"How about we don't talk about medical disasters before dinner?" I suggest.
"Where's the fun in that?" Sullivan grins at Gwen. "Come on, Doc. You've got stories."
"I have patient confidentiality."
"HIPAA's no fun at parties."
"Good thing this isn't a party." But she's smiling slightly. "How about you? What's the worst thing you've seen?"
Sullivan's grin turns wicked. "Well, there was this one time in Fallujah?—"
"We're not telling that story," I cut in.
"Why not? It's a good story."
"It's classified."
"The classified part is the best part though."
Gwen laughs, and I watch her start to relax. Santos asks about surgical procedures with genuine interest—he's a medic, always wanting to learn more. Garcia wants to know about the weirdest injuries she's treated. Hayes cracks jokes about how his shoulder got dislocated. Sullivan continues pushing boundaries until she pushes back with a comment about his obvious need for attention.
"Oh, I like her," Sullivan says. "She's got bite."
"She's also standing right here," Gwen says.
I fire up the grill on the back patio while they get comfortable. Through the window I watch Gwen deflect Sullivan's questions, talk with Hayes, laugh at something Garcia says, accept a beer from Santos who's already decided she's trustworthy.
By the time I bring steaks in, they're trading deployment stories and medical disasters like old friends.
"So what's the weirdest surgery you've done?" Sullivan asks around a mouthful of steak.
Gwen considers. "Had a Marine come in with—actually, I really can't tell you. HIPAA."
"Aw, come on."
"No. I'd lose my license."
"What if we guess and you just confirm?"
"Still a violation."
Garcia laughs. "She's got you there, Sully."
"Fine. What about the most interesting surgery you've done that you can talk about?"
Gwen launches into a story about a tumor wrapped around an aorta, eleven-hour surgery, bypass required. The way she describes it makes even complex medical procedures sound fascinating. Santos asks technical questions. Garcia and Hayes want to know about surgical team dynamics. Sullivan just wants to know if anyone passed out.
"The resident almost did," Gwen admits. "Hour nine, he started swaying. Had to swap him out."
"Weak," Sullivan declares.
"He'd been on his feet for twelve hours before we started. That's not weak, that's human physiology."
"Still weak."
"You want to stand in an OR for eleven hours and see how you do?"
"I've stood in worse places for longer."
