Charlie Miller and Derek Shepherd are both neurosurgeons with massive egos, they constantly clash and argue in and out of the OR. The tension between them is very strong and disruptive for themselves and everyone around them. What happens when they...
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I followed Meredith down the corridor, her presence offering a comforting buffer against the raw ache in my chest. The vending machine stood like a forgotten sentinel in the corner, its fluorescent lights casting a garish glow on the linoleum floor. As we approached, a cacophony of options greeted us—sugary snacks and tepid beverages encased in plastic and metal.
Meredith fed a few coins into the machine, her fingers dancing over the worn buttons with practiced ease. With a mechanical whir, a paper cup dropped into the dispenser, steam curling from its lip. She handed it to me with a sympathetic smile, her gaze filled with unspoken understanding.
"Thanks," I murmured, taking a sip of the scalding liquid. The bitter taste of burnt coffee flooded my senses, a sharp contrast to the emotional turmoil swirling within me.
We found solace in silence, leaning against the corridor wall as the nursing home bustled around us. Visitors came and went.
"Were you visiting your mum?" I ask her, breaking the comfortable silence between us.
"Yeah, she had to sign some papers whilst she was lucid and for some reason, i had to be there too." She replied, sulking due to missing being at the hospital.
I remember being exactly like that when i was an intern, logging the most hours out of my entire fellow interns, never leaving the hospital, never getting a social life and not once did i think about quitting.
Meredith's frustration was palpable, her shoulders tense with the weight of responsibilities that pulled her in different directions. I could see a flicker of exhaustion in her eyes, a weariness that mirrored my own. We were both caught in the whirlwind of our respective worlds—hers in the legal intricacies of medical decisions, mine in the life-and-death gambles on the operating table.
"I get it," I said softly, placing a hand on her arm. "It's tough, juggling everything."
Meredith offered a wry smile, her gaze distant. "Tell me about it. Sometimes I feel like I'm running on fumes."
I nodded, the bond between us forged in the shared struggle to balance duty and personal well-being. The vending machine hummed behind us, a mechanical heartbeat that seemed to echo our own fatigue.
"We should take a break sometime," I suggested, a glimmer of determination seeping into my voice. "Get away from all of it."
"Where would we go?" She asks, entertaining the idea of actually leaving.
"I don't know, maybe St Lucia, i've always wanted to go there."
"Just relax on the beach the entire time." Meredith closes her eyes, almost acting as if she is there already.
We let the silence fall between us again, both imagining our hypothetical life in St Lucia and knowing that because we both love our work so much that we would never leave it.
