The Knight’s Oath: Grey’s Anatomy

Night Before the Interview – Seattle, 2007

Jamie Knight sat at the edge of his new bed, the air in his small Seattle apartment heavy with silence. His suit was pressed and ready, hanging neatly on the closet door, a sharp contrast to the chaos of his life just a few months ago. The sound of rain pattering against the window reminded him of home in New York—of days spent with his mother in the hospital, or his father cleaning soot off his fireman's uniform.

It was supposed to feel like a fresh start. A new city. A new hospital. But the weight of his past clung to him, and his mind wouldn't let him rest.

Lying down, he pulled the blanket over himself, willing his body to relax. But the dreams came quickly, as they always did.

Flashback: Afghanistan, Two Weeks Before Retirement, 2007

The helicopter's rotors roared like thunder in the dusty Afghan sky. Jamie Knight sat against the cabin wall, his gloved hands steady despite the chaos raging inside and out. His trauma pack lay at his feet, blood already staining the straps. It was just another mission. Just another day in a war zone.

"ETA, two minutes!" the pilot shouted over the comms.

Jamie's heart pounded in sync with the rotors, though his face betrayed none of the tension. He glanced at Captain Ellis, his long-time friend and team leader, who nodded at him from across the cabin.

"You ready, Knight?" Ellis called, his voice firm but tinged with concern.

Jamie forced a half-smile. "Always am. Just don't get yourself shot again."

Ellis laughed, but it didn't reach his eyes. The Black Hawk dipped suddenly, and Jamie grabbed the overhead strap for balance. Outside, the desert stretched wide and unforgiving, a smoldering column of smoke marking the ambushed convoy they were headed to rescue.

When the helicopter touched down, Jamie was the first to leap out, crouching low as the rotors kicked up a storm of dust and debris. His team fanned out, securing the area as Jamie sprinted toward the makeshift triage zone behind a crumbling wall. The gunfire in the distance was sporadic but close enough to keep his adrenaline spiking.

"Doc, over here!" a soldier called, waving him toward a wounded man lying on a stretcher.

Jamie dropped to his knees beside the patient, quickly assessing the injuries. The young soldier's abdomen was a mess of blood and torn tissue, and his breathing was shallow.

"Through-and-through?" Jamie barked, pulling the soldier's hand away to inspect the wound.

"Yes, sir," the medic confirmed. "BP's crashing. Pulse weak."

Jamie nodded, already working. His hands moved with practiced precision, packing the wound and applying pressure while barking orders to the medic beside him.

"Get me fluids—he's circling the drain. Keep the line steady."

The soldier moaned in pain, his eyes fluttering open. "Am I gonna make it?"

Jamie met his gaze, steady and calm. "I've got you. Just stay with me."

A deafening explosion suddenly ripped through the air, throwing Jamie forward. He shielded the patient with his body as debris rained down around them. His ears rang, but he forced himself to focus. There was no time for fear.

"Knight!" Ellis's voice cut through the haze. "Another critical—thirty meters west!"

Jamie cursed under his breath, glancing at the medic. "He's stable for now. You stay with him. I'll be back."

Grabbing his pack, Jamie sprinted toward the next patient—a woman whose leg was mangled from an IED blast. Her breathing was shallow, her face pale.

"I'm Dr. Knight," he said, dropping beside her. "You're gonna be okay. I'm here."

She blinked up at him, tears streaming down her face. "It hurts," she whispered.

"I know. But I'm not letting you go anywhere," he promised, tying a tourniquet around her thigh. His hands moved fast, ignoring the tremor in his chest as the chaos around him raged on.

The evac team arrived minutes later, loading the patients onto stretchers as the Black Hawk returned to extract them. Jamie climbed aboard, his bloodied gloves resting on his knees as he stared at the unconscious woman he'd just saved.

His body ached. His mind buzzed with the faces of the soldiers he couldn't reach in time. But as the helicopter lifted into the sky, he forced himself to breathe. Just two more weeks. Two more weeks, and he'd be done.

Seattle: 2007

Jamie woke with a start, his chest heaving as the dream faded. He rubbed his face, running a hand through his hair as he tried to shake the lingering echoes of the battlefield.

The rain still tapped against the window, and the faint glow of dawn began creeping through the blinds. He glanced at the clock: 5:32 AM. Too early to get up, but too late to fall back asleep.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting there for a moment before reaching for the photo on the nightstand. It was of him and his parents—his mother in her white coat, his father in his firefighter uniform. He traced the edge of the picture with his thumb.

"This is for you," he murmured, setting the photo down.

Jamie stood and walked to the closet, pulling on his neatly pressed suit. By the time the clock hit 7:00 AM, he was standing in the lobby of Seattle Grace Hospital, staring up at the familiar logo etched into the glass doors.

"Dr. Knight?" a voice called.

He turned to see Dr. Richard Webber, the Chief of Surgery, standing there with a welcoming smile.

"You ready for your interview?" Webber asked, extending a hand.

Jamie nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I've faced worse."

Webber chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder as they walked inside.