Shooting Stars

CHAPTER 76

Aria Grey barely noticed the ache in her feet as she leaned against the nurses' station, finishing up her post-op notes. The hospital was quieter now, the early morning lull settling in, but the weight of the past twelve hours clung to her. She rolled her shoulders, trying to shake it off, but the exhaustion was bone-deep—and she still had a mountain of paperwork waiting for her thanks to being Chief Resident.

"Aria!"

She looked up to see Meredith walking toward her, looking mildly exasperated as she shrugged off her coat.

"You never came home last night," Meredith said, stopping beside her. "I figured you crashed in an on-call room, but then I checked, and you weren't there."

Aria exhaled, rubbing her temples. "Yeah... long night."

Meredith raised an eyebrow. "How long?"

Aria glanced at the clock. "Been here since yesterday morning."

Meredith gave her a look. "And you're still standing?"

"Barely," Aria admitted, shutting her tablet.

Meredith folded her arms. "So, what happened?"

Aria leaned back against the desk. "Car wreck. Kid got pulled out. He was pinned between the front and back seat. Took us hours to get him stable enough for surgery." She shook her head, the image still fresh in her mind. "Shattered femur, collapsed lung, liver laceration... barely eight years old."

Meredith's face softened. "Is he okay?"

Aria nodded. "For now. But it was bad. Robbins and I were in there all night."

Meredith didn't say anything for a moment, just watched her. Then, she nudged Aria's arm. "And let me guess—you still have paperwork to do?"

Aria groaned. "Piles of it. I was supposed to finish up the resident evaluations last night, but instead, I was elbow-deep in a kid's abdomen."

Meredith smirked. "You're such a great role model."

Aria shot her a tired glare. "I hate you."

"No, you don't," Meredith said, linking her arm through Aria's. "Come on, coffee first. Then paperwork."

Aria hesitated, then sighed. "Fine. But if I fall asleep in my coffee, it's on you."

Meredith grinned. "I'll take my chances."

With that, they headed toward the residents' lounge, the weight of the night still lingering—but at least now, it wasn't hers to carry alone.

Aria sat at the table, surrounded by a mountain of paperwork, her pen moving swiftly as she filled out forms, scribbled notes, and signed off on evaluations. She barely noticed the passing time, her mind fixated on the tedious task at hand. She was so deep into her work that she didn't hear the footsteps approaching until Mark Sloan's voice broke the silence.

"Jackson's losing it," Mark said, leaning casually against the desk beside her. He was in his typical scrubs, looking annoyingly fresh for someone who had been working for hours.

Aria didn't even look up. "You're just noticing that now?"

Mark laughed, his grin widening. "I told him, 'Hey, best way to solve stress is to go home and screw it out of your system.'"

Aria looked up, raising an eyebrow at him. "That's your answer to everything, isn't it?" she quipped, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Mark's eyes twinkled with mischief. "You know I'm right. Sex is a great stress reliever," he said with a shrug.