Chapter 15: Maybe I Should Just Dig a Hole and Bury Debbie
The head nurse spotted the handsome stranger chatting up Dr. Bianca Samson and instantly broke into an auntie-style grin.
Without missing a beat, she backed away, leaving the two of them their space — the universal language of "I see what's going on here."
Bianca, on the other hand, felt a little awkward.
It wasn't every day a man this direct — or this good-looking — asked her out.
But after a quick glance at his lean build and calm, confident eyes, she decided there was no harm in being curious.
"Well," she said after a moment's hesitation, "I don't mind… though I'll probably get off pretty late."
William smiled. "For a lady like you, any amount of waiting is worth it. I'll be at the front entrance when you're done."
Bianca couldn't help but laugh softly. "Alright then — it's a date."
"Deal," William replied, meeting her gaze with a faint smirk.
---
"Oh, by the way," Bianca asked suddenly, tilting her head, "what brings you to the hospital? Are you sick?"
William shook his head and pointed toward the hallway, where Frank Gallagher still lay like discarded trash.
"No, that's my friend's father. I was just passing by and thought I'd check on him."
Excuses, as always, came easily.
Bianca glanced back at Frank and nodded without suspicion.
"Could you contact his son for me? I'd like to discuss his treatment plan. His condition's serious."
Though not exactly a saint, Bianca was the kind of doctor who still believed in ethics — a rarity in this city.
That, more than anything, was why William considered her the ideal candidate for a girlfriend.
"Well," William said lightly, "the nurses weren't wrong. Knowing that family, the bill's going to end up on your desk eventually.
Just give him some painkillers and let him be."
As he spoke, William stepped around to Frank's bedside.
Making sure no one was watching, he quietly gripped the man's forearm — and activated Disease Transference.
The pancreatic cancer that had once belonged to Bianca flowed silently into Frank.
The man groaned weakly, still unconscious, unaware that his fate had just been rewritten.
William glanced down at the cast around Frank's leg and smirked.
Now that's what I call dignity.
At least now, the disability office wouldn't have to debate whether Frank was "truly incapacitated."
He was, in every conceivable way.
He'd never walk right again — and his disability checks were officially legit.
---
"Well, if that's the case, I should get back to work," Bianca said.
She wasn't naïve — the mention of "friend's father" and "no money" was more than enough context.
Still, she gave William a polite smile before turning away.
Once she was gone, William didn't linger either.
He made his way to the urology department, taking a slow walk through the halls like a thief casing a vault —
except instead of gold, he was collecting diseases.
By the time he was done, he'd quietly harvested over a dozen samples.
Even with all his experience reading about America's absurd medical stories in his past life,
he hadn't truly believed how wild things could get until now.
Three separate cases of gonorrhea in one small ward.
Add to that syphilis, HIV, genital warts, and chlamydia — it was like a greatest-hits compilation of bad life choices.
And just for good measure, he'd snagged two cases of erectile dysfunction.
Not exactly lethal, he thought, but tactically useful.
In a fight, nothing killed morale faster than a sudden burst of blood and panic down there.
The idea alone made him grin.
Satisfied, William left the ward, bought a canned coffee from a vending machine outside,
and leaned against a wall as night fell over the city.
---
9:00 PM
The wind was cold and the sky above Chicago was a dull steel gray.
William stood under the flickering hospital sign, nursing his coffee, staring into the distance.
No one would've guessed what he was thinking.
From a distance, Bianca watched him — dark coat, steady posture, eyes lost somewhere above the skyline.
It looked like a painting, she thought.
A lonely one.
She didn't know what kind of life he'd lived to wear that kind of quiet sadness so well,
but part of her wanted to reach out and smooth the tension from his brow.
What she didn't know was that William wasn't reflecting on love or fate — he was strategizing.
How the hell do I give the rest of the Gallaghers a "dignified" ending?
Lip, Fiona, and Frank were manageable.
Carl would be fine on his own.
But Debbie and Ian… they were problems.
Debbie — impulsive, self-righteous, and destined to turn into a carbon copy of her manic mother, Monica.
Minus the bipolar disorder, but plus an even bigger dose of entitlement.
If it comes to it, William mused darkly, I could always dig a hole and bury her.
At least it'd be quiet that way.
Ian was tougher.
The kid wasn't bad — just broken, trapped in a body that chemistry itself had betrayed.
His bipolar disorder was inherited, relentless.
I wonder… could my ability transfer something like that?
The thought lingered, cold and clinical.
---
"Hey," a warm voice called out behind him, snapping him from his thoughts.
"Have you been waiting long? You look like you're about to die of boredom."
William turned.
There stood Bianca, dressed casually for the first time —
simple jeans, soft sweater, hair loose,
her smile illuminated faintly under the streetlight.
For the first time that day, William's expression softened.
Right on time, he thought. Maybe not all miracles are wasted on the wrong people.
William shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Come on," he said. "I promised you coffee."
"Oh? You think you can get rid of me that easily—with just coffee?"
For the first time that evening, Bianca's tone softened, almost playful.
A moment ago, his expression — that quiet, sculpted melancholy —
had looked like something out of a Greek statue.
And somewhere between pity and fascination,
she'd already decided that she wouldn't be going home alone tonight.
William caught the shift in her gaze and chuckled lightly.
"Then how about a bar instead?"
Bianca didn't even pretend to think about it. She smiled. "Lead the way."
---
The two of them hailed a cab and made their way to The Alibi Room.
Ironically, business had picked up since Frank Gallagher's "disappearance."
Turns out, fewer people left when the smell of cheap whiskey and bad decisions wasn't clinging to the walls.
"Two beers," William called out as they slid into a booth.
Behind the counter, Kevin glanced up, surprised to see him.
"Well, look who's back. And… who's the lady?" he asked while pulling on the tap.
Wasn't this guy tangled up with Fiona a few days ago?
South Side gossip moved faster than any news feed.
"Bianca Samson," she said warmly, extending a hand.
"New doctor at Southside General."
"Whoa," Kevin blinked, impressed. "A real doctor? Around here?"
He grinned. "So if I come in with a headache, can I get the family discount?"
Then he caught himself and laughed. "Forget it — I probably couldn't afford it even if you paid me."
He set the beers down with a wink. "Here you go, doc. Enjoy."
---
Bianca wrapped her fingers around the cold glass.
Ever since that first handshake with William earlier, she'd felt… different.
Lighter. The constant tightness in her chest had faded.
It was the strangest thing — but she chalked it up to chemistry,
the kind that made your heart trip over itself when fate finally bothered to notice you.
"To us," she said suddenly, raising her glass.
"For our unexpected meeting."
William lifted his own. "To fate, then."
Their glasses clinked softly, amber foam spilling over the rim.
They both took a sip — unhurried, deliberate.
Two adults who already understood where the night might lead.
---
"So," William said after a moment, resting his forearm casually on the table,
"I forgot to ask — do you have a boyfriend?"
Bianca's eyes sparkled mischievously. "Not at the moment. Why? Are you interested?"
William met her gaze without hesitation. "Actually, yes. That's exactly what I'm thinking."
Bianca blinked, momentarily thrown off by his blunt honesty.
"Wow… you don't waste time, do you?" she said with a small laugh.
"You barely know me. What if I'm the kind of woman who preys on handsome men in bars?"
William leaned in slightly, his tone smooth, confident — but not arrogant.
"Then I guess I'd finally get what's coming to me."