He clocked in just as the night shift was bleeding into morning, the ER humming with that tired, metallic quiet that never really meant quiet. He put his things into locker and fell into step beside Trinity Santos, who was already scanning the board with the kind of focus that came from too much coffee and not enough sleep.

Monitors chirped their soft warnings, and the smell of antiseptic hung in the air. For him, it was just another day shift, another set of names to memorize, another stack of charts waiting to be opened.

At the nurses’ station, the night shift charge nurse, Lena, was finishing her last notes. Her eyes looked like they’d been awake for a week, but she still managed a tight smile when she saw them.

“You’re up,” she said, sliding the clipboard across the counter. “We’re handing over two new residents today.” She tapped the top page with her pen. “Joy Kwen and James Ogilvie. Fresh. Green."

He skimmed the names, already filing them away in the part of his brain reserved for first-day nerves and rookie mistakes.

“What are we dealing with?” he asked, glancing back at the board.

Lena exhaled slowly, like she was finally allowed to stop running. “Busy morning, nothing out of the ordinary. Trauma bay’s somewhat clear for now, psych’s backed up, and we’ve got a cardiac coming in about twenty.”

The new residents came out of locker room looking bit lost. She met his eyes. “They’re yours to break in. Good luck, Whitaker.”

Dennis exhaled and turned toward the hallway, where two unfamiliar figures were just stepping through the ER doors.