flatline [m.s]

lxv.

lia exits the elevator onto the roof of the hospital, where she finds owen throwing balls for derek to hit into a net.

"nice," owen says.

"uh... you have a patient looking for you," she informs derek. "should i tell them that you're... working?"

"we are working. sometimes the body works better than the brain," owen tells her as his phone begins to ring. "webber, can you toss him the ball?"

"oh, your swing's too high," lia points out, once she takes owen's place throwing the ball.

"did you play ball?" derek asks her.

"yeah. i was pitcher," she nods.

"really?" derek asks, surprised that he didn't already know this about her.

"yeah," she smiles, tossing another ball. "mark's in love."

"oh, with an eye doctor," derek scoffs. "that should last forty eight hours."

"yeah, well, i should be happy for him," lia sighs, before lowering her voice so that she's practically just talking to herself. "i- i love jackson."

"don't worry about it," owen says to derek once he's off the phone as derek misses the ball again. "just shake it off or shake it out or i don't know, shake something."

"it's his new coaching persona," derek chuckles to lia.

"yeah, i'm still working on it," owen laughs.

"you're still coming at it wrong," lia attempts to coach derek, as she continues tossing balls. "you're- you're- you're approaching the ball wrong."

"i'm holding the bat wrong?" derek furrows his brow.

"no, no, no, it's not the bat," lia shakes her head. "it's your body. you need to... adjust your head, drop your shoulders. i mean, you're not connecting."

derek follows lia's advice by changing his position when he comes to a realisation.

"the head's at the wrong angle," derek says, lowering the bat. "i've been adjusting the probe."

"you need to adjust the angle of her head," owen clicks on, tossing a ball to lia before the two leave lia confused on the roof.

■ ■ ■

"sloan, you're on first," owen announces as he's going through his game plan and handing out jersey's when bailey walks in. "oh, bailey, you're centre field. we're doing some shuffling. shepherd, pitcher."

"shepherd's out," mark announces. "he told me his brain surgery could be a marathon."

"oh, me!" lia raises her hand excitedly. "let me pitch."

"alright, webber, pitcher," owen agrees. "sloan, first. shepherd can be a pinch hitter."

"i need a small," lia says, looking through the box of jerseys.

"oh, they're all larges," owen informs her.

"what?" april asks, standing up from her seat and beginning to look through them herself. "no. we can't be out of smalls already. i told them we need an assortment of sizes. i... i was very clear on the phone."