If you have medical phobia do NOT read this

Ash practically dragged Gary down the hall, his grip tight around Gary’s wrist. His feet barely kept up as Ash bolted toward the guest room, where Ritchie was staying.

Gary’s mind was already racing. Stomach pain? That could be a lot of things—food poisoning, appendicitis, or even something worse. He needed to see for himself.

When they reached the room, Ash practically kicked the door open.

“Ritchie! Gary’s here!”

The moment Gary stepped inside, his stomach dropped.

Ritchie was curled up on the bed, sweating bullets. His face was pale, almost sickly, and his arms were wrapped around his stomach in a tight grip. His breathing was shallow, labored. His eyes cracked open slightly when he heard them come in.

“G…Gary…?” His voice was weak.

Gary swallowed hard and immediately went into doctor mode.

“I’m here, buddy,” he said firmly, already moving to Ritchie’s side. “Ash, get me some extra pillows to prop him up, and a wet cloth.”

Ash nodded and sprinted out of the room.

Gary set his bag down and pulled out his stethoscope, snapping on a pair of gloves in one fluid motion. He had to be quick—he could already tell this wasn’t a simple stomachache.

“Alright, Ritchie, I need you to tell me exactly what’s going on, okay?”

Ritchie winced, shifting slightly. “I… my stomach… hurts really bad…”

“Where, specifically?” Gary asked.

Ritchie groaned, then weakly pointed to the lower right side of his abdomen.

Gary’s blood ran cold.

Lower right side. That was bad.

“Okay, okay,” Gary murmured, keeping his voice calm. He gently pressed a hand over the area, feeling for any abnormalities.

The moment his fingers pressed down, Ritchie cried out.

Gary froze. That reaction—that level of pain—wasn’t normal.

Ash ran back in, nearly tripping over himself. “Here! I got the stuff!”

Gary grabbed the pillows and gently helped Ritchie shift so he was more comfortable. He then took the wet cloth and pressed it against Ritchie’s forehead.

“Ash, I need you to do something really important, okay?” he said, grabbing his shoulders.

Ash nodded rapidly. “Yeah, yeah! What?!”

Gary took a deep breath. He had to be careful with his words—he didn’t want to scare Ash, but he also needed to act fast.

“I think this might be appendicitis.”

Ash blinked. “Apend-what-now?”

“His appendix,” Gary explained quickly. “It’s an organ in the body, and sometimes it gets inflamed or infected. If we don’t take care of it soon, it could burst, and that would be really bad.”

Ash’s eyes widened in horror. “B-burst?! Like—explode?”

Gary gave a firm nod. “Yes.”

Ash looked between Gary and Ritchie, panic rising. “W-we gotta tell Professor Oak!”

Gary’s jaw clenched. That was the logical thing to do. But the problem was—

If they told Professor Oak, he’d call the hospital. And by the time an ambulance got here, it might be too late.

Gary knew how to fix this. He knew how to do the procedure himself. He just needed the operation room.

And that meant they had to get Professor Oak out of the house.

Gary took a deep breath. “Ash… I have a plan.”

Ash blinked. “You do?”

Gary looked down at Ritchie, his stomach twisting. “Yeah,” he murmured. “But we have to act fast.”

Gary took a deep, steadying breath as he snapped on a fresh pair of surgical gloves, the latex stretching tightly over his small hands. The bright overhead light in the Oak laboratory's secret operating room cast sharp shadows over the stainless-steel table where Ritchie lay, weak but awake, his breaths shallow and strained.

Gary’s heart pounded, but his hands remained steady. He had done this before. He could do this.

He had to do this.

Ash stood beside him, shifting nervously from foot to foot, his hands gripping the edge of the supply table so hard his knuckles turned white. “G-Gary… Are you sure about this?” His voice was a whisper, laced with pure terror.

Gary didn’t look up as he continued to arrange the surgical tools on a tray—scalpel, forceps, clamps, sutures. “Yes.”

Ash swallowed hard. “B-but… What if something goes wrong?”

Gary paused. He turned to Ash, his brown eyes sharp but reassuring. “I know what I’m doing, Ash.” His voice was firm, steady. “If we wait for a hospital, it might be too late. This is the only way.”

Ash looked down, biting his lip, but nodded. “O-okay…”

Gary turned back to Ritchie, who was barely holding onto consciousness. His fever had climbed higher, his breathing shallower. The inflamed appendix was close to rupturing—if that happened, Gary wouldn’t have time to fix it.

“We have to work fast,” Gary muttered under his breath.

He reached for the anesthesia mask and gently placed it over Ritchie’s nose and mouth. “Alright, buddy,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “I’m gonna put you to sleep, okay? Just breathe in… slow and deep.”

Ritchie’s glazed-over eyes flickered toward him, trust and fear swirling together. He gave a weak nod.

“Deep breaths, that’s it,” Gary coached, watching Ritchie’s chest rise and fall as the anesthesia took effect. Within moments, Ritchie’s muscles relaxed, his body going limp.

Gary exhaled through his nose. Time to begin.

He turned to Ash. “Scalpel.”

Ash hesitated for a split second before hurriedly passing the instrument to him.

Gary’s small fingers wrapped around the cool handle, his grip firm but precise. He positioned the blade just above the swollen area on Ritchie’s lower right abdomen.

Steady. Precise. No hesitation.

He pressed down.

The scalpel sliced cleanly through the skin. A thin line of blood welled up, but Gary was ready. He quickly reached for the gauze and wiped it away before continuing. He made a careful incision through the layers of muscle, exposing the inflamed appendix beneath.

His breath caught.

It was bad.

The appendix was swollen to almost twice its normal size, its edges darkened with dangerous infection. If he had waited even an hour longer, it might have ruptured—and that would have been a death sentence.

“Gary…?” Ash’s voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes wide and terrified.

Gary swallowed, forcing his focus to stay sharp. “It’s bad, but we can fix it.” His voice was calm, steady—he had to be, for both Ritchie and Ash.

With delicate precision, he reached for the forceps and carefully grasped the appendix. He then took a surgical clamp and secured the base of the organ to prevent any further leakage.

Almost there…

Sweat beaded on Gary’s forehead as he worked swiftly. He took another clamp and carefully sealed off the blood vessels before reaching for the scalpel again.

“Ash, suction.”

Ash quickly grabbed the small suction device and held it near the area, his hands trembling. “L-like this?”

“Perfect,” Gary said. “Keep it steady.”

With a sharp, clean cut, he removed the appendix.

Ash let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Y-you did it…!”

“Not yet,” Gary murmured, already working to clean the area and stitch the internal layers closed. His fingers moved with practiced efficiency, closing each layer of tissue with small, precise stitches.

Minutes felt like hours as Gary worked, his hands never once faltering. When he finally placed the last stitch on Ritchie’s outer skin, he let out a slow, relieved breath.

“It’s done.”

Ash’s shoulders sagged as if a ton of weight had just lifted off them. “H-he’s gonna be okay?”

Gary wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “Yeah.” His voice was filled with quiet exhaustion. “He’s gonna be okay.”

Ash let out a small, choked laugh, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “Y-you’re amazing, Gary…”

Gary shook his head with a tired smile. “Just doing my job, Ash.”

He looked down at Ritchie, still unconscious but breathing evenly now. The worst was over.

And Gary had saved his life.