunk leading the pack. You suspected that people would keep him talking for some time, and, well, he could keep chattering for longer than you suspected any of the white coats or suits could’ve ever expected. 

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. 

He did well, just like you knew he would, and now, he could soak up some well-deserved praise. 

Law had a rough start to his career at the North. Inheriting Hiriluk’s population had been enough to put on anyone’s plate, but Law had always taken the workload in stride. Then the rumors circulated. HR got involved. He was put on display for scrutiny and had no tenure to hide behind. 

And so, after tending so diligently to Hogback’s patients and the crunch to present at all, you waited in your seat. You could congratulate him at any other time. Now was for him to bask in everything he’d been working so hard for. 

The rest of the team has already cleared out around you.

You nudged Penguin.

“What were you going to say before?” you pressed, a fluttering still in your chest.

He offered you a sad smile. “I actually think it’s the perfect time to talk to Cap’n about it.”

Your eyes narrowed, and Penguin held his hands up in surrender. 

“Not escaping,” he defended. “It’s his news.” 

Penguin gestured his head toward the front, where people continued to swarm Law.

You heaved a deep breath, glancing over the crowd.

“Good news?” you breathed. 

Penguin shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s good or bad,” he admitted. “It’s just news.” 

And so, you stayed. 

You remained seated until the crowd began to thin, and people trickled out into the main hall. Once the aisle cleared, you made your way down to the main stage, searching for Law’s neatly combed hair. 

You approached a small gathering of people speaking by the stage, convinced that you’d spy Law’s tall figure buried on the other side. But when you reached the group, Law was nowhere to be found.

You popped out into the corridor, only to find it empty. Then you scanned the bustling hall from the entrance. By the time you’d walked a full circle around the lobby, the lecture hall became empty and quiet. 

No one remained except for you. 

You took in the stillness for a moment, running your fingers over the backs of chairs as you descended the steps once more toward the stage. The podium still illuminated, even as the space stood empty. 

You should have moved on to cycle through the list of places Law could’ve possibly hidden away. But something made you stay.

The quiet. The gentle hum of the hall.

Slowly, you stepped into the light and up toward the podium. The microphone was still adjusted to Law’s height. You touched the dark-stained wood, and as you glanced out into the empty hall, you couldn’t help but imagine what Law must’ve felt not too long ago. 

You imagined the crows. Dr. Vegapunk sitting up front. Then your eyes drifted to the row where the team had just been sitting. You stared, almost getting lost in mixed lighting. 

Until your gaze flicked to the right. 

Law’s flash drive was still plugged into the USB port. You glanced up; the recognition slide was still hanging on the projector. You found Penguin and Shachi, then Bepo, Jean Bart, Chopper, Marguerite, and then you. You had the imaging category all to yourself, dubbed officially as lead echo technologist. 

You took another step toward the podium to grab the USB case. With a light pull, it popped out into your palm. A stark departure noise chimed over the speakers.

“Are you happy with yourself?”

The sudden voice nearly made you jump, but your body somehow remained calm. You turned to your left to find Hogback on the other side of the stage. He clasped his hands behind his back, and a deep scowl tugged on the corners of his lips. 

You glanced around the empty room, only to find it just as dim and empty as before. 

“You think you did something, fudging Trafalgar’s data like that?” he hissed. Spit particles flew into the air.

For a second, you only stared at him. “What?”

“You should have stayed in your lane.” Hogback took a step closer, his gaze narrow and dark. “I warned Wapol about that.”

Your fingers tightened around the flash drive. 

The stark lights only made your breath heavier as, for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to the side of the presentation stage. Despite the heat from the powerful bulbs, a cold shiver ran down your shoulders.

“Franky’s been handling your imaging lately, just like you requested—”

“You don’t get to play innocent with me,” Hogback spat. “I know what you are. I’ve known since you came here how arrogant and attention-seeking your generation is…”

“I’m not doing this,” you snapped. “And I’m certainly not going to stand around while you insult me.”

“You were hired to do an easy job,” Hogback ignored you, “not play doctor, not feed Trafalgar ammunition, and certainly not make a spectacle of yourself in front of the entire department.” 

The stage lights cast harsh shadows over Hogback’s face, deepening the creases around his cheeks and bared teeth. A faint hum continued to run through the room, but around you, everything seemed to go unnaturally still.

You turned on your heel; the wary sensation of turning your back to him was enough to make you nauseous. 

“I’m not taking this from you.”

You barely made it a step before his voice thundered through the quiet.

“You don’t get to tell me when I can speak! You don’t get to determine what I do when you’re nothing but a stuck-up whore.” 

It stopped you in your tracks.

You spun back on instinct, eyes widening slightly, every muscle tightening at once. He was already two steps closer.

Hogback’s mouth twisted, his voice suddenly quieter. “First the questions, then the notes, then the mess you made when you thought a chart didn’t say what you thought it was supposed to say.”

“And what were they supposed to say?” you snapped, clutching your fists tightly at your sides. Heat burned across your skin. 

You stared directly into his eyes. You watched as the burning rage choked him, clogging the words in his throat until his face turned bright crimson.

“Whatever I want them to say,” he hissed. “The charts say whatever I want them to say!” 

Hogback clenched his fists in the air, shaking as he gritted his gnashing teeth. He gestured toward his chest with a trembling fist. “I am the doctor! Not you! You got your start in my wing. I gave you opportunities. I pushed for you to succeed, and this is how you repay me?”

Hogback’s voice dropped lower.

“You were useful when you were obedient. Eager, grateful to be there, a dumb little girl who had one job.” His eyes swept over you with a familiarity that made your skin crawl. “Do you have any idea what Trafalgar’s little campaign has cost this department? Pulling patients back, reopening diagnoses, dragging old cases into a review of all things because he’s arrogant enough to think everyone else is below him—”

“You are beneath him,” you bit out at last.

You glared at him down the line of your upturned nose, your mouth tightening with disgust. “You failed so many people — so many families. Real lives. You’re a fraud!”

Hogback went still. Hot air steamed from his nostrils. Then he laughed—one single, sharp sound that echoed off the walls of the lecture hall. 

“Is that what this is to you?” he scoffed. “What do you think this place runs on? A matter of purity?”

His lip curled.

“You do know that the programs, the research, the cases—all of that—you do know those take money, right?” he mocked. “Do you think they don’t know what it takes to keep funding lines open like this? You don’t like it because you’ve never had to keep the machine running.” Hogback took another step forward.

Pressure crowded your sinuses. You dragged in a short breath. 

“Do you think anyone here wants those numbers examined too closely? Or that anyone wants this dragged out to the public?”

He stopped only a short distance away. 

“Now,” he said, just barely above a whisper, “once Trafalgar is gone, no one’s going to be around to protect you. I’ll handle you then, because no one’s going to believe Code E.”

The air sharpened around you. Your mouth went dry. 

Code E. 

A chill shot down your spine as the pieces slid into place. 

The conversation at the party. 

The rumor that followed you from unit to unit. 

The Vinsmoke brothers transferred from Hancock to Hogback. 

Everything they had heard. 

“You,” you whispered. 

Your grip tightened so hard around the drive that the metal edge bit into your skin. 

Hogback’s expression didn’t move. 

Gravity flooded your system, and heat rose across your body. A hot rush tightened your throat as anger and humiliation swirled together in your chest so fast it made your vision blur at the edges.

“You started that,” you said, louder now. “You started all of it.”

His lips twitched, barely able to restrain a smirk. 

Your legs froze where you stood. 

Every downward glance. 

Every time you had to work twice as hard to be taken half as seriously. 

Each trainee who had drifted through imaging bright-eyed and curious, only to vanish again after some private conversation you had never been invited to hear.

It had never been random. 

It had never been you.

“You were always too emotional to manage your own reputation,” Hogback hummed. “You didn’t even have to do much. Trafalgar did most of it for you. That’s the thing about rumors like this—harmless entertainment, but enough to remind someone like you exactly what you are.” 

Your eyes shot to him in alarm.

“You’re disgusting! The rumors you started were anything but harmless—!”

It was subtle. 

Buried. 

You wouldn’t have caught it out of the corner of your eye if you hadn’t been turned at just the right moment.

The red blinking light from the recording device. 

You caught Hogback glancing from the microphone to you. 

He jerked forward, his hand already outstretched toward the podium. You instinctively braced yourself, throwing your body in front of the recorder. You expected an impact.

But instead—

“Hey, Pig Dick!” 

Hogback nearly tumbled to the floor at the sound of Kid’s voice. He stumbled, barely catching himself before retreating two steps back.

Kid took the stairs in a handful of strides. One hand hit the edge of the stage before he vaulted himself up as if the height were nothing. He glanced once at the recording light, then at the control panel, and finally at Hogback with a flat, unimpressed stare.

“I wouldn’t,” he muttered before he came to stand between the two of you. 

His hair glowed like a flame under the stage lights. 

“Eustass!” Hogback’s face drained of color as if he’d seen a ghost. His voice cracked on the name. “What are you doing here?” Spit flew from his lip as he glanced around, now cornered. “This is departmental business!”

“I’m a guest,” Kid said flatly. He held up the little badge he’d been clipped to his hoodie when he first came in. “A guest of Doc Traffy’s.”

Kid took a step forward. 

Hogback took one back. 

Kid glanced over his shoulder, but whatever he saw on your face wiped away his self-satisfied grin. “He said enough.” Kid’s gaze flickered to the floor, then back to Hogback. “Don’t touch anything yet. I’ll get the file before some idiot ‘accidentally’ loses it.”

Your brows melted together. 

“Kid—”

“Go,” he said. “Go find him.”

Your heart lurched. 

Not because of the rumors. 

Not the confirmation. 

No, it was something else that Hogback said.

Once Trafalgar is gone. 

You kept the flash drive in your hand and ran.

You ran all the way across the hospital with a stamina you didn’t have. 

Across campus. 

Up the stairs. 

Two right turns, then a left. 

A door to badge into. 

And when you reached Law’s office, you barrelled into the doorway. You held the door handle in one hand and the door frame in the other. 

You expected him to be there. To be sitting behind his desk as usual, peering at you from behind his computer monitors. His coat hanging up. His bag slumped over on the shelf of his file cabinet.

But Law wasn’t there. 

Nothing was. 

You stepped into the room, your hands reaching for cabinet handles and drawers. 

Empty. Empty. Empty. 

His computer monitor was gone. His books were gone. No papers. No coffee. No laptop.

The only evidence that Law had even been in the room was the faintest smell of ethanol. A fancy new car. Sterile gloves. A designer aftershave. A sleek penthouse apartment with leather couches and exactly one throw pillow.

The scent of something familiar. Something that was yours. 

When you turned around, a gasp tore from your throat. 

Bepo stood in the doorway, heaving almost as heavily as you were.

“I’m sorry,” Bepo whispered. 

You glanced around the room again. 

“No,” you breathed, “No, if he’s not talking with Dr. Vegapunk in the hall, he was supposed to be here.” You spun, as if turning your head quickly enough would put everything back where it belonged.

“He doesn’t like attention.” You ran a hand over your hair. The pace of your breathing picked up. “So he would’ve slinked off here. To his office. He should be here right now.” A suffocating heat burned at your throat. 

Bepo stepped inside, careful and hesitant, as if entering too quickly would make you break where you stood. 

You stared at the desk chair, pushed in neatly with not even a jacket sling across the back. Your pulse beat like a drum in your ear. 

“Where is he?” you asked, your voice suddenly sober. 

You turned toward Bepo. 

“Where is he?”

“None of us realized he was going to leave so soon after,” Bepo said, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want you to find out alone.” 

You stumbled forward to press one hand against the desk. You stared into the swirled patterns of the dark-stained wood below. 

“That’s why everyone was acting like that,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Bepo. “That’s who no one could look at me.” 

You could hear your pulse beat faster. 

Bepo shifted behind you. 

“He only told us before the presentations,” Bepo said softly. “Barely before.”

Your throat tightened so hard it hurt. “You all knew,” you choked. “That’s why you were all… fuck, I should have known.” 

“We just—we promised him. He said it had to be after the conference. He said if you knew before, you’d try to stop him—” 

“Where is he now?” you demanded, already moving.

You marched around Bepo and out into the hallway.

His footsteps scrambled after you. “I think he needed to talk to admin before he went—”

You shook your head, muttering more to yourself than to him. “No. If Hogback already knew, then it’s already done. He’s already leaving.”

The words nearly took your breath away.

You broke into a run.

“Wait—where are you going?” Bepo called. He was already so far behind you.

“The parking lot!”

You hit the stairwell door and shoved through it, bounding down the stairs as you ran through directions in your head. You remembered the garage Law liked to park in. The parking spots he usually chose—the fastest way from his wing to there. 

By the time you reached the ground floor, you could hardly breathe. Your legs ached as you pushed yourself back across campus. You took steady breaths in through your nose, cursing the shoes you wore. 

Your lungs burned, but you didn’t care about the pain. 

By the time you reached your car, you were shaking so badly you nearly dropped your keys. You shoved them in the ignition and turned. The engine stalled. 

You cursed under your breath, trying again before your car roared to life. You whipped out of the parking space with reckless speed. The speed bumps you rolled over nearly made your head hit the roof of your car. Your forehead slammed against your sunshield. You clenched your ticket in your hand on the steering wheel, and you fumbled with your wallet with the other. 

Your momentum slowed at the exit gates. You were shoving your ticket in the machine before you came to a complete stop. Out of the corner of your eye, a familiar, sleek, black Lexus was already rolling toward the exit gate. You slammed your card against the machine with gritted teeth. 

“C’mon!”

You flew out of the garage the moment the gates went up, your eyes never once leaving Law’s car. You shot down the lane, swerving hard across the exit and solid-colored lines as you turned. 

Your wheels screeched against the pavement. You weren’t even driving anymore as much as you were following through with a reckless momentum.

In an instant, you swung out in front of Law, skidding completely horizontally across the lane to completely block his path. 

Law slammed on his brakes. He barely managed to stop short enough to avoid hitting your passenger’s side. The back of his car lurched, flying up as Law flew forward, then slammed back against his seat. 

You clutched the steering wheel as your car wobbled, balancing on the two driver’s-side wheels before finally settling.

For a moment, Law stared at you through his windshield, his eyes wide and his face frozen in shock. You stared back at him through your passenger window, your hair falling in your face. Neither of you moved for a beat. You were still half-anticipating the airbags going off. 

Law was the first to move, his lips contorting into a sharp scowl as he unbuckled his belt, letting it snap back as he pushed open his door. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he shouted. The driver’s side door snapped closed with a sharp pop. 

You sucked in a disbelieving breath. Your shock quickly melted into rage, as if hearing his voice was enough to remind you why you had cut him off in the first place.

“What the hell am I doing?” you screamed, throwing your door open as you marched right up to him, jabbing a finger in the center of his chest. “You think I wouldn’t hear about what you were doing? You sent Bepo to let me down, you jackass!”

Law took a steady breath in. “Move the car.”

“No,” you snapped. 

Law’s jaw tightened as he glanced away. The polish he’d worn for the conference had long faded, revealing a raw, strained varnish underneath. 

“Move it,” he said again, lower this time. “You could have caused an accident.” 

You stared at him, scrutinizing his downward gaze. You didn’t humor him with more than a laugh.

“What, exactly, was the plan here?” you gritted. “Finish your presentation while the team choked on your secret, and then what?” Your voice broke upward. “Disappear? That was your genius idea?”

Law’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “You weren’t supposed to find out like this.” 

“Really?” Your eyes narrowed. “Because it looks an awful lot like you were going to leave me to figure it out!”

Law’s eyes clenched as he ran a hand over his face. “Bepo wasn’t supposed to let you be alone.”

“You left Bepo to clean this up?” you raged. Your nose scrunched up into a snarl. “You left that kid to do your dirty work—”

You pressed your finger against his chest again. This time, Law caught your wrist, his touch firm and warm enough to make your pulse lurch traitorously against his fingers. You stared into Law’s golden eyes, tears starting to prickle in yours.

“You don’t get to go cold on me,” you gritted breathlessly. You tried to pull your hand back, but Law held you in his grasp. “You don’t get to go silent and leave without a word after all that talk about trusting each other and doing this together. Whatever happened to not keeping things from me? You don’t get to leave me behind like this!” 

Law slowly lowered your hand, never letting go as he looked into your eyes. 

“I wasn’t leaving you behind,” he finally said, his fingers squeezing gently into your skin. “Just the hospital. It was the best option.”

“For who?” you spat. 

Law didn’t answer right away. The only continued to hold your hand. He held you like you were the last person on earth, and you relaxed in his grip with an embarrassing softness. It was something in his eyes. In his pretty golden eyes. An earnestness that left your rage defenseless.

Law brushed the back of your hand with his thumb.

“I took care of it,” he said. His voice was even, steady. “I already made an agreement.”

Your forehead crinkled. “What agreement?”

He held your gaze for a long moment. 

“You don’t have to worry about the case anymore. You don’t have to worry about the rumors or feel like you’re going to die thinking about them. Because I’ve taken care of it.”

The words were familiar.

Your lips parted in realization.

“I didn’t want this,” you breathed. “When I said—when I wished— God, I didn’t mean this. This doesn’t protect the team or me. Your patients need you—”

“They’re covered,” Law cut in softly. “Hancock and Crocus are taking over until they hire another EP.”

“I need you.”

Law paused.

Whatever he wanted to say died on his lips as he wavered. Something complicated flashed across his eyes before disappearing with a blink.

“If I step down,” he began, “If I took responsibility for what our relationship ‘looked like,’ then you can stay.” His thumb brushed against the back of your hand again. “I had one option that kept this from spreading any further. So I took it.”

He offered you a single nod.

Tears spilled over your waterline. 

“You didn’t tell me any of this?” you whispered incredulously. 

Law didn’t deny it. “You would have tried to stop me.”

You recoiled away as if he’d slapped you. Law let go of your hand, his fingers lingering on your skin as long as he could.

“Yes!” you snapped. “I would’ve!”

“I know…”

You couldn’t help the hiccup that tore from your throat. As if the motion broke something loose, tears finally spilled freely down your cheeks. You shook your head, staring at the buttons on his shirt.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. All you did was protect me, and they used you to get at me—”

“And if I stayed,” he said, his voice low and level, “it would’ve been worse.”

“And you think they’re still not going to do that just because you left?” you howled. 

“Yes.”

Law spoke with the same measured certainty he always had. Doubtless. Sure.

For a second, the parking lot seemed to disappear around you. 

“How?” The word tumbled from your mouth, like a plea. Broken and quiet. 

Law paused for what felt like an eternity. 

“Because that was the agreement.” 

Color drained from your eyes, but Law was already speaking before you could ask a thing. 

“If I resigned quietly, then the hospital was prepared to characterize me as having compromised judgment. The Vinsmokes are also being quietly removed.” He spoke as if he were explaining a diagnosis to a patient. 

“No,” you gasped.

“They wanted another person,” Law continued. “I’m new. I have other offers. The video from that night—the one where I showed up—well, it wasn’t a good look for the hospital. But I don’t have to be working down the hall for us to be together… if that was something you still wanted.”

You hated how the mere mention of a future together disarmed you. Nothing from the rest of the day seemed to matter. The burning rage you felt toward your situation, the institution, at Law, and yourself almost didn’t stand a chance against the prospect that the thing you wanted most. 

“Hogback knew,” you simmered. You tossed the flash drive to Law from your pocket. He caught it mid-air. “He cornered me after you vanished. He knew you were leaving—he was counting on it.” 

Something complicated flashed across Law’s eyes. Even now, he was crunching data, calibrating in real time. 

You crossed your arms over your chest. 

“He said enough on a live mic to hang himself by the way, so if you were planning on nobly sacrificing yourself because of that dickwad’s mess, you picked a really stupid day.”

The air stilled between you. 

Law eyes searched yours, craving information he was too prideful to ask. No, you were serious. This wasn’t a bid to get him to reconsider. 

“First—” His golden eyes continued to search yours. —“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” you huffed, looking away. 

“I’m serious,” Law said, more sternly this time. “Did he touch you?”

“No,” you affirmed quickly, lost in a random divot in the pavement. “Kid stepped in before he could do anything stupid.”

Another pause.

“Kid,” Law repeated, his frown returning. 

Your nose flared once as you held up a finger. “That is not the part to focus on right now.”

“What did he say?” he asked, his breath hitching for a second. “Hogback, I mean.”

“Enough,” you scoffed. “Between the grant money talk, the rumors he admitted to, and the review, if the North wanted a fall guy, they’ve got one.”

Law went still. For the first time since you’d cut off his car, he looked genuinely caught off guard. The muscles in his face contracted in thought. You could see the data flash across his golden irises. 

“Who heard what?” he asked. 

You scoffed. “I’m sure everyone heard everything. It’s recorded too.”

“That…” Law drew in a sharp breath. “Might change a few things.”

“It changes everything.” You nodded furiously, the fire returning to your voice. “Hogback fucking himself or not, if you walk away now, it doesn’t change anything for me. I’ll still be the distraction. I’ll still be Code E—”

“No, you won’t.”

“If you’re going to leave, at least let me come with you.”

Law didn’t even give the suggestion a thought. 

“No,” Law said again, more sternly this time. His jaw flexed as he glanced back toward the ground. “That is not a solution.”

“But you leaving is?” you shot back. 

“You’re not going to leave everything you’ve built—that you’ve achieved—behind. What about your position, your work, your department—”

“What role, Law?” you snapped. “I’ve built everything I wanted!” you exclaimed, the tears spilling down your cheeks again. “I don’t even have a real position, Law. I never got a title or pay when Wapol left. Every late shift. Every early call. Every single doctor on the floor that I tended to alone. I’ve lost friends over this place!”

You wiped at your tears with annoyance. 

“And now, when it finally matters,” you hiccuped, “you think this is the best place for me.”

You were shaking now. With anger. With adrenaline. With the memories of Wapol and Kid. Shachi and Penguin. Hogback and the QC meetings. Every raise and title change you never got. 

Law went completely still. He glanced toward the hospital, then at you.

“You can’t come with me,” he said quietly, taking a careful step toward you. “But I also can’t stop you. You’ve never listened to me before.”

For the first time in a long while, a little smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “You jump, I jump, right?” you whispered, inching just a bit closer. “I’m serious.”

“I know.” 

Law’s hand came up to your jaw before sliding to the back of your neck, warm and steadying. You leaned into him on instinct, balling the fabric of his shirt into your fists as if you were the only thing anchoring him to the ground. 

Then he kissed you, exhaling like it was something he’d been holding in too long. 

The parking lot melted away around you. A weight lifted from your shoulders, like shedding a fur coat in the middle of summer. Your hands traveled up his shoulders, looping around the back of his neck as you pulled him closer, threading your fingers through his hair.

There was only him, the hitch of his breath when you kissed him back harder, and the way his other hand found your waist like he’d been starving for your touch alone. He kissed you like he was trying to tell you everything he couldn’t put into words.

And you let him.

You let him tell you in slow, unsteady breaths and the press of his lips. In the way his hands held your body, drawing you closer like he didn’t believe you were actually there. And in that moment, the world perfected itself, simmering down to you and him.

You and him. 

It had always been the two of you.

When he pulled back, it was only far enough to rest his forehead against yours. His breathing was uneven now, his voice raw. You could feel his heart pound in his chest.

“I thought you’d hate me,” he breathed, as if he were whispering a confession. 

You huffed a light laugh, holding him closer. “Don’t worry, baby doc, I do.” 

Law snickered, his chest vibrating against you. Your hands traveled from the front of his shirt to his shoulders to wrap your arms around his neck. 

But just as you were about to lean into another kiss, you heard the sound of an electric motor behind you. 

“Dr. Trafalgar! Wait! Wait, Dr. Trafalgar!” 

You both turned. A golf cart came tearing across the lot at a speed no golf cart should ever achieve. Albert Vegapunk half-stood out of his seat with his foot on the pedal and two pale fists on the wheel. He braked crookedly, one tire bumping the curb. 

He jumped out in a rush that was somehow both frantic and deeply uncoordinated, stopping just short of Law’s still-running car. His lips were poised to speak, but as he looked between you and Law, his words slowly died. Dr. Vegapunk’s gaze lingered on where your arms were still looped around Law’s neck.

“Oh.” He blinked before clearing his throat. He took a step back as if he’d intruded on some private, invisible circle. “Well. That is—goodness—that does explain quite a bit.” He nodded. 

Heat returned to your face as you immediately dropped your arms. You stepped to the side as if you weren’t already incriminated. 

Law, infuriatingly, almost looked composed. 

“Dr. Vegapunk,” he greeted formally, as if they’d run into each other anywhere else. 

“No, no, no, no! You do not, ‘Dr. Vegapunk’ me, young man.” Dr. Vegapunk shook his head, waving his arms frantically in front of him in a large ‘X’ shape. “I leave for one plate of apple slices—one plate—and suddenly I am informed that our best up-and-coming talent is about to vanish via side exit like some sort of robber in the night!”

Law’s expression didn’t change. “Rest assured, I was not robbing anyone.”

Dr. Vegapunk shook his head again. “Forget this! Forget this!” He jabbed a finger at Law. “The point is the vanishing. The secrecy. The melodrama of the parking lot. This is unacceptable, entirely unacceptable!”

“And you.” Dr. Vegapunk turned to you, and your heart nearly sank. His gaze flickered between your open car door and Law’s front bumper. “You appear to have intercepted him with your vehicle,” he noted, his voice far more even compared to the scolding Law received. 

You blinked. “I did.”

Dr. Vegapunk offered you one concise nod, running two fingers over the sides of his mustache. “Excellent initiative. Questionable adherence to safety standards. We’ll revisit later.”

You couldn’t help the small grin that crackled your lips. Law eyed you from the periphery.

“Not a compliment,” he muttered. 

“Sounded like one to me.”

Dr. Vegapunk waved a hand in the air. “Right now, I need to know if the rumors metastasizing through my conference hall are merely humiliating or institutionally catastrophic.”

You and Law exchanged glances. “Potentially both,” you said in near unison. 

Dr. Vegapunk stilled, a sober expression overtaking his face. “Explain.”

Somewhere behind him, a car honked. 

Dr. Vegapunk immediately turned around with righteous fury. “Go around!” He stepped away from the two of you toward the car, waving his arms toward another lot exit. “Go around!”

The driver hesitated just long enough to look offended. 

Dr. Vegapunk pointed more aggressively. “This is not the lane for you today! Not today!”

The car backed up as you and Law exchanged glances. Only once it was gone did Dr. Vegapunk turn back to you both, running a hand over the front of his shirt as if he’d just restored the order of the universe. 

“Now,” he hummed. “Explain.”

You didn’t know where to start. There was too much to be summarized into a few short sentences. And so, you gave him as close to the bones as you could. 

Hogback’s manipulated data buried at Syrup. Hiriluk’s misdiagnosed patients. The notes. The rumors. The review and the investigation.

Dr. Vegapunk listened carefully. He didn’t interrupt, but something in his face hardened. 

Law outlined the agreement he made and the conversations he had with the administration.

“I only knew because Hogback cornered me,” you ended. You paused, worried that you’d missed something in your recap. 

Dr. Vegapunk only nodded gravely. “And this is what I heard over my apple slices.” 

Neither you nor Law spoke as Dr. Vegapunk seemed to ponder. For a moment, only the humming of your cars filled the air. 

“Alright,” Dr. Vegapunk finally said decisively, gabbing two thumbs in the direction of the hospital. “The two of you, back inside.”

You blinked. “Inside?” 

“Yes, inside,” he said, as if you were being obtuse on purpose. “I still have donors, board members, and three extremely important guests wandering around that conference hall who are far too close to realizing this institution isn’t nearly as functional as we seem. I prefer to preserve the illusion for another hour or so if at all possible.”

Dr. Vegapunk turned partially toward the hospital. “I had tried to take more of a backseat given that I’m getting up there in years, but it is clear that trying a morsel of retirement was a terrible mistake.” He pointed another finger toward Law. “Never retire. Retiring is the grave.”

He made his way back toward his golf cart, muttering to himself as he went.

“You,” he said to Law from the driver’s seat, “are not leaving.”

Law offered a tense but curt nod. “Understood.”

Dr. Vegapunk began to back up, his cart jolting as he rolled off the curb. “Good. Wait for me in my office. Don’t talk to anyone in the meantime. I’ll be joining you shortly as soon as I’ve finished sorting everything and smiling at people I do not like.”

The electric motor roared as Dr. Vegapunk shot out of the parking lot. 

Beside you, Law’s fingers brushed yours. Gingerly, you took his hand in yours. 

“So,” you whispered. “What do you think he wants to talk about?”

Law squeezed your hand. “I guess we’ll find out together.”

***

You didn’t remember walking back into the hospital. After that, the day vanished into a blur of conference rooms, shut doors, and fierce arguments. 

The negotiations themselves were ugly. You only saw pieces of them, but by the end of the week, Hogback had been escorted off campus. Then, an email listing various leadership names was sent to the entire employee population announcing their immediate departure. 

It wasn’t an apology, and it definitely wasn’t justice.

In fact, Hogback’s removal seemed to be the only thing that moved quickly. 

The rest took time. The investigation that had once hung over your head was quietly reclassified and then later folded into a wider, internal movement. The rumors lasted only a day before talk across the hospital seemed to quiet overnight. After all, there wasn’t time for rumors anymore, not when inquiries dominated the institution. 

Meanwhile, Dr. Vegapunk had stayed true to his word. In the aftermath of the conference, he stepped back into a more active leadership role despite objections from his children. And from there, there wasn’t much that could be denied to the founder of the entire North Blue hospital system. He couldn’t erase what happened, but he could address other things. 

It wasn’t a fix, but it was a change. 

Then, there was you. 

It felt odd carrying your things to the office that remained labeled “Wapol” since you’d started. The room had only been used for storage since he departed, and so when you set your box of things down, it almost blended in with the rest. 

Inside were your pictures from your corkboard. The certificates. The awards. Everything you’d collected up until now.

Staying didn’t feel triumphant, but it didn’t mean accepting less either.

For a while, it felt more like stagnation. Too much had happened for your choice to stay to feel natural. But for all the ways the hospital had failed you, it was now also a place that gave you the room to make something better of everything it had nearly taken. 

It wasn’t a victory. It was work — perhaps harder than leaving would have been. But after all you had been through, hard work no longer intimidated you.

A soft knock came from the doorframe. 

“Is this the office of the Senior Imaging Supervisor?” 

You turned. 

Law stood with his shoulder braced against the door frame. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his white coat, as usual. 

“Among other things.” You didn’t hide the wide grin that covered your lips. “That depends on who’s asking?”

The corners of Law’s lips twitched. “A physician with a scheduling concern.” 

You shook your head, planting both palms on the edge of your new desk as you leaned back against the hardwood. “Denied,” you hummed. “You’ll have to file in writing.”

“I was afraid of that.” Law’s gaze drifted as he slowly pulled Wapol’s name card from the door label. He pushed off the frame and stepped into the office. “It suits you.”

“Mh,” you hummed. “Not quite yet.”

You glanced around at the clutter that surrounded you and over the stored equipment before you settled on the nameplate next to you on the desk. You picked it up wordlessly, then crossed to the trash. 

Law met you there without a word, holding Wapol’s door card loosely between his fingers. You hardly spared a look at the cheap little plastic strip that had labeled this room for longer than it ever should have, then at the plate in your own hands. 

Together, you stood side by side over the bin and dropped them in without a word or a flourish. The two labels immediately sank to the bottom of the empty bag.

Law’s shoulder barely brushed against yours. His golden irises had already been studying your face for a few seconds now. 

“Better?”

You nodded once. “Yeah,” you said, finally meeting his gaze. “What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be across campus all morning.”

“I was.” He bobbed his head. “Until the board approved the outreach program—”

“What?” 

Law didn’t even have time to react before you jumped on him, wrapping your arms around his neck and squealing into your ear. You bounced on the balls of your feet even as you pulled away. Law had scrunched his chin toward his neck, his eyes slightly widened, and his lips forming the same neutral line they usually did when he was caught off guard. 

You laughed. “So it’s official?”

“Yes.” His hands went back to his pockets like they always did, and an untrained eye might have taken his slightly puffed chest as rigidity instead of quiet pride. “Dr. Vegapunk thought that incorporating Corazon’s clinic back into the North network was something we should’ve done a long time ago. Priority intake for uninsured patients and those living below the poverty line for more consistent days than just the last Wednesday of the month.” 

Law cast his eyes down, a small, sincere smile ghosting his lips. 

“Law.” Your brow softened as you reached for his hand. Your touch drew his attention back to you like a magnet. You rubbed the back of his hand with your thumb. “He’d be so proud of you,” you said softly.

For a moment, Law didn’t say a thing. He nodded, squeezing your hand. “I know he would,” he muttered. 

“And so—” You tugged him toward your desk. You hopped up onto the edge, and Law, in all of his tall stature, leaned next to you. “You’re heading it?”

His brows bobbed. “Can you believe they’re already calling me director?” Law shook his head. “It’s more Dr. Vegapunk’s baby. I’ll need to get a lot of other people on board for it to actually work.”

“It’s not just Dr. Vegapunk’s baby,” you corrected, knocking your shoulder against Law’s. “It’s yours and Cora’s more than anyone.”

Law nodded a few times. “I suppose you’re right.”

“So, what does that mean for cardiology-cardiology?”

Law tilted his head with a shallow shrug. “Not yet,” he said slowly, “But not never. We’ll be working closely enough, just not the same as things have been.” 

You stared at him for a moment. “Vegapunk doesn’t want to let you off leash until the dust settles?”

“Bingo.”

Your hand drifted up the sleeve of Law’s coat. 

“So… about tonight…”

Law’s expression softened. 

“I didn’t forget,” he said, “Everyone’s coming to ours at seven.”

Your breath hitched. “Ours?”

Law grasped the hand you had on his arm as he turned his head toward you. “I hate to break it to you, but you never spend any time at your building anymore.”

“Your parking garage is air-conditioned.”

“And you’ve already taken up half my dresser.”

“It’s not hard when you only wear collared shirts,” you scoffed. “Jean Bart said he couldn’t make it.”

“Marguerite said the same thing,” Law replied. And after a brief pause, “What are the chances—”

“They’re definitely together,” you affirmed. “I heard him talking about short rib again.”

A snicker teased from between Law’s teeth. “Well, in that case, it’s going to be Kid, Killer, Penguin and Shachi—if they show up on time—and Bepo is bringing dessert.”

Your brow perked up. “Is he bringing baked Alaska again? Because that kid—”

“Needs to open a bakery? Yes.” Law offered a curt nod. 

Footsteps echoed out in the hallway. A familiar voice addressed what sounded like a group. 

“I think that’s Nami,” you whispered, leaning your head against Law’s arm. His hand still grasped the top of yours. “With our new hires.”

Law glanced toward the door, then back at you as you began to pull away. He stood up straight, and you hopped off the desk to face him.

You met his soft, golden irises, still savoring the feeling of his skin on yours. 

Law leaned toward you and kissed you once, brief and sure, before stepping away.

“Tonight,” he said.

You smiled.  “Tonight.”

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Glossary for Nerds

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII Chapter XIV Chapter XV Chapter XVI Chapter XVII

Special Thanks to: @aveocadeo @augustanna @starzbrii @sporkslol @chillerkiller @weepingjudgediplomatbasketb-blog @notbleachtea @yunloyal @valval08 @vilemint @all-mights-wife @breakingthebank13 @lipstick-stains-and-coffee-rings @starchild-unnamed @sin-namonroll

Super Special Thanks to: @qui-sap @r3nstar @nerdgirlsdoitbest

Series Soundtrack: Agora Hills - Doja Cat, Go to Town - Doja Cat, Before the Day is Over - Joji, Glimpse of Us - Joji, Circles - Kid Bloom, Killshot - Magdalena Bay, I Wish You Love - Laufey, Arms Tonite - Mother Mother, Past Won’t Leave my Bed - Ayli’s Version, Are We Keeping Score - Pleaser, Canibal Queen - Miniature Tigers

End Credits: Come Around - Peter McPoland

Notes: Thank you to everyone who followed this story. It was such a pleasure to write, and I hope that one day I can edit this work so I can release it as my first published novel. The community I’ve had the opportunity to interact with has been nothing but sweet and supportive. You all made this project so worth sharing. Thank you again.

Polls: You all voted for #1 and for “here,” which meant that Law was going to sacrifice his job and that they were both going to stay at the hospital.