Morning light filtered through the glass ceiling above Seattle Grace Mercy West's surgical floor. The hospital buzzed with clipped voices, the shuffle of scuffed sneakers, and the low whir of machines calculating life in vital signs and alarms.
Nia Seraphine Adisa had barely closed her locker when her pager screamed.
07:14 – Neuro OR 3.
Dr. Shepherd. STAT.
Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.
---
Derek's Experimental Neuro Coiling Case
Inside Neuro OR 3, Derek Shepherd stood beside a sterile tray, studying angiographic films lit up behind him. "You're late," he said without looking up.
"I ran here."
"You should've run faster." His tone was sharp, but his eyes held no venom.
He held out a tablet, showing a cerebral aneurysm the size of a grape in the medial cerebral artery. "This patient is thirty-four. Three kids. If this thing ruptures, it's over. We're trying an unapproved coiling method. You'll thread the microcatheter."
Nia blinked. "You want me to…?"
"I've seen how your hands move. You visualize ten steps ahead. That's what this needs."
Cristina walked in right then, scrubbing her hands.
She froze when she saw Nia at the table.
"I thought I was assisting," Cristina said tightly.
"You're observing," Derek replied. "This isn't cardio. This is mine."
Cristina didn't argue. But her eyes, sharp and simmering, never left Nia's.
Nia swallowed the heat rising in her chest. Her gloved hands trembled as she positioned the guidewire.
"Deep breath," Derek said quietly. "You've got this."
She nodded, visualizing each turn of the catheter, each pulse of blood pressure. In her mind, the aneurysm opened like a flower. Fragile. Deadly.
She made the first move.
---
OR Aftermath – Cristina's Cut
The procedure lasted three hours.
Flawless.
The coil was placed, the aneurysm stabilized, and the patient wheeled into recovery with a second chance at life.
Cristina cornered Nia outside the scrub room.
"You ever think you might be someone's favorite science project?"
"What?"
"You keep getting handed brilliance like it's owed to you. You didn't even apply to that fellowship, but Shepherd's grooming you like you're the next neurosurgical Messiah."
Nia steadied her voice. "Maybe he just sees something."
"Yeah. A headline. A miracle intern. I've worked my ass off for six years—busted my back in research, cardio, trauma—no shortcuts."
"I'm not trying to take anything from you."
"You don't have to. You walk in and people give it to you."
Cristina walked off before Nia could answer. But her words stayed, barbed and burning.
---
Micah – Emergency Unfolding
By mid-afternoon, the trauma board lit up red.
Code Blue – Radiology Hallway. Collapse.
Nia, on her way to lunch, ran.
What she found stopped her heart.
Micah.
On the floor.
Sweating. Pale. Struggling to breathe.
"BP's tanking!" shouted a nurse. "Pulse is thready—some kind of cardiac episode."
Nia dropped to her knees. "He has a congenital aortic valve defect! Look at his chart!"
"Who are you?" the trauma nurse asked.
"I'm his—" Her voice caught. "I know him."
Micah's eyes fluttered. "Nia…"
She squeezed his hand as the gurney arrived.
---
Micah's Past, Revealed
In the ER, Teddy Altman directed the chaos. Cristina, drawn by the code, assisted while Nia hovered nearby.
Teddy called out, "We're looking at a possible dissection. Prep for emergency echo and CT angiogram."
Cristina glanced at Nia. "You knew he had a heart condition?"
Nia nodded. "He doesn't talk about it. Said he had valve repair as a kid. Thought it was over."
Cristina narrowed her eyes but didn't comment.
The scans confirmed it—Micah had a torn cusp in his aortic valve, leaking blood into the pericardial sac. If it kept up, his heart would suffocate.
"He needs surgery now," Teddy said.
Cristina moved toward the OR board, but Teddy stopped her.
"Not you."
"What?"
"I want Adisa."
Cristina's jaw dropped. "She's not cardio."
"No. But she knows him. And I've seen what she can do."
---
Surgery – A Different Kind of Pressure
Nia scrubbed in with trembling fingers. This wasn't just a patient.
This was Micah.
Teddy guided her, calm and crisp.
"Retract the pericardium. There. See the bleeding cusp?"
Nia saw it. Not on the screen, but in her mind—vivid, pulsing, unraveling like a thread.
She clamped it. Sutured. Held her breath.
The bleeding slowed. Then stopped.
Teddy exhaled. "Perfect. Let's close."
---
Recovery Room – Honest Hearts
Micah woke hours later, groggy but alive.
Nia sat beside him, a gentle smile pulling at her lips.
"You saved me," he rasped.
"Yeah, well, I told you not to skip breakfast."
He chuckled, then winced.
"Nia…"
She reached for his hand. "Don't say anything. Just rest."
"No. You need to know. I didn't tell you about my heart stuff because I thought… if you knew I wasn't invincible, you'd see me differently."
"I already do," she said. "And it's not weakness."
He blinked away tears. "You stayed."
"Always."
---
Hospital Crisis – Lights Out
Just past midnight, the hospital's power flickered—once, then again.
An explosion rocked the east wing. Alarms screamed.
Overhead, the PA crackled.
"Attention all staff: generator failure in OR levels. Manual systems online. Proceed to safety zones."
Nia turned to the nearest nurse. "What's happening?"
"Transformer blew. Oxygen levels are dropping in the east ICU. We've got critical patients who need vent transfer ASAP."
"I'll help."
"Where's Altman? Where's Shepherd?" the nurse asked, panicking.
"They're in transit—trapped in the elevator shaft," someone said.
Everyone froze.
Someone had to act.
---
Taking Command
Nia took a breath.
"I've seen the ICU schematics. There's a manual stair ramp on the north corridor. We move the patients in pairs. Bag ventilation. Now."
A nurse blinked. "Who's in charge?"
"I am."
She didn't raise her voice, but everyone moved.
They wheeled the first gurney up the narrow ramp, sweat pouring, alarms blaring.
Nia led every trip. By the fifth patient, her arms were jelly. But she didn't stop.
---
After the Storm
Two hours later, power returned. The backup systems engaged. The ICU patients—all nine—were safe.
Derek, finally freed from the elevator, found Nia collapsed in a chair, covered in sweat, knuckles bruised.
"You ran the transfers?"
She nodded. "Someone had to."
Derek smiled faintly. "Remind me to never get on your bad side."
---
Cristina – A Quiet Concession
Cristina approached her at dawn.
"You were good," she said simply.
Nia looked up.
"Last night," Cristina added. "And today. With Micah. You didn't choke."
"I was too scared to."
Cristina hesitated. "You're still a science project. But maybe you're a good one."
It was the closest thing to a compliment she'd get.
And it was enough.
---
Meredith – The Warning
Meredith cornered her in the locker room later.
"You okay?"
"No," Nia said. "But I will be."
"Good. Because things don't get easier from here. If you keep being this good, people will want to tear you down."
"I'm used to that."
Meredith nodded. "Then you're ready."
---
End of Chapter 7