Kyra sat in Dr. Strange's desk as she reviewed his notes. She forgot how much paperwork went into being a doctor. She had spent hours in one spot looking through the same stuff all over again. As soon as she finished updating the last file, Kyra slammed down the pen and left the room in a fluster.

"Stephen, did you ho- oof!"

And she ran straight into someone coming in.

"I'm... so sorry!" Kyra apologized.

The doctor watched her be all flummoxed and stared at her with a smirk.

"Is he... is he decent? I've got these..."

"Oh, what! No. No, no no!" Kyra laughed at what she thought the other woman was assuming. "He's not in there. I haven't gotten a chance to introduce myself! I'm Kyra Dawson, Stephen's new resident," she extended a hand in greeting.

"Christine Palmer," the doctor returned the handshake as she laughed at the idea. "Resident. For Stephen? Stephen Strange?" She asked as they began walking down the hall.

"Yep. He is the best neuro in the west, isn't he?"

"And who's your father?"

"Father... long story. But I have Tony Stark to thank for this little arrangement."

As they were getting to know each other, Stephen was heading back to his office, and caught them coming his way. He then remembered what the new girl was here for and tried to hide, but Christine found him.

"Delivery!" Christine teased him.

Stephen sighed. "Ah, yes. Dr. Palmer, this is... this," he brushed her off, not bothering to remember her name.

"Dr. Kyra Dawson? Your new resident. Have fun!" She smacked him on the arm with a file and wished Kyra good luck before going away.

Kyra was waving Christine off and had forgotten about Strange. She ran to catch up to him again. "Okay, all your files are up to date, all your stationery is organized, and your bin's all clean. I've done your chores for the next two days so please can I work with you now?"

Stephen exasperatedly sighed at her insistence before he decided to test her. "Weakness to patients?"

"General fatigue, lethargy sensory disturbance."

"Weakness to surgeons?"

"Loss of of power from disorders affecting motor pathways in central/peripheral nervous systems."

"Shaking."

"Tremors, chorea, athetosis, myoclo-"

"Numbness?"

"Hypesthesia, hyperesthesia, parest-"

"Allodynia."

"Perception of normally innocuous stimulus as painful," Kyra sighed. "Look, you can ask me the entire DSM and I can answer correctly. Can we please just grasp the idea that you're stuck with me and get to work?"

Stephen returned the sigh and finally stopped walking and looked at her for the first time. "Fine. Tomorrow 7am sharp and ready with your scrubs and supplies. 7:01 and you're gone."

Kyra tried hard not to squeal. "Oh, I'm good with time. Trust me."

"Good for you," Stephen rolled his eyes and went to his office. "See you tomorrow."

For once, Kyra woke up excited and ready to start the day. She spent half an hour at the Tower gym before getting ready for work. At 6:50, she magically transported herself to Metro General, arriving 5 minutes early at Strange's door.

"Knock knock!" Kyra peeked her head in, her bright smile a stark contrast to the dismal look on his face. The neurosurgeon actually groaned and sighed at her appearance as if he'd hoped she wasn't coming.

"So..." Kyra let herself in, "got any cases yet?"

"Actually, I do," Strange stood up, preparing to leave. "An alto-occipital dislocation, think you can handle it on your first day?" He side whipped the file at her as he left the room, making her speed walk to catch up.

"Straight into the deep end!"

Strange smirked. "Try not to sound so happy about it. He is literally hanging on by a thread."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

"Rule number one: don't bother sucking up. I hate you. That's not gonna change. Dos: you will answer every page at a run. You're on the bottom of the surgical food chain. You run labs, write orders, work every second night until you drop, and don't complain. On-call rooms," he waved at them as they passed by, "If I'm sleeping, don't wake me unless the patient is dying."

Dr. Strange knocked and entered the room of his patient. "Derek, I'm Dr. Strange. I'm the guy who's literally going to screw your head on straight. Do you understand me? Blink once for yes, twice for no."

The patient blinked once as Strange viewed the x-rays.

"Back of his skull is completely disconnected from his first cervical vertebrae. He's been internally decapitated."

"Holy crap!" Kyra responded, before realizing the patient was right next to them.

"Yeah, 90% of these die in the field."

"And the other 10%?"

"I've never seen one live."

"There's always a first time, though, right? I mean, he came back from the dead," Kyra desperately needed hope.

"Communicate with his family," Strange passingly told her as he read notes, "find out if he's an organ donor."

Kyra stood staring jaw dropped. How could he sound so cruel. On her way out the room, she missed him fiddling with his watch.

"Alright, Mr. Sloan, I'm going to..."

Kyra didn't hear Strange telling the patient about his procedure as she went looking for his family. She found his wife sitting with two young children, and pulled her aside.

"Your husband's injuries are s-severe," Kyra struggled. "Uh, they're traumatic in the extreme."

"I'm sorry. What does that mean?" Mrs. Sloan asked.

Kyra swallowed. She was the least ready for family communication. "The only thing holding his head on to his body is skin and muscle. If he moves even a fraction of an inch, it could kill him."

"So are you saying that the..."

"I'm... I'm saying that when you see him, this could be the last time... this could be the last time you see him alive," she told her as they entered the patient's room.

"Are you in pain, sweetie?" Mrs. Sloan asked her husband, "Two blinks... you aren't in pain."

"Why isn't daddy answering?" The little girl's voice struck Kyra hard.

"Just... right now we just need to wish daddy good luck in his surgery and tell him how much we love him. Okay? Cause we do. I love you so much, Derek."

Derek responded with three blinks, which Kyra translated for them. "He loves you too."

Dr. Strange was observing his resident and watched as the little girl went up to her father and blinked at him three times.

"Is-is he gonna make it?" Mrs. Sloan asked desperately.

Kyra reassuringly held her hands. "All you need is: it's possible."

"It's time for the OR now," Strange announced to the room and the nurses began to wheel him out.

"We're gonna be fine, Derek," Mrs. Sloan called after them. "You're gonna make it, and we're all gonna be just fine."

Her optimism stung Dr. Strange, reminding him of the time he stood in her place. But this time would be different. Stephen wouldn't rip apart a family this time.

They arrived at the operating theater and Kyra helped Strange prep. "Observation only," he ordered, despite her many complaints. Nothing could go wrong today; they literally only had a sliver of a chance.

Kyra grunted, but realized the severity of the case and relented. She quickly prepped and followed him in. Things went fine for the while, until things changed.

"Did he just move?" Kyra voiced her observation. "Oh, he... he definitely moved."

"The anesthesia's light. Yang, grab his feet. Dawson, come and stabilize his neck. Go under the drape and do not contaminate the sterile field. We need to keep him very still until he is under. We can't risk even the slightest movement."

Kyra didn't waste a second following directions. She did as told and quickly positioned herself to cradle the patient's head.

"You cannot move, do you hear me?" Kyra whispered to Derek, demanding. "This is not an option. Everything is not gonna be fine if you move. It will be the opposite of fine." She steeled her voice to pass her courage to him.

Strange was focused on the surgery, but he was conscious of the dialogue happening near him.

"You cannot leave the people you love. They need you. Not just the memory that you love them."

Stephen exhaled as he continued on with the surgery with inspired determination. His hands were rock steady as he successfully attached the patient's head to his spine. His hands were the mode of his skill; his pride and joy. And he took them for granted.