AN: Happy 2016 everyone! I hope you're all having a great new year. I started writing this story in July (!) but grew stuck and discouraged. I literally just read over the chapters I wrote this morning and decided to go for it. The storyline may not be original (and it does have some whisperings of Scandal), but I had a good time writing what I have so far and I hope you'll all like it. I do have to say there is some medical jargon, etc. in here and I'm literally just guessing in some places. Please allow me to pre-apologize for anything I butcher.

Thank you in advance for any comments, reads, etc. I really appreciate it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Scandal meets Grey's Anatomy...sort of. Meredith Grey is the preeminent general surgeon at Georgetown University Hospital, so when the newly inaugurated President is shot, her job is to save him. Derek Shepherd is the first eligible bachelor in the White House since Cleveland in the late 1800s, a fact no press outlet can go without talking about. Meredith doesn't care about that because she has a job to do. Until one day...she does care.


"I, Derek Christopher Shepherd, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the constitution of the United States. So help me God."

The cheers begin in the distant crowd. A low-pitch sound, like a plane taking off ten miles away, moves through the National Mall. The camera stays tight on the newly inaugurated President. He's young, which is all anyone can talk about, but it's the truth. He wears a small, gratifying smile. He has no wife or children at his side—a first in many, many decades.

The Chief Justice of the United States holds out his hand and President Shepherd shakes it. The roar of the crowd is now deafening, but it sounds like the Chief Justus says congratulations and the President thanks him.

I extended my shift just long enough to see the new President sworn in, but now I'm exhausted and ready to be home in my own bed. I've been in the hospital for almost three days straight trying to make sure my residents don't kill their new interns or allow their new interns to kill my patients. I hate this time of year because as an attending, I should just work my shift and go home, but with so many infant doctors running around, a mistake is bound to happen.

As I turn down the hallway towards the attending lounge, I run into Cristina. "I'm going to shock you, but I like these interns."

I glare at her. "Are you mental?"

"Look, they're idiots and fetuses, but none of them back down. They're aggressive like little terrifying land sharks. My stupid resident, Clove—"

"Glover. Not Clove," I remind her for the hundredth time.

Cristina waves her hand in the air. "Whatever. She's an idiot. But she has these feral dog interns who will not take shit from her and it's amazing to watch. I feel a real kinship there. She assigned one to scut and the intern seriously fought her on it."

"That sounds far from amazing. Give me that intern for two seconds and she won't be questioning anything except which way to the nearest bed pan."

"Oh, badass Doctor Grey," Cristina teases.

"You should remember that my interns used to call me medusa."

"Of course. How could I forget? Anyway, I like them. They have spunk and I love watching my residents sweating themselves again. They've gotten too comfortable and complacent. They should be remembering that lives are on the line here."

We round the corner and I can see the attending lounge. I have visions of my own bed. I have visions of a bath and then my bed. Maybe something to eat, a bath, and then my bed. I have nearly twenty-four hours until I have to be back at work.

"I won't disagree with you there." I pause outside the door. "I'm going home because I'm exhausted from my residents trying to handle their idiot interns. Unless the world blows up, don't let anyone bother me. Bailey is here and I know she hasn't operated in a long time, but she'll be fine. Oh and—"

The elevator door opens opposite us with a rush of noise. A uniformed officer runs down the hallway with a walkie-talkie pressed to his mouth. His eyes are wild. He nearly knocks over a nurse, but she ducks out of his way before he accidently slams her down a flight of stairs. "Maniac!" she yells after him.

"Wonder what that's about," Cristina says, clearly interested and looking to follow the police officer.

"I don't know and don't care. I'll see you tomorrow."

Cristina heads after the officer. "See you."

The lounge is empty for three blissful seconds before Alex walks out of the bathroom. "I'd wait a minute before heading in there," he says crassly.

"I'm heading home. I'll use my own bathroom, thank you very much." I pull off my scrub shirt and toss it into my bag. I need to do laundry. That's definitely on the list for tomorrow morning before work.

"Heading home? You're weak Grey. Last year you stayed every day during the grunts' first week."

I kick off my shoes. "Last year I was young and impressionable."

"And now you're old," Alex says.

"Just as old as you are, Karev. I think I wear thirty-four better than you."

"You wish. See you—"

The door opens into Alex; the handle nailing him right in the stomach. He curses. One of the new interns, whom I can't remember the name of, stands in the doorway looking frantic. She's one of Doctor Foley's interns and as far as I've seen, one of the most incompetent. "Doctor Grey, I'm sorry to bother you—"

"Then don't. I'm going home."

"Next time, don't throw the fucking door open like that," Alex grumbles, rubbing his stomach.

The intern nods. "Sorry Doctor Karev."

Alex walks past her. "Good luck Mer. See you tomorrow."

I ignore the intern because to me, the conversation is over. I remove my watch from my wrist and put it in my cubby. I've never been a big fan of watches, but my mom bought it for me when I finished my internship and it has come in handy. I never wear it home, though.

"Doctor Grey?" the intern asks.

With a sigh, I turn to her. "What's your name again?"

"Elizabeth Shaw."

"Doctor Shaw, you are now officially bothering me. I've been here for three days to make sure you people don't kill anyone and now I'm tired. I'm going home. If you need something, go find your resident."

"I would, but Doctor Foley isn't here, ma'am."

"Don't call me ma'am."

Shaw nods. She's small and blond and reminds me of me. I didn't see it at the time, but during my first year, and especially my first few days, I always looked scared. I remember crying a lot that first year. I should give her a break because of this fact, but it makes me want to work her harder. "I'm sorry Doctor Grey, but I'm having trouble with a patient and I don't know what to do."

"I am not on schedule right now, Doctor Shaw. If your resident isn't here, go speak to the resident on-call."

"Doctor Bailey isn't answering my pages."

I sigh and tip my head back. "Doctor Bailey isn't a resident and she isn't who you call."

"I know, but Nurse Tyler said—"

"Fine. Okay? Fine." I pull my scrub top back on. "I'll help you, but I swear to God if the patient isn't dying I'm going to kill you." I tug my shoes on. "Lead the way."

Doctor Shaw walks quickly towards the recovery wing. "My patient, Mr. George, is complaining of abdominal pain, but he won't let me check. He says I'm too young and he wants the older doctor." I glance at her and her eyes go wide. "Not old. Just older. Than me. I mean—"

"Mr. George isn't your patient, Doctor Shaw, he's mine. I operated on him not two hours ago. None of these patients are yours. They're just in your care temporarily. And of course they don't want you touching them, but that's something you should've overcome yesterday. No, the day before. You have to make them feel comfortable and you'll do that with confidence, not by dragging an attending onto the scene."

I expect Shaw to make an excuse, but she says, "Yes Doctor Grey."

We reach Eli George's room and he's doubled over in pain. He's an older patient who had a appendectomy two hours ago. I glance at his chart quickly. "Mr. George, I hear you're in pain." He received morphine right after surgery.

"Oh good, it's you. I can't stand all these kids running around."

I walk to the edge of Eli's bed. I push his shoulders back until he's pressed to the mattress. "What seems to be the problem Mr. George?"

"It's killing me," he groans, pressing his hands over his incision site.

"Will you let me see?"

He removes his hands from his stomach. I lift up his gown and peel back the dressing, which is clear of blood so that's good. I already know what the problem with Mr. George is, but I understand how important bedside manner is, so I play the part. "The incision is clean and is barely enflamed, which is right on track." I press the dressing back in place. "Your incision looks good."

"But it hurts Doctor Grey."

I lift his chart, reading over his previous history. "I understand. And we don't want you in pain. Doctor Shaw, could you please give Mr. George another milligram of morphine. Do you think that'll work, Mr. George?"

The patient nods in three quick successions. "Thank you, doc."

I make a note on his chart. "Of course, Mr. George. I'm just going to have a quick word with Doctor Shaw and then she'll give you the dosage. Okay?"

"Yes, yes," he says breathless.

I nod my head and Doctor Shaw follows me. I hand the chart to the nurse behind the desk. "Mr. George will be getting another milligram of morphine. He will request another in an hour, but he can't have it. Understand?"

The nurse, named Erica, is very good at her job. "I understand."

I turn to Doctor Shaw. "Can you tell me what you read in Mr. George's chart?"

"Um," she starts and thinks. I wait patiently. "He only has one kidney?" she asks.

"Don't ask me. Tell me. What in Mr. George's chart can tell you what just happened?" Doctor Shaw says nothing and still looks to be thinking hard. "What do you know when a patient tells you they need more pain medication when they've already had a proper dose?"

"That they're in pain?"

"Stop asking me. Tell me."

"The patient is in pain." She sounds almost confident.

I nod, "Yes, but that's not what's happening here. What did you see in Mr. George's chart?"

"He has one kidney. He's diabetic. He's a addict."

"Exactly."

"He's a addict? What does that have to do with it?"

I open the chart to his medical history. There are rows and rows of pain complaints and medicine administered. "He's been to every hospital and clinic in the area complaining of pain. He came here two days ago and we ran tests and found out his appendix was about to burst. But he didn't actually feel that pain because he was going through withdrawal. He's a pill popper. The morphine we gave him, which was the correct dosage for his height and weight, isn't enough, which is why he's complaining."

"So he's not actually in pain."

I shake my head. "No, he is, just not from his surgery. His pain is real, very real. So you're going to go in there and give him another milligram, but as you heard me tell the nurse, you will not give him more until the correct time. He will ask and beg and probably try to go over your head, but you will not give him more."

"What happens when he goes over my head?"

"You give the chart to whoever shows up. They'll understand."

"That's it?" she asks.

"That's it. Now, I'm going home. If you have any other problems, page Doctor Yang." That'll show Cristina how idiotic these interns are. I begin walking down the hallway, but pause for a second. "And Doctor Shaw?" I ask over my shoulder.

"Yes?"

"You're a doctor. A surgeon. Start acting like one."

"Yes Doctor Grey," she says and then ducks into Mr. George's room.

I can already feel my bed beneath me. I can taste fresh pizza from the place down the street. I can feel the warmth of my bath. Over twenty hours to myself. I'll sleep eight of them and then have twelve to do nothing. Heaven. Incredible. I'm growing tired as I walk down the hallway. Five minutes until I'm in my car and another fifteen until I'm home.

Chief Webber walks out of the attending lounge looking both ways. He doubles back when he sees me. "Meredith." He's breathless.

"Hi Chief. I was just heading home."

"I need you."

"Can it wait? I've—"

"The President has been shot. One bullet is a through-and-through, but the other is lodged. I believe it's between the heart and the stomach, but we won't know until he's here. He's five minutes out."

I hear the words the Chief is saying, but none of them make sense. "President Obama?"

"No, the new President. Shepherd. Come on."

Richard takes me by the elbow and begins to drag me towards the elevator. "I was just watching him on TV. He was fine." If I say the words out loud, they'll make sense. They'll mean Richard isn't pulling me down to the ER because we wants me to operate on the President. Because I think that's what he means. Doctor Bailey is out of commission and my mom is in London. I am the best general surgeon in the hospital right now. Probably on the east coast. "I can't operate on him."

The elevator is moving too quickly. Richard turns to me. "You can and you will."

"Why can't you do it? You're better than me!"

"I just had eye surgery Meredith, you know I can't do it. You're going to be fine. It's a routine GSW to the chest. You've done this surgery a dozen times."

We're just one floor away. "There is nothing routine about a single GSW. You know that. This is the President of the United States. He was just inaugurated twenty minutes ago! I can't do this."

Richard takes me by my shoulders. He seems a million miles taller than me. "You can do this and you will. You're an incredible surgeon. You're your mother's daughter. You have all her talent and Ellis Grey would never shy away from this. You can do this, Meredith."

I feel my hands shaking already. The elevator doors open. "I can do this," I whisper, but it sounds flat.

The ER is nearly empty except for two men in black suits who look very official. Richard grabs me by the elbow and the two of us walk towards the men. "This is Doctor Grey. She'll be operating on President Shepherd when he arrives. What's the ETA?"

"Forty seconds," the older of the two says. He's staring at me. "You look like you're going to be sick," he says. I can tell he's trying to be commanding, but I hear a waver of fear in his voice. He's a secret service agent. I can tell by the suit and the grimace and the earpiece in his left ear.

"I just learned the President has been shot."

His demeanor breaks for a second. He's probably been protecting the President for only thirty minutes, but I can tell he feels responsible. The other agent also looks like he's trying to hold it together. They're strong, brave men who would allow themselves to die to protect the President, but in this moment, they just look like two guys who have seen someone they care for shot before their eyes.

"Can you do this?" The older one asks.

The Chief is right. I'm the only one who can. "Yes," I say and I sound confident.

"Good," he says. "I'm Secret Service Agent Grant, SSA Grant, and this is SSA Toby. We will be in the room with you while you operate."

"Fine, but you don't approach my operating table. If the machines start making noise or I say anything that might make you want to step in, don't. I will have total control in my OR. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Grant says. Toby also says yes.

I turn to the Chief. "I want you in the room, even if you can't operate. And I want Cristina. If it's close to the heart, I'll need her. No gallery and no residents or interns."

"Everything is covered Meredith."

Just then I hear the ambulance sirens and I run out the side door and into the entrance to the ER. It's raining, but it wasn't minutes ago. The universe is officially fucking with me. The ambulance backs in and the doors fly open. I can barely focus on the man on the gurney before the EMT begins. "Thirty-nine year old male with multiple gun shot wounds to the chest. One in the lower right quadrant was a through-and-through. One entered just beneath the ribs. Tests in the field say all organs are in tact. The patient lost consciousness six minutes after being shot, but remains stable. Patient name…" the EMT pauses.

I'm given a minute to take everything in. The President is lying on a gurney with blood seeping through his white shirt. His jacket has been removed and most of his shirt cut away. He has no shoes on, but I have no idea why or why I notice. "Patient name is Derek Shepherd," I say and take charge of the gurney. Richard runs along with me.

"OR two is available and is being prepped. I had Cristina paged and Bailey, because I think you can use all the support possible."

I glance at Richard across the gurney. He nods just once. "You'll be fine."

We all descend on the operating room. The team preps the President while Cristina, Richard, Miranda, and I scrub in. None of us say anything. We stare forward and watch while our Commander and Chief is hooked up to oxygen, anesthesia, and a heart rate monitor. Someone turns on a portable x-ray machine and I see the bullet on the screen. Cristina sees it, too.

"It's nowhere near the heart."

I feel relieved. "I still want you in there."

Cristina dries her hands. "I know." She heads into the OR. Richard gives me one last look and heads in, too.

Bailey dries her hands. She's had a rough go of it lately, losing four patients to a fluke. She was sick and she exposed the patients to a dangerous pneumonia. She hasn't operated in months, but I think most of it has been decided by herself.

"This should be your surgery," I tell her. She's my mentor and has guided me since I was an intern.

Doctor Bailey shakes her head. "I taught you well, Grey. Just don't mess up in there."

I'm the last to enter the operating room. SSA Grant and Toby are standing along with wall with two more agents who look grim. I approach the table. I've never been so nervous in my entire life. I close my eyes for a second and take a deep breath. When I open them, everyone is looking at me. I need to say something. "This man is a patient in this room, not the President. We will all work quickly to save him, but no one in this room will be sloppy. If you see something of concern, tell me, but we won't be making mistakes today. It's a beautiful day to save lives. Let's have some fun."

I look across the room to SSA Grant and he nods. He believes.

"Ten blade."