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27 February 2007 @ 02:37 pm
Seven o'clock comes and goes as does eight and nine. It's fast approaching ten as Alex finally picks up the check, putting some cash on the table before sliding it over to her. Because friends?

Friend only pay their half.

And when he promised her a casual evening he meant every word of it. Because pizza and beer definitely qualified as that. Not that getting her liquored up was at all any part of any bigger plan.

They head out of the hole in the wall that houses the best pizza in the city and head towards the parking lot.

Where they both-- have separate cars.
 
 
19 February 2007 @ 05:53 pm
Derek lets his truck roll to a stop at the curb in front of the house. He checks the dashboard clock - 3:15. Maybe he had overestimated the amount of time his vertebral diffusion would take... but if he was honest with himself, the idea of surprising Mer in the midst of cooking, of all things, was too much to resist. He grabs the bottle of Shiraz and the bakery box from his front seat - Mer's favorite cappuccino cheesecake inside - and heads up to the front door. None of the other interns appear to be home, but he knocks anyway, sensitive to her roommates' need for privacy, since he wasn't officially "living with" Meredith.
 
 
Current Mood: mischievous
 
 
27 January 2007 @ 11:25 pm
Derek flips open his hiptop and sends a text message as he walks down the hall toward the elevator.

Where are you? You didn't tell me it was your day off. We could have had lunch.

By the time the elevator doors open at his floor and he steps out, he has typed up and sent a second, follow-up message.

I miss your face.
 
 
Current Mood: curious
 
 
26 January 2007 @ 02:11 pm
Izzie jots down a few notes on a patient's chart and flips it closed to move on to another chart. She sighs and reads through the chart noting the symptoms and adding her own notes in the appropriate boxes. She's bored and tired, and her leg is getting numb from sitting on it. She shifts gently and slips her leg out from under her, feeling the blood rushing back into it causing a severe attack of pins-and-needles.

"Shit!" she swears under her breath and massages her leg.

Down the hallway an intern's pager goes off and he breaks into a sprint in her direction. He whizzes by her and runs up the stairwell to save his patient.

Probably 911, she thinks and wishes one of her patients actually needed something surgical instead of hundreds of labs and bed rest. God, I need a surgery... she complains to herself.

Just then her stomach begins to growl and she jumps off the stretcher to peruse the vending machine. "Hmm, what looks good: chips or chocolate?" she asks herself out loud. "Or both?"
 
 
21 January 2007 @ 02:55 pm
Car accidents were Derek's least favorite surgical cases. Nothing rare or exciting about the case, just horrific injuries that were usually completely avoidable if people would just pay more attention on the road.

His patient this morning had been compromised by her pregnancy - faced with severe trauma, the body of a gestating woman tended to concentrate its energy and bloodflow on the fetus. There had been a lot of spinal lacerations to repair, and Derek could only hope that after fifteen hours of surgery and an emergency C-section Natalie's body would start to heal itself.

Addie always wanted to be kept abreast of the condition of the mothers, even after she had signed off a case and started working exclusively with an infant patient. Derek understood that - saving a child was a bittersweet victory if the baby was left without a mom.

He was rounding the corner to check in with Addie on Natalie's condition and almost bumped into Mark, his eyes flashing with anger and... pain? Derek spared him a glance over his shoulder, but was not that concerned with Mark Sloan's feelings lately.

He approached Addie's door and knocked lightly, noting with interest that he had never seen her office door closed.
 
 
Current Mood: discontent
 
 
 
20 January 2007 @ 12:33 pm
After her little talk with Alex Karev in the NICU that morning, Addison had been paged for a 9-1-1. A 3-car pileup put the lives of a 32 week pregnant mother and her child at stake. She did her best in the OR and luckily, everyone pulled through. The baby would be okay although her lungs were a little underdeveloped. With time in the NICU, she would recover nicely. As for the mother, she was pretty beat up from the accident, but Addison expected her to be fine in a couple of days.

She went to the nurses' station with their charts in hand, ready to do her post-op notes. When she went to write the date, she had to check her cell phone, her mind having drawn a blank. The stress and constant mix of emotions had been doing a number on her. Lately she found herself spacing out or just drawing blanks when she needed to recall trivial things like the date.

When Addison flipped open her phone, however, her mind was definitely not drawing a blank. The date. Her date. Their date. Today was the same day that Mark had circled on a calendar eight months ago. She'd almost completely shut that part out of her mind completely, having forgotten most of it, or at least telling herself that she'd forgotten about it. But looking at the date now, it was real. It wasn't just a special day eight months into the future. It wasn't just a day to wait for. It was here and there wasn't anything that was going to happen. She had taken that away.

There was a large part of her that regretted having aborted Mark's baby. Yeah, it gave her a chance to try and work things out with Derek, but that apparently didn't get her anywhere. Their marriage still ended. She didn't get the baby she wanted with Derek. Addison had just ended up all alone. She didn't have Derek. She didn't have Mark. She didn't even have a baby, a baby she could have had to make her feel loved. What's done is done and she couldn't change any of it.

Feeling like she was losing herself to her emotions, Addison closed the chart and grabbed them to go work on them in the privacy of her own office. When she turned quickly, she bumped into the one person she couldn't bear to see right now; Mark Sloan. Tears pooling in her eyes, she kept her gaze on the ground as she whispered an apology and tried to get past him.

(OOC: Okay, so I know we're pretty AU and I'm stealing this from canon, but come on. Maddison baby abortion? Too good of a storyline to pass up, right? Right ;] )
 
 
30 December 2006 @ 02:34 pm
Somewhere between one AM and three, Alex decides he hates being on call. All the- the hospital is so cool- shit has worn off over the months and sure, he loves his job. But at two in the morning it's hard to remember why. He's sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by infants. Infants who are sleeping. Infants who clearly aren't in dire need of his attention. So he shuts his eyes and leans back in his chair- ready to jolt awake if he so much as hears a cry coming from the premature twins Addison delivered earlier.
 
 
08 December 2006 @ 03:31 am
Alex can't stop smiling; in fact he's still smiling when he hits the surgical floor. But then he's met with a whole mess of nurses and interns all dealing with patients, surgical patients. Patients who need scalpels and Alex- Alex could really do with some scalpels right about now. But what pisses him off the most is that Montgomery is probably somewhere on this floor. Probably with another patient, a surgical patient, getting ready to scrub in or something exciting (well something exciting for gynie) that she is definitely not including him in.

He doesn't feel like searching for her so he approaches the first nurse he can find who isn't doing anything (and lets face it, most of them aren't) and asks her to page Dr. Montgomery. As she does so Alex swears he hears his own pager go off, but then he looks down and it's definitely not his. And there are probably thirty pagers going off right now on this floor but he swears this one, this one went off the moment the nurse paged her.

He takes a step towards the on-call room that is directly to his right. He shrugs, knowing he's probably way off but pushes the door open anyways.

She's there. And she's crying. Shit.

"Ah, sorry. I um. I ah. Shit. Sorry."
 
 
23 November 2006 @ 06:10 pm
Derek is not a man who picks flowers. His extreme level of testosterone and raw masculine energy prohibits it.

He contemplates this as he cracks eggs and adds ingredients to the skillet, turning bacon on the back burner and pushing bread into the toaster.

He might buy flowers to impress someone, maybe for a sick girlfriend or for mother's day, but he certainly doesn't pick them. What would people think of a very manly neurosurgeon picking flowers?

He shakes the skillet and flips the food over, adding a little salt and tabasco. The toast pops up and he butters it and sets jam on the counter - two kinds: raspberry for him and grape for Meredith.

He knew what kind of flowers Meredith liked best, of course. He had screwed up too mant times not to have asked that question and tried to put the knowledge to good use. She had been gracious about accepting his bouquets in the past, but had mentioned politely that the daisies they sell in stores were "weird, tortured little flowers" that smelled like plastic rather than sunshine.

He portions the skillet contents onto two plates, adds three strips of bacon to each, and slices the toast diagonally - the way his mother taught him - and opens it up at the side of the plate in a big V. He slides the jam jars onto the table without turning and picks up the two plates, setting them at the pre-set places on either side of his tiny kitchenette table

Next to a vase of daisies he had found on his hike this morning.

[Can you tell I was totally excited that Derek was something other than an asshat this week?]
 
 
18 November 2006 @ 11:28 am
Izzie smiles to herself and take another sip of her tea. It's pouring outside, but somehow she feels like the sun is shining down on her. She sits alone for now, enjoying the solitude. The other day with Finn was unexpected but somehow refreshing. They talked for hours afterwards and he convinced her to reconsider her internship at Seattle Grace.

Izzie had just finished a two hour meeting with the Chief and Dr. Bailey and was granted permission to continue her internship. Even though she is now under strict probation and being watched like a hawk by Bailey, she doesn't mind so much. She tugs her lab coat around her tighter and it's as if she's starting to become whole again.

She hasn't told her friends yet and she grins to herself again, imagining their faces when they see her sitting casually in the caf in her scrubs and lab coat.

(ooc: I needed to get back in the game and fast forward through some stuff...bare with me here. And someone join Izzie for a little chat.)