Belong

~Fourteen~

Doctor Bailey and I are operating on Claire, and let's just say, it's very interesting.

  Bailey muttered with fascination, "handle with care. This thing's..." she trailed off, and I grabbed Claire's bowel once Bailey handed it to me.

  "Full of gunk, I know," disgust was portrayed through my tone.

  I've seen it on the show, but I've never thought I would be doing this.

  "We need to free the bowel from the adhesions caused from the abscess. This poor girl. What was she thinking?" Bailey said in disbelief.

  "She wants her mother's approval. She wanted to please her." I shrugged, she reminds me of Meredith who wanted her mom's approval when she was a teenager.

  "And this damage is the result? Here, resect that." She said incredulously, her eyes landed on mine.

  I handed the bowel back to Bailey, not able to handle seeing the gunk.

  "When you're done here, you have post-ops waiting." She reminded me.

  I nodded, Bailey continues, "Cristina's got the flu. So, you need to pick up the slack in clinic."

  I sighed, "Look, I'll mop the floors, okay?" When she glared at me, I muttered my apology, "sorry, that was inappropriate." I winced.

  "It's not the only thing that's inappropriate." She muttered under her breath, "While we're on the subject, you care to tell me what you think you're doing?" She looked at me, dead in the eyes.

  My heart stuttered, "I honestly don't know, but what I do with my life, is none of your business."

  "Half this hospital knows your business. Flu isn't the only virus spreading around here." Bailey huffed.

  I rolled my eyes, "I made a choice, and I know you don't respect me for that choice. But I'll live with the consequences."

  Before she could say anything else, Claire's bowel bursted.

  I looked at Bailey who's covered in toxic waste from the bowel, it was supposed to be me, not Bailey.

  It's better than me.

  Bailey glared at me, "Okay, Doctor Grey,
now that I've drained the organ, we can attempt to repair it."

  I smiled.

~-B-~

   I sighed once I got fresh but stale air from the hallway along with Bailey.

  "I need a shower, especially after I got the smell off of you." My voice shows disgust, and Bailey huffed.

  "I need a shower. You need to go tell that girl's parents what kind of kid they're getting back." She mumbled, and I jerked my head towards her.

"You're not going to let me shower first?" I asked incredulously.

  "That would be a hoop, would it not?" She smirks.

  I countered, "It would qualify." I stared down at her.

  "Shower first, then." She sighed.

  I went into interns' locker room, and spotted Izzie and Cristina.

  Izzie wrinkles her nose, "ew, what is that smell."

  I looked at her, "My patient's insides, it sprayed all over Bailey, then the smell just stick onto me." I shrugged.

  "That makes me strangely happy."
I looked at her confused, and Cristina looked like she was going to throw up.

  "Oh my god, you smelled like..." she groaned, and Izzie chirped, "karma."

  "Stand over there," Cristina groans again.

  "Izzie, what does karma has to do with anything?" I asked confusedly.

  She shrugged, "I'm just saying, you've been given all the best surgeries. And now you smell like putrid goo. And you're giving off a stench. Karma's a bitch."

  She knows about Derek. I don't know whether or not to laugh at her or bitch at her.

  Before I could say anything, Bailey came into the room, "Doctor Shepherd needs an intern in surgery. Which one of you is clear?"

  "I'm good, Dr. Bailey, where do you want me?" Of course, Cristina is wanting to do surgery despite her sickness...morning sickness. "You aren't doing anything, lay down," Bailey snapped at her.

  I didn't say or do anything, and Bailey asked me, "Grey?"

   Izzie scoffs, "of course." I abruptly turned around to face her.

  "What the hell is your fucking problem?" I snapped, tired of dealing with this. And Izzie.

  "Um, you! Cause apparently you can help Doctor McDreamy in ways the rest of us can't."

  I stood there gaped, "excuse me? What did you just say?"

  "You heard me!"

   Bailey told Cristina to go scrub in with Derek, then Izzie left.  Bailey looked at me, and I glared at her before she said anything.

~-B-~

   I approached Claire's parents, "We were able to reverse the gastric bypass, but we did lose a significant portion of her bowel. And because of the short gut syndrome, Claire will never eat normally again."

  Mr. Rice looked at me, suddenly sad, and tired. "Okay, wait, do...? How do we help her here?" He asked frustrated.

  "Well, getting proper nutrition will be a lifelong problem for Claire." I stared, then Mrs. Rice huffed loudly.

  "Great, as if we already don't have our hands full with her." She snapped, and I interrupted her hastily, "She gets good grades. She stays out of trouble. She's smart."

  "But," Mr. Rice looked at me, and I sighed, "I just think she feels like nothing she does is good enough for you." I said bluntly as I could be.

  "If you somehow think that I'm responsible for this..." Mrs. Rice almost said in a threatening tone, and I snapped at her.

  I know you are responsible for her well-being.

  "I think Claire is killing herself to please you." I glared at her, she looks offended.

  Geez, what a bitch.

  "Oh, please. You have no idea what's going on in that girl's mind." She scoffed then looks at her husband.

  I muttered, "you're her mother. She worships the ground you walk on. She didn't do this for herself." I grimaced, and she looked like she will attack me.

  "I think that this situation is completely..." Mrs. Rice started to say before she got interrupted, "Tina, shut up." He muttered, then he turned around, and walked away from us.

~-B-~

  "Did you fix me?" Claire asked me while I was wheeling her down the hallway.

  "No, not completely." I said while looking at the top of her hair.

  "So, I won't get fat?" She questioned, and I sighed.  I know how she feels about it, cause I was once that girl. 180 pounds on 5'6"girl isn't all that great, not bad looking, but not great either.

  I lost a lot of pounds by drinking milk. Didn't know how I did it, but it eventually became part of my daily meal life.

    "No," and she smiled slightly, "awesome."

  "Claire, I've asked social services to contact your parents."

  "Why?"

  "They can help you," I glanced at few nurses who was gossiping like bunch of high schoolers.

  "With what?" She asked, fiddling with her fingers.

  "You don't know this yet, but life isn't supposed to be like this. It's not supposed to be this hard." I feel like I was talking to myself more than her.

  The sad part about this, this is hard for me to be someone else's life whose isn't supposed to mine.