"Step away from the table," I say.
Jax freezes. "What?"
"You are a distraction," I say, making the words as cruel as possible. "You are compromising my field. Step away."
"Max, what the hell is going on?" Jax asks, his voice rising. "I’m assisting. I’ve done this a dozen times."
"And you have done it poorly every time," I lie. "I am tired of carrying you, Dr. O'Connell. I am tired of cleaning up your messes."
"Carrying me?" Jax’s eyes narrow. The hurt is turning to anger. Good. Anger will make him leave. "I saved that patient in the bus crash while you were asking for permission."
"You got lucky," I dismiss. "Leave my OR."
"No." Jax stands his ground. "Not until you tell me what’s wrong."
I look past him. I see Dr. Indira Singh standing in the corner, reviewing the patient’s chart. She looks up, her eyes wide with panic as she registers the tension in the room.
"Dr. Singh!" I bark.
Indira jumps, dropping her clipboard. It clatters loudly on the floor.
"Scrub in," I order. "Take Dr. O'Connell’s place."
"But..." Indira stammers, looking between me and Jax. Her hands are shaking. "Dr. York, I... I haven't prepped for a valve repair today. I’m just observing."
"I did not ask for your itinerary, Dr. Singh," I roar. "I asked for a competent assistant! Scrub in NOW!"
Indira flinches as if I struck her. She scrambles toward the scrub sink, terrified.
Jax flinches too. He stares at me. I have never yelled at a resident like that. Not since before I met him. He sees the monster returning.
"You’re serious," Jax whispers.
"I am the Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery," I say coldly. "I am always serious. Now get out."
Jax drops the retractor. It clatters onto the metal tray—a sound of finality.
He steps back. He rips his bloody gloves off, snapping the latex.
"Loud and clear,Chief," he spits the title.
He turns and walks out. The doors swing shut behind him.
My heart is hammering so hard I worry the monitor will pick it up. My hands are shaking inside my gloves.
Indira steps up to the table a moment later. She is fully scrubbed, but she is trembling. Her eyes dart to the door where Jax just left.
"Dr. York?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper. "Is... is Dr. O'Connell coming back?"
I look at her. I see the fear in her eyes. She isn't looking at a mentor anymore. She is looking at the Ice King.
"Dr. O'Connell is gone," I say, my voice flat and dead. "Focus on the field, Dr. Singh. The past is irrelevant. Suction."
"Yes, sir," she whimpers.
I finish the surgery. I repair the valve.
I have saved the patient’s heart. And I have ripped my own out of my chest.
