Chapter Text
The changing-room door closed behind Claire with a soft, metallic click. For a brief moment, she stood perfectly still, her hand resting on the handle. On the other side was the corridor leading to the surgical ward, the doctors’ station, the operating rooms, the emergency department, hundreds of people she didn’t know yet, and the entire vast, terrifying world she had spent the last few years hearing about in lectures, during rotations, and through countless hours buried in textbooks.
Here, on the other hand, everything was ordinary.
Gray metal lockers. Benches bolted to the floor. A plastic chair with one leg slightly shorter than the others. A vending machine standing against the wall. A corkboard with someone’s duty schedule, a few notices, and a picture of a cat with the caption: If you see this person, do not give him coffee. This is his third shift in a row. Someone had written underneath: Too late.
Claire had to smile. It felt strangely familiar. Not the hospital. Not yet. But the atmosphere. That particular kind of nervous energy that appeared among people standing on the threshold of something important. Everyone was doing something to avoid sitting around doing nothing and thinking about what was about to happen.
Claire took a deep breath. Her first day. Her real first day. Not a rotation. Not watching doctors from behind their shoulders. Not standing at an operating table with the sole responsibility of handing over instruments. Not studying anatomy until two in the morning.
Residency. Her residency. Finally. She smiled at her own reflection in the small mirror hanging above the sink.
“Okay, Redfield.” she muttered to herself. “You can do this.”
“I hope you’re saying that about me too.”
Claire spun around. A woman Claire didn’t recognize was standing by one of the lockers. She was wearing hospital scrubs, an unbuttoned white coat, and her hair was tied high on top of her head.
“Excuse me?”
“You said you can do this with such conviction, like you were trying to convince someone about to jump out of an airplane.”
The woman pointed at herself.
“I could use some of that confidence.”
Claire snorted with laughter.
“Claire Redfield.”
“Rebecca Chambers.”
Rebecca held out her hand.
Her handshake was firm and confident, but she smiled like she was barely holding herself back from admitting that she would much rather escape through the window.
“First day?” she asked.
“Is it that obvious?”
“No. It’s just that all the new people look the same.”
“Like what?”
Rebecca glanced around the changing room.
“Like someone just informed them that in a few minutes they’ll be responsible for other people’s lives.”
Claire stared at her for a second.
“Was that supposed to calm me down?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I can try again.”
“Don’t bother.”
Rebecca laughed and turned back to her locker.
Claire opened hers. Inside was a fresh set of clothes. Everything was exactly where it was supposed to be. Her ID badge. Stethoscope. Pen. Notebook. Phone. A small bottle of water.
Claire arranged everything almost automatically. Her hands moved calmly, even though her heart was beating considerably faster than it should.
Behind her, someone opened the door.
“If anyone says one more time that the first shift is great fun, I swear I’m throwing them out the window.”
“Good morning to you too, Aaron.”
“It’s not good.”
“It’s six fifty.”
“Exactly why it’s not good.”
A tall, dark-haired resident walked into the changing room, carrying a cup of coffee so full that liquid spilled over the plastic lid with every step he took.
Another man appeared behind him.
“I told you to get a smaller cup.”
“This one was clean.”
“That thing holds a bucket.”
“I need a bucket.”
“You need sleep.”
“Sleep is for people who didn’t choose surgery.”
Rebecca looked at Claire.
“Meet the local wildlife.”
“I can hear you.”
“Good. At least neurologically you’re still functioning.”
Claire moved aside, making room by the bench. Soon, the changing room began to fill up. One person after another. Coats draped over shoulders. Backpacks tossed beneath benches. Watches fastened around wrists. Shoes being laced. Coffee cups. Energy drinks. Sandwiches pulled from foil and immediately put away when someone remembered that, technically, you weren’t allowed to eat on the ward.
Conversations overlapped. Someone asked where the doctors’ station was. Someone else cursed the coffee machine. Someone was frantically trying to memorize the names of the senior physicians.
Claire listened to everything with growing interest. It was completely different from what she had expected. For years, she had imagined the hospital as a place that was almost sterile not only physically, but emotionally as well.
Doctors were supposed to be serious. Focused. Almost always composed. And yet here, one of the residents was trying to convince another that her bruised knee could officially be classified as a workplace injury if she had tripped over her own backpack.
“You can’t.” Rebecca replied.
“Why?”
“Because the backpack was yours.”
“That’s discrimination.”
“That’s gravity.”
“I don’t like that either.”
Claire smiled to herself. Just then, her phone buzzed. She looked at the screen.
Of course.
Claire rolled her eyes before she even opened the message.
Chris:
Good luck. Don’t let them eat you alive.
A second message appeared.
Chris:
And I have a backup coffee for you in the locker in the staff lounge. Yes, I know you claim you don’t need it. Yes, you’re still taking it.
Claire smiled more broadly. A moment later, a third message arrived.
Chris:
The first twenty-four hours will be rough. Drink water. Eat. Don’t try to be a hero.
Claire shook her head.
Typical Chris. Even a good-luck message had to include a user manual for being human. For a moment, she stared at the screen.
Then she replied:
Thanks, Chris. I’ll be fine.
The response came almost immediately.
Chris:
I know.
Claire raised her eyebrows. That was all. Something warm tightened in her chest.
She put her phone away.
“Your boyfriend?”
Claire looked at Rebecca.
“What?”
“You’re smiling at your phone.”
“He’s my brother.”
“Oh.”
Rebecca looked at her with the expression of someone who had just acquired a very important piece of information.
“Older?”
“Older.”
“An older brother sending messages at six fifty in the morning. That sounds dangerous.”
“He’s a doctor.”
“Even worse.”
Claire laughed.
“He’s a surgeon.”
Rebecca gave a quiet:
“Ooo.”
“What ooo?”
“Nothing. It all makes sense now.”
“It does not make sense.”
“It does. Older surgeon brother. He’s going to keep an eye on you.”
“He won’t.”
Rebecca looked at her.
Claire held her gaze for three seconds.
“Fine. He will.”
“I knew it.”
“But he won’t go easy on me.”
“That somehow sounds even worse.”
Claire adjusted her ID badge.
“That’s exactly why I’m not going to give him any reason to.”
“Sounds like a healthy family relationship.”
“It is healthy.”
“Are you sure?”
“Rebecca.”
“I’m saying nothing.”
The door opened again. This time, the conversations quieted.
Claire instinctively looked toward it. A man with slightly tousled light-brown hair walked into the changing room. He was still wearing a civilian jacket, taking it off as he walked, as though he had arrived literally moments before the start of his shift.
He held a cup of coffee in one hand and his ID badge in the other. He stopped. Looked at the badge. Then at the board. Then back at the badge.
“Is this surgery?”
Someone from the other end of the room answered:
“No. It’s the laundry.”
The man looked in that direction.
“Oh.”
“I’m kidding.”
“Good.”
“You new?”
“Yes.”
“Then get used to it. Everyone here is hilarious.”
The man nodded.
“I can tell.”
Claire watched him for a moment. He didn’t look particularly nervous. Quite the opposite. He was calm. Maybe a little tired, but calm. He didn’t have the nervous energy she had noticed in most of the others. He walked over to an empty locker.
Claire turned her attention back to her own things. Less than a minute passed.
“Hey.”
She glanced to the side.
It was him.
“Yes?”
“Is this your locker?”
Claire looked at the number.
“Yes.”
“Then I guess we’re neighbors.”
“Looks like it.”
“Leon Kennedy.”
He held out his hand.
Claire looked at it for a moment before shaking it.
“Claire Redfield.”
His eyebrows rose slightly.
“Redfield?”
Claire immediately knew. He recognized the name. She wasn’t thrilled about that.
“Yes.”
“Chris Redfield?”
“My brother.”
“Right.”
He opened his locker.
“This is going to be an interesting shift.”
Claire frowned.
“Why?”
“Nothing.”
“You just said it was going to be interesting.”
“That was an optimistic statement.”
“That sounds suspicious.”
Leon looked at her.
“It’s only six fifty-five.”
“So?”
“And you’re already interrogating me.”
Claire crossed her arms.
“If you’re going to be my coworker, you should get used to it.”
For a moment, they looked at each other. Then Leon smiled faintly.
“Good to know.”
He turned back to his locker.
Claire glanced at the clock.
6:57.
“Everyone ready?” one of the senior residents asked.
Several people answered at once.
“Yes.”
“Sure.”
“No.”
“Never.”
“No chance.”
Laughter spread through the room.
Claire felt the tension in her shoulders ease a little. This was exactly what she needed. Not a perfect beginning. Not some ceremonial entrance. Not the feeling that she had to be perfect from day one. Just people.
Normal people who were scared too. People who joked, drank too much coffee, and tried not to show that they felt like throwing up from stress. It was strangely comforting.
“Redfield.”
Claire looked up. One of the senior doctors was standing in the doorway.
“Yes?”
“Rounds in three minutes.”
“I’m coming.”
The man walked away.
Claire closed her locker. Picked up her stethoscope. Checked her pockets. Pen. Notebook. Phone. Water. Everything.
“All right.” she said quietly.
“What?”
Leon was standing beside her.
“Nothing.”
“You’re talking to yourself again.”
“You’re listening again.”
“Hard not to.”
Claire looked at him.
“Do you have a problem with me talking to myself?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Just if you start answering yourself, I’ll be concerned.”
Claire rolled her eyes.
“Very funny.”
“I try.”
She headed for the door.
After two steps, she stopped.
“Kennedy?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t be late.”
Leon glanced at the clock.
“Two minutes left.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll make it.”
“You’d better.”
She walked out.
Leon watched her for a moment. Rebecca appeared beside him.
“No.”
“What?”
“Don’t even start.”
“I haven’t started.”
“I saw it.”
“Saw what?”
“Nothing. Which is why I’m warning you.”
Leon lifted his cup.
“Let’s go to rounds, Chambers.”
“Mhm.”
“Seriously.”
“Sure.”
“Rebecca.”
“I’m saying nothing.”
The corridor was considerably louder than the changing room. Phones. Monitors. Wheels of hospital beds rolling across the floor. Nurses moving quickly. Doctors talking at the stations. Someone calling for test results. Someone else asking about patient transport.
Claire walked alongside the group of other residents and tried not to absorb everything at once. It was impossible. Every movement seemed important. Every sound. Every smell.
Even the distinctive beep of a monitor, something she had heard only in classrooms for years, sounded different here. Real. Her heart sped up. Not from fear. From excitement. This was where she wanted to be. Truly.
Her entire life, she had watched Chris and known that she wanted to do something similar. Not because she wanted to be like him.
She wanted to find her own path. But now, walking down the same corridor, wearing a white coat, her own ID badge and a stethoscope, she felt something she couldn’t quite name. Pride. Maybe emotion. Or perhaps simply the awareness that one chapter of her life had just ended. Childhood. Medical school. Being Chris Redfield’s little sister.
Now she was Dr. Claire Redfield. A resident. A doctor. And damn, she was really starting.
“Redfield.”
Again. This time, Leon. She looked at him.
“What?”
He nodded toward her coat.
“Tag.”
Claire looked down.
A small paper tag was sticking out of her pocket.
“Oh.”
“First day?”
“Don’t start.”
Leon smiled.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“But you wanted to.”
“A little.”
Claire pulled the tag off.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
They continued walking. And although Claire didn’t know it yet, those little moments were the ones that would stay with her the longest. Not her first surgery. Not her first signature on a chart. Not her first compliment. Just a paper tag sticking out of her coat pocket and a guy who noticed it before anyone else did.
A few minutes later, they were already sitting in the doctors’ station. The senior resident was going over the patient list. Claire was taking notes. Leon was too. No one was joking. At least for the first five minutes.
“Who’s on tonight?”
Silence.
“No one’s answering?” the senior resident asked.
One hand went up.
“Me.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you. I hate all of you.”
A few people laughed.
Claire glanced at the schedule. Her first twenty-four hours. Of course. Twelve hours. Then the night shift. Then another morning. She felt a slight knot in her stomach. She reached for her phone. Chris’s message was still on the screen.
Chris:
I have coffee.
Claire smiled.
It’ll come in handy.
Her phone buzzed.
Chris:
I knew it.
Claire shook her head.
Beside her, Leon looked at her questioningly.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re smiling again.”
“My brother.”
“The coffee guy?”
Claire looked at him in surprise.
“How do you know?”
“I overheard.”
“Of course you did.”
“In a hospital, you have to know how to listen.”
“And not stick your nose into things.”
“That too.”
Claire put her phone away.
“Are you always this annoying?”
Leon thought about it.
“No.”
“Good.”
“Sometimes I’m worse.”
Claire looked at him. And for the first time that morning, she thought that maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. She didn’t know yet how wrong she was. And how right she was at the same time.