trauma [m.s]

xlv.

- - -
defeat isn't an option. not for surgeons. we don't back away from the table 'til the last breath's long gone.
- - -

sitting up in bed, her back propped up against the headboard whilst mark sleeps soundly beside her, chloe holds her left hand out. she gently bites down on her lip as she admires the ring sat on her finger.

"i... i can't stop staring at it," chloe chuckles when she notices mark is awake and admiring her the way she had been admiring the ring.

"oh, i noticed," mark sits himself up slightly.

"yeah," chloe nods. "so will everyone else."

"well, i mean, yeah, that's the point," mark shrugs, taking her hand and looking at the ring himself. "for everyone to realise that you're my property."

"okay," chloe laughs. "are you saying you own me now?"

"oh, hell yeah, and this here is just like a little collar for your finger," mark teases, squeezing her hand as he leans in to kiss her.

"mm," chloe moans into the kiss before pulling back. "so i told izzie she could help out with the wedding. helps keep her mind off everything."

"good idea."

- - -
terminal's a challenge, life threatening's what gets us out of bed in the morning. we're not easily intimidated.
- - -

"you know, maybe they could make you a bouquet of scalpels and clamps," mark teases as the two of them stand side by side in the elevator.

"oh, yeah, that would be fun. i think i would have to run it by izzie first," chloe chuckles as the elevator doors slide open to reveal derek.

the atmosphere immediately turning uncomfortable for the blonde as the two male surgeons look at each other with hardened expressions. derek then huffs, stuffing his hands into his lab coat pocket before turning and walking away. the elevator doors then slide shut again and chloe exhales deeply.

- - -
we don't flinch, we don't back down, and we certainly don't surrender, not at work anyway.
- - -

"what do you mean, you don't deliver dresses? just to try on?" izzie paces up and down her hospital room that's walls were now plastered with pages torn from various bridal magazines, a bluetooth headset placed in her ear. "no, no, no. i- i can't come in. i- i have cancer," she holds her index finger up when she notices richard's presence in the doorway. "i'm- i'm bed-bound and dying."

as dr. swender, izzie's cancer specialist, joins richard in the doorway, the two share a look of amusement as izzie imitates strained breathing and coughing sounds down the phone.

"fabulous. i will fax you my choices," izzie beams, shutting off the call before turning to her doctors. "uh, what do you need- blood, pee? what can i get you?"

"no, just checking in on you," richard tells her. "see how the chemo's sitting."

"fine," izzie lightly shrugs. "i haven't puked yet, and i'm making major progress on chloe's wedding.," she proudly gestures around the room.

"you should really take it easy," swender warns. "the chemo's gonna take a lot out of you."

"i'll let you know if i hit the wall," izzie dismisses, clicking her earpiece in order to take another call. "hello. hi, yes. i wanted to discuss, um, flower arrangements."