Chapter 13: 13. Routine
Every weekend, Emily found herself fiddling with the phone in her hands before pressing the call button. Currently, she was in bed off a shift but she could recall numerous times Sloan had called her while at the hospital, resulting in many, many long voicemails complaining or just telling her about his day because 'I'm bored, Moore, and literally every single intern I've ever met is an idiot.'
She had responded with the fact that she was an intern and he said he could make an exception because they're friends. Well, she hadn't denied that.
"Hey, jailbait," the voice greeted warmly and she leaned back against her pillows. Using her free hand to flip through the medical journal, she twisted off the cap of her highlighter. "Whatcha up to?"
"I'm reading."
"About?"
"Cutting edge medical research, obviously," she muttered sarcastically. "I never knew your worked under John Seever."
"Jealous?"
"Well, I can't give you the satisfaction of that, can I?" she said but already a smile was making its way onto her face. "Yeah, a bit." Mark Sloan seemed to shuffle something on the other end and her interest piqued. "What are you doing?"
"Laundry."
"Oh, okay. Wait, let me get my load." She got out of bed, leaving the phone on her sheets. Unbeknownst to her, on the other end of the line, Mark Sloan smiled.
.
"So is this routine now…. Or….?" Mark trailed off with a smirk. He used his chin to keep the shirt secure against his chest as he folded it. He gazed at the other small stacks of clothing before cracking a small smile. "I mean, I absolutely adore laundry but we do it every time we talk." A series of beeps on the other end made his smile grow as a response finally came through.
"It's our thing, Sloan." Her voice was distant, nearly overridden by a loud rumbling. A slam and a sound of being grappled later, her tone was clearer. "Okay, I'm back and folding. So whatcha do today?"
"Eh, did a few jobs, tummy tuck. Nothing happens here, Moore," he complained, grabbing one of his black socks. Looking around, he tried to find its matching pair as he heard her laugh.
"Poor, poor you," she simpered, flapping a pair of pants to straighten out the legs and get rid of the static. "Any burns?"
"Are you saying you like people getting burned, you sadistic demon?" He gasped in fake horror, raising stacks of clothing to find that other black sock. "Where is that other sock, Moore? Tell me!" he yelled as if the world were ending.
"Drama queen," she sang with a chuckle. "Did you try your jeans? Maybe the static got them stuck together again. Also, remember you need to buy a new dress shirt because that woman got Thai noodles on your blue one and the dry cleaner couldn't get it out."
"Why are you more on top of my life than I am?" he asked, amused, searching for the pair of unfolded jeans and flipping it over, finding the black garment splat across the butt-area. Scanning his room, he spotted the blue shirt in question, a browning stain distastefully blemishing the spot across the breast.
"Because." She shrugged as if that were an excuse before remembering his previous words. "Also, I am not a sadistic demon. It just gets boring being in plastics if there isn't anything exciting."
"True," he agreed, sitting down with a sigh. "You're too pretty to be a demon. Maybe you're an angel. You look good in white."
"Don't start. I'm exhausted," she grumbled back, hanging up a jacket and folding the last pair of pants. Stacking them neatly in her laundry basket, she flopped on the bed, the phone bouncing by her mouth. "Maybe we can not fold laundry next time?" she proposed sleepily. Mark began putting away his clothes, opening the well-used walk-in closet in his New York flat. He did the task quickly, eager to rest on the large bed. Throwing back the covers, he rested against the pillows at the head of the bed, letting his eyes flutter shut.
"Okay." He pulled the covers up to his shoulder, letting the cold silk rest against his skin as he adjusted his grip on his cell phone. "So it's a date?" He smirked.
"Sloan!" Her groan caused a chuckle to escape him. Despite her clearly being tired, she found sleep escaping him as the man was silent on the other end. "Sloan?" she asked, a dead-tired hum being his response. "Are you asleep?"
"Nope. Tired, though." he responded, eyes closed as he turned off the lamp. The light drained from the room, casting the walls a eery blue from the bright New York life outside. "I want to go back to Seattle," he let out before grimacing. How childish did he sound to say such words.
"Come back, then," she prompted, adjusting a pillow underneath her neck and head. "Not everyone hates you,"
"Derek and Addison do," he answered. "Should we try sleeping?"
"Isn't it like twelve over there?" she murmured and sighed at his affirmation. "Yeah, maybe we should."
"Okay."
"I don't want to end the call," she whispered as her eyes slid closed. He put the phone by his mouth and upped the volume on speaker. "You do it."
"We can just stay here, if you want," he mumbled and she hummed her agreement. The last thing he heard before falling asleep was her gentle breathing across the line.
.
Em,
I'm keeping this short and leaving details out because I don't want you to worry plus I want you to focus on your residency. MSF is moving out and we're doing a medical evac on Aleppo and I thought that you deserved to know. I already emailed Theresa and the kids but it might be weeks or months before you hear from me again so this is my last email to you because we won't have time for emails once we get these people outta here. So, yeah. Don't get into one-night stands or have your heart broken because I seriously don't want to beat up a guy as soon as I come back.
I love you, Emily. You're my little sister and I always will love you. Don't worry about me, I'll see you again. Promise.
Lots of love,
Noah
.
"Dr. Shepherd," she greeted with a smile. The tension between them had melted over the months and it was almost like they were friends. Almost. "How's the woman? Did she have a seizure yet?" The raven-haired man sent her one of his own smiles before shaking his head.
"Yep. Grand mal, then says she doesn't want the surgery. She said the fighting was causing the seizures."
"Poor you," she teased, surprised at how easy it was. She jotted down some notes about a plastics patient, a fond smile flitting across her face at the thought of the specialty. "What?" she asked when she noticed Derek smiling at her. He just shook his head, returning his gaze back to the chart but the corners of his mouth still curved up.
"You're smiling," he said as if obvious. Glaring at him, she clipped her pen to the breast pocket of her coat.
"Am I some demon?" she asked, recalling Mark's words from the previous night. "I am allowed to be happy," the brunette added snippily. She glanced at him, displeased to see another smile forming. "What is it?" The complaint flew out of her mouth before she could stop it. A vibration on the side of her leg made her take out her phone, seeing a notification from Mark. The corners of her lips quirked up.
"You're doing it again."
"What am I doing?" She rolled her eyes as she read the text quickly.
"You smile like you just got engaged," Neck snapping up, she sent him the most heated glare she could muster causing him to laugh and walk away, chart in hand. "I'll get you for that, Shepherd!" she yelled, a flush crawling up her neck.
.
As she adjusted the man on the bed's morphine drip, she rolled her eyes at the needless pratter of the manager. "And lemme tell ya, you need to work out more, Chaz."
"Oh my god, shut up!" She snapped. "Shut the hell up! Just, oh my god just please. My ears are bleeding. There are people with bullets in their bodies and shattered bones and you're sitting here bragging about having scratches from glass. Yes, congratulations on having so very minor injuries but there are people, in an insurmountable amount of pain, who are not praying to God that they will survive, but that you will, kindly, shut the hell up." Bailey stared at her, a small smile appearing on her face as her patient mouthed a thank-you. Emily let out a disgusted snort at Chaz's silence and left.
.
Those were gunshots. Definitely gunshots. She had heard enough of those from her brother when he went to the range. Closing her eyes for just a fraction of a second, the echoing of those bullets rang in her mind before she opened them again, running towards the ambulance bay. Meeting up with Dr. Bailey, she crouched in front of a paramedic, taking his pulse. It was gone, brain matter spread across the blood from his head. "I need some help!" Head snapping up, she spotted the familiar blue of an attending and the dark skin.
"Dr. Burke!" she gasped, sprinting to his side. Helping Bailey stem the bleeding with the front of his shirt, the two spotted the wound oozing blood. Yelling for a gurney, they continued to try and apply pressure when two coworkers pushed the appliance to them.
"On three. One, two, three," They lifted the man onto the bed, pushing him into the hospital. Spotting Dr. Webber, they shared words before entering a trauma room.
"Dr. Bailey," she started helplessly as they hooked him up on monitors.
"Blinds," the woman ordered to which she complied, pulling down the shades as the man began responding. He tried sitting up but Bailey laid him back down as he began chuckling. "He's lost a lot of blood,"
"Page Shepherd."
"Dr. Bailey, when did you get here?" he asked, causing a shared look between all doctors. At their serious looks, his smile faded.
"You heard the man, page him," Nodding quickly, she rushed to the phone, dialling the numbers as if muscle memory.
"Shepherd to trauma one, now," she spoke quickly, returning back to the cardiothoracic surgeon's bedside. Cleaning blood off the man's skin, she watched as Derek entered, pausing slightly at the sight of his colleague. Snapping out of his daze, he grabbed his flashlight, shining it into the man's pupils before inspecting the wound. As they worked, hooking him up to monitors and making sure he didn't bleed out, none heard the door open.
"You're shot?" All their heads snapped towards the voice. Cristina.
"Cristina, get back to your patient," Richard ordered gently as they kept cleaning the wound. Emily pushed a gentle hand back against his chest to keep the attending down.
"We got this, okay?"
"Cristina…" She shook her head minutely before returning back to her patient. The asian woman left in a flurry, rage clear in her eyes. As they flipped him onto his side, they searched for an exit wound, finding none. "No exit wound," she reported, holding gauze firmly against his skin.
"Entry through the upper right corner, could be lodged in the spine. Okay, let's roll him over," Derek murmured and they did so, as gently as possible. Burke let out a small groan before silencing. "Watch the arm. Hey, Dr. Burke?" Then did she realize how much blood truly had left his body, staining the sheets although he was barely conscious, letting out a grunt. "The bullet is in dangerous property here, okay? We need to check your hand function,"
"I want you to try and squeeze my fingers, okay?" the Chief informed, holding his limp fingers. Nothing moved. The elder surgeons shared looks as Cristina entered again.
"They moved my guy upstairs. How is he?"
"I need you to wait outside."
"I'm not gonna wait outside," she refused, pushing past the woman and holding her boyfriend's hand. "Burke." Her voice seemed to wake him up, and he was able to articulate his next words. Moving the ultrasound away from him, Emily backed away, letting Cristina take her place. Ducking her head, she trailed her hand across the woman's back in some art of comfort, leaving the trauma room.
.
"Sorry, just had to get Burke- what happened?"
"Yeah, let's bring the whole family along," George snipped sarcastically as the beeping continued onwards. "Adenosine, it's adenosine, Meredith!"
"What?" Emily's eyes widened at the sight of Denny's heart rate, "What are you…" She trailed off when she spotted the blonde searching through the cabinets in a frenzy. Noticing the drug they needed, she grabbed it, passing it to Meredith.
"Cristina, come over here. Lift up his arm. I always see nurses lift the arm when they push adenosine. Gets to the heart faster," George ordered, a calm aura surrounding him as Izzie reassured the man on the bed that he wasn't going to die, pressing the oxygen mask against his face.
"We're heading back to flatline," Cristina informed, placing her stethoscope on his chest. Turning back to the brunet, she murmured, "Are you sure we're using the right drug?" Emily checked his blood pressure that began to drop as his pulse began to fade. As Cristina retreated with her instrument, she unwrapped her own stethoscope around her neck, double-checking for a heartbeat.
"The book said it was the right one," George defended. "We needed to stop his heart."
"Adenosine, then. Stop his heart for six seconds? It's right," the brunette affirmed, slipping past them and standing next to Meredith writing onto Denny's chart. Emily threw the needle cap away before turning around to notice Izzie giving them glances.
"He's not going to die, right? Right?" The heart-monitor's frantic beeps disappeared, replaced by a flat, single tone. The silence was heavy, the tension thick as they watched with weighted eyes.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. They all counted the seemingly slow seconds when suddenly it began to register a heart beat again, a steady one. Sighing in relief, they all watched as Denny breathed again, Izzie pumping the LVAD. "You fools-" Freezing, the six interns turned to find Dr. Bailey staring at them, at what they did- "better have a good explanation for this. Step away from the patient," she ordered softly, venomously. Emily sucked in a breath, complying with her head bowed. The repeated whoosh of the pump was the only sound in the room. "Step away from the patient," the black woman ordered, louder.
"I can't," Izzie said softly, defeat evident in her tone. "I have to pump his heart,"
"Olivia, take over for Dr. Stevens." The redhead nodded, slipping past them. "Izzie, you're done here. I need you to leave the room." All their heads rose, sharing glances full of sorrow and sympathy.
"Izzie-" Olivia tried before flinching away from her outburst.
"No, do not touch me!" Gathering the attention of the room, Bailey muttered instructions to the nurse to stay, to help if the blonde would allow her before commanding the other interns out.
"You four, outside. Now!" Her throat closed as she walked somberly behind Meredith, piling around the entrance room. "Where was rational thought?" the woman began in a whisper, one full of anger. "Where was cognitive thinking? Where was 'First Do No Harm'? The morals, the ethics - where was sanity when you four decided to help that girl?" She couldn't even bare to look at them. Swallowing painfully, Emily looked above her resident's head in an attempt to not reveal the emotion threatening to overcome her face. He had just walked in - if she had come only minutes later, perhaps she wouldn't be standing here. It was a terrible thought, but it was there.
"We didn't-"
"No, no. No speaking. Nobody speaks. I do not want to have to testify against any of you in a court of law," the black-haired woman snapped, holding up a finger, "not one word. She cut his LVAD wire." A tone of disbelief resonated in her words before seeing George turn away. "Look, I said no speaking,"
"I didn't say anything," he protested, his volume startling everyone except, of course, Bailey.
"I said no moving. Cristina," she directed this to the asian woman, "Burke is asking for you. Go," The intern was quick to slip past them, walking on a near-run down the empty hall. "I'm assuming," she addressed the other three, "you ran labs? I'm asking a question. Answer me!"
"You said no speak-"
"Don't be a smartass, Mer," Emily whispered into the shorter woman's ear.
"I know what I said! O'Malley, get me the lab results. Do not pass go, do not talk to another living soul. Get the labs, get back here." And then there were two.
Shit. "Moore, Grey, come with me."
.
"I cut the LVAD wire." Izzie.
"Actually… I cut the LVAD wire," Meredith.
"No, I did it. I'm the one who cut the wire." George.
"Fine, I cut the LVAD wire." Cristina.
"But that's wrong. I did it. I cut the LVAD wire," Emily.
"I didn't do anything. I'm totally innocent." And then there was Alex.
"Alex!" Meredith hissed, causing an outbreak of accusations flung at each other.
"People! I know who did this," Webber silenced them, "so you might as well come clean, I know."
"Then why are you asking us, then?" Emily asked. "Sir," she added as an afterthought, "with all due respect."
"If you knew, you wouldn't be asking us," George agreed. Izzie began her confession, only to be cut off by Meredith, then Cristina and George, each backing up their fellow intern's words. Obviously caught, the Chief stood menacingly. He leaned over his desk, a thunderstorm brewing on his face as he demanded once again, to know who did it. But they were silent, uneager to answer his question. Their loyalty binded them together, even Alex not letting them get caught. As they made for the door, it was then that their punishment hit them
No surgeries, no watching from the gallery. Only one patient: Camille Travis and everything she wants, she gets. As they filed out, Emily felt a tad bit proud, defending the blonde and maybe the others felt that way too. But it was clear Alex was regretting sticking together. Rubbing the back of her neck, she sighed as they descended down the stairs.
Maybe it wouldn't be that bad.
.
It was that bad. A prom…. Really?
A/N: Edited - August 31, 2018
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