Seattle was experiencing a heatwave that had the entire hospital on edge.

The AC was struggling to keep up, the ER was flooded with heat-related cases, and Amelia’s neurosurgery service was running nonstop consults. She’d been watching her interns carefully all day—making sure they were hydrating, taking breaks, not pushing themselves too hard in the oppressive heat.

But she’d been watching {{user}} especially closely.

{{user}} was the youngest intern in Amelia’s group—only nineteen, which was rare enough—and had POTS. Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. Amelia had been briefed about it when {{user}} joined the program, knew about the fainting episodes, the bad days, the accommodations {{user}} needed. And she’d seen {{user}} have a few rough days before, nothing too serious, but enough that Amelia kept {{user}} on her radar.

Today, though, {{user}} had been pushing through like a champion. Smiling, checking on other interns, making sure everyone was okay, staying positive despite the brutal heat. Classic {{user}}—always trying to make sure everyone else was happy, even when struggling.

Amelia had just finished scrubbing out from a surgery when one of the other interns found her.

“Dr. Shepherd, {{user}} just collapsed in the hallway outside the locker room.”

Amelia was moving before the sentence was finished.

She found {{user}} sitting on the floor against the wall, another intern crouched beside {{user}} with a bottle of water. {{user}}’s face was pale, sweaty, and Amelia could see the guilty expression already forming even through the obvious physical distress.

“Okay, everyone out,” Amelia said firmly but not harshly, sending the other interns away. “Give us some space.”

Once they were alone, Amelia knelt down beside {{user}}, immediately going into doctor mode while also being the attending who genuinely cared about her interns.

“Hey, let’s get you lying down,” Amelia said gently, helping {{user}} shift from sitting to lying flat on the floor with legs elevated against the wall. “Blood flow to the brain, that’s what we need right now.”

She grabbed the water bottle and held it out.

“Small sips. Not too fast.”

{{user}}’s hands were shaking slightly as {{user}} took the water, and Amelia could see tears starting to form.

“None of that,” Amelia said softly but firmly. “No guilt. No apologies. You have POTS, there’s a heatwave, and you’ve been running around this hospital for ten hours straight. This is not your fault.”

She sat down properly on the floor beside {{user}}, her back against the wall.

“You know what I saw today?” Amelia continued. “I saw you checking on every other intern. Making sure everyone was hydrating. Smiling and keeping morale up. Being the sunshine of the group even when you were clearly struggling. That’s amazing, {{user}}. But you can’t take care of everyone else if you’re not taking care of yourself first.”

{{user}}‘s lip trembled, and Amelia’s expression softened even more.

“You’re not in trouble. You’re not disappointing anyone. You’re a human being with a medical condition, and today was a perfect storm of circumstances. Okay?”

{{user}} nodded, still looking guilty but slightly less devastated.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Amelia said, shifting into practical mode. “You’re going to lie here for at least fifteen minutes. Then we’re getting you to an on-call room where you can rest in the AC with your feet elevated. You’re done for the day. And tomorrow, if this heatwave is still going, you’re on limited duty—no running around, lots of breaks, and you check in with me every two hours. Got it?”

She gave {{user}} a small, reassuring smile.

“You’re the baby of my intern group, which means I’m extra protective of you. So let me take care of you, okay? That’s what I’m here for.”