triage (noun): the process of sorting victims, as of a battle or disaster, to determine medical priority in order to increase the number of survivors.
clementine santos, professional survivor and semi-professional surgeon, has transferred to seattl...
Clem assumed the guy was George and the girl was Cristina, fellow interns, from Meredith's descriptions.
"George knocked him down in one punch. You should've seen it!" Cristina crowed, approaching where they sat, but not acknowledging Clem.
Meredith leaned over to her. "It was a well-deserved punch, to be fair. Alex was kind of an ass. He gave George the syph in a round-about kind of way."
George did not look nearly as thrilled as Cristina. "I don't wanna talk about it!"
"Brag, champ, brag," Joe said, smiling. "You deserve it."
"Can I have a beer, please?" George grumbled. "Introduce us to your friend, Mer."
"Oh, yeah, who's the Bratz doll?" Cristina said, pinning her no-nonsense stare on Clem. Clem smiled back, not fazed by the half-insult thrown her way, even though both Meredith and George smacked her arms.
"You mean our friend," Meredith grinned slightly. "Clementine, this is Cristina and George. Cristina and George, this is Clementine Santos. She just transferred from Columbia, and she's gonna be in our intern class. So be nice. I'm getting drunk and I've told her all your dirty secrets."
Cristina wrinkled her nose and George blushed red up to his earlobes, but smiled warmly.
"No offense, but you certainly don't look like a surgeon," Cristina said bluntly. "Not one we like, anyways."
Even though Clem probably should've been offended, she appreciated the honesty. It was much better than the cookie-cutter-perfect interns she'd dealt with in Manhattan. She looked down briefly at what she was wearing, a blood-red pantsuit over a slightly-too-revealing black undershirt and heeled black boots. Clem had thought it professional but youthful for her first time meeting the Chief of Surgery.
"I moonlight as a Selena Quintanilla impersonator," Clem deadpanned, pleased when she saw Cristina's lips twitch. "But if you think I'm not a good enough surgeon for you, then I can always call Dr. Ani Tahir for you. She recommended me to Seattle Grace."
Clem had spent enough time sleeping off a hangover on Ani's office couch to feel comfortable using her name. Plus, it was incredibly amusing to watch George, Meredith, and Cristina's jaws drop.
"The Dr. Ani Tahir? As in the badass philanthropic Tahir who's won the Harper Avery three times?" Cristina stammered.
Clem smiled and took another sip of my drink. "The very same."
Meredith scoffed and clapped them both on the back. "Cristina, she likes tequila, bloody entrails, and is most certainly hiding a tragic backstory that she hasn't told me yet. She's one of us. Trust me."
When Cristina finally slightly smiled and shrugged, shaking her hand, she got the feeling that one of the most stressful introductions she would ever make was complete.
"Okay, so," Meredith announced somberly. "Let's play a game of whose life sucks the most. I'll win. I always win."
"No, you don't want to play with me," Cristina warned.
"Oh, I do. I'll go first. Derek's married."
A relatively silent George choked on his beer, spitting it out. Clem, who was sort of pleased to know this information before Meredith's best friends had, was surprised to see that Cristina's face was impassive.
"George, beer is dripping from your nostrils," Cristina said blankly, and he quickly left to what Clem assumed was the bathroom.
Meredith was straight-faced. "Told you I'd win."
"No, you didn't win."
"Did you hear me?" Meredith said incredulously. "I said Derek is married. As in pigheaded, adulterous, liar married. Nothing you say could top that."
Cristina briefly sent one more scrutinizing glance Clem's way, and must've decided they were going to be friends. "I'm pregnant. I win."
Though Clementine didn't know Cristina well at all, she still felt a shock run through her. It was like she'd been dropped in a soap opera as the omnipresent background character with a million jobs; always watching the action but never involved. Was this normal?
Before anyone could respond, though, the sound of dishes crashing startled them all. Joe, the bartender, was on the floor knocked out cold. Clementine was out of her seat in an instant, rushing to Joe's side with Meredith and Cristina close behind. Her emergency training kicked in instantaneously, and she barely registered Cristina quipping about how Joe might've won the whole silly contest.
"Move!" Clem snapped at one of the drunken bystanders getting a little too close. She stripped off her suit jacket and tucked it underneath Joe's head, checking his pupils to see if they were responsive as Meredith checked his pulse and Cristina checked his abdomen and chest.
Joe became responsive pretty quickly, groaning and struggling to sit up despite their protests.
"Joe, lie back down, please," Clem asked, trying to push him back. "I think someone already called medics."
"You called the gurney patrol?" he moaned, still struggling.
"Sit back and relax." Meredith was still monitoring his pulse. "We have to take you to the hospital to run some tests."
"Tests? I don't need tests. I'm fine!"
Someone handed Clementine a massive camping flashlight, and she passed it off to Meredith as she attempted to assess for any injuries.
"Dude!" yelled Cristina, trying to pin him down. "You collapsed! On the floor. This is your bar, you know how filthy this floor is."
"Radial pulse is strong," Meredith confirmed.
"Minor skull contusions," Clem replied. She barely noticed Meredith beginning to interrogate Cristina on who she'd been sleeping with, or that George had come back from the bathroom and was confused as ever. She grabbed her crumpled up jacket from the floor and followed Joe as he wobbly stood up.
"Forget this," he mumbled woozily. "The hospital is right across the street. I can sure as hell walk across the street by myself."
Clem snatched her bag and umbrella off the back of her chair and grabbed Joe's shoulder, attempting to support his weight.
"Oh, I think we should..." Cristina began, but Clem waved her hand.
"I got this. ER's kinda my place."
George grabbed all his stuff, too. "I got him, too. Joe, stop!"
Clementine waved a hand back to her new friends, realizing nervously that her first shift at Seattle Grace was starting now, not at noon the next day when she'd had time to sleep off the alcohol and prepare.
George caught up to her and smiled. "Welcome to Seattle Grace, Clementine. I think you'll fit in just fine."
A/N: i'm adding a singular meme for every chapter so you've been warned
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