DINNER & DIATRIBES. . . JACKSON AVERY!

chapter one: good mourning

Footsteps wake Briar Sinclair up, and she has to fight not to groan loudly as a result. Sleeping in a hospital sucks. She feels for her patients now that she's experiencing the flip side of rounds; every time she falls asleep, it feels like she only gets seconds before someone is coming in to check on Izzie. She understands why, and she's thankful that the staff is being so careful with her friend, but she wants to sleep.

She doesn't complain about it outloud; whatever she's feeling, Alex and Izzie are feeling it much worse.

Alex moves from beneath her, having gotten used to waking up at the slightest sound or movement, and Briar doesn't complain when he shoves her off of him in order to see what Dr. Bailey is doing. She just yawns, runs a hand through her incredibly tangled hair, and tries to wake up enough to be useful.

A look at the clock shows that she got forty minutes of sleep, and she tries not to cry at the knowledge that she won't be getting any more rest, having to get back to work soon.

"Any changes overnight?" Dr. Bailey asks, waking the rest of the residents up, all of them shaking their heads.

They've all been doing their best to stay with Izzie. Right now, that means camping out in her hospital room every chance they get. They have a collection of pillows, blankets, and four chairs; as there are five of them, Briar has been cuddling with her best friend. He'd never admit to it, but he needs the comfort: his wife has stage four metastatic melanoma. If anyone needs some added comfort, it's Alex Karev.

It means that her sleep is shot to hell; Alex, in all his wife-could-die anxiety, has been relentless in his sleep, constantly kicking or mumbling. Briar has a collection of forming bruises as a result, not that she'll ever be telling him that.

Bailey's pager goes off, her telling them to make a coffee run before they get to work, Briar whining quietly as she stretches and feels the never ending pain in her lower back.

"I gotta be in surgery in ten minutes," A bleary eyed George O'Malley announces, moving to gather up his shoes and scramble out of his chair. They all slept in their scrubs: Briar feels absolutely disgusting, having not showered in . . . two days? Three?

"Mer, will you let me know?" George asks, Meredith Grey nodding as she looks at the watch on her wrist. Briar watches her, suddenly realizing that she's never bought a watch. Should she buy one? That feels like an adult thing, owning a watch. She used to have a Scooby Doo themed one when she was a kid, and she hasn't had one since.

"We should go, too, it's probably gonna be awhile." Meredith says to Cristina Yang, Briar nodding along even though she doesn't think she was part of that comment. She needs coffee desperately. And, oh God, deodorant. Fuck, she smells.

"I'll bring you back coffee." Briar tells Alex, who nods distractedly, his focus on Izzie. Briar gives him a sad nod before standing up off the floor, only for Alex to argue against what Meredith had just said.

"Shepherd said she'd wake up in the morning." He says, turning his head to look at Meredith. "What did he tell you? Was that all crap? What did he say?"

"He said it may be a while." Meredith tells him, Briar giving her a sympathetic look. She knows that Meredith won't be taking any of this personally, but it's got to be tough having your fiance be the one to perform brain surgery on your friend, especially when that friends' husband expects you to have all the answers.