Chicago Med fic: In a Heartbeat (3/4)
Dec. 7th, 2021 05:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
faye_dartmouthPART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
-o-
Jay came back not long after Goodwin left. Despite Will instructing his brother to get a real meal, he was carrying a bag of potato chips, a bottle of water and one of those crappy vending machine sandwiches. The sandwiches were only available a floor up, so it was clear his brother had made some effort, but it was a far cry from the cafeteria meal Will had hoped his brother would secure.
“That’s not enough food,” Will told him.
On the bed, Will’s opinion probably didn’t carry much weight, but then again, this was Jay. Will’s opinion had never held much weight in the first place.
Jay sat down, crunching loudly. “I got food, didn’t I?”
“Don’t be legalistic,” Will muttered.
“Oh, whatever,” Jay said, finishing the last of the chips and crumbling up the bag. “What about you? Did you eat?”
Will glanced to the sad plate of food he’d been delivered for dinner. Chicken, salad and low sodium rice. Apparently, Dr. Latham was serious about this heart angle. Will had only been permitted to order from the heart-friendly menu.
He’d barely touched it.
“Man, you have to eat,” Jay said, ripping open his sandwich. “I mean, the last thing we need is for you to get more sick.”
“I’m not sick now,” Will rebuffed him.
“Uh huh,” Jay said. “And what’s wrong with the chicken? It doesn’t look bad.”
Will made a face. “It’s dry.”
“Because you didn’t eat it when it was hot,” Jay said. “Come on, you have to at least try.”
Will didn’t see why he did, but then he remembered: this wasn’t about him.
Feeling less than thrilled, Will picked up the tray again, putting it on the table in front of him. With a meager display of effort, he picked up a piece of chicken and ate it.
Jay had extricated his sandwich and started munching away, like they were at a casual dinner at Molly’s and not sharing a meal of hospital food. As awkward as that was, Will figured it meant he was doing something right. Jay had calmed down since Will had been admitted, and though Jay would never be comfortable in a hospital, he seemed to be adjusting better now that Will had made an effort to lower the stakes here.
Continuing to eat for Jay’s sake, Will decided to deescalate the situation further. “It’s been kind of a long day,” he said. “All the poking and prodding -- I’ll probably go to sleep early.”
Jay had made short work of his sandwich, and he was licking mayo off his fingers. “No problem,” he said. “I’m pretty zapped myself.”
“Good,” Will said. “And you don’t have to make an effort to be back tomorrow. I mean, it’ll just be more tests--”
Jay frowned at him. “What?”
“Tomorrow,” Will clarified. “I’m just under observation. They’ll monitor my vitals, rerun the tests--”
Jay shook his head. “But I’m staying.”
It was Will’s turn to frown. “But I just told you. Nothing will be happening.”
“I don’t care,” Jay said. “You’re in the hospital.”
“Which is an overreaction in and of itself,” Will said. “And even if you do want to come back tomorrow, just come for a little bit. Go home, get some sleep.”
“Uh, no way,” Jay said, crumpling up the package from his sandwich and tossing it in the wastebasket. “I’ll stay the night.”
This was getting positively ridiculous now. “You’ll stay the night? You hate hospitals.”
“And I hate the thought of not being here more,” Jay said.
“Oh, please, I’m fine,” Will said. “And what are you going to do? Sleep in the chair?”
Jay made a small, matter of fact face. “Why not?”
It had been a long day -- a really long day. Will was tired, and he was sore. His chest still ached, and he felt embarrassed on every possible level. And Jay was sitting there, asking why not?
“Jay, come on--”
“I’ve done it before,” Jay replied readily. “I mean, I did it all the time with Mom.”
“Mom had cancer,” Will said.
“And you had a heart attack,” Jay returned, just as quickly.
Will felt his insides turn once more. “Stop saying that,” he said. “I thought we’d gone over this. I maybe had a heart attack.”
Jay seemed much less impressed by the maybe than Will did. “Sure, and maybe you’ve got heart disease. Whatever, man. I’m staying.”
Will regarded his brother, and quickly assessed that there was literally no way out of this. Any point he might make was negated by the hospital gown. Any reason he might posit would be undermined by his heart beat and BP on the monitor next to him.
He looked at his brother, feeling far too weary to mount much more of a fight. “You’re really not letting this go, are you?”
Jay smirked back at him. He kicked off his shoes and propped his feet up on Will’s bed. “Try to stop me.”
“Okay,” Will said, surrendering the fight before he’d even made much of an attempt to mount it. “It’s your sore back.”
And Will’s damaged pride.
-o-
The night was a reprieve from visitors, and Jay did sleep like a rock. He spent the night snoring away, slumped uncomfortably on the chair.
By comparison, Will’s bed looked downright comfortable, but he hardly got any sleep at all. The nurses did their best to be discreet, but it didn’t really matter. Will was exhausted, but sleep evaded him. He had another long run of arrhythmias throughout the night, and around 2 AM, he had another period of chest pains and hindered breathing.
It got so bad that he nearly did wake Jay up, but it passed just in time.
By sunrise, Will felt like he’d mostly gotten things under control. He’d learned to work on his breathing, suppressing the urge to panic. When his chest tightened, he deepened each breath and practiced holding in the oxygen until he felt he had more control. Massaging his shoulders help, but he couldn’t do that with Jay awake without attracting attention.
Still, if panic and anxiety was primarily prompted by psychological factors, then they could also be prevented with similar measures. He had been working on his self control over the last six months. This was just more of the same.
At least, that was his resolve for the day.
Self control.
He’d gotten himself into this mess.
He would be the one to get himself out.
Jay was perkier over breakfast, and with Will’s nudging, he spent some time on the phone, checking in with work. One of the nurses showed Jay to the private bathrooms where the showers were, and Will was allowed nearly an entire hour of reprieve from his brother’s constant vigil.
He still had visitors from the hospital, but the nurses seemed to be fielding them more now -- likely with Dr. Latham’s insistence. Upon rounding in the morning, Dr. Latham seemed concerned but committed, and he ordered up the full slate of tests to be completed throughout the day. If there was a cardiac assessment to be had, Will was having it. For good measure, Dr. Latham had also drawn up several other tests to cross things off the differential.
It was thorough, to say the least. Will appreciated that the doctor was making the effort despite his obvious belief that Will’s problem was heart disease.
When he wasn’t getting tests or entertaining visitors, Will was confined mostly to bed rest, save for sparse trips to the bathroom -- trips that Jay insisted on supervising. Will allowed himself to be escorted to the bathroom, but he refused to let Jay walk him inside. He didn’t have much dignity left, but he needed that much.
The nursing staff was monitoring him closely, tracking all of his vitals with a special interest in his BP. Now that he was on medication, they were looking for it to stabilize. Although Will had once had a resting BP of 120/60, it was now hovering around 150/110 most of the morning. That was still higher than Will would have liked, but they needed to let the meds have more time to work. You couldn’t expect instantaneous results, and Will knew better than anyone that the hospital was a high stress situation. People thought he’d had a heart attack. It was only natural that his blood pressure would be affected by that.
The other pressing problem, according to Dr. Latham, was that Will’s heart was not beating quite right. Even with his breathing exercises and calming strategies, Will’s heart had not stopped slipping into irregular patterns.
The arrhythmias were classically linked to heart disease, but Will knew they were also associated with -- you guessed it. High stress situations. The cardiac meds were less effective than the ones for his blood pressure. Despite the team’s best efforts, Will’s heart continued on strings of irregular rhythms that occasionally left Will breathless and sore.
Even so, all things considered, Will was feeling considerably better that day. The idea that he’d had a heart attack seemed increasingly less feasible to him. He wasn’t that old. He usually took good care of himself. He’d just let the stress and pressure build up over the last six months.
With this in mind, he was the most willing patient in the world for the second battery of tests. He didn’t resent the poking and prodding today -- because he knew it would only validate what he’d been saying all along. That Will was fine. Will was 100 percent, absolutely fine.
-o-
Dr. Latham rounded again at night, but he had no diagnosis yet. He was still waiting on a few lingering test results, and he wanted time to fully analyze the data before presenting his diagnosis. He knew the man to be thorough, but Will suspected his earlier doubts had prompted a new approach for the cardiothoracic surgeon. This time, when Dr. Latham presented his findings, he probably wanted to eliminate room for doubt.
That was fine with Will.
Especially since he was confident that a thorough exploration of the facts would defend his hypothesis that he was overworked and malnourished -- nothing more.
While the hospital was winding down for the night, Will was finally feeling a bit perky. His BP was still elevated, but it had stayed stable most of the day. The arrhythmia came and went, but overall, his chest felt less tight and he was less winded when he got up to go to the bathroom.
Which made sense with Will’s working hypothesis. He was finally starting to calm down a little. He was regaining control of his emotions -- and his body was falling into line right behind it.
In fact, he was feeling so upbeat that he didn’t argue with Jay when he said he wanted to stay another night. In fact, Will leaned into it, offering to ask the nurse for a rollaway bed and suggesting they order dinner in the room and turn on the game.
Jay had no reason to object, and while Will’s meal was a little bland, Jay seemed to eat his burger and fries quite heartily. The Bulls were playing crappy that night, but Will kept up a constant commentary to make his brother smile. They even stayed up late, playing gin rummy with a deck of cards Will had politely bothered the nurse to provide them.
Honestly, it was kind of nice.
Two brothers, just doing their thing.
When they finally did get ready for bed, Will was still smiling. “I think we’ll be going home tomorrow,” he said. “I hope you didn’t already take it off.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jay said, making up his bed hastily.
“Come on, you can’t say I don’t look better,” Will protested. As he was in the hospital bed and stuck in a gown, there was nothing more for him to do. He’d already been to the bathroom and brushed his teeth.
“You look better only because you couldn’t have looked worse,” Jay reminded him, spreading out the sheet.
“I’m telling you, Jay,” he said. “A little rest. A little relaxation. That’s all I needed. I know how much I’ve been working lately, but I hadn’t really realized what it was doing to me.”
Jay puffed up his pillow a little, watching it deflate with a small frown. “I’ve been telling you that for months. You’re not on probation anymore.”
“Sure, but I’m still on thin ice,” Will pointed out. “I can’t make any mistakes.”
“So we don’t want to get fired, but we’re okay with dying,” Jay chided, sitting down and listening to the bed squeak.
Will gave his brother the most exasperated look. “But I’m doing so much better now.”
“Aren’t you still having whatever? Arrhythmias?” Jay asked.
“At worst, I’m looking at an afib diagnosis,” Will said. “Easily manageable, made worse by stress, alcohol and caffeine. All of which I used leading up to this event.”
Jay shook his head. “Let’s just see what Latham says.”
“You know, I think that’s a great idea,” Will chirped at him. “Let’s see what Dr. Latham says.”
Jay made a small, dismissive sigh. “Are you going to actually get some sleep tonight?”
“Of course,” Will said, and he laid back on the bed as if to prove his point.
“Don’t think I don’t know you didn’t sleep last night,” Jay said.
“I might have if not for your snoring,” Will quipped.
Jay reached over and killed the light. Will could hear the bed squeak again as he laid down. “Asshole.”
Even in the dark, Will grinned a little wider. The insult was familiar and comfortable, and it was a long cry from the anxiety Jay had been exhibiting for most of the last two days. That meant that Will’s plan was working. Jay wasn’t worrying as much anymore. Things were going to be okay.
“Goodnight, Jay,” he said, looking up at the ceiling in the dark.
There was another squeak on the bed as Jay shifted and got comfortable. “Goodnight, Will.”
And the silence between them was peaceable for the first time in two days.
-o-
Now that he was lying down, Jay didn’t snore as much, and Will felt well enough to sleep for a few hours at a time. Every time he approached his REM cycle, a bolt of adrenaline woke him up. He focused on his breathing in the doctor, staring at the monitor until his blood pressure came back down and his heart’s rhythm evened out.
He laid there and told himself in no uncertain terms: he was okay, he was okay, he was okay.
Because, honestly, he didn’t have any idea what to do with the alternative.
-o-
Will was up by the time Jay roused, and when Jay asked how he’d slept, Will told the most palatable version of the truth and said he’d slept fine.
Fine was a perfectly acceptable term that was vague enough to be misleading without being an actual lie.
And Will did feel fine.
Sure, he was tired and sore -- but that was fine. His BP was fluctuating a little that morning, but he managed to settle down with a little water and crackers. The nausea was back, but the chest pains had abated for now. These were small things he hoped Jay didn’t pick up on, because today was going to be a good day.
Will had to make it a good day.
There were patients in the ED. He had a reputation hanging by threads. And Jay had already missed a full day of work for him.
Enough was enough.
He was more than a little anxious when Dr. Latham rounded, right on time as expected. No doubt, Will was his first patient of the day, and Will felt determination buoy inside him like optimism.
As normal, Dr. Latham wasted no time with pleasantries. Will sat up, trying not to appear anxious lest he set off his BP again, and Jay was stiff and at alert in the chair by the bed.
“I have reviewed your test results quite thoroughly, and I have watched your vitals intensely,” he said. “The medication has brought your blood pressure down to a more manageable level--”
Will nodded to Jay, starting to smile. “See?”
Dr. Latham’s brow furrowed, though, and he quickly continued. “However, the tests do not show encouraging improvement. If anything, your heart function is continuing to deteriorate,” he said. “Candidly, I fear we have waited too long for surgical intervention. We must act now if we are going to avert another cardiac event.”
The smile on his face froze, and then it started to fall. He shook his head. “That’s not even possible,” he said. “What are my cardiac enzymes?”
“Still extremely elevated,” Dr. Latham said. “And the ongoing readouts from the EKG show continued distress and arrhythmia.”
“Okay,” Will said, scrambling to keep up. “But the repeat echo?”
“Confirmed the results from the first test,” Dr. Latham said. “If anything, the second scan revealed more damage. I think it’s possible you have had another minor heart attack since you’ve been admitted.”
That couldn’t be true.
It just couldn’t be.
It didn’t make sense. None of this made any sense.
“And the angiogram?” Will asked, starting to feel desperate.
“Dr. Halstead, it revealed the extent of the restricted blood flow,” he said. “Simply put, the problem is advanced and severe. Given the strong genetic components of your case, I do not believe that drugs will be effective enough in containing these symptoms, and lifestyle changes are simply not sufficient in this case.”
It wasn’t a lighthearted diagnosis. It wasn’t one that minced words.
Will’s heart was in terrible condition.
It probably had been that way for years, and he’d never even known it. Now, it was all catching up with him. Now, right when he was finally making things right, his own heart might kill him.
The weight of that renewed the vice grip on his chest. He felt lightheaded and funny. Numbness seemed to burn through him, and he had the vague feeling that he might actually pass out.
From beside him, Jay was far more grounded in the moment. He finally spoke up. “But surgery will help?”
Unexpectedly, the question stung. It was the only sensation he could place over the growing numbness radiating from his chest now.
“Yes,” Dr. Latham said readily, appearing to be relieved that someone agreed with him. “Surgery, in this case, will have an extremely good prognosis for a long term fix. We will have to monitor Dr. Halstead regularly for cardiac changes, but I feel quite optimistic about surgery--”
“No,” Will said. He glared at Jay, and then leveled his look back at Dr. Latham. “No surgery.”
Dr. Latham drew a breath and seemed to hold it while he put both hands in front of him, clutching his tablet tightly. “Dr. Halstead, you are being quite unreasonable. You know the differential I’m working with you. You know the range of options that we are looking at here and how rapidly they are declining.”
Options.
Will clung to that like a life preserver.
He still had options.
Options that didn’t make this a death sentence. Options that put this in perspective.
He couldn’t afford a heart condition now. He couldn’t afford major surgery. He couldn’t afford to let any of this be real.
He had to get this back under control. He had to take charge again.
“Exactly,” Will said, and he tried not to notice how pitchy his voice sounded. “Options you haven't fully exhausted yet.”
This suggestion seemed nearly offensive to Dr. Latham. “Because they are inferior options that we only use when surgery is not viable or the case is mild,” he said. “Given how far your condition has progressed and your overall suitability for aggressive treatment, surgical intervention is the only option that makes any sense. It offers superior results both in the short and long term.”
“Oh, come on,” Will said. “I’m a doctor, too, so you can spare me the hard sell. This is still surgery. You cut me open -- and you can’t take that back.”
“Yes,” Dr. Latham said, utterly matter of fact. “That is very much the point.”
It wasn’t possible. None of this was possible. Will hadn’t gone through all he’d gone through, he hadn’t prevailed so many times, just for this. A heart attack. Early onset heart disease. Bypass surgery.
The shock of it was mounting now, and Will felt the frantic impulse to run. Run like he’d run from Canaryville the moment he graduated high school. Run like he’d run from a bad semester in med school. Run like he’d run from the messed up fellowship in Africa. Run like he’d run from the plastics practice in New York.
Run.
He should have done it when Goodwin fired him. He should have never taken the job back. He should have turned tail and run as far and fast as his legs could carry him.
Because he couldn’t run now. Now, his chest was tight and his breath was short and his heart was throbbing its irregular rhythm. Now, he had to face it. Now, everything bad had built up so high, and he had no choice but to watch it all collapse on him almost in slow motion.
Running was off the table.
But acceptance?
Dealing with this like an actual adult?
Will couldn’t.
Which left one option on the table.
Flatout denial.
“No,” he said, somehow managing to sound incredulous about the suggestion. “No way. I do not consent.”
The utter surety in his voice bordered on nonsensical, and Will knew it. He just didn’t care.
Standing in the room, Dr. Latham was now beside himself. “Dr. Halstead, I am finding your attitude here most vexing,” he said. “I have followed through on my promises. I have performed every test and ruled out every possible other diagnosis on the differential. I have total confidence that I am correct in this diagnosis.”
“No,” Will said again, and the word tasted almost bitter in his mouth. “There’s no way you’re cutting me open.”
Dr. Latham looked like he wanted to laugh for how little he was able to make sense of the rejection. “But look at your stats,” he said. “At this point, your heart function has not even fully stabilized.”
On the sidelines, Jay was looking between the two of them like he was watching a tennis match. He finally asked a salient question. “What does that even mean?”
Salient and annoying. It was fixated on the wrong thing. “It means nothing--” Will started.
But Dr. Latham eschewed his typical courtesy and spoke over Will. “It means that Dr. Halstead remains at high risk for a secondary cardiac event,” he explained. “As I mentioned earlier, I believe it is possible he has had a series of small heart attacks since admission. However, these small attacks often are linked to a larger, more significant coronary event. In many cases, such events are even more devastating than the initial one.”
Jay wasn’t a doctor, but he was putting the pieces together faster now. “So you’re saying he could have another heart attack?”
Will’s mouth dropped open and he shook his head. “There’s no way to be sure of that. None of the predictive models have been successful.”
Dr. Latham, however, appeared set on ignoring Will now. “I am saying there is a strong probability that Dr. Halstead will suffer another cardiac event. This time there could be permanent damage. It could even kill him.”
Will sat back in the bed, mouth hanging open as he scoffed. It was almost funny. This whole damn situation was bordering on hysterical. “Scare tactics? The hard sell and then scare tactics? That’s where we’re at?”
Jay looked at Will, imploring. “Dude, maybe we should listen--”
Will turned a withering look Jay’s way. “I’m not some layman off the street. I know how this works.”
Jay’s confidence in the hospital had grown significantly over the last couple of days. His brother was too quick a learner, and this dog and pony show wasn’t new to his brother. Will was trying to protect Jay, and it would be a lot easier if Jay would stop thinking he was protecting Will.
“Will, this is your heart we’re talking about,” he said. “You know better than I do what Dad had--”
“But this isn’t Dad,” Will snapped, his temper starting to flare. “This is my heart, like you said. Mine. And no one is cutting me open, not now, not ever.”
He was being hyperbolic at this point, but Halsteads weren’t known for being calm and collected under personal duress. They made great first responders. Handling it in the family? Not always a slam dunk.
Jay groaned. “Will--”
The brotherly tension wasn’t going anywhere, and Dr. Latham looked increasingly uncomfortable as he reinjected himself into the conversation in an attempt to take control back. “Look, Dr. Halstead, you are the patient, and you are aware of your rights,” he said, taking on a tone of capitulation. “I am merely telling you my professional opinion, but your treatment is ultimately within your control.”
Jay grew silent, and Will perked up accordingly.
“As such,” Dr. Latham continued. “If you wish to continue on a conservative course of treatment with medical interventions, then I will abide by your wishes. I would like to stress one more time, however, that I strongly advise against this course of action as I believe it will be less effective.”
“Noted,” Will said, drawing himself up a little more comfortably now. “Now. When can I get out of here? Medical treatment can easily be continued at home and monitored on an outpatient basis.”
Jay shook his head, but clamped his mouth shut.
Dr. Latham gave the request a slight moment’s thought before readily replying. “You are not stable enough to be released,” he said. “Your vitals need to normalize a little more before I feel remotely comfortable with a discharge.”
“Okay,” Will said, duly ignoring the fact that his brother was starting to pout like an unrepentant toddler. “When will that be -- in your professional medical opinion?”
He wasn’t really trying to be snarky, except he was. Dr. Latham wasn’t actually his target, but fortunately, Dr. Latham was bad enough at reading human emotion that he didn’t take it personally.
“We have seen some improvement over the last few days,” Dr. Latham said. “On your current course of treatment, it is possible that you could go home tomorrow unless something worsens again.”
“Fine,” Will said. “We’ll check back on this issue tomorrow.”
“Very well,” Dr. Latham said. He bowed a little to Will and then also to Jay. “Dr. Halstead, Detective Halstead.”
With that, Dr. Latham made his exit. Will was prepared for another awkward silence, but this time, Jay didn’t wait to broach the subject at hand.
Vehemently.
“Are you out of your mind?” Jay asked, barely letting the door close before he spoke.
Hesitation was gone. Fear had been usurped. They were even past anger now. This was rage.
Pure, unadulterated rage.
If Will weren’t in a hospital, he thought his brother might actually try to kill him.
If only Will could be scared of Jay, then it might be an effective tactic. But Halsteads were Halsteads, and Will was more of a Halstead than Jay sometimes liked to give him credit for.
“I don’t need surgery, Jay,” he said, simply, leaving no room for debate.
Jay found room anyway. “Pretty sure you do.”
Will was tired. He’d been laid up in the hospital, forced to entertain his colleagues while literally at his worst. He’d put everything on hold while suffering from recurring palpitations and chest pains. Was he having a heart attack? Was he suffering from heart disease? Was the anxiety of his pathetic existence finally just catching up with him?
Will didn’t know. He couldn’t know. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t function anymore. His dignity, his pride, his self control -- it was all out there now, and Will wasn’t going to be able to keep it together much longer.
“I don’t,” he said -- resolute or stubborn, he wasn’t sure the distinction mattered right now. “I’m not getting surgery.”
Jay rolled his eyes in the most melodramatic way possible. “Are you really still pretending like you didn’t have a heart attack?”
Drawing himself back, Will had no choice but to be indignant. For the sake of his career plan. For the well being of his brother. For everything. “I’m just not convinced.”
“But why?” Jay asked, as though he couldn’t believe it. “I don’t know what doctors are saying half the time, and they’ve convinced me.”
His chest was squeezing again, but he’d almost gotten used to the sensation over the last few days. He huffed, letting his arms fling wide. “Because I can’t have a heart attack!”
Jay looked at him like he was a complete moron now. “Pretty sure you can.”
“No,” Will said, positively insisting now. He pulled his arms back in, gesturing with his hand. “I’m young. I have literally no other risk factors. I’ve never had a single red flag on a single wellness exam.”
“Except a family history a mile long,” Jay said. “And I was there, Will. I saw you. I’ve watched you this whole time. Chest pains, shortness of breath, high blood pressure -- all the symptoms of a heart attack.”
The plainness of the logic flustered Will, and he shook his head bitterly. “But bypass surgery? Do you even know how invasive that is?”
“I do actually know,” Jay said. “Since we just did it with Dad.”
Will shook his head, wishing he could just get Jay to understand. “But I’d be out for weeks. It would be months before I’m back at full capacity, and I can’t afford to be out that long, not with my career where it’s at,” he said. “I’ve already leveraged every favor I have at this hospital. I’ve already exhausted your time and energy. Even if this is heart disease, I can’t afford to do surgery, Jay. Not now.”
“But you can’t afford not to,” Jay argued. “I mean, do you really think that everyone here wants you to die just to what? Work a few extra shifts?”
“I was fired six months ago, Jay,” Will reminded him. “I just got off probation two months ago. I’m trying to be responsible here.”
“Are you?” Jay retorted. “I mean, neglecting your health, ignoring the advice of your colleagues--”
Will rolled his eyes. “You are worrying far too much.”
“Because you’re not worried at all,” Jay snapped back. He let out a breath and shook his head. “Will, come on. You have to get the surgery.”
“No, no way,” Will said, with a resolute and determined shake of his head. “I’m not.”
It was one denial too many. Frustrated, Jay got up. “You know what, fine,” he said, collecting his coat. “I can’t do this with you right now. Not you. Not this. Not now.”
He made his way hastily to the door, turning back one last time.
“If you’re going to sit there and kill yourself, then you’re going to do it by yourself,” he said curtly. “I’m not going to sit here and watch.”
“Jay--”
Jay shook his head, unrelenting now. “No, you know what? No,” he said, seething now. “Because I have forgiven you for a lot. I have forgiven you for every time you ran away when I needed you to say. I have forgiven you for not showing up, for not being there. But this? There is no way in hell I’ll forgive you for this.”
With that, Jay turned to the door and stormed out, and Will was finally, irrevocably alone.
No doubt, that was what Will had deserved all along.
-o-
Jay didn’t come back like he usually did. He didn’t materialize after ten minutes with a coffee in hand. He didn’t show up 30 minutes later with the remains of his dinner. By the time the night shift was clocking in, Jay was still nowhere to be seen, and Will anxiously checked his messages but found nothing from his brother.
So Jay had meant it, then.
He was gone.
He’d left.
There was a novelty to it. Will was the brother left behind this time. It felt like karma, probably, and he finally understood the loneliness of seeing someone walk away and not look back.
But Will reminded himself he didn’t have the right to feel bad for himself. He didn’t deserve pity or sorrow. He didn’t have the luxury to wallow in what had happened to him.
In fact, if Will were being perfectly honest, he knew this was for the best. He’d been trying for days now to protect Jay, and he’d finally figured it out. He knew he’d hurt Jay by pushing him away, but with Jay out of the picture, he wasn’t tasked with handling Will’s ongoing nonsense. He didn’t have to think about Will’s medical problems. He didn’t have to think about Will’s prognosis. Mostly, he just didn’t have to think about Will.
Jay didn’t even like hospitals, and Jay had already taken enough time out of his life to deal with Will. It was unnecessary, and it ran counter to everything Will was trying to do right now. Jay needed to focus on himself, not Will. Never Will.
Will had to handle his own affairs. He had to stand on his own two feet for once. For the first time in Will’s life, he needed to be his own fallback plan.
Besides, Will would get out of the hospital tomorrow. His vitals would stabilize enough. If not, he’d come up with a good plan of action to convince Dr. Latham to the contrary. He’d go home, and he’d be fine. They’d both be fine.
The ache in his heart, the tightness in his throat, the emptiness in his chest: were all signs of grief, as well.
Will finally understood, in terribly acuity, the reality of a broken heart.
-o-
There was some small margin of relief that no one else visited him that night. Moreover, the nurses must have started to feel sorry for him. When they rounded, they stayed quiet, and Will slept hard all night long, as though his body was desperate for a recharge.
It didn’t work much, unfortunately. Despite his sleep, he still woke up sore and nauseated. It took him a few minutes to catch his breath, and he couldn’t help but notice that his BP had started rising again. He needed to get his emotions in check if he was going to convince anyone to discharge him.
Although he wasn’t hungry, he ate some egg whites and wheat toast at breakfast -- the heart healthy diet was one way to appease the cardiology team -- and he skipped on the coffee because the last thing he needed was for caffeine to make him more anxious than he already was.
Jay didn’t show up.
Jay didn’t call.
Will thought about texting him, just to check in -- maybe to apologize -- but Will wasn’t even sure what he was sorry for. Sorry for having a bad heart? Sorry for being an anxiety-ridden mess? Sorry for being the worst brother imaginable? Sorry that, of all the Halsteads to have left, Jay was stuck with him?
It didn’t really matter. He stopped thinking about it altogether and put the phone away, knowing that Jay would be at work by now. He’d be in a briefing with Voight. He’d be brainstorming a case in the bullpen. He could be on a call with Hailey.
Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, it wasn’t with Will.
Which was exactly how Will wanted it.
He had stayed in Chicago, kept on at his job at Med to support Jay, not to bring him down. This whole heart condition mess -- it was a distraction It was irrelevant and unnecessary and Will couldn’t pander to it. This was his problem, and it had to be his solution. His.
He was so resolved in this that when the nurse told him he had a visitor, Will was practically crestfallen. He mentally went through who it could possibly be, when the nurse made a little face at him. “Trust me on this one, Dr. Halstead,” she said. She’d been a nurse at Med for a long time -- longer than Will had been a doctor. She had been one of the less pushy ones during his stay, so he was inclined to give her some benefit of the doubt. “Just see who it is, okay?”
With a sigh, he nodded. “Fine,” he said. “But tell them I want to keep it short.”
He prepped himself as best he could, trying to feel more presentable than he knew he was. All his insistence aside, he was still badly winded and worn thin. Trips to the bathroom tended to wear him out, and no one could feel presentable in a hospital gown. The threadbare robe he’d been given hardly helped.
He was still fussing when the door opened again. Will looked up, expecting to see one of the few nurses in the ED who hadn’t stopped by yet, maybe someone from the nightshift swinging by before heading home. Who he saw, however, nearly gave him another heart attack.
“Connor?” he asked, jaw dropping open. He could feel his blood pressure drop suddenly as his heart rate fluttered.
Connor Rhodes had been a mainstay at Med for nearly five years, serving first as a fellow in trauma surgery before headlining the cardiothoracic surgery program as Dr. Downey’s protege. Connor had been a remarkable doctor -- and an even more remarkable person. Connor had been Will’s friend in a way that no one else could, taking the good along with the bad. It was Connor who had salvaged Will’s career the first time around.
Somehow, it didn’t feel like irony that he was here this time, too.
Grinning, Connor strode into the room. “In the flesh,” he said, holding his arms out. He was dressed in casual clothes -- jeans, t-shirt and a jacket -- and his hair was flecked with more gray than Will remembered, but he was just as rugged and irascible as ever.
And there was no way that he should be here. He and Connor had kept in touch -- the occasional text to check in -- but last he knew, Connor was still working in Minnesota. He’d taken up the position at Mayo after all, and his career had done nothing but flourish. He’d been published multiple times since leaving Med, and there were plenty of high end patients that passed on Med to head straight for Rochester in search of the expert care of Dr. Rhodes.
Not that Will was about to admit it, but he may have directed a few of his own patients in that direction when all other options were exhausted in Chicago.
More than all that, Connor had left Chicago under the worst of circumstances. His strained relationship with his father had ended in chaos, when his father had been murdered -- by Connor’s obsessed ex-girlfriend. When confronted with this truth, the girlfriend had confessed by suicide -- leaving Connor to try to put the pieces back together.
Throughout all of this, Connor had dealt with it alone. Will had been recovering from a car accident at the time, but he still felt bad that his own issues had trumped his relationship with his friend. It was another lingering failure, another sign that Will just didn’t deserve any of this.
It made Connor’s presence not just unlikely, but wholly inexplicable.
Shaking his head, Will asked the only question he could. “What are you doing here?”
“You know, it’s funny. I was about to ask you the same thing,” Connor said in his familiar, low boom. He tilted his head with a small look of sympathy. “You’ve looked better.”
Will was sheepish, even as he made an effort to deny it. “This is nothing,” he said, gesturing to the IV and monitors. “An overreaction.”
Connor planted his feet by Will’s bedside, crossing his arms over his chest. “And that is not what your brother says.”
Now it made sense. Will groaned. “Jay called you, didn’t he?” he said. “That’s why you’re here.”
Connor was always straight with him, and despite his time away, that much had not changed. “He did, and I’m glad at least one of you still has common sense,” he said. “Jay was worried about you.”
Will sighed. “Jay means well -- I know he does -- but he has no idea what he’s talking about.”
“Maybe not,” Connor said. “But I reviewed your charts.”
Will mustered up some outrage, but it was feigned. He was too tired to pull it off anyway. “You have no right.”
Any accusation of impropriety seemed to not matter to Connor -- who had, by the look of things, driven all night just to come have this intervention with him. “Latham agreed to share them. He called it a second opinion with an outside expert. Goodwin signed off on it. Even gave me privileges.”
It felt a bit like a conspiracy, all these forces working against him. Will was already down and out, and literally everyone in his life was now actively conspiring against him. Given this kind of luck, Natalie would walk in soon and beg him to do it for her.
Will smiled mirthlessly. “That’s a clever way to get around my HIPAA rights.”
Connor had apparently run out of patience for the casual banter. “Will, I’m tired and you look wiped, so let’s just not do this,” he said. “I’ve seen your chart. I’ve looked over all your test results.”
Will adjusted his position, pulling his arms protectively over his chest. “And let me guess. You’re buying into this crap, too? That I’ve got advanced heart disease at the age of 38?”
He was going for sarcasm, but it did not land in the slightest. “Yes,” Connor replied readily, almost pouncing on the delineation. “The tests are abundantly clear. It absolutely blows my mind that you’re lying there refusing treatment.”
Will worked his jaw, feeling his stomach flutter. “And you drove all the way from Rochester just to tell me that?”
“You bet your ass I did,” Connor said. “When Jay told me what was going on, when he told me how serious this was, I didn’t even hesitate.”
He said it just like that, simple and matter of fact. Like a doctor. Like a friend.
Will was running out of excuses. His bravado was wearing painfully thin. The throes of his denial had gotten him this far, but Connor had a steadfast pragmatism that threatened to undo him.
He could argue with doctors. He could condescend to Jay.
But Connor had his number.
And Will was out of cards to play.
He’d worked so hard to keep it together, to stay impenetrable, but it was falling apart.
He was falling apart.
Desperate, he changed the subject. “I thought you were never coming back to Chicago,” he ventured.
The targeted question was personal enough to hit, but it wasn’t a low blow. Connor had left Chicago under stressful terms. Death, murder, love and suicide.
It made Will feel sheepish to be the one in the hospital, all things considered.
Will hadn’t come to terms with, well, anything. Connor, on the other hand, seemed to have his personal life well in hand. “I wasn’t.”
The admission exuded confidence, which only stripped away whatever little Will had left of his own. He found it hard to speak. He wasn’t sure the words would form when he tried, but he had no other option. “Then why are you here? In this hospital no less?”
Because Will had never been one to face his shame or his failures or the things that hurt him. Given the chance, he ran away. Every single time.
Maybe that was what made this so hard.
Flat on his ass, attached to monitors, heart beating hard in his chest, Will couldn’t run this time. Everything scary, everything real, everything that was just too much: he had to face it.
And he didn’t know how.
That was it, really.
Will just did not know how.
He’d come back after being fired. He’d served his probation. He’d put his life back together after Natalie had moved. He’d mended his relationship with his brother after being an asshole all his life.
But he had no idea how to do this.
Standing firm, Connor’s gaze hadn’t wavered. “I can leave a city behind -- I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again -- but not a friend.”
Will had been putting so many barrieres over the last few days, trying to keep everyone out. Hell, he’d been doing it the last couple of months, ever since he’d nearly imploded his own career. Rebuilding his life, putting his reputation back together, redefining his career -- those things had taken extreme control. He hadn’t been able to afford slipups or emotions.
Somehow, even while staying in one spot, he was still running away in all the ways that mattered.
Now, that emotion he’d kept at bay, was coming back at him -- hard. He could hear the fluttering of his heart on the monitors, and his vision blurred as he looked down, no longer able to hold Connor’s line of sight.
Will was on the verge of breaking, and there was no way to hide it. Connor crossed closer to him, sitting on the chair by the bed that Jay had abandoned the day prior.
“This isn’t your fault, Will. What you’re suffering from isn’t caused by diet or lack of exercise,” he said intently. “It’s just genetics. Back luck of the draw -- nothing else. So whatever shame you’re feeling, you shouldn’t. Not by a long shot.”
He drew a shaky breath, and tried to nod. He ended up shaking his head as the last of his fledgling resolve slipped. He’d tried so hard. He’d held out so long. He’d everything right. And here he was, at the end of his fight with no other option than admit defeat.
It terrified him.
More than anything else in his life, this left him stripped of his power, devoid of his dignity, and back at the mercy of the universe. He became a doctor to save people, but he had no means of saving himself.
Or his brother.
“I think maybe that’s what scares me,” he admitted, finally looking up. There was no way to fight the burning of his eyes now, and his throat was tight. He couldn’t pretend like it was any other way, and the staggering weight of that admission nearly broke him. “I can’t fight it, Connor. I can’t control it. I watched my old man nearly die from heart troubles, and now here I am.”
Jay loved him, and Will knew that, but that was why he couldn’t do this to Jay. Not to Jay, who had watched their mother die. Not to Jay, who had never made peace with their old man before he passed. He’d left Jay to carry so many burdens. How could he burden Jay with this as well?
Dr. Latham, Dr. Marcel -- they all meant well. He respected them; he really did. But he couldn’t lie there and be a willing patient. He couldn’t just sit back and leave his fate in their professional hands.
It would only work with Connor. Connor who had been a colleague and a friend. Connor who had come back for him, for this moment.
Sitting forward, Connor didn’t shy away. He didn’t fall back on professional glibness. He wasn’t moved by ignorant fear. “Will, you know as well as I do that this is not your old man’s story -- at least, it doesn’t have to be. You’re catching this a lot earlier than he did, and you have the chance to treat it before it gets worse,” he said. “And, by the way, your dad didn’t die from heart trouble, thank you very much. You know that.”
Connor’s points were good, and Will knew it. He’d known it all along, before Connor had said one word. But hearing them now, hearing them from Connor, Will felt a wave of shame wash over him. Desperately, he looked down at his hands, studying his fingers while his vision blurred. “Maybe, but who knows how it would have turned out? And who knows how this will turn out for me. I mean, heart failure? In my 30s? I can’t do this to Jay. He sat through all of it with my mom’s cancer -- and then my dad.”
He closed his eyes as the tears threatened to cut him off. He opened them again, daring to raise his gaze once more.
“Connor,” he said, the words no more than a whisper. “I can’t do this to him.”
“So don’t,” Connor said with a plaintive look. He wasn’t being unkind. There was no other motive here. Connor had come for him, and Will could play games with everyone else in this hospital, but not Connor. “If you don’t want Jay to bury another family member, then let me do the surgery. Let me fix your heart.”
It sounded so simple, but Will had been a doctor too long. He’d worked on too many cases. “This isn’t a quick fix.”
“But it is a long term fix,” Connor clarified for him. “With proper maintenance -- medications, exercise and monitoring -- you can do this. There is no reason you can’t live a long, happy and healthy life.”
He sat back a little, throwing his arms out in speculation as Will continued to waffle.
“And what’s the alternative?” Connor asked when Will didn’t provide a response. “I mean, seriously? Medicine will only slow down the symptoms -- it’s still going to progress, and by then, you’re going to be a lot worse candidate for surgery. Or worse -- you keep pretending like the diagnosis doesn’t fit. You go about your life, live like nothing’s wrong. Then, one day, in a year, two years, five years -- ten years -- you drop dead, and there’s no bringing you back.”
The picture was bleak, but Will couldn’t deny it this time. He was running out of denials. He was running out of energy. He was just plain running out of time, it seemed. “I don’t know, Connor--”
“Well, as I am the only cardiothoracic surgeon in the room, I’m pretty sure my opinion is the one that counts,” Connor said, drawing his arms back over his chest. “I wouldn’t be here to lie to you, Will. You can do this.”
All the times Will had talked patients into things, and here he was on the other side. He had a new appreciation for it. The stubbornness, the reticence. It was all fear, a loss of control. Surrender.
Will hated that. That was why he’d always run before. Run, turn tail, never face the hard truths. All action, no consequences.
The truth was: he didn’t know if he could do this.
“Look, Will, do you remember that time I confronted you in the elevator?” Connor asked. “You were going to tell your cancer patient that she was in the placebo group and effectively kill your career, and I didn’t let you.”
It wasn’t a hard memory to recall. Will had been in a lot of fights in his life, and he remembered every single one of them. He gave Connor a slow, uncertain look. “Yeah.”
“And I told you, in that elevator, that there aren’t enough good doctors in the world, so I wasn’t going to let you throw your career away,” he explained. He shrugged. “That’s still true. I’m sitting here, not just because you’re my friend. I’m sitting here because you’re too good of a doctor not to save your own life, Will.”
Will remembered, of course.
But the thing was, Will really remembered.
Connor’s intervention had been his only saving grace, the thing that kept him at Med by the most meager margins. Goodwin had been pissed at him, then, too, and the fallout had taught him necessary humility. It had taken months to regain his confidence, and years to forget the lesson he’d learned.
Was he still a good doctor? He didn’t feel like one. Was he still a good person? There was little evidence to convince him.
But here Connor was, trying to save his pathetic life.
And not just Connor. Jay, too. Jay hadn’t left him, even when Will deserved it.
There were others, too, but he’d been so lost that he hadn’t seen it. All those people who visited him. Maggie, Ethan, and the rest. Even Ms. Goodwin hadn’t come to check up on him. She’d come to make sure he was okay.
Everyone else had seen it, but Will hadn’t made sense of his broken heart this whole time.
“Okay,” he said, finally relenting now. He nodded rapidly, blinking his burning eyes. “Do the surgery. Let’s do the surgery.”
Connor smiled, patting Will on the arm. “I’ll go get it set up, first thing tomorrow, no more delays,” he said. “You rest easy, okay?”
Will laughed because the only other option was to cry. “Not sure I can.”
Connor was on his feet now, but he looked at Will steadily. “Then trust the rest of us,” he said. “We’ve had your back all along.”
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
-o-
Jay came back not long after Goodwin left. Despite Will instructing his brother to get a real meal, he was carrying a bag of potato chips, a bottle of water and one of those crappy vending machine sandwiches. The sandwiches were only available a floor up, so it was clear his brother had made some effort, but it was a far cry from the cafeteria meal Will had hoped his brother would secure.
“That’s not enough food,” Will told him.
On the bed, Will’s opinion probably didn’t carry much weight, but then again, this was Jay. Will’s opinion had never held much weight in the first place.
Jay sat down, crunching loudly. “I got food, didn’t I?”
“Don’t be legalistic,” Will muttered.
“Oh, whatever,” Jay said, finishing the last of the chips and crumbling up the bag. “What about you? Did you eat?”
Will glanced to the sad plate of food he’d been delivered for dinner. Chicken, salad and low sodium rice. Apparently, Dr. Latham was serious about this heart angle. Will had only been permitted to order from the heart-friendly menu.
He’d barely touched it.
“Man, you have to eat,” Jay said, ripping open his sandwich. “I mean, the last thing we need is for you to get more sick.”
“I’m not sick now,” Will rebuffed him.
“Uh huh,” Jay said. “And what’s wrong with the chicken? It doesn’t look bad.”
Will made a face. “It’s dry.”
“Because you didn’t eat it when it was hot,” Jay said. “Come on, you have to at least try.”
Will didn’t see why he did, but then he remembered: this wasn’t about him.
Feeling less than thrilled, Will picked up the tray again, putting it on the table in front of him. With a meager display of effort, he picked up a piece of chicken and ate it.
Jay had extricated his sandwich and started munching away, like they were at a casual dinner at Molly’s and not sharing a meal of hospital food. As awkward as that was, Will figured it meant he was doing something right. Jay had calmed down since Will had been admitted, and though Jay would never be comfortable in a hospital, he seemed to be adjusting better now that Will had made an effort to lower the stakes here.
Continuing to eat for Jay’s sake, Will decided to deescalate the situation further. “It’s been kind of a long day,” he said. “All the poking and prodding -- I’ll probably go to sleep early.”
Jay had made short work of his sandwich, and he was licking mayo off his fingers. “No problem,” he said. “I’m pretty zapped myself.”
“Good,” Will said. “And you don’t have to make an effort to be back tomorrow. I mean, it’ll just be more tests--”
Jay frowned at him. “What?”
“Tomorrow,” Will clarified. “I’m just under observation. They’ll monitor my vitals, rerun the tests--”
Jay shook his head. “But I’m staying.”
It was Will’s turn to frown. “But I just told you. Nothing will be happening.”
“I don’t care,” Jay said. “You’re in the hospital.”
“Which is an overreaction in and of itself,” Will said. “And even if you do want to come back tomorrow, just come for a little bit. Go home, get some sleep.”
“Uh, no way,” Jay said, crumpling up the package from his sandwich and tossing it in the wastebasket. “I’ll stay the night.”
This was getting positively ridiculous now. “You’ll stay the night? You hate hospitals.”
“And I hate the thought of not being here more,” Jay said.
“Oh, please, I’m fine,” Will said. “And what are you going to do? Sleep in the chair?”
Jay made a small, matter of fact face. “Why not?”
It had been a long day -- a really long day. Will was tired, and he was sore. His chest still ached, and he felt embarrassed on every possible level. And Jay was sitting there, asking why not?
“Jay, come on--”
“I’ve done it before,” Jay replied readily. “I mean, I did it all the time with Mom.”
“Mom had cancer,” Will said.
“And you had a heart attack,” Jay returned, just as quickly.
Will felt his insides turn once more. “Stop saying that,” he said. “I thought we’d gone over this. I maybe had a heart attack.”
Jay seemed much less impressed by the maybe than Will did. “Sure, and maybe you’ve got heart disease. Whatever, man. I’m staying.”
Will regarded his brother, and quickly assessed that there was literally no way out of this. Any point he might make was negated by the hospital gown. Any reason he might posit would be undermined by his heart beat and BP on the monitor next to him.
He looked at his brother, feeling far too weary to mount much more of a fight. “You’re really not letting this go, are you?”
Jay smirked back at him. He kicked off his shoes and propped his feet up on Will’s bed. “Try to stop me.”
“Okay,” Will said, surrendering the fight before he’d even made much of an attempt to mount it. “It’s your sore back.”
And Will’s damaged pride.
-o-
The night was a reprieve from visitors, and Jay did sleep like a rock. He spent the night snoring away, slumped uncomfortably on the chair.
By comparison, Will’s bed looked downright comfortable, but he hardly got any sleep at all. The nurses did their best to be discreet, but it didn’t really matter. Will was exhausted, but sleep evaded him. He had another long run of arrhythmias throughout the night, and around 2 AM, he had another period of chest pains and hindered breathing.
It got so bad that he nearly did wake Jay up, but it passed just in time.
By sunrise, Will felt like he’d mostly gotten things under control. He’d learned to work on his breathing, suppressing the urge to panic. When his chest tightened, he deepened each breath and practiced holding in the oxygen until he felt he had more control. Massaging his shoulders help, but he couldn’t do that with Jay awake without attracting attention.
Still, if panic and anxiety was primarily prompted by psychological factors, then they could also be prevented with similar measures. He had been working on his self control over the last six months. This was just more of the same.
At least, that was his resolve for the day.
Self control.
He’d gotten himself into this mess.
He would be the one to get himself out.
Jay was perkier over breakfast, and with Will’s nudging, he spent some time on the phone, checking in with work. One of the nurses showed Jay to the private bathrooms where the showers were, and Will was allowed nearly an entire hour of reprieve from his brother’s constant vigil.
He still had visitors from the hospital, but the nurses seemed to be fielding them more now -- likely with Dr. Latham’s insistence. Upon rounding in the morning, Dr. Latham seemed concerned but committed, and he ordered up the full slate of tests to be completed throughout the day. If there was a cardiac assessment to be had, Will was having it. For good measure, Dr. Latham had also drawn up several other tests to cross things off the differential.
It was thorough, to say the least. Will appreciated that the doctor was making the effort despite his obvious belief that Will’s problem was heart disease.
When he wasn’t getting tests or entertaining visitors, Will was confined mostly to bed rest, save for sparse trips to the bathroom -- trips that Jay insisted on supervising. Will allowed himself to be escorted to the bathroom, but he refused to let Jay walk him inside. He didn’t have much dignity left, but he needed that much.
The nursing staff was monitoring him closely, tracking all of his vitals with a special interest in his BP. Now that he was on medication, they were looking for it to stabilize. Although Will had once had a resting BP of 120/60, it was now hovering around 150/110 most of the morning. That was still higher than Will would have liked, but they needed to let the meds have more time to work. You couldn’t expect instantaneous results, and Will knew better than anyone that the hospital was a high stress situation. People thought he’d had a heart attack. It was only natural that his blood pressure would be affected by that.
The other pressing problem, according to Dr. Latham, was that Will’s heart was not beating quite right. Even with his breathing exercises and calming strategies, Will’s heart had not stopped slipping into irregular patterns.
The arrhythmias were classically linked to heart disease, but Will knew they were also associated with -- you guessed it. High stress situations. The cardiac meds were less effective than the ones for his blood pressure. Despite the team’s best efforts, Will’s heart continued on strings of irregular rhythms that occasionally left Will breathless and sore.
Even so, all things considered, Will was feeling considerably better that day. The idea that he’d had a heart attack seemed increasingly less feasible to him. He wasn’t that old. He usually took good care of himself. He’d just let the stress and pressure build up over the last six months.
With this in mind, he was the most willing patient in the world for the second battery of tests. He didn’t resent the poking and prodding today -- because he knew it would only validate what he’d been saying all along. That Will was fine. Will was 100 percent, absolutely fine.
-o-
Dr. Latham rounded again at night, but he had no diagnosis yet. He was still waiting on a few lingering test results, and he wanted time to fully analyze the data before presenting his diagnosis. He knew the man to be thorough, but Will suspected his earlier doubts had prompted a new approach for the cardiothoracic surgeon. This time, when Dr. Latham presented his findings, he probably wanted to eliminate room for doubt.
That was fine with Will.
Especially since he was confident that a thorough exploration of the facts would defend his hypothesis that he was overworked and malnourished -- nothing more.
While the hospital was winding down for the night, Will was finally feeling a bit perky. His BP was still elevated, but it had stayed stable most of the day. The arrhythmia came and went, but overall, his chest felt less tight and he was less winded when he got up to go to the bathroom.
Which made sense with Will’s working hypothesis. He was finally starting to calm down a little. He was regaining control of his emotions -- and his body was falling into line right behind it.
In fact, he was feeling so upbeat that he didn’t argue with Jay when he said he wanted to stay another night. In fact, Will leaned into it, offering to ask the nurse for a rollaway bed and suggesting they order dinner in the room and turn on the game.
Jay had no reason to object, and while Will’s meal was a little bland, Jay seemed to eat his burger and fries quite heartily. The Bulls were playing crappy that night, but Will kept up a constant commentary to make his brother smile. They even stayed up late, playing gin rummy with a deck of cards Will had politely bothered the nurse to provide them.
Honestly, it was kind of nice.
Two brothers, just doing their thing.
When they finally did get ready for bed, Will was still smiling. “I think we’ll be going home tomorrow,” he said. “I hope you didn’t already take it off.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jay said, making up his bed hastily.
“Come on, you can’t say I don’t look better,” Will protested. As he was in the hospital bed and stuck in a gown, there was nothing more for him to do. He’d already been to the bathroom and brushed his teeth.
“You look better only because you couldn’t have looked worse,” Jay reminded him, spreading out the sheet.
“I’m telling you, Jay,” he said. “A little rest. A little relaxation. That’s all I needed. I know how much I’ve been working lately, but I hadn’t really realized what it was doing to me.”
Jay puffed up his pillow a little, watching it deflate with a small frown. “I’ve been telling you that for months. You’re not on probation anymore.”
“Sure, but I’m still on thin ice,” Will pointed out. “I can’t make any mistakes.”
“So we don’t want to get fired, but we’re okay with dying,” Jay chided, sitting down and listening to the bed squeak.
Will gave his brother the most exasperated look. “But I’m doing so much better now.”
“Aren’t you still having whatever? Arrhythmias?” Jay asked.
“At worst, I’m looking at an afib diagnosis,” Will said. “Easily manageable, made worse by stress, alcohol and caffeine. All of which I used leading up to this event.”
Jay shook his head. “Let’s just see what Latham says.”
“You know, I think that’s a great idea,” Will chirped at him. “Let’s see what Dr. Latham says.”
Jay made a small, dismissive sigh. “Are you going to actually get some sleep tonight?”
“Of course,” Will said, and he laid back on the bed as if to prove his point.
“Don’t think I don’t know you didn’t sleep last night,” Jay said.
“I might have if not for your snoring,” Will quipped.
Jay reached over and killed the light. Will could hear the bed squeak again as he laid down. “Asshole.”
Even in the dark, Will grinned a little wider. The insult was familiar and comfortable, and it was a long cry from the anxiety Jay had been exhibiting for most of the last two days. That meant that Will’s plan was working. Jay wasn’t worrying as much anymore. Things were going to be okay.
“Goodnight, Jay,” he said, looking up at the ceiling in the dark.
There was another squeak on the bed as Jay shifted and got comfortable. “Goodnight, Will.”
And the silence between them was peaceable for the first time in two days.
-o-
Now that he was lying down, Jay didn’t snore as much, and Will felt well enough to sleep for a few hours at a time. Every time he approached his REM cycle, a bolt of adrenaline woke him up. He focused on his breathing in the doctor, staring at the monitor until his blood pressure came back down and his heart’s rhythm evened out.
He laid there and told himself in no uncertain terms: he was okay, he was okay, he was okay.
Because, honestly, he didn’t have any idea what to do with the alternative.
-o-
Will was up by the time Jay roused, and when Jay asked how he’d slept, Will told the most palatable version of the truth and said he’d slept fine.
Fine was a perfectly acceptable term that was vague enough to be misleading without being an actual lie.
And Will did feel fine.
Sure, he was tired and sore -- but that was fine. His BP was fluctuating a little that morning, but he managed to settle down with a little water and crackers. The nausea was back, but the chest pains had abated for now. These were small things he hoped Jay didn’t pick up on, because today was going to be a good day.
Will had to make it a good day.
There were patients in the ED. He had a reputation hanging by threads. And Jay had already missed a full day of work for him.
Enough was enough.
He was more than a little anxious when Dr. Latham rounded, right on time as expected. No doubt, Will was his first patient of the day, and Will felt determination buoy inside him like optimism.
As normal, Dr. Latham wasted no time with pleasantries. Will sat up, trying not to appear anxious lest he set off his BP again, and Jay was stiff and at alert in the chair by the bed.
“I have reviewed your test results quite thoroughly, and I have watched your vitals intensely,” he said. “The medication has brought your blood pressure down to a more manageable level--”
Will nodded to Jay, starting to smile. “See?”
Dr. Latham’s brow furrowed, though, and he quickly continued. “However, the tests do not show encouraging improvement. If anything, your heart function is continuing to deteriorate,” he said. “Candidly, I fear we have waited too long for surgical intervention. We must act now if we are going to avert another cardiac event.”
The smile on his face froze, and then it started to fall. He shook his head. “That’s not even possible,” he said. “What are my cardiac enzymes?”
“Still extremely elevated,” Dr. Latham said. “And the ongoing readouts from the EKG show continued distress and arrhythmia.”
“Okay,” Will said, scrambling to keep up. “But the repeat echo?”
“Confirmed the results from the first test,” Dr. Latham said. “If anything, the second scan revealed more damage. I think it’s possible you have had another minor heart attack since you’ve been admitted.”
That couldn’t be true.
It just couldn’t be.
It didn’t make sense. None of this made any sense.
“And the angiogram?” Will asked, starting to feel desperate.
“Dr. Halstead, it revealed the extent of the restricted blood flow,” he said. “Simply put, the problem is advanced and severe. Given the strong genetic components of your case, I do not believe that drugs will be effective enough in containing these symptoms, and lifestyle changes are simply not sufficient in this case.”
It wasn’t a lighthearted diagnosis. It wasn’t one that minced words.
Will’s heart was in terrible condition.
It probably had been that way for years, and he’d never even known it. Now, it was all catching up with him. Now, right when he was finally making things right, his own heart might kill him.
The weight of that renewed the vice grip on his chest. He felt lightheaded and funny. Numbness seemed to burn through him, and he had the vague feeling that he might actually pass out.
From beside him, Jay was far more grounded in the moment. He finally spoke up. “But surgery will help?”
Unexpectedly, the question stung. It was the only sensation he could place over the growing numbness radiating from his chest now.
“Yes,” Dr. Latham said readily, appearing to be relieved that someone agreed with him. “Surgery, in this case, will have an extremely good prognosis for a long term fix. We will have to monitor Dr. Halstead regularly for cardiac changes, but I feel quite optimistic about surgery--”
“No,” Will said. He glared at Jay, and then leveled his look back at Dr. Latham. “No surgery.”
Dr. Latham drew a breath and seemed to hold it while he put both hands in front of him, clutching his tablet tightly. “Dr. Halstead, you are being quite unreasonable. You know the differential I’m working with you. You know the range of options that we are looking at here and how rapidly they are declining.”
Options.
Will clung to that like a life preserver.
He still had options.
Options that didn’t make this a death sentence. Options that put this in perspective.
He couldn’t afford a heart condition now. He couldn’t afford major surgery. He couldn’t afford to let any of this be real.
He had to get this back under control. He had to take charge again.
“Exactly,” Will said, and he tried not to notice how pitchy his voice sounded. “Options you haven't fully exhausted yet.”
This suggestion seemed nearly offensive to Dr. Latham. “Because they are inferior options that we only use when surgery is not viable or the case is mild,” he said. “Given how far your condition has progressed and your overall suitability for aggressive treatment, surgical intervention is the only option that makes any sense. It offers superior results both in the short and long term.”
“Oh, come on,” Will said. “I’m a doctor, too, so you can spare me the hard sell. This is still surgery. You cut me open -- and you can’t take that back.”
“Yes,” Dr. Latham said, utterly matter of fact. “That is very much the point.”
It wasn’t possible. None of this was possible. Will hadn’t gone through all he’d gone through, he hadn’t prevailed so many times, just for this. A heart attack. Early onset heart disease. Bypass surgery.
The shock of it was mounting now, and Will felt the frantic impulse to run. Run like he’d run from Canaryville the moment he graduated high school. Run like he’d run from a bad semester in med school. Run like he’d run from the messed up fellowship in Africa. Run like he’d run from the plastics practice in New York.
Run.
He should have done it when Goodwin fired him. He should have never taken the job back. He should have turned tail and run as far and fast as his legs could carry him.
Because he couldn’t run now. Now, his chest was tight and his breath was short and his heart was throbbing its irregular rhythm. Now, he had to face it. Now, everything bad had built up so high, and he had no choice but to watch it all collapse on him almost in slow motion.
Running was off the table.
But acceptance?
Dealing with this like an actual adult?
Will couldn’t.
Which left one option on the table.
Flatout denial.
“No,” he said, somehow managing to sound incredulous about the suggestion. “No way. I do not consent.”
The utter surety in his voice bordered on nonsensical, and Will knew it. He just didn’t care.
Standing in the room, Dr. Latham was now beside himself. “Dr. Halstead, I am finding your attitude here most vexing,” he said. “I have followed through on my promises. I have performed every test and ruled out every possible other diagnosis on the differential. I have total confidence that I am correct in this diagnosis.”
“No,” Will said again, and the word tasted almost bitter in his mouth. “There’s no way you’re cutting me open.”
Dr. Latham looked like he wanted to laugh for how little he was able to make sense of the rejection. “But look at your stats,” he said. “At this point, your heart function has not even fully stabilized.”
On the sidelines, Jay was looking between the two of them like he was watching a tennis match. He finally asked a salient question. “What does that even mean?”
Salient and annoying. It was fixated on the wrong thing. “It means nothing--” Will started.
But Dr. Latham eschewed his typical courtesy and spoke over Will. “It means that Dr. Halstead remains at high risk for a secondary cardiac event,” he explained. “As I mentioned earlier, I believe it is possible he has had a series of small heart attacks since admission. However, these small attacks often are linked to a larger, more significant coronary event. In many cases, such events are even more devastating than the initial one.”
Jay wasn’t a doctor, but he was putting the pieces together faster now. “So you’re saying he could have another heart attack?”
Will’s mouth dropped open and he shook his head. “There’s no way to be sure of that. None of the predictive models have been successful.”
Dr. Latham, however, appeared set on ignoring Will now. “I am saying there is a strong probability that Dr. Halstead will suffer another cardiac event. This time there could be permanent damage. It could even kill him.”
Will sat back in the bed, mouth hanging open as he scoffed. It was almost funny. This whole damn situation was bordering on hysterical. “Scare tactics? The hard sell and then scare tactics? That’s where we’re at?”
Jay looked at Will, imploring. “Dude, maybe we should listen--”
Will turned a withering look Jay’s way. “I’m not some layman off the street. I know how this works.”
Jay’s confidence in the hospital had grown significantly over the last couple of days. His brother was too quick a learner, and this dog and pony show wasn’t new to his brother. Will was trying to protect Jay, and it would be a lot easier if Jay would stop thinking he was protecting Will.
“Will, this is your heart we’re talking about,” he said. “You know better than I do what Dad had--”
“But this isn’t Dad,” Will snapped, his temper starting to flare. “This is my heart, like you said. Mine. And no one is cutting me open, not now, not ever.”
He was being hyperbolic at this point, but Halsteads weren’t known for being calm and collected under personal duress. They made great first responders. Handling it in the family? Not always a slam dunk.
Jay groaned. “Will--”
The brotherly tension wasn’t going anywhere, and Dr. Latham looked increasingly uncomfortable as he reinjected himself into the conversation in an attempt to take control back. “Look, Dr. Halstead, you are the patient, and you are aware of your rights,” he said, taking on a tone of capitulation. “I am merely telling you my professional opinion, but your treatment is ultimately within your control.”
Jay grew silent, and Will perked up accordingly.
“As such,” Dr. Latham continued. “If you wish to continue on a conservative course of treatment with medical interventions, then I will abide by your wishes. I would like to stress one more time, however, that I strongly advise against this course of action as I believe it will be less effective.”
“Noted,” Will said, drawing himself up a little more comfortably now. “Now. When can I get out of here? Medical treatment can easily be continued at home and monitored on an outpatient basis.”
Jay shook his head, but clamped his mouth shut.
Dr. Latham gave the request a slight moment’s thought before readily replying. “You are not stable enough to be released,” he said. “Your vitals need to normalize a little more before I feel remotely comfortable with a discharge.”
“Okay,” Will said, duly ignoring the fact that his brother was starting to pout like an unrepentant toddler. “When will that be -- in your professional medical opinion?”
He wasn’t really trying to be snarky, except he was. Dr. Latham wasn’t actually his target, but fortunately, Dr. Latham was bad enough at reading human emotion that he didn’t take it personally.
“We have seen some improvement over the last few days,” Dr. Latham said. “On your current course of treatment, it is possible that you could go home tomorrow unless something worsens again.”
“Fine,” Will said. “We’ll check back on this issue tomorrow.”
“Very well,” Dr. Latham said. He bowed a little to Will and then also to Jay. “Dr. Halstead, Detective Halstead.”
With that, Dr. Latham made his exit. Will was prepared for another awkward silence, but this time, Jay didn’t wait to broach the subject at hand.
Vehemently.
“Are you out of your mind?” Jay asked, barely letting the door close before he spoke.
Hesitation was gone. Fear had been usurped. They were even past anger now. This was rage.
Pure, unadulterated rage.
If Will weren’t in a hospital, he thought his brother might actually try to kill him.
If only Will could be scared of Jay, then it might be an effective tactic. But Halsteads were Halsteads, and Will was more of a Halstead than Jay sometimes liked to give him credit for.
“I don’t need surgery, Jay,” he said, simply, leaving no room for debate.
Jay found room anyway. “Pretty sure you do.”
Will was tired. He’d been laid up in the hospital, forced to entertain his colleagues while literally at his worst. He’d put everything on hold while suffering from recurring palpitations and chest pains. Was he having a heart attack? Was he suffering from heart disease? Was the anxiety of his pathetic existence finally just catching up with him?
Will didn’t know. He couldn’t know. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t function anymore. His dignity, his pride, his self control -- it was all out there now, and Will wasn’t going to be able to keep it together much longer.
“I don’t,” he said -- resolute or stubborn, he wasn’t sure the distinction mattered right now. “I’m not getting surgery.”
Jay rolled his eyes in the most melodramatic way possible. “Are you really still pretending like you didn’t have a heart attack?”
Drawing himself back, Will had no choice but to be indignant. For the sake of his career plan. For the well being of his brother. For everything. “I’m just not convinced.”
“But why?” Jay asked, as though he couldn’t believe it. “I don’t know what doctors are saying half the time, and they’ve convinced me.”
His chest was squeezing again, but he’d almost gotten used to the sensation over the last few days. He huffed, letting his arms fling wide. “Because I can’t have a heart attack!”
Jay looked at him like he was a complete moron now. “Pretty sure you can.”
“No,” Will said, positively insisting now. He pulled his arms back in, gesturing with his hand. “I’m young. I have literally no other risk factors. I’ve never had a single red flag on a single wellness exam.”
“Except a family history a mile long,” Jay said. “And I was there, Will. I saw you. I’ve watched you this whole time. Chest pains, shortness of breath, high blood pressure -- all the symptoms of a heart attack.”
The plainness of the logic flustered Will, and he shook his head bitterly. “But bypass surgery? Do you even know how invasive that is?”
“I do actually know,” Jay said. “Since we just did it with Dad.”
Will shook his head, wishing he could just get Jay to understand. “But I’d be out for weeks. It would be months before I’m back at full capacity, and I can’t afford to be out that long, not with my career where it’s at,” he said. “I’ve already leveraged every favor I have at this hospital. I’ve already exhausted your time and energy. Even if this is heart disease, I can’t afford to do surgery, Jay. Not now.”
“But you can’t afford not to,” Jay argued. “I mean, do you really think that everyone here wants you to die just to what? Work a few extra shifts?”
“I was fired six months ago, Jay,” Will reminded him. “I just got off probation two months ago. I’m trying to be responsible here.”
“Are you?” Jay retorted. “I mean, neglecting your health, ignoring the advice of your colleagues--”
Will rolled his eyes. “You are worrying far too much.”
“Because you’re not worried at all,” Jay snapped back. He let out a breath and shook his head. “Will, come on. You have to get the surgery.”
“No, no way,” Will said, with a resolute and determined shake of his head. “I’m not.”
It was one denial too many. Frustrated, Jay got up. “You know what, fine,” he said, collecting his coat. “I can’t do this with you right now. Not you. Not this. Not now.”
He made his way hastily to the door, turning back one last time.
“If you’re going to sit there and kill yourself, then you’re going to do it by yourself,” he said curtly. “I’m not going to sit here and watch.”
“Jay--”
Jay shook his head, unrelenting now. “No, you know what? No,” he said, seething now. “Because I have forgiven you for a lot. I have forgiven you for every time you ran away when I needed you to say. I have forgiven you for not showing up, for not being there. But this? There is no way in hell I’ll forgive you for this.”
With that, Jay turned to the door and stormed out, and Will was finally, irrevocably alone.
No doubt, that was what Will had deserved all along.
-o-
Jay didn’t come back like he usually did. He didn’t materialize after ten minutes with a coffee in hand. He didn’t show up 30 minutes later with the remains of his dinner. By the time the night shift was clocking in, Jay was still nowhere to be seen, and Will anxiously checked his messages but found nothing from his brother.
So Jay had meant it, then.
He was gone.
He’d left.
There was a novelty to it. Will was the brother left behind this time. It felt like karma, probably, and he finally understood the loneliness of seeing someone walk away and not look back.
But Will reminded himself he didn’t have the right to feel bad for himself. He didn’t deserve pity or sorrow. He didn’t have the luxury to wallow in what had happened to him.
In fact, if Will were being perfectly honest, he knew this was for the best. He’d been trying for days now to protect Jay, and he’d finally figured it out. He knew he’d hurt Jay by pushing him away, but with Jay out of the picture, he wasn’t tasked with handling Will’s ongoing nonsense. He didn’t have to think about Will’s medical problems. He didn’t have to think about Will’s prognosis. Mostly, he just didn’t have to think about Will.
Jay didn’t even like hospitals, and Jay had already taken enough time out of his life to deal with Will. It was unnecessary, and it ran counter to everything Will was trying to do right now. Jay needed to focus on himself, not Will. Never Will.
Will had to handle his own affairs. He had to stand on his own two feet for once. For the first time in Will’s life, he needed to be his own fallback plan.
Besides, Will would get out of the hospital tomorrow. His vitals would stabilize enough. If not, he’d come up with a good plan of action to convince Dr. Latham to the contrary. He’d go home, and he’d be fine. They’d both be fine.
The ache in his heart, the tightness in his throat, the emptiness in his chest: were all signs of grief, as well.
Will finally understood, in terribly acuity, the reality of a broken heart.
-o-
There was some small margin of relief that no one else visited him that night. Moreover, the nurses must have started to feel sorry for him. When they rounded, they stayed quiet, and Will slept hard all night long, as though his body was desperate for a recharge.
It didn’t work much, unfortunately. Despite his sleep, he still woke up sore and nauseated. It took him a few minutes to catch his breath, and he couldn’t help but notice that his BP had started rising again. He needed to get his emotions in check if he was going to convince anyone to discharge him.
Although he wasn’t hungry, he ate some egg whites and wheat toast at breakfast -- the heart healthy diet was one way to appease the cardiology team -- and he skipped on the coffee because the last thing he needed was for caffeine to make him more anxious than he already was.
Jay didn’t show up.
Jay didn’t call.
Will thought about texting him, just to check in -- maybe to apologize -- but Will wasn’t even sure what he was sorry for. Sorry for having a bad heart? Sorry for being an anxiety-ridden mess? Sorry for being the worst brother imaginable? Sorry that, of all the Halsteads to have left, Jay was stuck with him?
It didn’t really matter. He stopped thinking about it altogether and put the phone away, knowing that Jay would be at work by now. He’d be in a briefing with Voight. He’d be brainstorming a case in the bullpen. He could be on a call with Hailey.
Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, it wasn’t with Will.
Which was exactly how Will wanted it.
He had stayed in Chicago, kept on at his job at Med to support Jay, not to bring him down. This whole heart condition mess -- it was a distraction It was irrelevant and unnecessary and Will couldn’t pander to it. This was his problem, and it had to be his solution. His.
He was so resolved in this that when the nurse told him he had a visitor, Will was practically crestfallen. He mentally went through who it could possibly be, when the nurse made a little face at him. “Trust me on this one, Dr. Halstead,” she said. She’d been a nurse at Med for a long time -- longer than Will had been a doctor. She had been one of the less pushy ones during his stay, so he was inclined to give her some benefit of the doubt. “Just see who it is, okay?”
With a sigh, he nodded. “Fine,” he said. “But tell them I want to keep it short.”
He prepped himself as best he could, trying to feel more presentable than he knew he was. All his insistence aside, he was still badly winded and worn thin. Trips to the bathroom tended to wear him out, and no one could feel presentable in a hospital gown. The threadbare robe he’d been given hardly helped.
He was still fussing when the door opened again. Will looked up, expecting to see one of the few nurses in the ED who hadn’t stopped by yet, maybe someone from the nightshift swinging by before heading home. Who he saw, however, nearly gave him another heart attack.
“Connor?” he asked, jaw dropping open. He could feel his blood pressure drop suddenly as his heart rate fluttered.
Connor Rhodes had been a mainstay at Med for nearly five years, serving first as a fellow in trauma surgery before headlining the cardiothoracic surgery program as Dr. Downey’s protege. Connor had been a remarkable doctor -- and an even more remarkable person. Connor had been Will’s friend in a way that no one else could, taking the good along with the bad. It was Connor who had salvaged Will’s career the first time around.
Somehow, it didn’t feel like irony that he was here this time, too.
Grinning, Connor strode into the room. “In the flesh,” he said, holding his arms out. He was dressed in casual clothes -- jeans, t-shirt and a jacket -- and his hair was flecked with more gray than Will remembered, but he was just as rugged and irascible as ever.
And there was no way that he should be here. He and Connor had kept in touch -- the occasional text to check in -- but last he knew, Connor was still working in Minnesota. He’d taken up the position at Mayo after all, and his career had done nothing but flourish. He’d been published multiple times since leaving Med, and there were plenty of high end patients that passed on Med to head straight for Rochester in search of the expert care of Dr. Rhodes.
Not that Will was about to admit it, but he may have directed a few of his own patients in that direction when all other options were exhausted in Chicago.
More than all that, Connor had left Chicago under the worst of circumstances. His strained relationship with his father had ended in chaos, when his father had been murdered -- by Connor’s obsessed ex-girlfriend. When confronted with this truth, the girlfriend had confessed by suicide -- leaving Connor to try to put the pieces back together.
Throughout all of this, Connor had dealt with it alone. Will had been recovering from a car accident at the time, but he still felt bad that his own issues had trumped his relationship with his friend. It was another lingering failure, another sign that Will just didn’t deserve any of this.
It made Connor’s presence not just unlikely, but wholly inexplicable.
Shaking his head, Will asked the only question he could. “What are you doing here?”
“You know, it’s funny. I was about to ask you the same thing,” Connor said in his familiar, low boom. He tilted his head with a small look of sympathy. “You’ve looked better.”
Will was sheepish, even as he made an effort to deny it. “This is nothing,” he said, gesturing to the IV and monitors. “An overreaction.”
Connor planted his feet by Will’s bedside, crossing his arms over his chest. “And that is not what your brother says.”
Now it made sense. Will groaned. “Jay called you, didn’t he?” he said. “That’s why you’re here.”
Connor was always straight with him, and despite his time away, that much had not changed. “He did, and I’m glad at least one of you still has common sense,” he said. “Jay was worried about you.”
Will sighed. “Jay means well -- I know he does -- but he has no idea what he’s talking about.”
“Maybe not,” Connor said. “But I reviewed your charts.”
Will mustered up some outrage, but it was feigned. He was too tired to pull it off anyway. “You have no right.”
Any accusation of impropriety seemed to not matter to Connor -- who had, by the look of things, driven all night just to come have this intervention with him. “Latham agreed to share them. He called it a second opinion with an outside expert. Goodwin signed off on it. Even gave me privileges.”
It felt a bit like a conspiracy, all these forces working against him. Will was already down and out, and literally everyone in his life was now actively conspiring against him. Given this kind of luck, Natalie would walk in soon and beg him to do it for her.
Will smiled mirthlessly. “That’s a clever way to get around my HIPAA rights.”
Connor had apparently run out of patience for the casual banter. “Will, I’m tired and you look wiped, so let’s just not do this,” he said. “I’ve seen your chart. I’ve looked over all your test results.”
Will adjusted his position, pulling his arms protectively over his chest. “And let me guess. You’re buying into this crap, too? That I’ve got advanced heart disease at the age of 38?”
He was going for sarcasm, but it did not land in the slightest. “Yes,” Connor replied readily, almost pouncing on the delineation. “The tests are abundantly clear. It absolutely blows my mind that you’re lying there refusing treatment.”
Will worked his jaw, feeling his stomach flutter. “And you drove all the way from Rochester just to tell me that?”
“You bet your ass I did,” Connor said. “When Jay told me what was going on, when he told me how serious this was, I didn’t even hesitate.”
He said it just like that, simple and matter of fact. Like a doctor. Like a friend.
Will was running out of excuses. His bravado was wearing painfully thin. The throes of his denial had gotten him this far, but Connor had a steadfast pragmatism that threatened to undo him.
He could argue with doctors. He could condescend to Jay.
But Connor had his number.
And Will was out of cards to play.
He’d worked so hard to keep it together, to stay impenetrable, but it was falling apart.
He was falling apart.
Desperate, he changed the subject. “I thought you were never coming back to Chicago,” he ventured.
The targeted question was personal enough to hit, but it wasn’t a low blow. Connor had left Chicago under stressful terms. Death, murder, love and suicide.
It made Will feel sheepish to be the one in the hospital, all things considered.
Will hadn’t come to terms with, well, anything. Connor, on the other hand, seemed to have his personal life well in hand. “I wasn’t.”
The admission exuded confidence, which only stripped away whatever little Will had left of his own. He found it hard to speak. He wasn’t sure the words would form when he tried, but he had no other option. “Then why are you here? In this hospital no less?”
Because Will had never been one to face his shame or his failures or the things that hurt him. Given the chance, he ran away. Every single time.
Maybe that was what made this so hard.
Flat on his ass, attached to monitors, heart beating hard in his chest, Will couldn’t run this time. Everything scary, everything real, everything that was just too much: he had to face it.
And he didn’t know how.
That was it, really.
Will just did not know how.
He’d come back after being fired. He’d served his probation. He’d put his life back together after Natalie had moved. He’d mended his relationship with his brother after being an asshole all his life.
But he had no idea how to do this.
Standing firm, Connor’s gaze hadn’t wavered. “I can leave a city behind -- I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again -- but not a friend.”
Will had been putting so many barrieres over the last few days, trying to keep everyone out. Hell, he’d been doing it the last couple of months, ever since he’d nearly imploded his own career. Rebuilding his life, putting his reputation back together, redefining his career -- those things had taken extreme control. He hadn’t been able to afford slipups or emotions.
Somehow, even while staying in one spot, he was still running away in all the ways that mattered.
Now, that emotion he’d kept at bay, was coming back at him -- hard. He could hear the fluttering of his heart on the monitors, and his vision blurred as he looked down, no longer able to hold Connor’s line of sight.
Will was on the verge of breaking, and there was no way to hide it. Connor crossed closer to him, sitting on the chair by the bed that Jay had abandoned the day prior.
“This isn’t your fault, Will. What you’re suffering from isn’t caused by diet or lack of exercise,” he said intently. “It’s just genetics. Back luck of the draw -- nothing else. So whatever shame you’re feeling, you shouldn’t. Not by a long shot.”
He drew a shaky breath, and tried to nod. He ended up shaking his head as the last of his fledgling resolve slipped. He’d tried so hard. He’d held out so long. He’d everything right. And here he was, at the end of his fight with no other option than admit defeat.
It terrified him.
More than anything else in his life, this left him stripped of his power, devoid of his dignity, and back at the mercy of the universe. He became a doctor to save people, but he had no means of saving himself.
Or his brother.
“I think maybe that’s what scares me,” he admitted, finally looking up. There was no way to fight the burning of his eyes now, and his throat was tight. He couldn’t pretend like it was any other way, and the staggering weight of that admission nearly broke him. “I can’t fight it, Connor. I can’t control it. I watched my old man nearly die from heart troubles, and now here I am.”
Jay loved him, and Will knew that, but that was why he couldn’t do this to Jay. Not to Jay, who had watched their mother die. Not to Jay, who had never made peace with their old man before he passed. He’d left Jay to carry so many burdens. How could he burden Jay with this as well?
Dr. Latham, Dr. Marcel -- they all meant well. He respected them; he really did. But he couldn’t lie there and be a willing patient. He couldn’t just sit back and leave his fate in their professional hands.
It would only work with Connor. Connor who had been a colleague and a friend. Connor who had come back for him, for this moment.
Sitting forward, Connor didn’t shy away. He didn’t fall back on professional glibness. He wasn’t moved by ignorant fear. “Will, you know as well as I do that this is not your old man’s story -- at least, it doesn’t have to be. You’re catching this a lot earlier than he did, and you have the chance to treat it before it gets worse,” he said. “And, by the way, your dad didn’t die from heart trouble, thank you very much. You know that.”
Connor’s points were good, and Will knew it. He’d known it all along, before Connor had said one word. But hearing them now, hearing them from Connor, Will felt a wave of shame wash over him. Desperately, he looked down at his hands, studying his fingers while his vision blurred. “Maybe, but who knows how it would have turned out? And who knows how this will turn out for me. I mean, heart failure? In my 30s? I can’t do this to Jay. He sat through all of it with my mom’s cancer -- and then my dad.”
He closed his eyes as the tears threatened to cut him off. He opened them again, daring to raise his gaze once more.
“Connor,” he said, the words no more than a whisper. “I can’t do this to him.”
“So don’t,” Connor said with a plaintive look. He wasn’t being unkind. There was no other motive here. Connor had come for him, and Will could play games with everyone else in this hospital, but not Connor. “If you don’t want Jay to bury another family member, then let me do the surgery. Let me fix your heart.”
It sounded so simple, but Will had been a doctor too long. He’d worked on too many cases. “This isn’t a quick fix.”
“But it is a long term fix,” Connor clarified for him. “With proper maintenance -- medications, exercise and monitoring -- you can do this. There is no reason you can’t live a long, happy and healthy life.”
He sat back a little, throwing his arms out in speculation as Will continued to waffle.
“And what’s the alternative?” Connor asked when Will didn’t provide a response. “I mean, seriously? Medicine will only slow down the symptoms -- it’s still going to progress, and by then, you’re going to be a lot worse candidate for surgery. Or worse -- you keep pretending like the diagnosis doesn’t fit. You go about your life, live like nothing’s wrong. Then, one day, in a year, two years, five years -- ten years -- you drop dead, and there’s no bringing you back.”
The picture was bleak, but Will couldn’t deny it this time. He was running out of denials. He was running out of energy. He was just plain running out of time, it seemed. “I don’t know, Connor--”
“Well, as I am the only cardiothoracic surgeon in the room, I’m pretty sure my opinion is the one that counts,” Connor said, drawing his arms back over his chest. “I wouldn’t be here to lie to you, Will. You can do this.”
All the times Will had talked patients into things, and here he was on the other side. He had a new appreciation for it. The stubbornness, the reticence. It was all fear, a loss of control. Surrender.
Will hated that. That was why he’d always run before. Run, turn tail, never face the hard truths. All action, no consequences.
The truth was: he didn’t know if he could do this.
“Look, Will, do you remember that time I confronted you in the elevator?” Connor asked. “You were going to tell your cancer patient that she was in the placebo group and effectively kill your career, and I didn’t let you.”
It wasn’t a hard memory to recall. Will had been in a lot of fights in his life, and he remembered every single one of them. He gave Connor a slow, uncertain look. “Yeah.”
“And I told you, in that elevator, that there aren’t enough good doctors in the world, so I wasn’t going to let you throw your career away,” he explained. He shrugged. “That’s still true. I’m sitting here, not just because you’re my friend. I’m sitting here because you’re too good of a doctor not to save your own life, Will.”
Will remembered, of course.
But the thing was, Will really remembered.
Connor’s intervention had been his only saving grace, the thing that kept him at Med by the most meager margins. Goodwin had been pissed at him, then, too, and the fallout had taught him necessary humility. It had taken months to regain his confidence, and years to forget the lesson he’d learned.
Was he still a good doctor? He didn’t feel like one. Was he still a good person? There was little evidence to convince him.
But here Connor was, trying to save his pathetic life.
And not just Connor. Jay, too. Jay hadn’t left him, even when Will deserved it.
There were others, too, but he’d been so lost that he hadn’t seen it. All those people who visited him. Maggie, Ethan, and the rest. Even Ms. Goodwin hadn’t come to check up on him. She’d come to make sure he was okay.
Everyone else had seen it, but Will hadn’t made sense of his broken heart this whole time.
“Okay,” he said, finally relenting now. He nodded rapidly, blinking his burning eyes. “Do the surgery. Let’s do the surgery.”
Connor smiled, patting Will on the arm. “I’ll go get it set up, first thing tomorrow, no more delays,” he said. “You rest easy, okay?”
Will laughed because the only other option was to cry. “Not sure I can.”
Connor was on his feet now, but he looked at Will steadily. “Then trust the rest of us,” he said. “We’ve had your back all along.”
