Let It Go

2.

"Dr. Sloan!" Derek called out. Mark stopped at the sound of Derek's voice and waited for him to catch up. "Dr. Shepherd," Mark greeted. "Need me to consult on a case? Please tell me you need me to consult on a case," he continued as the two started walking again. "No. I need you to fall off of something tall, wreck your car, something to hurt your head and or spine. It doesn't need to be anything serious, just major enough to require surgery," Derek answered. Mark groaned. "Tell you what, I'll fall down a flight of stairs and make sure to bump my head at least once if you'll let me do a nose job on you. Or pec implants. Or breast implants. Something. I'm really not picky." Derek chuckled.

"No surgeries for you either I take it?" he asked. "Not a one. I'm going stir crazy. You'd think someone would have the decency to crash their car or have some home grown experiment backfire. I don't want anyone to get hurt badly - just hurt enough to need some reconstructive work done - skin graffs maybe." Derek nodded. "I'm right there with you. I had one surgery this morning - took less then an hour. The guy is up and talking to his wife as we speak. I even dictated my op note already." Mark whistled. "You are bored," he stated. It was well known around the hospital that Derek tended to let his operative notes get behind despite the fact he was supposed to have them done within 12 hours of surgery. "This is sad," Mark continued. "It's nine o'clock. We've been here for four hours and have already done everything we have to do. And I'm on call. I'll be here for hours."

Mark and Derek stopped at an elevator, both knowing they were going to the cafeteria without either of them saying it. It was what they did when they got bored at the hospital - ate, drank coffee, and dreamed up surgeries. It was kind of sad that they couldn't enjoy rare downtime at the hospital without complaining about the lack of surgeries to do. But that was the life of a surgeon.

"Don't you have one of those Shepherd Method things today?" Mark asked as the elevator came and they stepped inside. "Tomorrow. And I'm avoiding that guy's room like the plague. There are interns hovering around the doorway, all hoping to get in on the surgery. Normally I like the ass-kissing. But it's getting tiresome with this case. They are always there - always," Derek replied. "Is it too much to ask to want to be able to stop by my patient's room, ask him how he's feeling, and walk out without an intern or 4 telling me how much they know about my method?" "They just want to learn from the man who pioneered the most innovative new technique in neurosurgery - or get his phone number," Mark joked. Derek rolled his eyes. He didn't think the method he had invented was such a big deal. He'd wanted an easier, less invasive way to remove frontal lobe tumors and had found one. Not a big deal.

"So what about this new attending of yours? What's your impression of her?" Mark asked. Derek shrugged. "Haven't met her yet." "I thought she started yesterday?" "She did but the first day is full of orientation and legal stuff. Chief is meeting her in the lobby to give her the grand tour or something like that. I assume I'll meet her at some point today." Derek's pager went off. "Yes!" he exclaimed. "911?" Mark asked, glancing at his pager and hoping it would beep too. "Not really - consult in the ER. But that could mean a surgery. As good as a cup of coffee and an omelet sound, the prospect of cutting into someone's brain to save their life is much more enticing."

They reached the ground floor and Derek started towards the emergency room. "Dr. Shepherd?" Mark called. Derek stopped. "Yeah?" "See if they have a scar or a mole of something they want removed for me!" Derek laughed and turned back towards the direction of the ER. Mark continued towards the cafeteria, glancing over the buzzing hospital lobby as he passed through it. A petite blonde wearing a white lab coat and standing somewhat nervously near the grand piano caught his eye. He paused for a moment. He wasn't sure but he thought she was the woman Derek had been talking to in the bar the night before last. An elderly couple passing through the lobby obscured his vision of her and when they had finally shuffled out his way, she had turned her back to him. He shrugged, figuring if it were, Derek would run into her sooner or later. But the lab coat peaked his curiosity.