"I'm tired," Emily grumbled, resting her head against the counter. Derek walked behind her, buttoning up his shirt, "I don't like being friends with you. You show me crappy movies and drag me away from my actual intern friends." She glanced at the clock on the microwave. "We've been doing this for a week and I can't work on two hours of sleep per day."
"Oh," He smiled, raising his eyebrows. "Well, eat breakfast and we'll get coffee," The fish did smell appetizing. Pushing herself up, she frowned at her wrinkled clothes. Her sweater was riding up her side and she pushed it down again. Pulling a fork deftly with her left hand, she dragged the plate closer, spearing some meat and shoving it in her mouth.
"You know," She mumbled as she chewed, "that's not enough. I've had coffee every single day and I'm still exhausted. But, having you as a cook has its perks,"
"What is that suppose to mean," He asked, shoving a binder into his bag. "Finish or you'll be late," The neurosurgeon added as an afterthought. Big brother Derek always trying to keep his siblings on time.
"It means," She munched purposefully on her last bite, "that you're a good chef. Take it as a compliment, Derek." The man grabbed her dish, washing it quickly. He leaned across the counter before reeling back, nose scrunched up.
"You need to shower," He told her, grabbing his jacket off the hook. "You smell like alcohol. Old alcohol." When she still didn't move, he grabbed her, dragging her towards his small shower.
"Fine," She supported her own weight, pulling her shirt over her head. He smiled amusedly, walking to the exit.
"I'll wait for you in the car," He threw his keys, catching them before walking out. Sighing, she shed herself of all her clothes, stepping into the cold shower. Shivering, she lathered her hair quickly, soaping up her hands and washing her body. As she did so, the water warmed and she regretted leaving the warm haven. Awake now, she grabbed a clean towel, wrapping it securely around her head as she put on her old clothes again. Deciding that her hair wouldn't be too slow to dry, she grabbed her own jacket, running into Derek's car.
"Hey," She said breathlessly, pulling her hair from under her shirt.
"You're dripping all over my car,"
"At least I smell good." She returned playfully as he started up the engine.
.
"Dr. Bailey," Emily greeted as she walked up to the crosswalk.
"Morning, Dr. Bailey," Derek addressed and the resident raised a hand to silence him.
"Shut up,"
"You realize that I'm an attending and you're only a resident - that you work for me, right?" Emily laughed at Derek's surprised tone.
"Leave it to you to pull rank. Be her intern, no one says no to Bailey. Or tells her otherwise," The brunette told Derek. Her own coffee warmed her fingers as she sipped it gratefully.
"I know I've forgotten something," The short-haired woman continued in her thoughts, "Something is happening today. I know I should know what it is, but I just can't..." She trailed off, looking around for clues. Derek shared a look with Emily who shrugged.
"Alright, nice talking with you, Bailey,"
"It's right in front of my face,"
"Oh, my god." Emily froze, her eyes wide, "it's the Dead Baby Bike Race,"
"Watch out!" Bailey grabbed the neurosurgeon's arm, pulling him back. Men on bikes raced past them, whooping and hollering, cars beeping at them. Men crashed into obstacles, groaning in pain as Emily huddled closer to Derek and Bailey. "Dr. Shepherd, watch out," As a man crashed near their feet, Derek jumped out of the way. "Watch out," They flailed around, probably looking idiotic but safe.
"And people wonder why men have a shorter life expectancy than women," Emily mused out loud, amusement upon her face.
.
"Fools on bikes killing themselves. Natural selection is what it is," Her resident muttered, annoyance laced through her tone.
"So what's up with the Nazi? Is she off her meds?" Alex asked, rubbing his jaw.
"You never heard of the race?" George asked in disbelief. Izzie hummed cheerily as she walked beside the brunette, Emily swinging her arms in her pockets. They passed the O.R. board, where Burke, the Chief, and Derek were standing. Relaying the message of the Dead Baby Bike Race to the staff, the Chief clapped his hands to emphasize his point as their group continued onwards to the elevators. Alex, still in confusion, glanced at them for an explanation. George launched forward to fill any of his questions, his friends filling in any details.
Shrugging off her lab coat, she threw it onto a hook. Grabbing a trauma gown, she tied it around her waist. "Don't you wonder why someone would name a bar something so disgusting?" Izzie asked incredulously, her face twisted in disgust. Cristina smiled, jabbing her fingers into her side.
"Keep your pants on, Nancy Drew," Izzie made an offending sound as Emily tied her neck tie with a few stumbles.
"The race is completely illegal and-"
"-crazy," Meredith finished for him, rolling her eyes. "A bunch of bike messengers racing against traffic, trying to beat each other for free shots of tequila,"
"All-out, no-holds-barred, competition sounds like fun," Alex said, unwrapping his trauma gown. Emily rolled her eyes, spinning him around and tying his trauma gown for him.
"Yeah, you'd think that. I bet it's pretty fun when you break bones too, huh? Race doesn't even have rules." She added, as George shook his head, tying his own neck tie.
"Except eye-gouging. No eye-gouging," He gestured clawing, as if digging his fingers into an eye. Laughing, the hazel-eyed woman smacked him lightly.
"We're gonna be trapped in the pit band-aiding idiots when we could be in the O.R." Cristina voiced crossly, turning to tie Meredith's trauma gown. They made a line of tying knots as Emily and Alex waited.
"What kind of people engage in a race that has, as its only rule, that you can't rip out the eyeballs of another human being?" George asked doubtfully, almost skeptically. Emily herself was doubting the men's intelligence as she slapped on a pair of gloves.
"Men, Georgie, men," Alex said superiorly, his hands on his hips. Emily sighed, having already enough of Karev for one day.
"Guess you're not a man, then," Emily snapped as their resident rounded the corner.
"I need someone to get up on the O.R. floor. The Chief needs a right hand." Every interns' hand shot up. Except Meredith's. Disappointment filled the air as George was picked. The resident explained trauma rules efficiently, as she did most things. She left with a warning, one most wouldn't follow. Running after her resident, she nearly tripped. A gurney rolled past them, a man bandaged around his abdomen and arm. Her eyes scanned his injuries eagerly as reached the pit. Emily and Cristina spotted a patient, Izzie hurrying after them, immediately disregarding Bailey's rules as Alex and Meredith charged for another. Patients just kept rolling in.
.
"Unidentified John Doe, mid thirties, pedestrian," Cristina reported as she handed Derek a scan. "Hit by a motorist swerving to avoid a bike. G.C.S 3, pupils fixed and dilated. Atropine given for a pulse in the forties. B.P one-eighty-three over one-twelve. Pulse ox ninety eight percent." Handing another scan to Burke, Cristina let Izzie present.
"Chest showed widened mediastinum and head C.T. revealed cerebral edema. He's gotten seventy of mannitol, dexamethasone ten, and a gram of phenytoin."
"Get him to the O.R.?" Cristina asked a bit eagerly as Burke turned to his fellow attending.
"Is he gorked?"
"Looks like it,"
With a solemn face, Burke turned to the interns. "The bike race claims its first victim. I'll make my triple-a repair after all," He added with a look at his watch.
"Uh, Dr. Shepherd, he's not going into the O.R.?" Glancing up, Derek shook his head minutely.
"No, do an E.E.G. and confirmatory tests. If he doesn't respond in six hours, declare him." He grabbed the clipboard, signing it quickly. Leaving with a quick glance at the body, he slid the pen back into his pocket.
"Declare him?" Izzie asked, unsure. "Declare him what?" Emily finally found her voice as she piped up.
"Brain dead," Sighing, she left the room, slamming the scans onto the waste bin. "Damn," She whispered to herself. Today was not starting out well.
.
"Absent corneal reflexes," Cristina informed them as she straightened. Izzie checked the time.
"It's been fifty-five minutes. If he doesn't respond to these tests in the next five hours, what? We're suppose to just stand here and watch him die?" She asked, disbelievingly. Emily's foot tapped on the floor, staring at her watch. It ticked, as it always did.
"We don't watch him die if he's already dead, Izzie. He's already gone," She inputted, interrupting Cristina who had opened her mouth to say something. Scoffing, Izzie looked over the clipboard.
"Technically, legally."
"Actually, Izzie. Actually dead."
"He's still breathing, he has a heartbeat." Izzie protested, glancing at the monitor.
"His E.E.G. shows no higher brain-function. He won't be the same person he was before," Emily murmured, grabbing her stethoscope and listening to his heart. "There's no one in there."
"Think like a doctor, Izzie," Cristina berated, crossing her arms. Izzie still remained defiant, staring at the John Doe's face.
"He could wake up. What about a miracle? There are medical miracles, you know." Moving her stethoscope, she glanced up at the blonde.
"I know. You're right. Miracles happen." A new voice cut in. Derek entered the room, "That's why we do a series of tests over a set number of hours," He walked to the bedside as Emily looked at him from the other side of the bed, "so when we call 'time of death', we know we've done everything to make sure," He cut off, nodding, "it's actually his time of death." He listened with his own stethoscope. Grabbing his flashlight, he raised his eyelids, "That there isn't going to be any miracles." Reaching for the chart, he was given it and signed it again.
"This is the hard part, isn't it? Being a surgeon and not cutting into him?" Emily asked, making Derek look at her. "When my brother said that being a surgeon isn't fun and games. We slice people open to make them better but right now? We can't. 'Do no harm.'" Nodding, Derek's eyes were downcast before flicking up to meet each of their gazes. Clicking his pen, he left.
"I wish he'd just go into the light already," Cristina muttered impatiently, "so I can get on another case," Izzie looked at her in masked shock and the black-haired woman met her gaze. "Oh, I'm the devil because I'd rather be in surgery, instead of standing watch over the death squad?"
"It's depressing," Emily said, holding onto the bed rails. She ignored Izzie's rambling of how this was a waste of life as Cristina finally understood.
"It'd be a waste of organs," The asian woman mistook the blonde's words, leaving.
"That's not what I meant," The intern mumbled. Nodding sympathetically, Emily squeezed her arm in consolidation.
.
"Hey," Emily nodded to Derek, who was signing a chart beside her. Giving it to the nurse behind the counter, he turned to her.
"Hey," She flipped through her own chart, sighing as she saw the E.E.G. results. John Doe wasn't going to wake up. "Aren't you suppose to be watching your John Doe?"
"Yeah. Izzie's sitting with him now." She closed the binder, thinking. "She's right. Izzie, I mean. He belonged to someone, he was alive this morning, maybe saying goodbye to his wife and kids. Next thing he knows is that he's hit because some guy on a motorcycle was trying not to hit another guy on a bike. Isn't that just, unfair?" She asked, rambling. Her hand gestures were frantic as she stared up at him.
"Guess that's how life is," He replied as her eyes stung. "Emily, it's alright,"
"What if it's one of us? If it was Noah? Or you?" She gasped, breathing hard. "I don't want to die alone, Derek. I don't," She told him, holding onto his coat. "No one deserves to die alone,"
"You won't," He promised, pulling her into a hug. "You aren't going to. I promise," Her ear pressed against his chest as she calmed, arms around his waist. Pulling back, she looked up at him, "Shh, it's okay," She untangled her arms, stepping back. Swiping at her cheeks awkwardly, she had her eyes downcast.
"Promise?"
"As long as you promise me," He returned, playfully with a hint of seriousness.
"'Course," She gave him a watery grin, turning to walk down the hall. Back to her John Doe. Cristina met her in a hallway.
"Hey,"
"Hey. Izzie's hell-bent on trying to find his family," Emily gave her a weird glance.
"I wouldn't want to die alone," The brunette remarked, rolling her eyes to stop tears from coming out again, "thinking everyone's abandoned you."
"Yeah, whatever. He's dead already. Bailey said if we get consent we can do a harvest surgery," That piqued her interest, distracting her.
"Really? But really, I mean-"
"Yeah, and shut up. You're turning into Izzie. I do not need a second Izzie."
"I am not a second Izzie,"
.
"Oh, my god," Emily cried as the tumor was removed. This was their fifth surgery tape and they were still going strong after Izzie had gone up, as Meredith grinned. "How heavy is that thing?" She asked, taking a swig of her beer.
"I remember watching this one," She started, voice tipsy, "Maybe five pounds, ten probably," The bottle was empty as she rested her head on George's shoulder who was struggling to stay awake. The tape ended as Dr. Grey closed the wound. The blonde stood, stumbling a bit to reach for the remote.
"Hey, Mer, maybe you should go upstairs. I've got it. George?" She prodded the brunet awake. He started, blinking blearily. "Go sleep in your bed, and maybe drag your roommate up with you," She gestured to Meredith who deflated in her couch. Watching them ascend, she held back a yawn, stacking their snack bowls and dropping them in the sink before collapsing on the couch, sleep immediately claiming her.