Sebastian's thumb traces small circles on the back of my hand, a private gesture of support that gives me the courage I need to continue.
"I'm not asking you to excuse my behavior," I say, meeting Henderson's gaze directly. "Just to understand that it came from the same place as every diagnosis I've fought for, everytreatment plan I've advocated for. I care about our patients. Sometimes too much for my own good."
Henderson steeples his fingers and studies me over the rim of his glasses. The silence stretches so long I have to fight the urge to fill it with more justifications, more explanations, more promises to do better.
"You are a good doctor, Phillips," he finally says, and the unexpected validation makes my breath catch. "One of the best I've seen come through this program in years."
Relief floods through me, so powerful it makes my fingers tremble against Sebastian's.
"You care," He continues, leaning back in his chair. "That's rare enough these days. And you think outside the box, which is even rarer. Even good doctors have bad days."
I nod, not trusting my voice with the lump forming in my throat.
"That said," His tone shifts subtly, and my momentary relief evaporates, "I can't pretend your exit didn't create significant problems for this department. Patients still needed care. Cases still needed solving. Your colleagues had to pick up your slack."
Shame burns hot in my chest. I hadn't thought about the practical consequences of my dramatic departure. I was too damn lost in my own pain to consider who would cover my patients, finish my charts, and take over my cases.
"I understand," I say quietly.
"You'll always have a place at Sierra Mercy," Henderson continues, and something in his tone makes my stomach sink before he even delivers the blow. "But I'm afraid it can't be on the diagnostics team."
The words knock the breath from my lungs. Diagnostics is the most prestigious department, the most challenging, the most rewarding. It's where I've found my purpose, where I've grown into the doctor I've always wanted to be.
"I see," I manage, though my vision blurs slightly at the edges.
"Given your earlier actions, and now your..." Henderson gestures vaguely toward our joined hands, "...personal relationship with Dr. Walker, it would be inappropriate to maintain direct supervisory ties. I'm sure you understand the optics."
I do understand. Of course I do. But understanding doesn't lessen the sting, doesn't ease the sense of loss that settles heavy in my chest. Before I can respond, Sebastian's posture stiffens beside me, and his fingers tighten around mine.
"With respect, sir." Sebastian’s voice carries that dangerous edge I recognize from our most heated disagreements. "There's no policy against colleagues dating. And if you're concerned about optics, I suggest you apply that standard universally across departments."
Henderson blinks, clearly not expecting pushback. "Dr. Walker, I understand your position is... compromised here, but—"
"What's compromised," Sebastian cuts in, "is losing a brilliant diagnostician over bureaucratic bullshit."
My head whips toward him, shock momentarily overriding my disappointment. This is Sebastian Walker, the man who built his career on playing by the rules even while bending them, openly challenging our department head.
"Sebastian," I whisper, "don't."
Ignoring me, he leans forward in his chair. "I know what it'll look like if Mia gets the position now. That's why I want my entire team—all of them." His jaw tightens. "Except Harper."
Henderson's eyebrows shoot up. "Dr. Langston is one of our most—"
"Harper is a liability," Sebastian says flatly. "And between his incompetence and Mia's brilliance, it's not even a contest."
The tension in the room thickens, charging the air between them like the moments before lightning strikes. I want to stop this, to tell Sebastian he doesn't need to sacrifice his professional standing for me, but before I can find the words, he delivers his ultimatum.
"If I can't have them all," he says, voice eerily calm, "I walk."
Before I can process what's happening, Henderson sighs heavily, pulling off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"It's a good play," he admits, pointing his glasses at Sebastian. "Risky, but good. I respect the gambit." He puts his glasses back on, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against the desk. "I'll need to take this to the board before we can make any decisions. They'll want to review Dr. Phillips' record, consider the department dynamics, weigh the financial implications of losing our star diagnostician."
His tone suggests he's already planning how to pitch this to the board, which means, incredibly, Sebastian's ultimatum might actually work.
"In the meantime," Henderson continues, "I suggest you both get back to work. Dr. Phillips, your badge is right there. Dr. Walker, I believe you have patients waiting." He waves his hand dismissively. "We'll continue this discussion after I've spoken with the board."
Sebastian stands first, gently pulling me to my feet beside him. I reach for my badge with slightly trembling fingers.
