𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐗 ━━ 𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐝

forty two | hope

"So, you're using the clinical trial to bring your boyfriend closer to you?"

Meredith, Cristina, and Izzie stand across from me at the front desk, questioning and prodding me about the brain tumor clinical trial.

"Of course not. This clinical trial is my child." I scoff lightly. "And he's not my boyfriend. I don't think he's my boyfriend."

"Your child?" Cristina cocks a brow.

"Yes. My child. Now leave me alone." I grab Phillip's patient file. "I have to go meet with Derek to discuss our first patient of my clinical trial."

And so I leave the three to fume in jealousy.

"Karnofsky score's still 80, but his CBC and liver enzymes look good." I alert him upon arrival.

"Well, that's better than expected. But better doesn't mean good." Derek quickly warns. "I don't want you getting emotionally involved with these patients. I don't want you getting your hopes up."

"Do I look like Izzie?" I roll my eyes.

"So, now you're going to tell my daughter how she should and shouldn't feel?"

The uninvited guest of the hour arrives promptly, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Dad."

"Similar to how you told me to break up with her the second you realized we were actually going somewhere." Derek challenges.

"Derek."

Before things can get out of hand, I gather my interns and warn them about Mr. Robinson's abusive behavior, all thanks to the massive malignant glioma.

"You've been incredibly strong through this process, Jennifer." I glance back at her while conducting a brief checkup on Phillip. "It can't be easy seeing someone you love acting so. . .different."

"You know, if you really want to help, Dr. Phoenix, you could bring some single men by."

"Phillip. . .please stop."

"Jennifer, we're in a hospital full of eligible doctors, and you're a waitress with no prospects who needs to learn how to use her ass to catch a new guy before I bite the dust!" Phillip blurts out in one breath.

"It's just the tumor talking. It's just. . .the tumor talking."

"Just the tumor."

Since receiving the diagnosis of the tumor, it seemed like the only statement that remained constant through the weeks.

When Phillip begins to erratically laugh and admits he can't see anything, I call the two attendings back.

"Mr. Robinson, I'm. . .I'm sorry, but I believe it's possible the tumor is infiltrating the optic nerve." Derek releases a breath. "We should consider moving the surgery, maybe even doing it today."

While Phillip chuckles aloud, Jennifer steps out of the room with a choked gasp. I instinctively follow her out in an attempt to comfort her.

But what do you say to a woman whose husband could very well die today?

"Don't worry." I stifle a sigh as Derek stops next to me. "My emotions are contained, and I haven't gotten my hopes up." My words form monotonously.

Naturally, he squints his eyes in doubt. "Mm-hmm."

"I don't wanna hear any damn judgment from you, Shepherd."

"What did I do?"

"Pick a fight with my dad about our relationship."

And before I know it, someone's pulling me into the empty stairwell. I roll my eyes in annoyance as he runs a hand through his bed of hair.

"He clearly started it when he said I shouldn't tell you how to feel. Which, for the record, wasn't my intention." Derek clarifies with a somber look.

"I know, Derek. I know." I grab him by the shoulder. "You were just trying to protect me from my own expectations."

The neurosurgeon in front of me visibly trembles as he speaks. "Your father's the one who pushed you to me. And suddenly he's going back against his word?"

"Look, obviously, there's something going on with him. Just. . .give me some time to figure out what's happening."

"We have to check on Phillip."

Together, we leave the confined stairwell and visit Phillip in his room. With Jennifer nowhere to be seen.

"Jennifer?" Phillip lifts his head up from the pillow.

"No, it's Dr. Shepherd and Dr. Phoenix." Derek places the patient chart on the little desk.

"I hate this. . ." He rests back against the hospital bed. "Not being able to see. I just want to see Jennifer."

All the while, the neurosurgeon checks his eyes. "Phillip, this is an extremely risky operation. You still may have a few weeks to live. You could spend that time with Jennifer. You don't have to do the surgery today."

For the first time since his terminal diagnosis, Phillip talks. . .not his tumor.

"I'm trying to fix Jennifer up. I don't want to leave her alone. It's the one thing about all this I really can't stand. I just want her to be alright when I'm gone."

"Tell her that." I step up to his bedside. "Remember your reason behind this and tell her. Today, before you go into the operating room."

A couple of my interns prep Phillip for the surgery, and, soon enough, we're wheeling his hospital bed towards the O.R. floor.

"Uh, Phillip? Now would be a good time to bring up that reason you'd admitted."

He laughs heartily. "Jennifer? Jenn? Jennifer!" She slips her hands over his shoulder. "I-I don't want to leave you alone. I-I want you to meet someone. I want you to promise me you'll try 'cause. . .I can't-I can't do this thinking I'm leaving you alone. Okay?"

". . .okay." She slowly nods her head, tearing up at his words. "Okay."

"Maybe I'll make it. I-I hope I'll make it." His lips curve up in a smile.

She presses a gentle kiss to his forehead before releasing him. I grab the patient file from the nurses' station and carry it under my arm as we enter the restricted area.

Jennifer stands on the other side of the closed glass doors, giving me one last hopeful look as I enter the scrub room.

"Alright, the moment of truth." Derek slips the tube. "Injecting the virus into the tumor."

With a few silent words of hope, he inserts the syringe into the tube and presses down. Only a few seconds pass before the monitor emits the impeding continuous tone.

"He's in complete heart block."

"The injection went into the intra-arterial. Push one of atropine."

"No response."

"Push another one. Come on."

After still receiving no response to the atropine, Derek declares the failure of our first patient's treatment and has me call the time of death.

"You got your hopes up, too. . .didn't you?"

"I did, yeah."

We've changed out of the blue hospital scrubs and into our normal clothes as we walk out of the hospital in a depressed atmosphere.

"The look on Jennifer's face. . ." Tears involuntarily prick the corners of my eyes. "The last thing she has to remember him by is the memory of him laughing at the most inconvenient times."

His hand slips around the width of my waist. "That's the thing about clinical trials. You have no idea if what you're doing is going to work."

"God, it hurts not being able to save lives."

"I know. I know, Leven."