Chapter 40 Mia
Mia
My stomach twists into knots as I stare at the sliding doors where, just over a week ago, I stormed out in tears. Shifting my weight between my feet, I twist the strap of my bag between my fingers.
"Second thoughts?" Sebastian asks, his voice low and steady beside me. Unlike my fidgeting mess of nerves, he stands perfectly still, hands in the pockets of his tailored slacks, looking as if he's merely waiting for a coffee order rather than about to face potential career suicide.
"Only about sixteen per minute." I attempt a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. "What if Henderson laughs us out of his office? What if he's already replaced me? What if—"
"What if," Sebastian interrupts, facing me, "we go in there and handle whatever comes our way? Together, like we said."
"Together," I echo.
Sebastian reaches for my hand as we approach the sliding doors, his fingers interlacing with mine in a gesture so casual it takes my breath away. I hesitate for the briefest moment—this isn't just walking into the hospital, this is announcing ourselves—before closing my fingers around his.
The doors whoosh open, hospital air rushing to greet us with its familiar antiseptic sting. Sebastian's grip tightens slightly as we step over the threshold together, and my heart hammers so loudly I'm certain everyone can hear it reverberating off the polished floors.
The morning shift is in full swing. Nurses bustle between stations, residents scurry with clipboards, patients wait in plastic chairs along the wall. It's all so achingly familiar that for a second, I almost believe I could slot back into place as if nothing happened.
But the illusion shatters when Nurse Rodriguez spots us from the check-in desk, her eyes widening comically before darting to our joined hands. She elbows the nurse beside her, whispering something that makes the other woman's head snap up.
"They're staring," I mutter, fixing my gaze on the bank of elevators ahead. My palm grows damp against Sebastian's, but he doesn't let go.
"Let them," he replies, his stride confident and unhurried, forcing me to match his pace rather than scurry like I want to. "Give them something worth talking about."
Easy for him to say. His reputation can withstand a few raised eyebrows. Mine feels as fragile as spun glass after my meltdown.
We pass Dr. Atwood from Neurology, who nearly drops his tablet at the sight of us. His gaze flicks from our hands to my face, then to Sebastian, mouth opening slightly before snapping shut without a word.
"Good morning, Dr. Atwood," Sebastian says smoothly, as if this is any other day, any other hospital encounter.
"M-morning," Atwood manages.
The whispers follow us like ripples in a pond, expanding outward with each step we take.
I catch fragments as we pass—"...threw her badge.
.." "...pinned Harper to a wall..." "...
together the whole time..."—and each one makes me want to sink through the floor.
Instead, I straighten my spine, channeling a fraction of Sebastian's unshakable confidence.
At the elevator bank, I make the mistake of looking back across the lobby. At least a dozen staff members quickly avert their gazes, pretending they weren't just openly gawking at us. My face burns.
"Enjoying the show?" Sebastian murmurs, amusement threading through his voice as he pushes the up button.
"About as much as a root canal," I reply, but despite my discomfort, I squeeze his hand in silent gratitude. He's making this easier, turning our return into something approaching normal with his calm demeanor.
The elevator arrives with a cheerful ding that feels mockingly out of place. We step inside, and I exhale in relief when the doors slide closed. Sebastian immediately pulls me against his chest, his arms encircling me in a brief, fierce hug that speaks volumes.
"You're doing great," he says into my hair.
I press my face against his shirt and breathe him in. "I'm terrified."
"I know." His hands slide up to frame my face, tilting it up so I have to meet his gaze. "But you've got this. We've got this."
Before I can respond, the elevator slows. Sebastian drops his hands but doesn't step away, maintaining a closeness that would raise eyebrows even without our handholding entrance downstairs. The doors open to reveal Dr. Patel, who freezes mid-step at the sight of us.
"Holy shit, it's true," he blurts, eyes wide. "You're back."
His gaze jumps between us, lingering on the scant inches separating our bodies, before a grin breaks across his face. "About damn time."
"Arjun," Sebastian acknowledges with a nod but does nothing to hide the small smile tugging at his lips.
Dr. Patel steps into the elevator, smacking the "Door Open" button when it tries to close. His gaze lands on me. "You okay, Phillips? After everything with Cheryl, I mean."
The genuine concern in his voice catches me off guard. "Getting there."
He nods like that's exactly what he expected to hear. "Good. We've missed you around here. The diagnostics floor is boring as hell without you challenging Walker every five minutes."
Sebastian snorts. "I believe she's found other ways to challenge me."
Heat floods my cheeks at the double meaning, but Arjun just laughs. "Well, I'd better get back to rounds before Davis has my head." He steps back, giving us a mock salute as the doors begin to close. "Oh, and by the way… team Miastian all the way."
"Miastian?" I repeat as the elevator continues upward.
"Apparently we've been branded," Sebastian says dryly, but his eyes crinkle at the corners with amusement.
The lightness of the moment helps carry me through the rest of the elevator ride and down the corridor toward Henderson's office. With each step, however, my anxiety rebuilds. By the time we reach his door, my heart is practically somersaulting.
Sebastian pauses, turning to face me fully. His expression softens in a way that still makes my breath catch. "Remember," he says quietly, "whatever happens in there, we face it together."
He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. "Everything will be okay."
I take a deep breath, drawing strength from his certainty. The with my shoulders squared and my chin lifted, I nod. "Let's do this."
Sebastian's hand finds mine once more as he pushes open the door, and we step into Henderson's office side by side.
He sits behind his oak desk, gaze immediately dropping to our interlocked fingers.
I resist the urge to pull my hand away, though heat creeps up my neck when his bushy eyebrows inch toward his receding hairline.
The badge I threw at him last week sits centered on his desk blotter like evidence at a trial.
Sebastian gives my hand a reassuring squeeze as we settle into the chairs across from Henderson, whose expression remains frustratingly unreadable behind his wire-rimmed glasses.
"Dr. Walker," He acknowledges, then turns to me. "Dr. Phillips. I was beginning to wonder if your absence would be permanent."
His tone isn't unkind, but there's an edge to it that makes my stomach clench. I swallow hard, feeling every inch the scolded child despite my professional attire and rehearsed apology.
"Dr. Henderson," I begin, my voice steadier than I feel, "I want to apologize for my behavior last week. It was unprofessional and completely out of line." My free hand gestures toward the badge. "Especially the... projectile credentials."
Henderson's mouth twitches, though whether in amusement or annoyance, I can't tell. So, I press on before I lose my nerve.
"Cheryl's death hit me harder than I expected.
It brought up some personal history that I should have processed more appropriately.
" The words feel inadequate and nothing like the raw grief that tore through me that day.
"But my reaction came from caring too much, not too little.
I've always believed that's what makes me a good doctor. "
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, every treatment 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.
"Thank you," I say to Henderson, though I'm not entirely sure what I'm thanking him for—the second chance, the willingness to consider Sebastian's proposal, or simply not firing us both on the spot.
Henderson nods, already turning his attention to the stack of files on his desk. "Close the door on your way out."
Sebastian's hand finds the small of my back as we exit. The moment the door clicks shut behind us, I round on him, equal parts awestruck and horrified.
"Are you out of your mind?" I whisper furiously. "You just threatened to quit… Over me."
His expression softens and that rare full smile breaks out across his face.
"Best career move I've ever made," he says, and the absolute certainty in his voice makes something flutter in my chest. "Besides," he adds, brushing a curl behind my ear, "I meant what I said.
Whatever comes next, we face it together. "