Desmond
Carter caught me outside the med room, smug enough to think the moment had passed. “Hey, Dr. Vaughn,” he said lightly. “Didn't mean to step on any toes back there.”
I stopped walking, but didn’t turn around right away. I let the pause stretch just long enough to feel intentional. Long enough to let him stew with his thoughts.
“You accused a doctor of favoritism towards your fellow resident in a trauma bay,” I said, my voice low. “That's not stepping on toes.”
Carter scoffed. “Come on, Des. Everyone sees it. You hover. She hasn’t even been on nights for two weeks and you back her up more than—”
I turned then, standing several inches above the resident. The hallway felt smaller for it. “You will stop talking,” I said quietly, “and you will listen carefully.”
Carter's grin faltered.
“Doctor Volkov earned every ounce of authority she exercised today. She was the most competent physician in that room,” I continued through gritted teeth.
“She didn't need my guidance. She didn't ask for my protection. And she does not benefit from my reputation in this department. If anything, it puts her under a microscope.”
Carter shifted his weight. “I just think—”
“You don't,” I cut in. Still calm. Still controlled. “You speculate. And you do it publicly. That ends now.”
There was a beat. Carter swallowed. My mind raced; every word, every calculation poised for an attack on my tongue. How dare he?
“If you have concerns about my conduct,” I stepped closer, “you are more than welcome to take them to administration. If you have concerns about hers, bring evidence. Anything else is unprofessional, insubordinate, and—” I let my gaze sharpen “—deeply unwise.”
Carter nodded quickly. “Understood.”
“Good,” I said. I stepped back, already done with him. “Because the next time you imply that a woman's competence is borrowed from the nearest man, I will make this conversation formal. And public.”
I turned and walked away before Carter could respond. My hands were steady; my pulse was not. Down the hall, I caught sight of Anya through the glass — focused, composed, brilliant. Unaware of the line I’d just crossed for her.
Because that was it, wasn’t it? Up against the tiniest amount of pressure and I folded. A single comment about Anya and her medical ability, and I threatened another resident — one I had worked closely with for a while now.
Professional, I told myself. I would have done that for any of my residents. Any of my medical students. Right? It wasn’t because it was her.
A lie I was already getting very tired of telling.