indecision [MERDER]

ONE

 - aka IRRATIONAL IGNORANT JACKASS -

Meredith Grey was a fucking badass. An insanely talented, no... world-class, double-board certified surgeon, badass, amongst other things. She was thinking about adding a cardio fellowship onto her repertoire, to get triple board certified, but that might have been a stretch, even for a person of her capability.

She operated on the worlds most challenging, intricate, demanding neurosurgery and general surgery cases, the best in the entire country in both of her specialties, and hadn't lost a patient in over two years. A whole two years with a zero percent mortality rate, that was unspeakable in her line of work, not so much as a general surgeon, but a neurosurgeon with a zero percent mortality rate in two years? It seemed like a joke, a non-truth, but one look at Meredith in the operating room could show you that it wasn't. No one else even came close to her, and for someone so young, she could become even better, she was becoming even better. She had no weaknesses - she was unstoppable, a fucking hurricane, a force of nature. 

She just didn't want to think about this day. She enjoyed living under her banner of avoidance, and this stupid fucking day threatened to ruin that. That day, she was operating on a complex butterfly glioblastoma, a rare, usually inoperable tumour found in the brain. 

Unless, of course, you had Meredith Grey as your surgeon. 

Other surgeons tended to flock from around the globe to see her in action, in her element, in the zone. You would never see her operate without a full gallery, especially if it was a rare or complex case. Everyone wanted to learn from the Meredith Grey, and she knew it. She liked to put on a show. Her intricate, delicate movements with a scalpel, like a dance, flawlessly removing one of the most aggressive tumours you ever see in the brain. She made it look easy, every time, and this easily captivated her crowds. 

That day, however, when she looked up into her gallery, she noticed a face. A face that had not dared to attempt to enter her gallery, her hospital, her fucking state, and for good reason, and when she locked her eyes on his ocean-blue ones, she felt like she had powerful lasers burning into his eyes. She wished he would disappear, right fucking now.

There was going to be absolute hell to pay if she caught him within a five foot radius of her when she'd finished this surgery. She snapped her entire focus back to the surgery immediately, staring her perfect, tumour-less brain, consuming herself in its every feature, so that she could avoid staring at him, the last neurones in her brain unfortunately lingering to his image. He looked exactly the same. If looks could kill... he'd be on the floor, suffering, dying the miserable, painful, alone death he deserved. 

"Dr. Grey, are we finished or is there something else?" Her resident asked, inquisitively, noticing her lack of movement with any surgical tool.

"You tell me, Dr. Landry. Is there something else? Were you even paying attention?" She bellowed, making the floor almost shake as her voice filled the OR.

"I... I was paying attention. I was definitely paying attention." He nodded and swallowed hard. Meredith Grey reaped fear into every one of her residents; they usually froze, stammered, cried, gulped. This Dr. Landry was no different.

"Then you should be able to tell me if there is anything else? Is there anything else?" She inquired, acid lacing her every word.

It may seem cruel, but this method of being hard on the residents worked on her, it made and sculpted her into the unbeatable surgeon she was today, so decided she employed it when teaching her residents, who might as well have had the same IQ points as a pot plant, the same number of functioning braincells as a brick. She had no idea how the best hospital in the country somehow had managed to wrangle these morons as interns. She groaned inwardly, knowing full well she wasn't this idiotic and thick-skulled as an intern.