S2 EP18
"YOU DON'T HAVE TO CALL me every morning, you know?" Norah spoke through the phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder. "I'm doing alright."
"You were in an explosion, Nor-a literal bomb! You're telling me to not fucking worry?"
"I'm alive, I'm walking, and I could even yell at you right now if I'm not in the hospital. I am okay, and you have classes to attend-goodbye!"
She ended the call and closed the door of her locker. "I get that my brother is worried, but calling me every morning, for two weeks?" she sighed, "Should I change my number?"
George shrugged. "My brothers only talk about trucks and engines," he shared while putting on his white coat. "You could change it if you want to."
It had been two weeks since the bombing incident, and Norah had finally been allowed to remove her arm sling. She leaned against the lockers next to George, who had been watching Meredith for some time now. The woman had been sitting silently and not moving, with a troubled look on her face.
"What's with her?" Norah asked.
"No idea," George shook his head, and she approached the woman on the bench.
Cristina entered the locker room and pushed past the both of them, walking urgently to Meredith. "You know, he's acting like I committed a crime-like my apartment is full of stolen goods," she ranted as she dumped her bag into her locker. "He's acting like I kept my apartment to hide stolen goods so I can do illegal transplants for money!"
"I'd do illegal transplants for the money," Norah voiced out with a light shrug.
"Are you sure he's just not acting like you lied about moving in?" Meredith fussed.
Cristina turned her head to Norah, who shrugged and shook her head. "Okay, what's wrong with you?" the former asked the woman on the bench.
Meredith looked back at her, looking disturbed. "My mommy's a filthy whore."
As the interns stared at each other, Norah snickered a laugh. "Should I be glad I no longer have one?"
"Yes," Meredith and Cristina replied in unison.
❦ ❦ ❦
"JAKE BURTON, 15, HAS advanced craniodiaphyseal dysplasia," Cristina presented, "was admitted last night after complaining of headaches."
"He's not a complainer," Mrs Burton interjected.
"He's been having some nausea as well," Mr Burton added.
"Okay, may I?" Derek asked as he walked over to the patient. "Jake, can I get you to sit up, please?"
As the neurosurgeon checked on Jake's pupils, the five interns, apart from Cristina, stood back. George and Izzie were engaged in a conversation while Norah had her arms folded in front of her chest.
"Cristina nicked this case from me," she sighed.
"You owed her from helping you move in," Alex shrugged.
"I know. But still."
"You're turning into a Neuro junkie," he pointed out, and Norah glared at him.
"You know, if you pretend I'm a lion, it helps," Jake offered when Cristina shifted her gaze away from him uneasily.
"Sorry?"
"If you pretend I'm a lion, and then instead of a really messed-up kid, you get a talking circus animal, which is way easier to look at," Jake explained with a smile, and the interns looked at each other amusingly.
Derek chuckled. "Dr Yang, what's our immediate concern?"
"That the bony tumors are growing inward and encroaching on his brain," Cristina replied. He nodded, and the rest of the interns left the room. Cristina gave Norah a wink when she noticed the latter gawking at her.
"You need to rest your shoulder, sweetheart," Cristina mocked her English accent, which ended up in her earning a sharp nudge in the side from the brunette.
❦ ❦ ❦
NORAH SAT LAZILY IN AN empty office, where she was flipping through a few case files when George entered, shutting the glass door behind him. She lifted her head from the papers at stared at the male intern. "What's up?"
"I... wanna ask Meredith out," he blurted out, "on a date. Like-dating, date?" Norah's mouth hung open as she stared at him, her brain not forming any words for her to speak. George groaned, "You think it's a bad idea..."
"No, George, I-" Before she could reply, the door opened again, and Derek entered the office. He nodded an acknowledgement at George, who immediately moved to the side of the room and started pulling out random charts to escape the awkwardness.
"How's your arm doing?" the attending asked.
"Good as new," she claimed, leaning back against the chair. The attending raised a brow at her. "It's been two weeks since I've last been inside an OR," she dreaded. "And cutting people open is a part of my learning process-I'm a surgical intern!"
"Who happens to survive a bomb explosion with nothing more than a dislocated shoulder and a cut on her face," Derek added. "You know, the scar is starting to grow on you. Don't you think so, O'Malley?"
George turned to them hastily and nodded at Norah-very slowly. She let out a grunt and rolled her eyes to the back of her head. As much as it annoyed her, the cut on her jaw had left a scar. Fortunately, it was not too obvious, only able to be seen close up or if you really took notice of it.
"Ah, and Bailey specifically told me not to let you inside an OR for another two weeks," Derek told the intern, whose eyes widened displeasingly. "But I'll cut it down to one. She wouldn't..." he trailed off and did a double-take outside the window. "That son of a bitch-"
"Huh?"
Norah and George stared confusedly at the attending, who stormed out of the office, heading towards the nurses' station-Meredith was smiling at a man in a leather jacket. Right as the blonde intern shook the man's hand, Derek's fist collided with the other man's face; a swing punched him off his balance.
Norah leapt off her chair and moved next to George, who had perked up upon witnessing the incident with his jaw dropped. The neurosurgeon was waving his hand in pain; everyone surrounding them looked alarmed at the situation.
Through the window, she vaguely made out the words that Derek had muttered to Meredith; curiosity rose within her. "Who's Mark?" she questioned, glancing at the man who was hissing in pain on the floor.
"I think... I think he's the guy Addison slept with," George guessed, and Norah turned her head to him in surprise. "The one that made Shepherd move to Seattle."
"Oh," she blinked. "Go Shepherd, then." She watched as the man in the leather jacket picked himself up, rubbing his jaw in pain. An amused smile crept up her face as Addison appeared on the scene, looking shocked at the whole situation.
"This internship is becoming highly... interesting."
The two interns watched as the Chief of Surgery spoke some words to the man wearing a leather jacket, then instructed Meredith to handle the cut on the man's face.
As Meredith led the man to one of the empty rooms nearby, many pairs of eyes followed them, along with whispers and mumbles. Hospital gossips.
Yet when the man winced as he touched the cut on his cheek, his eyes locked with a certain pair of hazels; there was something about those bright blue eyes that ignited something within her.
❦ ❦ ❦
"LAWRENCE, GO PULL OUT these files for me," Bailey requested as she shoved a piece of paper into Norah's hand. "From there." She nudged her head towards the office where Meredith and Mark were currently in; the intern was holding a mirror in place.
Norah stared blankly at her. "Why...?"
"Because I need something to do other than changing diapers and breastfeeding."
"But... why me?" she asked again.
"Because you have no surgeries to prep for," Bailey deadpanned, "And I because I said so."
Norah sighed and nodded. With wishes of 'good luck's and 'have fun's from the four other interns, she walked towards the office and pushed open the door.
Meredith perked up slightly when the other intern entered the room. Norah was squinting at the paper in her hand, trying to ignore the notably attractive man in the room whose eyes were staring at her.
"Hello there," Mark spoke up.
"Ignore my presence. I'm just here to pull some files..." Norah muttered as she walked towards the shelves to search for the files Bailey had requested.
"He's suturing himself," Meredith voiced out, her tone sounding fascinated.
Norah let her eyes drift over to the man in the room-okay, he is hot-and shrugged. "Well, plastic surgeons are arrogant b-people."
Meredith snorted while Mark lifted his head, his eyes narrowed. "What makes you think that I'm a plastic surgeon?"
With several filed in her hand, she furrowed her brows at him as she walked towards him-or more specifically, to the shelves located behind him. "Like I said: arrogant people."
"You're quite a hypocrite," Meredith interjected, her statement directed to Norah, who chuckled softly.
Mark's eyes followed the brunette as she headed closer to him. She walked past him and started looking for the files. "You didn't mean to say 'people' the first time," he pointed out.
"You'd rather I insult you when I don't even know you?" Norah merely shrugged as she found the last file that Bailey requested.
"Why're you pulling files?" Meredith queried.
"I think Bailey's getting bored of motherhood," Norah replied, turning to face her. "And to quote her, I have no surgeries to prep for." She shook her head while looking at the mirror that Meredith was holding. Mark was sitting in a somewhat uncomfortable position as he sutured his face.
"Can I just..." Norah placed the files under her arm as she walked over to Meredith. "The mirror has to reflect the light at that one specific angle..." she tilted the mirror slightly.
What she did not notice was that Mark was stealing glances at her at their not too close proximity.
"There-for the best view," she finished. "And I should go now... Bailey looks like she's about to hurl dirty diapers at me."
Mark's gaze continued to linger behind Norah as she walked out of the room. "Who was that?"
"Dr Lawrence, from my intern year," Meredith replied. "And you are not very subtle at all. You were checking her out without even hiding it!"
"An intern, who knows about lighting?" Mark placed the tools down as he finished suturing himself up. He clicked his tongue with a smirk. "That's interesting. And hot."
❦
NORAH HANDED THE FILES to Bailey, who stared back at the intern with narrowed eyes. "Don't flirt with people, Lawrence," the resident advised.
"What? I wasn't-" the brunette had yet to finish her sentence when Bailey walked off. She turned to the rest of the interns curiously, but they shrugged in response.
"Why is he suturing his own face?" George questioned; the five interns were still unable to pry their eyes away from the newcomer inside the room.
"To turn me on," Cristina offered, leaning against the station counter.
Alex let out a sigh before responding, "'Cause he's Mark Sloan. He's like the go-to plastics surgeon on the East Coast." Norah smirked to herself at her correct guess as she slumped down on one of the chairs.
"That's the guy Addison slept with?" George questioned in a low whisper, with his eyes widened in shock.
"Can't really blame her, can you?"
"No, not really."
George furrowed his brows. "Yes, you can." He glanced at Norah, trying to get her to back him up, but she offered him a shrug and a smile.
Meredith left the room and joined the other interns at the nurses' station. "McSexy wants an X-ray to check for fractures, and I think it's a bad idea if I take him," she stated.
"I'm on it!" Alex immediately volunteered, hurrying away.
"McSexy?" Cristina quirked a brow at the nickname.
"Sounds bland," Norah commented.
"McYummy?" Izzie suggested.
"No," the three other women chorused.
Norah watched as Mark followed Alex out of the room; there were groups of nurses who were busy gossiping about the plastic surgeon. "McSteamy."
"Ah, there it is."
Meanwhile, George stared at the four women, disturbed. "Ugh, I'm just... choking back some McVomit."
❦ ❦ ❦
NORAH WAS BORED OUT of her mind after getting checked up in Ortho. When she accidentally let slip that there was still mild soreness on her shoulder, the resident did not sign her off to be allowed to scrub in in surgeries.
Hence, she now tagged along in Jake Burton's room beside Alex, where Mark was talking to the teenager's parents about having plastic surgery performed on their son.
"You called me a Neuro junkie this morning," Norah whispered, and Alex turned to her. "Look at you now, Karev. You're a plastics suck-up."
"I'm not a suck-up," Alex denied. "I want to specialise in plastics."
"Bold choice," Norah smirked before squinting at him. "Just admit it. You're sucking up."
"I'm not."
The two interns perked up as they saw Derek standing at the door. The neurosurgeon was furious, without a doubt; Cristina stood behind him, looking more than amused.
"Dr Sloan, can I help you with something?"
"He says he can fix my face," Jake exclaimed before Mark could respond. "He says he can make me look like normal!"
Derek shot the plastic surgeon a heated face; the tension in the room seemed to become tenfold. Norah stared at the two attendings, shaking her head.
"Do you have something to say, Dr Lawrence?" Derek questioned suddenly.
The doctors in the room moved their gaze to her, in which she could not help but smile back, shaking her head. Laughing in serious situations is gonna be the end of me, she mentally scolded herself.
The neurosurgeon rolled his eyes. "You're pressing a smile. If you have something to say, spit it out."
Norah hesitated, looking between the two attendings. "I love hospital drama," she blurted out.
Cristina sniggered and tried hiding it away with a cough, and Alex was smirking; the plastic surgeon looked amused whilst the neurosurgeon looked more than displeased.
"Get out of here-now."
❦ ❦ ❦
THE GALLERY WAS FILLED with surgeons and nurses who were observing Jake's surgery. Norah was cradling Bailey's son, Tuck, in her arms; the baby gripped the collar of her scrubs as he slept soundly.
Suddenly, the heart monitor connecting to Jake started beeping rapidly, and he was losing too much blood, too quickly.
"Put in the pressure infuser."
"No carotid."
"We've got v-fib!"
Everyone in the gallery was on the edge of their seats as they watched the surgeons in the OR scramble around and yell orders to save the teenager's life. When Jake flatlined, Mark grabbed the paddles to jolt the teen's heart into starting... but failed.
Within a minute, the sound of the monitor flatlining filled their ears.
"Lawrence," Bailey spoke up, and the intern looked at her. "You sure your shoulder is fine?"
Norah nodded. "Yes."
"Alright, go scrub and stitch him up," Bailey instructed and carried Tuck away from Norah's arms. "Just... try to..."
"I know," she returned the resident with a tight smile.
Norah walked out of the gallery to catch her breath. Jake was 15, and he will forever remain 15. Jake was not even near the first of patients, whom she witnessed flatlining in an OR, but it might be one of the firsts that were only a child.
She shook the thought off her head and slowly made her way to the scrub room of OR 4. Pushing the door open, she saw Derek and Mark standing by the sink, washing their hands in silence.
"You're closing him up, too?" the neurosurgeon asked as she walked in. "I thought your hand wasn't cleared for surgery?"
"Shoulder, Derek. My hand's fine," the intern stated, but when he raised a brow at her, she sighed. "Bailey insisted."
"Okay," Derek backed away from the sink, and Norah took the spot. "Just make sure he looks..."
"Presentable?"
The attending shook his head. "It's not the word..."
"Never was."
Norah watched through the glass while Cristina and Alex started preparing to close Jake up. The running water flowing on her arms felt cold; her sore shoulder no longer felt like a bother. She sympathised with the teen. Just that afternoon, he was all excited to get his face fixed, where he could finally live a normal life, and now-there was no more life for him to live.
An avid thought crossed her mind.
"Dr Sloan?" Norah turned her head to Mark, who looked up from the sink. He looked upset-whether it was about Jake or something else, she did not know. "Is there a possibility that you can... proceed on fixing his face?" she asked, and he cocked his head aside, weighing her suggestion.
"Well, just a few hours ago, he was all... thrilled, finally be able to look like other kids his age," she spoke, "He wanted it, the surgery... He really wanted it."
Mark stared at her eager look; the keenness in her eyes seemed to be radiating off her and affecting him. There was something about her that made him feel hopeful, after everything that had happened.
"Have you thought about specialising in plastics?" he queried instead, unsure why he would ask that all of a sudden. When the intern shook her head in response, he nodded. "I'll try to get his parents' consent," he stated.
An odd sense of confidence rose in his chest, one that made him puzzled.
And her growing smile melted everything away.
❦ ❦ ❦
A DOWNSIDE OF LIVING five minutes away from the hospital is that the interns frequently have sleepovers, or more specifically, crashing on her couch every other night.
A perk, however, of living five minutes away from the hospital is that she only lived a few streets away from the bar. Hence, she had been visiting it quite often whenever she could not fall asleep. And this night was just like those nights.
Norah pushed open the door to Joe's bar; the chime of the small bell got overlapped by the booming laughter from inside. "Hey, Joe," she greeted as she sat by the counter, tossing her coat on the seat next to her. "Whisky, neat."
"Long night in the hospital?" the bartender asked as he poured the alcohol into a glass.
"Nope. My sleep's botched me... again," Norah sighed, sipping on the drink. "Plus, drinking alone at home... well, even the idea of it sounds bloody depressing."
"I agree." Her coat got lifted from the barstool, and the man took the spot, placing her coat over his thigh. "Drinks taste better shared," Mark stated with a smile. "Fancy seeing you here at this hour, Lawrence."
She took a sip from her glass before turning to him. "I'll take a wild guess," she spoke, and he nudged his head for her to go on. "Addison didn't show up?"
His face became even bitter than before. "You're psyche."
She snorted. "The last time I said that to someone, a bomb went off."
Mark chuckled softly before shaking his head with a sigh. "How long is it too long to wait for someone?"
"How long have you been here?" she questioned back, but he didn't respond. "She won't turn up, you know?"
"Yeah... I'm starting to think so, too." The man downed his shot, and the glass clinked against the wooden counter. He turned his head to her, his finger still circling on the rim of his shot glass. She glanced at him, frowning.
"You have a question on your mind," he noted.
She turned to him, their bodies now facing each other, each gripping their alcohol of choice whilst staring into each other's eyes. Joe had walked over to refill their drinks, then walked off to the other customers at the counter.
"Well, if you don't mind... Is it true that you had slept with half of New York?"
He got caught off guard, slightly, and he raised a brow at her question. "Where'd you heard that from?"
"New York," she sipped on her whisky, "I'm from New York, you see."
"I'd peck that you're from the UK."
"Oh, yeah, London, I was. Moved to Queens before college."
"So you knew Derek from New York?" he guessed, and she nodded. "You would know all about me, then."
"All about you? Don't flatter yourself-but I think the whole hospital do know pretty much everything between you and him," she chuckled, and he cocked a brow at her words. "Hospital gossips travel fast, Sloan."
"Mark," he took a sip from his glass, "It's Mark. We're not working. And I believe we have not formally introduced ourselves yet."
"You'd think that one night with a dead teen is enough introductions," she smiled, and he chuckled lightly at her notably blunt statement.
"But, I have a thing about going on first-name basis," she shrugged. "It builds on trust, and it feels... intimate... in a way, and we had only met less than 24 hours ago. So, no. Sorry."
"I get it," he smiled, shifting closer to her. She noticed his movement; he knew that she noticed his movement-but she did not move away. A smirk surfaced on him as he leaned closer to her. "No need for apologies, Laurie."
Norah choked on her whisky. "Tell me you did not just call me that."
"Well, I must admit, no first name is just a minor inconvenience in bed," Mark shrugged, and she shot him a glare. "Come on, it doesn't sound that bad," he claimed. "I could come up with worse if I'm distracted."
Oh, you wanna play this? she smirked to herself.
"You're speaking as though the bed is the only place for things to happen."
Mark almost spat out his drink. "Wow, I didn't know you're... into that," he coughed, wiping his mouth.
"Ha! No, I'm not," she grinned as she passed him some tissues. "But I got you good."
"Yes, you did, Laurie... Yes, you did," he chuckled, and she rolled her eyes at the name.
Just then, a pager went off, beeping in the loud crowd of people roaring with talks and laughter. Both their eyes lowered to the coat that was still lying across his thigh. He reached into the pocket and pulled out her pager.
"You're drinking while on-call?" he asked as he slid the device to her.
"I'm not on-call. That's the thing..."
"Wrong page?" he assumed. But when the pager went off another time, she sighed and clipped it onto her waist. "Definitely not a wrong page, then."
Norah downed the last bit of whisky in her glass and hopped down the barstool. Mark held her coat up for her while she stretched her arms into the sleeves. "Nice meeting you, Sloan. Thanks for the company," she waved at him, walking backwards as she headed for the door.
"Likewise," he smiled back. "Night, Laurie."
Norah stepped out of the bar; the cold breeze was gushing on her cheeks. Still, she felt warm-whether it was because of the whisky or... no, not him. A segment of her pondered about the possibility, but a bigger part of her shook off the idea. Her pager rang for the third time as she walked across the parking lot, groaning at the device for cutting her night short.
Mark's eyes followed her as she exited the bar, and his gaze remained at the glass door went she left. The odd sense of feeling lingered within him, similar to when she looked at him with those hopeful eyes in the scrub room. Joe was going to refill his drink, but he stopped him.
He needed his head clear for just a moment-a moment to think how in that hour of their conversation, she had managed to make him forget about the reason he was in the bar in the first place. Not that he minded-the thought of that baffled him.
She made him feel fluttery throughout his veins, and before he could get used to the feeling, she had left, leaving a fragment for him to wonder.
Mark stood up from the stool and slid some cash under his glass. Shrugging on his leather jacket, he was about to leave when he noticed some scribbles on one of the tissues.
On the little square piece, where a round stain had formed on the edge of it, there were six letters written in messy handwriting:
Norah L.
He shook his head with a soft chuckle; everyone but him could notice the dumbstruck grin plastered on his face as he walked out of the bar.
Gosh-how could he get her out of his mind now?