Yeah crappy title, it doesn't quite work as well as Grey's anatomy, since as far as I'm aware there is no medical textbook named after our dear Quinn. But title's are hard okay?
Disclaimer: It's all Ryan Murphy and Shonda Rhimes. Seriously, most of the dialogue is stolen straight from Grey's episodes.
Also, anything in bold and italics, is the voice over from the episode. Hopefully it isn't confusing.
The game. They say either a person has what it takes to play, or they don't. My mother was one of the greats. Me, on the other hand...I'm kinda screwed.
The first thing she feels as she wakes up is the cool air of the room against the exposed skin on her back. The sun beaming in through the window already hurts her head and she hasn't even opened her eyes yet, her mouth feels rough and dry, as it usually does in the aftermath of too much tequila.
'Getting drunk the day before your first 48 hour shift as a surgical intern, you are such an idiot Quinn Fabray' She thinks to herself as she finally feels brave enough to face the sunlight, she opens her eyes. Blinking heavily a few times. Everything's a little blurry at first, and it suddenly dawns on her how incredibly naked she is right now beneath the blanket slug loosely around her waist. She pulls it up a little to cover her chest, as she rolls onto her back and thinks back to try and remember the night before.
Okay so she went to the meet and greet for the first year interns...that guy with the bleach blonde hair kept talking to her and attempted to flirt...She got bored and left pretty quickly...went to the nearest bar...and then...
She looks to her left, and finally spots the long brown hair poking out for underneath a blanket on the ground.
Right that's what happened. She went to the nearest bar. Met the hot little brunette. They had drinks. They laughed. They flirted. They came back here and...Fucked all night.
Her thoughts from the night before are cut short when she hears a groan coming from the brunette, as she stirs. Quinn holds her breath, somewhat hoping if she stays as still as possible the other girl might not even notice her there. She watches as the brunette picks her head up, looking around herself in confusion, lifting the black bra off the floor in front of her.
She blearily looks towards Quinn with a small smile as she holds up the bra, "This...is...?"
Quinn makes a grab for her bra, smiling awkwardly "...Humiliating. On so many levels. You have to go." Making her way around the room grabbing the clothes from the floor.
The brunette sits up, smirking, "Why don't you just come back down here and we can pick up where we left off?"
Quinn tightens the blanket around her, as she hands the other girl her clothes, fighting off a smile at her flirty tone. "No. Seriously. You have to go. I'm going to be late. Which really isn't what you want to be on your first day of work, so...?"
The shorter girl nods her head, but ploughs on with an attempt at conversation, "So, ah, you actually live here?" she asks as she looks around the spacious living room.
"No." Quinn responds almost instantly.
"Oh." The girl replies, furrowing her brow slightly confused.
"Yes." Quinn winches at her contradictory answers. "Kind of." She finally settles on.
"Well it's nice. Little dusty, odd. But it's nice." The other girl replies, nodding her head as she takes another look around the multitude of boxes haphazardly strewn around the room "So how do you kind of live here?"
"I moved here two weeks ago from New Haven, this was my mother's house. I'm in the process of selling it." Quinn answers as she tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
"Oh, I'm sorry." The brunette replies, sounding genuinely sympathetic.
"For what?" the blonde asks, tilting her head to the side in confusion.
"You said was..."
"Oh!" Quinn eyes widen in realization "My Mother's not dead. She's...You know what? We don't have to do the thing."
"We can do anything you want." The brunette smirks, before sliding her dress on over her head
"No. The thing, the exchanging details, pretending we care. ..Look I'm going upstairs to shower, okay? And when I get back down, you won't be here, so...um...Goodbye...um..." she trails off racking her brain for the name of the person stood in front of her.
"Rachel." the girl says slowly as she grins, reaching out her hand towards the blonde.
The blonde gives...Rachel, a tight smile. Taking the proffered hand in hers to shake. "Rachel. Right. Quinn."
"Quinn." the shorter girl repeats, almost to herself with a soft smile on her face. "Nice meeting you" she says as she moves closer to the blonde, keeping a hold of her hand.
Quinn shakes her head, untangling her hand and blushing as she mumbles a soft "Bye Rachel." Before fleeing up the stairs, away from the awkward encounter with her one night stand, to get ready for her first day.
Luckily for Quinn she manages to not be late for her first day. She enters the locker room moments before a tall, older woman with short blonde hair walks in. Dr. Sue Sylvester, Quinn recognized her immediately, not only is she the Chief of Surgery at Seattle Grace but she was also an old and dear friend of her mothers.
The Chief takes them on a tour of the surgical wing of the hospital, and even as Dr. Sylvester gives them the introductory speech of how the hospital works, Quinn can't help but look around in awe as they enter one of the operating theaters.
It's here that The Chief stops to deliver the most important part of what she has to say. She stands off to the side, arms folded across her chest as she looks at each of the interns intently.
"Each of you comes here hopeful. Wanting in on the game. A month ago you were in med school, being taught by doctors. Today, you are the doctors. The seven years you spend here as a surgical resident will be the best and worst of your life. You will be pushed to breaking point. Look around you. Say hello to your competition. Eight of you will switch to an easier specialty. Five of you will crack under the pressure. Two of you will be asked to leave. This is your starting line. This is your arena. How well you play? That's up to you."
The interns all look to the chief, the tone of her speech suggesting it as more of a warning to each of them of the hardships that awaits them that anything else and the serious look on her face indicates she really means business.
Like I said. I'm screwed.
After the tour around the hospital from Chief Sylvester, the interns are all sent back to the locker room to get changed into their scrubs before being assigned to their resident. Quinn begins to change into her scrubs quickly, her locker right next to a gorgeous Latina intern, who's busy pinning back her head in a tight ponytail.
"Only six women out of twenty." The blonde notices as she glances around the locker room.
The Latina looks over at Quinn, eyeing her carefully as if gauging whether she's worth talking to or not, in the end she nods her head before replying, "Yeah. I hear one of them is a model. Seriously, like that's going to help with the respect thing?" she says shaking her head, before stopping and taking another hard look at Quinn, "Wait it's not you is it?"
Quinn quirks an eyebrow half in surprise, half in amusement, "No, it's not me. You're Santana, right?"
Santana nods her head, her face relaxing slightly, "Which resident you assigned to? I got Beiste."
"The Nazi? Yeah, me too."
The blonde guy, who Quinn barely remembers from last night, pipes up from across the locker bay "You got the Nazi? So did I. At least we'll be tortured together, right? I'm Sam. Sam I am; and I don't like green eggs and ham." He finishes with what Quinn assumes is meant to be a charming smile.
"Oh. Wow. He has no game" Santana whispers to Quinn, who has to stifle a giggle as Sam awkwardly makes his way towards them, trying to untangle his stethoscope to place around his neck.
He stops just short of Quinn, smiling at her as he continues, "We, uh. We met at the mixer; you had a black dress with a slit up the side, strappy sandals..."
Quinn looks towards Santana who has her eyebrows raised and they share a look of disbelief and how awkward the blonde boy seems to be.
"And now you think I'm gay." He finishes glumly.
Santana looks to Quinn in amusement before replying, "Uh-huh, sure do Trouty Mouth"
He ignores Santana's jibe and continues to talk to Quinn "No, I'm not gay, it's...ah...just that, you know...you were, I mean you were very unforgettable."
As Sam's talking a Doctor arrives at the door and calls out "Evans, Fabray, Lopez, and Pierce." Quinn quickly begins to move away more focused on meeting her resident than making small talk.
"And I'm totally forgettable" Sam mumbles dejectedly as both Quinn and Santana brush past him without so much as a second look.
Santana is the first to reach the Doctor by the door, "Beiste?"
"End of the hall." Is the curt reply she gets from him as he points vaguely in that direction.
The group all follow where he points, and find a tall, heavy set woman with short dark hair, who's currently smiling softly with one of the nurses. It's Santana who first speaks up, "That's the Nazi?"
"I thought the Nazi would be a dude." is Sam's first response as they begin to make their way towards her.
"Maybe it's like professional jealousy. Maybe she's brilliant, and they call her the Nazi because they're jealous. Maybe she's nice." a tall skinny blonde contemplates as she comes to walk with them.
Santana raises an eyebrow at the tall blonde: "Let me guess. You're the Model."
The girl turns to Santana with a bright smile, her blue eyes shining in surprise. "How did you know? Are you like psychic or something?" her attention quickly averts back to Dr. Beiste, still smiling as she extends her hand. "Hi! I'm Brittany S. Pierce, but everyone just calls me Brittany."
Beiste looks her up and down, not bothering to respond or shake the offered hand.
"I have five rules. Memorize them. Rule number one," She begins once the group of interns reach her. "Don't bother sucking up; I already hate you, that's not going to change." She points to a collection of things sitting on the nurse's station. "Trauma protocol, phone lists, pagers. Nurses will page you; you answer every page at a run. A run! That's rule number two. Your first shift starts now and lasts forty-eight hours. You're interns, grunts, nobodies, bottom of the surgical food chain, you run labs, write orders, work every second night till you drop and don't complain!" She opens a door leading to a room with some bunk beds. "On call rooms. Attendings hog them; sleep when you can, where you can, which brings me to rule number three; if I'm sleeping, don't wake me, unless your patient is actually dying. Rule number four, the dying patient better not be dead when I get there, not only would you have killed someone, you would have also woke me for no good reason, we clear?" she finishes looking to each of her interns.
Quinn raises her hand timidly.
Beiste looks at her "Yes?" she asks in a bored tone.
"You said five rules. That was only four." Quinn states slowly.
Just as she finishes Beiste's pager beeps, she looks down at it quickly before looking back up at her group of interns.
"Rule number five. When I move, you move." She takes off quickly, running down the corridor as all the interns rush after her.
It's almost seven hours into their shifts before the interns finally get a chance to grab some food. Sam sets his tray of food down next to Brittany, who seems to be staring at her sandwich with a look of almost horror on her face.
"You should eat something, 48 hour shifts are marathons not sprints. Eat." He states kindly to her.
"You try eating something after performing seventeen rectal exams. The Nazi hates me." She finishes as she looks glumly at her sandwich.
Just then Santana comes waltzing up to them dropping her tray down onto the table and plopping down in the chair opposite. "Did you guys know Quinn is inbred?"
"Like it's uncommon around here to be a doctor's – "Sam's sentence is cut short when Santana interrupts him,
"No, I mean like royally inbred. Her mother is Judy Fabray."
"Shut up. The Judy Fabray?" Brittany asks, her eyes wide with astonishment, as Santana nods her head to confirm her statement, while Sam just looks confused.
"Who's Judy Fabray?" he asks around a mouthful of pasta.
The two girls turn to look at him like he has two heads and laugh. It's Santana who recovers first to answer him. "Seriously Guppy? The Fabray method? Where'd you go to med school, Mars?"
"She was one of the first big chick surgeons. She practically invented the Abdominal Laparotomy." Brittany continues before Santana takes over again.
"She's a living legend. She won the Harper-Chang . Twice!" The brunette finishes, looking at Sam in disgust.
"So I didn't know one thing." Sam shrugs, trying to brush it off.
"God I would kill to have Judy Fabray as a mother. Scratch that I'd kill to be Judy Fabray." Santana muses. Just as she finishes Quinn makes her way to their table, and joins them.
"Katie Bryce is a pain in the ass. If I hadn't taken the Hippocratic Oath I'd Kevorkian with my bare hands." She huffs out in frustration. She was so busy ranting about her pain in the ass patient she didn't notice the looks of awe from the others at the table, until now. "What!?"
Before any of them can answer her, the chief cardiothoracic surgeon, Dr. David Martinez walks up to their table. He places his hands on his hips, smiling at them all, "Good afternoon interns. It's posted but I thought I'd share the good news personally." The four interns at the table look up at him, "As you know the honor of performing the first surgery is reserved for the intern that shows the most promise. As I'm running the OR today, I get to make that choice." He pauses and slaps Sam on the back. "Sam Evans." He says smiling.
"Me!?" Sam asks, clearly stunned.
"You'll scrub in for an appendectomy this afternoon. Congratulations." Dr. Martinez states, before turning and walking out of the cafeteria, leaving behind a group of stunned interns, and a very disgruntled looking Santana.
"Did he say me?" Sam asks dumbfounded.
Has Quinn mentioned how much of a pain in the ass her patient, Katie Bryce is? Sure Quinn feels bad for her, I mean being 16 and having unexplained seizures must be pretty traumatic. But the fact that the kid has been nothing but rude and obnoxious towards Quinn means her patience is wearing very thin with her. Thank God she's on sedatives right now, otherwise Quinn isn't sure she could take listening to the girl go on and on, about the beauty pageant she's missing anymore.
The girl's parents finally arrive, just as Quinn's checking her vitals. They begin to ask Quinn a flurry of questions, overwhelming her. "Well...um...you know what? I'm not the doctor. Um, I'm a doctor! I'm just not Katie's doctor. So I'll go get them for you now." She nods at the parents before turning to go look for Dr. Beiste.
Once she finds Beiste, she directs her that the new neuro attending, Dr. Schuester will be taking over Katie's care, and that Quinn should go find the intern he has looking after the case until he gets out of surgery, "Berry I think is the name, they're over there." Beiste finishes gesturing in the general direction of the main desk, before she walks off.
Quinn surveys the room, and begins to walk towards where Beiste gestured, before stopping in her tracks when she notices a familiar figure standing at the desk. The same long glossy brunette hair that was poking out from under a blanket on her floor this morning. She stands frozen in shock as Rachel, or Dr. Berry glances up from the chart in her hands, meeting Quinn's eyes for a split second before turning back to the chart. Her dark brown eyes quickly flicking up again, widening in recognition just as Quinn scurries back through the doors she just came through.
That's great Quinn, just great. Your uncomplicated, no strings, one night (and I'll never see you again) stand turns out to be another intern at your new job. Fuck my life...Is all Quinn can think to herself as she quickly makes her way along the corridor, planning to find somewhere she can gather her thoughts before returning to work. A soft but firm hand takes a hold of her upper arm,
"Quinn, can I talk to you for a second?" Rachel asks as she guides Quinn into an empty stairwell. When Quinn realizes there's no escape she decides to be as professional as she can.
"Dr. Berry." She greets curtly, as she turns around to face the brunette.
"Dr. Berry? This morning it was Rachel. Now it's Dr. Berry?" Rachel asks with a smirk.
Quinn sighs, because last night was suppose to be an uncomplicated stress- reliever before staring her first day as an intern, because really her life right now is complicated enough. "Dr. Berry, we should pretend it never happened."
"What never happened? You sleeping with me last night? Or you throwing me out this morning?" Rachel asks highly amused, "Because both are fond memories I'd like to hold onto." She finishes leaning into Quinn's personal space slightly.
"No!" Quinn states, taking a step back. "There will be no memories. We aren't the two girls meeting at the bar anymore. This -" She gestures between them "Can't exist. You get that, right?"
Rachel smirks, enjoying how riled up the blonde seems to be getting, and decides to push a little further, "You took advantage of me and now you want to forget about it."
"I did not take –"Quinn starts to protest but is interrupted by the smaller girl.
"I was drunk, vulnerable and good-looking and you took advantage." Rachel states in a rather dramatic manner.
Quinn can't help but smile at how ridiculously adorable the brunette is, regardless of how hard she fights it "Okay. I was the one who was drunk, and you are not that good-looking."
"Well maybe not today, not in these scrubs." Quinn almost opens her mouth to object, and let Rachel know just how good those scrubs look on her, but realizes that isn't going to help with keeping things uncomplicated.
"But last night?" Rachel continues "Last night I was very good-looking. I had on my red dress, my good-looking dress. You took advantage."
Quinn's jaw drops in indignation, "I did not take –"but she's again cut off by Rachel.
"You want to take advantage again?" She asks, taking a step closer to Quinn, who in turn takes a step back until she's pressed against the railing of the stairs, trapped by Rachel's body, "Say Friday night?" she asks, her eyes dropping to Quinn's lips.
Quinn notices where Rachel's focus is, and subconsciously licks her lips, her resolve slowly wavering; she shakes her head, building back her resolve and answers with a very definite sounding "No!" but she can't help how her voice softens when she stares into those dark brown eyes "We're interns. We can't complicate things. I have a job to focus on and..." She loses her train of thought as she follows the brunette's eyes as they flick between Quinn's eyes and her lips "Stop looking at me like that!"
"Like what?" Rachel asks innocently.
"Like you've seen me naked!" Rachel just smirks at that and looks like she's about to open her mouth and say something but Quinn continues quickly "Dr. Berry! This is inappropriate. We're going to be working together. Has that ever occurred to you?" She doesn't even give Rachel a chance to answer as she leaves quickly.
"Wait a second!" Quinn turns back quickly making her way back to a confused yet still amused brunette in three strides. "If you're an intern how come I didn't see you at the mixer last night? Or this morning for the introductory session with the Chief?" she notices something flash through brown eyes but before she has a chance to question it Rachel's speaking.
"Dr. Schuester's an old friend of the family. When he found out I was accepted onto the program he offered me the chance to start a little earlier, working under him in order to gain a little insight into how the hospital works. I've really just been doing his post-ops for the past month. But I got to know the hospital pretty well so I didn't feel the need to attend the introductory session this morning. Plus Chief Sylvester kind of terrifies me, and I like to spend as little time around her as possible. And well...as for the mixer, I was going to go. But I um...I'm not so great with social occasions with large numbers of people. So I decided to have a few drinks at a bar to calm my nerves, and well then I met you and... I just never made it to the mixer in the end." She finishes with a firm nod of her head, content that she covered each of Quinn's questions sufficiently.
Quinn on her part just gapes at her for a few seconds, trying to take on that mother lode of information. "Well, okay then...Katie Bryce's parents have questions, can you go answer them or like get Dr. Schuester too?"
"Well, okay then." Rachel mocks, sending the blonde a filthy wink before brushing past her, back out to the corridor again. While Quinn just stands there blushing, and thinking how screwed she is.
A couple of hours later, Quinn walks up to the observation deck, to watch Sam perform his appendectomy. She takes a seat next to Santana on the front row.
"He's going to faint. He's a fainter." One of the interns behind her comments.
"Nah code brown. Right in his pants." Another sniggers.
"He's all about the flop sweat. He's going to sweat himself unsterile."
"10 bucks says he messes up the McBurney."
"10 says he cries." Comments Santana.
"Guys that's mean. That's one of us down there. The first one of us. Where's your loyalty?" Brittany says frowning sadly from her seat behind Quinn. All the interns stare at her for a beat, before Quinn pips up.
"50 says he pulls the whole thing off." She says smiling back at Brittany, showing her support, earning a grateful smile from the other blonde. Everyone's quite for a few moments.
"75 says he can't even I.D the appendix." Santana says slyly with a smirk. Quinn really can't do anything else but roll her eyes at the Latina. As Sam takes hold of the scalpel to begin the surgery the whole gallery cheer loudly for him.
The first half of the surgery goes great, and Quinn's relieved that the first intern to fly solo in surgery is actually pulling it off. She's excited at the prospect of it one day being her holding the scalpel in her hand and making her first cut. However she's abruptly brought out of her day dream by the monitors beeping from the operating theater as the patients BP starts to drop, and Sam panics, causing Dr. Martinez to push him to one side and take over the surgery. The whole observation deck sits silently. The realization of what they all have a head of them sinking in.
"007." a voice breaks through the silence. Quinn turns to the owner of the voice and is met with a tall, dark haired guy with a god awful Mohawk, smirking cockily and leaning against the wall.
"Yep, total 007" another intern agrees.
"What's 007 mean?" Brittany whispers, leaning forward to ask Quinn.
Quinn looks down glumly at the operating theater, "License to kill."
By hour 19 of her shift Quinn finds herself sitting with Santana, Brittany and Sam in a deserted hallway in the basement of the hospital, with spare hospital beds lining the walls.
"They're calling me 007 aren't they?" Sam asks despondently.
Brittany reaches over and pats his head, but all 3 girls choose to remain silent instead of telling him the truth.
"I was in the elevator, Murphy whispered 007 and everyone laughed." Sam continues.
Santana stands up and paces in front of them "Oh how many times do we have to go through this Trouty? Five? Ten? Give me a number. Otherwise I'm gonna hit you." She glares threateningly at the blonde boy.
He wisely chooses to keep his mouth shut, but as soon as the brunette looks away he whispers "He called me 007 and everyone laughed."
Brittany smiles sympathetically at him, "He wasn't talking about you."
"Are you sure?" Sam asks hopefully.
"Would we lie to you?" Quinn asks.
"We'll I've only known you for like 19 hours, so maybe?" is Sam's reply.
"007 is a state of mind." Santana makes an attempt at being compassionate.
"Says the girl who finished first in her class at Stanford." Sam responds.
The conversations interrupted by the sound of a pager. Each intern checks their own quickly before looking up to see whose it is. Quinn is sat staring at her pager for a few seconds, "Oh man. It's 911 for Katie Bryce." she looks up at her friends, with slightly panicked eyes. "I have to go!" she says as she jumps up and runs towards Katie's room.
"Maybe I should have gone into geriatrics. No one minds when you kill an old person." Sam muses as he watches Quinn run off.
Santana walks back to the hospital bed and plops herself down. "Oh shut up. Surgery is hot. It's the marines. It's macho. It's hostile. It's hardcore. Geriatrics is for freaks that live with their mothers and never have sex."
Sam stands up and begins to walk off, quietly muttering to himself, "I've got to get my own place."
Quinn can't remember the last time she's ran so fast, as she barges through the door to Katie Bryce's room. However instead of seeing a bed surrounded by nurses and doctors trying to revive a patient or stop a seizure, she's met with Katie sitting in her bed, magazine in hand looking bored, but completely alive and well.
"Took you long enough"
"You're okay? The nurse pages me 911"
"Yea I had to go like all exorcist on her to get her to pick up the phone." Katie says looking slightly smug that her plan worked.
"So there's nothing wrong with you?"
"I'm bored."
"You little..." Quinn starts, but takes a deep breath through her nose, counting back from 10 to control her temper. "I'm a doctor. Not a cruise director." she eventually grits out.
"You don't have to wig out. Look the pageants suppose to be on cable, but this crappy hospital doesn't get the channel. If that cow Kylie Wood is gonna walk off with my crown, I have to see it. Can you like call someone?"
"No!" Quinn says exasperated. "This is an actual hospital. Full of sick people. Go to sleep and stop wasting my damn time."
"But I can't sleep. My head's all full." Katie pouts, not seeming to have taken on board anything Quinn had to say.
"It's called thinking. Go with it." Quinn suggests before walking out of the room, to take care of her other patients.
While Quinn's standing at the nurse's station in the surgical ward, going through each of her patients files, making sure all her paper work is correct, she hears the familiar cocky tone of the guy with the Mohawk from earlier.
"4B's got post-op pneumonia. Let's start antibiotics."
"Are you sure that's the right diagnosis?" the nurse asks the intern.
"Gee I don't know, I mean I'm only an intern. Here's an idea, why don't you go and spend four years at med school and let me know if it's the right diagnosis. She's short of breath, she's got a fever, she's post-op. Start the antibiotics." He says abruptly turning and walking over to the desk Quinn's currently working on. "God I hate nurses. I'm Puck by the way. I'm with Jeremy, you're with the Nazi, right?" he asks leering at Quinn.
Quinn ignores his leering, "She may not have pneumonia, you know? She could be splinting or have a PE.
"Like I said, I hate nurses." Puck replies with a scowl, just as Sam joins them.
Quinn is about to respond when her pager starts to beep again, she looks at it quickly, seeing it's another 911 for Katie Bryce, sighing in frustration. "Damnit, Katie..." she says to herself as she starts to walk to Katie's room, after one last glare in Puck's direction, she doesn't bother to run this time, assuming it's the girl wanting some cure for her boredom.
Puck watches her leave, before turning to Sam, "She seeing anybody?"
Sam looks like a deer caught in headlights before replying "I don't know."
"She's hot." Puck replies with a smirk on his face.
Thinking this maybe a chance to actually bond with one of the other male interns starts to talk, "I'm friends with her. I mean, kinda friends. I mean, not, you know, actually friends, not exactly, but we're tight. We hang out. I mean, really only just today -"
"Dude. Stop talking." Puck interrupts him, unimpressed.
As Quinn's walking up the stairs towards Katie's room, trying to think what else the kid could possible want, she see's nurses and other hospital personnel rushing in and out of Katie's room. Her face pales, as she realizes this is an actual 911 call, she rushes into the room to find the girl in the midst of a violent seizure.
One of the nurses turn to her "What took you so long?"
Another nurse is simultaneously filling her in on Katie's condition as she stands frozen on the spot. She looks around bewildered; this is not what she had been expecting when she got the page. But it's been what she's been preparing for all through med school. Being the doctor in charge. She takes a deep breath and composes herself, turning to the nurse closest to her. "She's full on Lorazapan?"
The nurses nods, "She's had 4mg."
"Have you paged Dr. Bestie and Dr. Schuester?" She asks as she moves over next to the bed, the nurse again nodding her head to confirm.
The second nurse in the room turns to her, "The Lorazapan's not working"
"Um..." she stalls, quickly running through all the possible medications in her head, "Phenobarbital! Load her with Phenobarbital." she orders.
"Pheno's in" the nurse states looking up to check the monitors "Still no change."
Her heart is racing, and her brain is working even faster, she can't find any one thought to focus on that might help this girl. She hears the voices of all the staff around her asking her what to do; she's so overwhelmed, praying for some kind of guidance. Just then Katie suddenly goes still. Quinn's about to feel relieved by that, until the continuous beep of the heart monitor alerts her to the fact Katie's flat-lining.
"Code blue! Code blue!" one of the nurses shouts, as they reach for the defibrillator. Quinn takes a hold of the paddles. She can do this. She knows the protocol.
"Charge pulse of two hundred." she orders. When she gets the confirmation of the charge she asks everyone to clear, and presses the defibrillator to Katie's chest. Pausing to look the monitors. No change. "Charge again. To 300." Again pressing them to her patient's chest. Still no change. "Charge to 360!" she shouts to the nurse, "Come on, Katie." she pleads quietly with the girl, but she's still flat-lining. "Charge again!" Quinn calls.
The nurse seems reluctant to do so, "At 60 seconds you're suppose to -"
"Charge again!" Quinn barks. Finally the nurse does so. Quinn shocks her once again. "Anything?" she asks the nurse standing by the heart monitor.
"I see sinus rhythm."
"BP's coming up." another nurse states. Quinn breaths a quiet sigh of relief. The relief is short lived when an older man with curly, perfectly styled hair comes rushing in. Dr. Schuester she presumes.
Better late than never.
"What the hell happened?" He asks the room.
"She had a seizure and her heart stopped." Quinn informs him. The adrenaline from the code blue is quickly working off and she's starting to feel a little light headed and has a sudden urge to throw up.
"You were supposed to be monitoring her." he shouts at her.
"I checked on her and she-" she begins to argue before quickly being cut off.
"I got it. Just...just go." he replies stonily.
She wants to say something else to defend herself, but she's slightly worried if she opens her mouth right now she'll throw up, and that really isn't something she wants to happen in a room full of people. So she stumbles out of the room, brushing past a concerned looking Rachel, down the corridor past a disgruntled Dr. Bestie who's already giving her a lecture about not paging her quickly enough, and makes her way outside of the hospital through one of the side doors.
It's pouring with rain but she doesn't care because the cold rain feels wonderful against her overheated skin but it doesn't stop the bile finally rising up her throat as she throws up on a bush. As she coughs and heaves she feels a gentle hand on her back, and turns to see the dark brown eyes she's quickly becoming accustomed to seeing, looking at her with an understanding expression.
"Your first code blue is always the most terrifying." Rachel smiles sympathetically at Quinn. "But hey, at least you kept your patient alive, that's always something."
All Quinn wants to do right now, is just stay with Rachel and soak up the comfort from the brunette, because it just feels so right and perfect. But she can't- she just can't - she has so much going on she can't let her life become any more complicated. So she does what she was always taught. She sighs heavily. Straightens herself up. Takes a deep breath, and lets the facade of indifference wash over her and looks to Rachel, "If you tell anyone, ever..."
Rachel backs off, sensing Quinn doesn't exactly want the comfort right now, nodding her head, "It's just between us, okay?"
Quinn opens her mouth to say thank you, but her pride doesn't allow it. So she just nods at the brunette before moving past her to go back inside.
By hour 24 of their shift the interns are all called into one of the board rooms, well more accurately they were ordered to go sit there by their residents, and given no other information about it.
"What are you doing?" Quinn asks Santana.
"I'm suturing a banana, with a vain hope that it wakes up my brain." She replies, not stopping the movements of her hands. She pauses when she hears Sam laugh, "What're you smiling at, 007?" Sam stops laughing abruptly and looks forlorn. Brittany subtly kicks Santana on the shin, indicating to be nice. She sighs heavily before looking over at Sam. "I'm sorry. I get mean when I'm tired."
"You know what? I don't care. I comforted a scared family today. And I got to hang out in the OR. All is well." He says smiling.
Santana just rolls her eyes at him, "Does anyone know why we're here?"
As soon as she asks the question, Dr. Schuester walks in with Rachel following close behind, with a huge stack of files in her arms. She sets them down onto the table, sending a small smile Quinn's way.
Dr. Schuester stands at the front of the room, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention. "I'm going to do something pretty rare for a surgeon. I'm going to ask interns for help. I've got this kid, Katie Bryce. Right now, she's a mystery. She doesn't respond to her meds, labs are all clean, scans are pure. But she's having seizures, Grand Mal seizures with no visible cause. She's a ticking clock. She's going to die, if I don't make a diagnosis. This is where you come in. I can't do it alone. I need your extra minds, extra eyes, I need you to play detective, I need to find out why Katie is having seizures. I know you're tired, you're busy, you've got more work than you could possibly handle. I understand." He says giving them a sympathetic smile. "So, I'm giving you an incentive. Whoever finds the answer rides with me. Katie needs surgery. You get to scrub in to assist on an advance procedure. Dr. Berry's going to hand you a copy of Katie's chart. The clock is ticking fast, people. If we're going to save Katie's life, we have to do it soon."
Rachel starts handing the charts out one by one, until only Quinn and Santana are left in the room, the Latina snatches her copy from Rachel's hand and begins reading it quickly, as the shorter brunette holds the last one out to Quinn, "Best till last." She whispers, smirking at the blonde before tuning and leaving.
Quinn on her part had ducked her head to hide the smile and blush that had appeared on her cheeks, and when she looks up she's met with a raised eyebrow from Santana, "What the fuck was that?"
"I don't know what you're talking about" she answers innocently.
"The little midget being all flirty flirty with you, that's what I'm talking about." But Quinn just shakes her head and ignores her, rushing out of the room.
A little later Quinn's back standing at one of the nurse's station on the surgical ward. And for the second time that day she overhears the obnoxious voice of Puck.
"Give the antibiotics time to work."
"They should've worked by now." The nurse replies in an annoyed tone.
"She's old. She's friggin' ancient. She's lucky she's still breathing. I have a shot at scrubbing in downstairs, with a patient who wasn't alive during the civil war. Don't page me again!" He shouts before storming out of the ward.
Quinn knows something is up with that patient, that Puck has potentially gotten the wrong diagnosis, she's about to go read over the women's chat when Santana comes sliding up next to her.
"Hey, I want in on Schuester's surgery. You've been the intern on Katie since the start. You want to work together? We find the answer; we have a fifty-fifty chance of scrubbing in."
"I'll work with you, but I don't want in on the surgery. You can have it."
Santana scowls at the blonde, "Are you kidding me? It's the biggest opportunity any intern will ever get...wait it's something to do with that Berry chick isn't it?"
"If we find the answer, the surgery's yours. Do you want to work together or not?" Quinn asks in a bored tone.
Santana just grins and nods her head, "Deal."
They head to the library together. But after some research they find themselves slumped against one of the bookshelves, with a list of things crossed off their list, but no closer to an answer.
"Well, she doesn't have anoxia, chronic renal failure, or acidosis. It's not a tumor because her CT's clean." She sighs heavily, lolling her head to face Quinn, "Are you seriously not going to tell me why you won't work with Berry?"
"No." Quinn answers firmly, determined to stay focused on her work. "What about infection?"
Santana flips through Katie's file in front of her, "No. There's no white count, she has no CT lesions, no fevers, nothing in her spinal tap...Just tell me."
Quinn looks at the brunette, staring hard, she figures there's no way out of this. Santana's just going to keep asking, so she might as well share. "You can't comment, make a face, or react in any way." She waits until she sees the brunette nod her consent. "We had sex."
Santana opens her mouth and closes it a few times, before mashing her lips together to stop her from laughing. "What about an aneurysm?"
Quinn shakes her head. "No blood on the CT, and no headaches."
"Okay There's no drug use, uh, no pregnancy, no trauma...was she good? I mean...she doesn't look like she would be, I mean seriously Quinn the girl was wearing crocs."
Quinn ignores the jib, keeping her focus on her patient. Standing up to return one of the journals she had been shifting through. "What are the answers?" She asks turning back to Santana "What if no one comes up with anything?" Taking a seat in front of her.
"You mean if she dies?"
"Yeah"
Santana pauses for a minute contemplating her answer, "This is gonna sound really bad, but I really wanted that surgery."
Quinn snorts at Santana's answer before turning serious again. "She's just never going to get the chance to turn into a person. The sum total of her existence will be almost winning Miss Teen whatever...You know what her pageant talent is?"
"They have talent?" Santana deadpans.
"Rhythmic gymnastics." They both laugh for a few moments, "I mean what is rhythmic gymnastics? I don't know - I can barely even say it."
Santana laughs a few more moments, "Isn't it like something with a ball, and a -" She notices a sudden change in Quinn's expression, "...What? Quinn, what?" she asks as Quinn starts to stand.
"Get up! Come on!" she urges the brunette.
They run off in search for Dr. Schuester, Quinn filling in Santana on her theory on the journey. They find Dr. Schuester climbing onto the elevator, and rush over to him before the doors close.
"Oh oh Dr. Schuester. Just one moment um...Katie competes in beauty pageants." Santana begins.
"I know that but we have to save her life anyway." Dr. Schuester jokes.
"Okay..." Santana continues, "She has no headaches, no neck pain, her CTs clean..." Dr. Schuester looks around at the other people on the elevator, smiling apologetically to them as the doors beginning to close, Santana placing her hand on them to keep them open, as she continues. "Ah...there's no medical proof of an aneurysm. But what If she has an aneurysm anyway?"
"There are no indicators" Dr. Schuester says with a shake of the head.
"Ah but she twisted her ankle, a few weeks ago when she was practicing" She again places her hands against the doors to stop them from closing, "for the pageant – "
"Look, I appreciate you're trying to help, but – "
"She fell!" Quinn interrupts, "When she twisted her ankle, she fell."
"It was no big deal, not even a bump on the head, you know she got right back up, iced her ankle and everything was fine, it was a fall so minor her doctor didn't even think to mention it when I was taking her history" yet again halting the door from closing "but she did fall." Santana stresses.
"Well you know the chances that a minor fall could burst an aneurysm, one in a million. Literally." Dr. Schuester explains as the elevator doors are finally allowed to close. Santana and Quinn share a disappointed look before turning away. Just as the elevator doors re-open and Dr. Schuester steps out.
"Let's go" he says to them
"Where?" Quinn asks.
"To find out if Katie's one in a million." He says as he walks off, the two interns falling quickly behind.
An hour later the three of them are huddled around a small computer monitor watching as the CT results come through.
"I'll be damned." Dr. Schuester breaths out as he spots the small bleed in her brain. Pointing it out on the screen for the two girls. "She could have gone her whole life without it being a problem. One tap in the right spot and...You two did great work. I'd love to stay and kiss you asses but I have to go tell Katie's parents she's having surgery. I'm sorry I can't take you both, but it's going to be a full house. Quinn congratulations. "He says with a smile, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Dr. Berry's told me great things about you. I'll see you in the OR."
Quinn just stands there shocked, as Santana looks at her clearly angry and upset, and waiting for her to decline the offer. But Quinn's too caught up on the fact Dr. Berry's been talking about her to the attending. When Quinn doesn't decline the offer Santana turns and stalks off in the opposite direction.
"Santana!" Quinn calls after her but the Latina doesn't turn around. She breaths out a frustrated sigh, before deciding to give Santana some time to cool off before trying to talk to her again.
Santana's went to the deserted hallway that their group of interns seem to spend half their time. She's sitting next to Brittany, and toying with her bottle of water, from the corner of her eye she sees the bubbly blonde open her mouth to speak "Brittany..." she says in a warning tone. The blonde closes her mouth again quickly, deciding to keep quiet.
For a couple of seconds anyway. "Maybe Quinn couldn't – "
"Brittany!"
Just then Quinn comes to join them, standing by the entrance, "I'll tell him I changed my mind. You can –"she starts, but is interrupted by an angry Latina.
"No, no. Don't do me any favors, it's fine."
"Santana – "
"You know what, you did a cutthroat thing, deal with it. Don't come to me for absolution, you want to be a shark, be a shark." Santana states coldly.
Clearly hurt by that Quinn begins to protest "I'm not – "
"Oh yes you are! Only it makes you feel all bad in your warm and gooey places. No. Screw you. I didn't get picked for surgeries because I slept with my boss's favorite little lap dog, and I didn't get into med school because I have a famous mother. You know some of us actually have to earn what we get." Santana hisses out.
Okay so that hurt. She looks to Santana who's now avoiding her gaze, to Brittany who seems saddened by the argument. Before turning on her heel and storming away from them.
She walks the whole way to Katie Bryce's room, determined to ignore the argument with Santana and focus on prepping the teenager for her surgery. She stalls as she reaches the door of Katie's room, where she finds Rachel perched on a stool by the young girls head, shaving her head in preparation for the surgery.
The brunettes eyes are concentrating intently on the job at hand, as she gently smooths over the girls hair before running the razor though it. Quinn leans against the door way, already feeling herself calm just from the mere presence of the brunette. Rachel's eyes flicker up a few moments later and she smiles when she spots Quinn. "I promised I'd make her look cool. Apparently being a bald beauty queen is like the worst thing that ever happened in the history of the world." She laughs lightly, switching off the clippers and giving Quinn her full attention "I hear you're scrubbing in on the surgery, congratulations."
"Dr. Schuester said he'd heard a lot of good things about me...from you. Is that the only reason I got picked for the surgery? Like if it'd been Santana who'd slept with you would it be her who was picked?"
"Yes." Rachel says seriously, before laughing a split second later at the look of shock on Quinn's face. "I'm kidding. Jeeze. What kind of power do you think I have around here?"
"I'm not going to scrub in for surgery. You should tell Dr. Schuester to ask Santana. She really wants it." Quinn says sternly.
"You're Katie's doctor." Rachel reasons "On your fist day, with very little training you helped save her life. You earned the right to follow her case through to the finish." She shakes her head as she looks up at Quinn. "You shouldn't let the fact we had sex get in the way of you taking your shot. An extremely well earned shot at that." the brunette says seriously.
By the end of her rant Quinn's smiling softly. Deep down she knows Rachel's right, it's just what Santana said had her doubting everything, that maybe she was only getting her shot at Seattle Grace because of who her mother is.
By hour 35 of her shift she's sat on a window ledge outside of the hospital next to Sam, both looking pensive. "I wish I wanted to be a chef. Or a ski instructor. Maybe even a kinder garden teacher." Quinn muses.
"You know I would've been a really good postal worker. I'm dependable." He can't help but smile when he gets a laugh from the blonde next to him. "You know my parents tell everyone they meet that their son's a surgeon. As if it's a big accomplishment. A superhero or something...if they could see me now." He finishes dejectedly.
Quinn smiles sadly at him, "When I told my mother I wanted to go to medical school, she tried to talk me out of it. Said I didn't have what it takes to be a surgeon. That I'd never make it. So the way I see it, superhero sounds pretty damn good."
"We're going to survive this, right?"
Quinn doesn't answer, because honestly she doesn't know herself. Instead she just gives Sam a reassuring pat on the knee as she jumps down from the ledge and makes her way back to the hospital.
She goes straight up to the surgical wing, to finish up her paper work, and check on her patients one last time before she's due to scrub in. She's standing at the nurses' station, and can't help but look on as Chief Sue discusses the patient she was worried about earlier with Puck.
"She's still short of breath. Did you get an ABG or a chest film?" Sue asks the mohawked intern.
"Ah yes Ma'am I did." He replies, clearly proud of himself.
"And what did you see?" she asks. His smile falters slightly when he realizes he didn't actually check, he just ordered them.
"Well...uh you see, I had a lot of patients last – "
Chief Sylvester interrupts him, "Name the common causes of post-op fever."
"Uh it's just..." Puck goes to reach to his pocket for the small notebook each intern was given at the start of the day.
"From your head. Not from a book. Don't look it up. Learn it. It should be in your head. Name the common causes of post-op fever." She says again.
"Uh...the...um the common causes of post-op..." Puck stutters and stalls before being interrupted again by Chief Sylvester, as she calls out loudly.
"Can anybody name the common causes of post-op fever?" the ward goes quiet, each of the interns going to their pockets to consult their notebooks.
Quinn smiles to herself because she totally knows this. "Wind, water, wound, walking, wonder drugs. The five W's. Most of the time it's wind, splinting or pneumonia. Pneumonia is easy to assume, especially if you're too busy to do the tests." She sends a knowing look towards Puck as she finishes.
Chief Sylvester turns to Puck and gives him a pointed look of her own, before turning back to Quinn. "What do you think is wrong with 4B?" she asks, arms crossed against her chest.
"The fourth W, walking. I think she's a prime candidate for a pulmonary embolus."
"And how would you diagnose?"
Quinn takes a deep breath, because suddenly what Santana said about her only getting anywhere because of her mother doesn't hurt so much anymore. She knows this stuff. She's earned her place her regardless of what anyone says. "Spiral CT, VQ scan, provide o2, dose with Heparin, and consult for an IVC filter."
The curt nod of the head is the only direct acknowledgment she receives from Chief Sylvester, before she turns to Puck, who's pretty much glaring at Quinn. "Do exactly as she says. Then tell your resident that I want you off this case." She finishes sternly, turning back to Quinn with a small smile. "I'd know you anywhere. You're the spitting image of your mother. Welcome to the gang." She says as she walks passed a very please looking Quinn.
I can't think of any one reason why I want to be a surgeon. But I can think of a thousand reasons why I should quit.
They make it hard on purpose. There are lives in our hands.
There comes a moment when it's more than just a game. And you either take that step forward, or turn around and walk away. I could quit. But here's the thing: I love the playing field.
Quinn walks out of the OR room in a daze, stripping off her scrub cap and collapsing down onto one of the chairs outside. She literally can't wipe the grin from her face, because that was literally one of the greatest experiences of her life. Just being in the room while someone's life was being saved. Seeing the control and concentration on Dr. Schuester's face as he located the aneurysm, and as Rachel stepped back from her position to allow Quinn a better one, the gleam in her eye letting Quinn know that she knew exactly what the blonde was feeling in that moment. Watching closely as Dr. Schuester dealt with the aneurysm she couldn't help but think to herself. ..This is it. Regardless of how lost and out of her dept she felt half of the day, this right now I the reason she was here, to get experiences just like this.
Her thoughts are interrupted by Santana flopping down in the seat next to her, "It was a good surgery." the Latina states.
"Yeah" Quinn replies curtly.
"We don't have to do that thing, you know where I say something and then you say something and then somebody cries and there's like ...a moment..."
"Yuck" Quinn says scrunching up her face in disgust.
"Good." Santana breaths out, clearly relieved. "You should get some sleep. You look like crap."
Quinn can't help but laugh, pleased that she and Santana seem to be on the same page. And still have a brewing friendship "I look better than you."
"Not even possible" Santana whispers with a smirk, before getting up to leave.
After she leaves, Dr. Schuester walks out, closely followed by Rachel, as he gives her instructions on the after-care procedures for Katie. He walks away leaving Rachel by the nurse's station, finishing up the notes.
"That was amazing." Quinn says to her.
Rachel turns to look at her, nodding and smiling broadly, "It really was, wasn't it?"
"You practice on cadavers. You observe. And you think you know what you're going to feel like standing over that table, but..." She trails off, getting lost in her thoughts ..."that was such a high. I don't know why anybody does drugs." She says smiling lightly at the brunette, a dazed look still on her face.
"Yeah." Rachel nods slightly, looking tired.
"Yeah." Quinn repeats, smiling shyly.
Rachel smiles back at her, "I should ah...go finish this up." She says regretfully, not wanting to leave the blondes company.
"You should."
Rachel goes to leave, looking back to Quinn, "I'll see you around?"
Quinn nods, "See you around." She watches the brunette as she walks away, mumbling a soft "see ya" to the retreating figure. so screwed.
"So, I made it through my first shift. We all did. The other interns are all good people, you'd like them. I think. I don't know. Maybe. I like them. Oh, and I changed my mind. I'm not going to sell the house." The other, older blonde she's sitting with looks up at this piece of news. "I'm going to keep it. I'll have to get a few room-mates, but...its home, you know?" she finishes off, smiling slightly.
"Are you the doctor?" the woman asks quietly.
Quinn's smile falters slightly, "No. I'm not your doctor. But I am a doctor."
Looking Quinn up and down she asks, "What's your name?"
"It's me, mom. Quinn."
"All right." The older blonde replies, not recognizing her, and begins to fidget with her watch. "I used to be a doctor. I think."
Quinn reaches out, placing her hand over the older women's, stilling her movements and causing her to make eye contact with her daughters hazel eyes. "You were a doctor mom. You were a surgeon."