𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐗 ━━ 𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐝

fifty six | george

"You know, something's going on with George."

"What?"

The trio is back: Cristina, Meredith, and I stand side by side at the nurses' station near the large window, providing a scenic view to the staff and patients.

"Owen hugged him. They were happy." Cristina frowns in disdain.

"Well, we don't hug when we're happy."

"Let me give you a chance to be happy then." It takes everything in me not to spit it out. "Derek and I are getting married. Today. In city hall. Just me and him, quick and dirty."

"That's what she said."

". . .I'll let that slide."

Simultaneously, Cristina and Meredith dig into the various pockets of their white coats, pulling out random items.

"This is my grocery list — you have your old."

"Fresh pack of gum — that's your new."

"This is my favorite pen, I want it back — borrowed."

"And it's blue, so you're covered."

My eyes narrow, and I look between the two. "According to C, if we were George and Owen, we would hug right now."

"Settle for a handshake?"

"Agreed. Couldn't have said it better myself."

Soon, a severe bus accident victim arrives at the hospital, followed by a young woman with a laceration on her arm.

"He saved my life. The bus was gonna hit me, he threw me out of the way. It was supposed to be me under the bus. He's all alone, and I don't even know who he is."

The woman cries out tearfully as she watches him through the window.

"Um, okay. I'm gonna take you to a curtain area where you're not facing that particular room."

I grab a suture kit on the way to the curtain area and situate her. A few stitches pass by before she says anything again.

"Do you think he's gonna make it?" Her gaze follows the movements of the needle.

"Hopefully, yes." I nod my head in slight assurance.

"He really has to make it."

"There's a chance he will."

The next time I see the others, it's at lunch where Meredith's inhaling a turkey sandwich and Cristina's judging her rather obviously.

Alex soon joins us with a plate of the saddest piece of meatloaf — one to match the gloomy look on his face.

"How's Izzie? Is she retaining anything?"

"No."

Callie and Bailey approach our table hastily.

"Okay, uh, at 6:00 P.M., your idiotic colleague George O'Malley will finish his surgery with the chief."

"And at 6:00 P.M., you will be standing beside us in the O.R. hallway, prepared to join in an intervention."

"What polite company might call an intervention — thought I'm not sure interventions involve whooping people on the behind with a belt."

"What, he's got a drinking problem now?"

"He joined the army."

"What?"

Cristina and I seem to be the only ones startled by the onset of news.