This is the only way I can tell you how I really feel without my mind going blank when I catch sight of you.
If I were to be entirely honest, 'no strings attached' isn't working on me. I tried keeping this a strictly friendship between us, but I think you agree that it's impossible.
I catch myself falling for you day after day, and there's no point lying to myself anymore. There is something more between us, and I want to work it out together.
I want to love you the way you deserve it and the way my heart wants to be yours. I want to be committed to you, Laurie.
And I hope you want it too...
❦ ❦ ❦
S4 EP16&17
"CRISTINA IS CHEERFUL," Norah squinted at the other resident. "Should we evacuate?"
"I'm gettin' my groove back. I'm gettin' jiggy with it. I'm gettin' down with the get down," Cristina sang while dancing some moves.
Norah shared a questioning look with George, who shrugged back at her. The dancing woman reached into the pocket of her scrub pants and pulled out a glittery and shiny device. "Meredith gave me the sparkle pager!"
"What?!" Izzie's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Ooh, shiny," Norah chimed.
"She needed it for her mojo," Meredith defended.
"Did you ever stop to think that maybe I needed it?" Izzie asked.
"Did you ever stop to think that maybe you never crossed her mind?" Norah fired back nonchalantly.
"Oh, you'd waste the sparkle pager. I need it to get out from under Hahn. I won't have to beg her for OR time if I have the pager," Cristina smirked. "You know, if she's not gonna teach me, I'm gonna teach myself."
"Pop off, Cardio-junkie!" Norah cheered, giving the elated woman a high-five.
Izzie turned to Meredith with an unsatisfied frown. "She's just gonna use it for evil. I would use it to do good," she debated, "And besides, the pager is sacred. Sacred sparkle. You can't just give it away. She can't do that, right?"
Norah stared at her questioning look before shrugging. "I think she can. It's technically hers."
Izzie nudged George to back her up. "I think it's non-transferable," he claimed.
"You don't make the rules," Cristina deadpanned.
"But I am the chief's intern."
"You're the chief's bitch," Norah and Cristina spoke in unison. "And you have no power," the latter added, "Because the power-Oh!-is in the pager."
Cristina walked off just as Timothy walked up to his sister, with two small bags in his hands. "You went out early," he claimed.
"Tried to nab an ER case or two before sunrise," Norah shrugged.
"Eaten?" he queried. Norah was about to reply 'yes', but she realised that that would be, indeed, a lie. Timothy smirked at her, lifting one of the mini bags in front of her face. "I made breakfast," he informed, and she got a bad handed over to her. "Enjoy!"
"Hey-who's the other one for?" Norah questioned, but he had hurried off, giving her a wave in the air and that cheeky grin on his face. Meredith and Izzie peeked their heads over to Norah with raised eyebrows. "Seems like I'm the little sister now," the latter shrugged.
She opened the rectangular container inside the bag, and the aroma of the food immediately rose to the residents' noses. Sandwiches-crustless, of course-bacon, baked beans and scrambled eggs; classic, but she felt like heaven. The two residents by her side were about to drool.
Being in a good mood, Norah stuffed the bacon in her mouth before she picked up the ham and cheese sandwich, nudging the remaining of the container to them. "Scrambled eggs and baked beans?"
Meredith and Izzie were snatching the breakfast from each other while Norah chuckled at them with her mouthful of meat and vegetables.
"This tastes so good," Izzie spoke through a mouthful, "Can I date your brother?"
"Do you want a sister-in-law who'd nearly dislocated your jaw?" Norah cocked a brow at the blonde. The latter decided against it and shook her head. "Mm-hmm. That's what I thought."
Norah's pager went off; she was getting paged to the ER.
There was a big incoming trauma on the way. She quickly stuffed the remaining of the sandwich down her throat as she made her way to the ER. Her interns met her halfway down the hallway, all keen to assist in the trauma case.
"D-Dr Lawrence, can I assist on this case?" Jace asked. "I've rarely assisted in trauma cases."
"I have the entire trauma protocol memorised word-for-word in my head," Nina interjected, pushing the guys aside, "I can assist you the best."
"Bone dry cappuccino, Dr Lawrence?" Kirian held out a paper cup with a sincere smile on his face. Norah quirked a brow at him before accepting the coffee; the other interns were scowling at him.
"Mm, thanks. Thompson, let's go."
Jace was slightly taken aback before nodding gratefully. "Lee, I like that you're determined, but memorising word-for-word isn't the best. Come observe. And Rook, cover Dr Shepherd's post-ops and labs," the resident instructed."
"Uh... Okay..."
"Oh, I appreciate the coffee-but bribing and sucking up doesn't work on me. I've told you lot since day one," she smirked at Kirian, who sighed; the other two were snickering at his failed attempt.
Norah began putting on the yellow gown when she approached Cristina and Izzie, who were both already getting ready for the trauma. The interns, too, wasted no time in gowning up.
Mark, Bailey, Callie and Hahn walked over to them. Norah gave the plastic surgeon a nod as she tied the knot behind Nina's gown; Mark grimaced a bit at her greeting, but before he could say something, Bailey interrupted.
"What do we have?"
"I don't know yet," Izzie replied. Cristina took out the sparkle pager from her pocket and flashed it at the resident's face. "No sparkle pager-you can't sparkle pager it!" the blonde turned to Bailey, "It's not her pager!"
"I gave Izzie half of my breakfast," Norah spoke up; Izzie scoffed at her, feeling betrayed.
"Yang, Lawrence, you two take the case. Stevens, you need to cover the pit," Bailey instructed, "And didn't you volunteer to oversee Karev's post-ops?" Izzie stammered, and Bailey frowned at her. "I don't have time for pettiness. Go!"
The remaining residents and attendings pushed through the ER doors. Mark walked closely behind; she could almost feel him breathing down her neck-it sent an electric pulse down her spine, and she internally screamed at herself to shrug it off.
The past week had been like torture for both of them.
She wanted to strike a conversation, but as they turned the corner, the surgeons' eyes widened twice their sizes. They stared in shock, surprised and jaw-dropping as their eyebrows knitted together.
A teenage boy stared back at them helplessly. His body quivered while he laid on a gurney, or more specifically-encased in cement from his neck down, on a gurney.
❦ ❦ ❦
"NO, I KNOW WHERE TO start," Callie claimed. "The cement's contracting, and if I don't get in there, he could lose both of his legs and his right arm."
"Well, he can live without a leg," Bailey stated, "I'd like to see him live without a liver."
"So we're saying we'd prefer him to suffer a long, slow painful death as the alkaline in the cement continues to burn through his skin?" Mark questioned.
"You can't just start chipping away," Hahn argued, "Once his circulation opens up, the built-up toxins will stop his heart, not to mention rhabdomyol..."
"We could treat that with dialysis," Cristina suggested.
Norah nodded in agreement. "I've read an article about dialysis treating-"
"Yang, Lawrence, let us work!" Hahn snapped, and the two residents silently scowled at her.
Norah and Cristina stood and listened unamusingly while the attendings and senior residents argued back and forth. The whiteboard behind them was full of suggestions and priorities listed out by the different departments.
Norah turned to the resident standing beside her with a solemn look on her face. "Can we yell at them?"
"You yell at them," Cristina muttered, "Hahn hates me already."
Norah stared at the group of surgeons before turning to Jace, who was standing next to her. He looked awkward and slightly unsettled by the loud argument going on. "Thompson, I want you to yell," she requested, "Yell and shut them up."
"Shut... Shut them up?" Jace stared at her, his eyes wide, "Our bosses? I-"
"You're too shy and quiet, and I'm trying to help you change that," Norah claimed with a firm nod, but he was still staring back at her in disbelief. "Shut them up, or you'll be on scut for the rest of the m-"
"Shut up! Please!" Jace raised his voice at the arguing group, who went silent instantly; both Cristina and Norah were impressed by the intern's blaring voice. "Uh... sorry, I was... just... I-"
"Cheers, Jace, thank you very much," Norah clapped the interns back before turning to the group. "So, respectfully, please shut up and stop arguing. Andrew in the room over there is terrified beyond imaginable, and the last thing he needs is for you lot to yell about while he's trapped, not moving in the cement..."
Oh, crap. This is very silent.
Hahn cocked a brow at the resident. "Are you lecturing us?"
"Respectfully, and all due respect-yes," Norah shot back with a smile. "Look, Andrew has been trapped for an hour, then it took Search and Rescue three hours to get him out," she stated, "The man has roughly six hours-"
"Four, actually," Jace interjected, and everyone turned to him. "The chemical burns could overheat internally enough to cause damage. Then, the cement stiffens around his chest and abdomen-he wouldn't be able to expand his lungs and suffocate. If he's still undead, he's have increased risk of thrombosis, that'll guarantee his death by a heart attack, stroke, pulmonary embolism..." He cleared his throat awkwardly, "He'd be gone in four hours. Six, tops."
Norah looked overawed and low-key proud. "My brilliant intern, I would hug you right now, but you already look bloody uncomfortable."
"I am... yeah, thank you, Dr Lawrence," Jace nodded with a tight-lipped smile.
The door opened, and Webber stepped in. "Thompson's right and Lawrence made it quite clear," the chief stated, "We have less than four to six hours to get him out of the cement and into the OR before he's dead. Now we are fighting one hell of a clock. Every minute counts. We work as a team, or that man dies. Do you understand?"
Everyone nodded.
Cristina nudged Norah in the arm. "Why do you get all the good interns?"
"I'm Nazi 2.0," the latter smirked proudly before turning to Jace, who was still shocked at himself for yelling at his bosses in the room. "I'm so treating you lunch today-and dinner," she whispered.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could sense the lingering gaze from him. A sting pressed on her chest, but she forced herself to ignore it, despite the many protests.
❦ ❦ ❦
THE SURGEONS WERE still working together, carefully removing pieces of the concrete from Andrew. The man was lying in panic while Norah assisted Mark in treating the burnt parts of his skin. There was a notably unexplainable tension in the air that most surgeons in the room noticed, especially Cristina.
"Oh, god. My poor, poor parents," Andrew spoke. "How would they face anyone at the funeral?"
"Andrew, you're not dying," Norah reassured as Mark handed her more gauze, "We're not gonna fail you. Not today."
"You're gonna make a lot mistakes in your life, but mistakes are... they're just pieces," Bailey attempted to calm him, "Like this is a foolish piece, but, you know, it's just a piece. You need to be proud of the whole picture. The whole picture defines you, not just this one piece."
"I'm a loser... I'm a loser... I'm a loser... I'm a loser..."
"Andrew. Hey, hey, listen to me," Bailey called out, and he moved his gaze to her, "Han Solo is not a loser." The other surgeons in the room looked at her curiously; Norah understood the reference almost at once.
"Han Solo got encased in carbonite, and... and that was a big mess, but that's not what he's remembered for. He's the guy who made the kessel run in less than twelve parsecs and who braved the subzero temperatures of the ice planet Hoth in order to save someone he cared about from the big, ugly wampa."
As the others looked between each other with narrowed eyes, Norah continued, "Han's the lad who swooped down the last minute and blasted Darth Vader out of the sky so that Luke could use the Force and destroy the Death Star."
Andrew was calming down, but she could literally feel Mark staring at her.
"You're worried about Lola? Princess Leia saved the lad from the carbonite. They fell in love, saved the universe, had twin Jedi babies, blah-blah-blah..."
"That's the whole picture," Bailey stated. "The carbonite, it was just a piece, okay?"
What a piece of memory to recall.
Andrew nodded lightly. The other surgeons were still looking between the two residents curiously. "What? So I like science fiction," Bailey snapped, "Somebody got a problem with that?"
Everyone shook their heads, and Norah could feel at least five pairs of eyes on her. "I used to like Star Wars... until I didn't. Lightsaber was kinda the cause of my mum's death, in a way or another," she shrugged as she treated the burn wound. When nobody reacted, she lifted her head to the eyes staring at her. "What? Too dark?"
Mark frowned, his gaze lingering on her for more than a moment. She turned her head to him, and his eyes instantly fell upon her lips for who knew how long... until he eventually sighed and lowered his head back to the patient.
The silence was burning him from the inside-the irony.
❦ ❦ ❦
"YOU LOOK LIKE HELL," Norah commented as she walked into the dimly lit room. Stacks of papers filled with tiny words piled up on the desk. Derek sighed, sitting in the room and surrounded by multiple brain scans.
He tossed a coin to her, in which she caught it in confusion. "What's this for?"
"Flip the coin," he stated, "Heads, I abandon the trial; tails, I continue it."
Norah snorted and dropped on the seat next to him. "That's the worst thing I've ever heard of."
"I've killed twelve patients. Twelve-I'm killing more people than I'm saving."
She furrowed her brows before offering, "I have a lad who jumped into cement to impress a woman."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
Norah shook her head, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "He did it out of his feelings, out of love, even," she shrugged, "Aren't you doing the same thing?"
Derek glared at her before shaking his head softly. "After I've killed my thirteenth patient, I don't wanna see her again," he declared grimly, "Meredith and I-we're done."
Yeah, right. I've heard that one before. If it was not because of the foul mood in the room, Norah would have snickered at his words.
"I've killed thirteen fishes once. They were pets, and I forgot to feed them," she shared, "Quite shocked when I saw them flipped over in the mini box I was rearing them in." When the neurosurgeon sent her a puzzled look, she rolled her eyes. "Come on. I'm trying to brighten up the mood."
Derek narrowed his eyes at her before sinking into his chair. "I kept frogs when I was twelve, I had six of them. They were from the pond near my mom's house in New York," he sighed, "When my favourite one went missing, I let the rest back to the pond... except I didn't know the water was contaminated. I'm pretty sure I sent them to their death."
"Derek the unintentional-frog-murderer," Norah mused, and he rolled his eyes at her. "Don't go into the OR with that face. Have some hope," she stood up from the seat, "Thirteen could be a lucky number, too. You'll never know."
"You're worse than my sisters," Derek murmured, "And I have four of them."
"Mm-hmm. Consider me a wise one," Norah shrugged and tossed the coin in her hand. When she opened her palm, a smirk settled on her face. "Tails."
The attending looked burdened; the resident had pocketed the coin to herself. "And when you're done with this clinical trial, please put me back on Neuro," she stated desperately, "I need brains."
Derek snorted, shaking his head. "You sound like a zombie."
❦ ❦ ❦
"GEORGE IS RETAKING HIS intern exam," Lexie announced, gaining the attention of Cristina and Norah, who was in the resident's locker room. The intern was practising her running whip stitch on a banana with Cristina watching her; Norah lay on another couch, a smile growing on her face.
"That's brilliant!" she exclaimed. "Finally, a good thing today..."
The door opened, and Derek entered with a visible smile on his face. Norah sat up as he walked towards the trash can and took out an unopened bottle of champagne. "That's not sanitary," Cristina frowned.
"Thirteen's the lucky number?" Norah queried. Derek did not reply but gave her one of the broadest smiles she had seen in a long while. "Congratulations, Derek!" she shouted behind him as he quickly took off.
"A little closer together," Cristina informed Lexie, "Try again."
Norah turned her head to the intern, who was stretching her neck. "Put the banana higher so that your neck wouldn't break."
"You're not going home?" Cristina asked the other resident.
"Tim's having company over," Norah shrugged, "I have zero intentions to interrupt." She could swear that she saw the intern stealing a glance in her direction at the mention of his name. "I'm heading to Joe's. Anyone?"
Both Lexie and Cristina shook their heads, so Norah got up and hung her white coat in her cubby before she left the room.
❦
THE ATMOSPHERE IN JOE'S Bar was always the lively type-something she needed after the long day.
Norah was walking towards the counter when she suddenly stopped at her spot; she could recognise the familiar leather jacket from anywhere.
Before she could decide on retreating to the hospital, Joe had waved her over on the one vacant seat left at the counter. She pursed her lips together as she walked over, sitting on the seat adjacent to him.
It was as though the world wanted them to talk.
He caught a glance of her, but he did not greet her like he usually would. Joe seemed to have sensed the oddness between the two who were frequently inseparable, and hence he poured her usual drink and walked away from the two surgeons.
The tension was killing her.
Mark had just refilled his fourth glass of scotch since Norah sat on the bar stool adjacent to his; who knows how many more he had had before she arrived. He did not seem close to stopping anytime soon.
She swirled her glass in circles, not letting the liquid run down her throat despite the yearning for it. He stole another glance in her direction-the frown on her face made him uneasy, and he sighed. "You have a question on your mind."
Norah was somewhat surprised that he was speaking to her, even though he was still avoiding her gaze. She nodded, placing her glass of whisky on the countertop. "You meant what you said, didn't you?"
He raised a brow at her. "The letter? You know I did."
"No, after that," she specified, "The part where you said-"
"I don't know," he interjected, already knowing what she meant. Times like these when their minds automatically connected baffled him. "Maybe? It stings-that, I really meant."
She nodded quietly, and their brief conversation slowly met an end. Mark shifted his gaze to her again, lowering his eyes to her drink. "Are you gonna drink that?" he asked. She shook her head, passing her glass to him.
The alcohol got cleared instantly-he regretted it, though.
The scotch-mixed-whisky taste brought upon a feel-or taste-that was stirring with the feelings in his chest. "Can I tell you a drunken confession?" he asked, turning his body to her entirely now.
"You're not drunk," she pointed out, and he shrugged.
"I'm not. But just enough for liquid courage," he stated, calling Joe for a refill for both their drinks. She nodded and nudged her head for him to go on.
"I wanna kiss you, desperately," he spoke without another moment of hesitation, which caught her by surprise. "I don't wanna sleep with you. I don't wanna have sex with you. I just wanna kiss you..." he chuckled drily, "...I wanna kiss you like you're mine."
She remained silent as he went on. "The nurses? Yes, they happened. But I couldn't bring myself to let it happen again after you had invaded my every single thought," he admitted, "Gosh, I don't even know why I didn't tell you that last week... You're the one in my head, Laurie-you're the only one."
She never knew how much she missed the nickname until she heard it again.
Those blue eyes were staring straight through her soul, drowning her within her head; his mind was racing so quick that it was making him feel dazed. "You're not making this any easier," she managed out.
"We can be complicated together," he simply responded, downing the rest of his glass; the burning feeling down his throat was addictive.
They could.
"You know what's confusing? I've never felt like this in my life-ever," he shared, "You're the first-and I can confidently say the last." His words made him let out a dry chuckle, "Funny, right?"
She shook her head in response, yet whether or not he saw, she was not sure. When he called for yet another refill, she finally sighed out loudly. "Are you trying to get drunk?"
"Maybe, yeah, because it-"
"-numbs the pain," she finished, "I know how it feels, too." He nodded, glancing at her. She had gestured for a refill this time, and he had the first half-smile on his face since that night in the parking lot.
❦ ❦ ❦
MARK FELT A STING IN HIS head when he tried moving it-it was a physical sting, this time-he could easily recognise it. When he forced open his eyes, he realised that he was not in his hotel room, yet the ceilings were in a familiar shade of colour.
"Breaking news: you actually got drunk," a voice greeted him when he sat up on the couch, and he turned his head to it-a little too hard-making him groan at the pain.
"Yeah, I figured that one out..." he grunted through a dry throat. Norah had a glass of water and aspirin when she walked over to him from the kitchen. "Thanks," he muttered, sending her a curious look. "Where's your brother?"
"He got an early shift today," she replied, sitting on the coffee table opposite him as he swallowed down the tablet, silently regretting drinking that much the previous night. A question remained in his mind, though.
"Why didn't you send me back with a cab?" he asked, but she disregarded his question.
"Do you remember what you said last night?" Norah asked instead.
Mark paused for a moment before shaking his head. "No."
Her face faltered for a second before she captured the look behind his eyes. She chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No point lying to yourself, Mark."
"Fine. Yes," he caved with a long sigh. "Which part are you asking?"
"Hmm... Maybe the part where you mentioned about your eventful middle school years, or when you insisted that oranges are named oranges just because they're orange?" she questioned, and he nearly choked on pure air. "Ooh-how about the part you said that you'd trade me for a goat because goats feel like emotional support animals to you?"
"I-I did? I said a-all of those...?" he asked with fright to his voice and an alarmed look on his face. "Wh-What did I say about my middle school years...?"
"Nothing, you said nothing, Mark. I was making those up," she snorted, and he let out a relieved exhale before following her chuckles. "What happened in your middle school years, anyway?"
"Um... nothing eventful," he claimed, and she rolled her eyes at him. He had to admit that he missed her wrongly-timed jokes that never fail to brighten his day. Shutting his eyes, he leaned his head back against the couch with a smile on his face.
He heard a soft scraping sound of the coffee table, then felt a presence sitting on his lap. His eyes flew open at once; those gentle blue eyes lingered on hers like there was no tomorrow, as though time had stopped with him looking at her this way-this I-want-to-spend-the-rest-of-my-life-with-you way.
"Complicated together, huh?" she spoke up, gaining his full attention.
"Yeah, screw the easy crap," he spoke as he slowly leaned forward. She gulped when she felt his arm tightening around her waist.
Fuck it.
"How much of Joe's do you remember?"
"All of it," he responded surely, his hand reaching for the side of her cheek.
"Good," she whispered right in front of his lips while a hand ran through his hair. "Now, kiss me like I'm yours," she demanded, "Because I swear to god if you give me anything lesser than th-"
She did not get to finish her sentence as her words caught in her throat. He wasted no time giving her what she wanted-what he wanted to give her. She could feel the smile forming against his lips and the quickening of his heartbeat under her palm.
When he lowered her onto the couch, she could feel her legs going weak as he buried his face at her neck, placing soft, wet kisses at the sweet spots on the side of her neck.
"You were saying?" he teased with a soft chuckle, and she huffed at him. "So, what does this mean, Laurie?"
"This means that there's no point lying to myself anymore, and myself wants all of you," she stated, getting up to sit on his lap with his arms tightening around her waist. "I want it, too-I want you, Mark Sloan. So yes, let's be complicated together."