Just then, Izzie's pager went off. All thoughts of Mark Sloan flew out of her head, thinking Bailey was finally going to give her a chance to redeem herself.


Chapter 2: The Worst Day Ever

She ran down to the E.R. and found Meredith, Cristina, George, Alex, and pretty much everyone part of the surgical service, all preparing for an incoming trauma.

"What do we got?" Izzie asked, coming up behind them.

Meredith turned around, a look of shock registering on her face when she saw Izzie standing there.

"Izzie-" she began before she was interrupted by Bailey.

"Stevens, what the hell are you doing down here?" she asked, clearly very angry.

Izzie felt her stomach drop. "I, uh...I was paged?" she said, hesitantly.

Bailey sighed. "The nurses must have paged everyone because we're gonna need all the hands we can get. There was a huge, multi-car pileup on the interstate. You need to get out of the way so you don't interfere."

"Well, since you need everyone and since I'm already here-" Izzie began hopefully.

"Save it, Stevens," Bailey said, shaking her head. "This is would be too much for you to handle."

"But-" Izzie started, desperately.

"The only 'but' I want to be hearing about, Stevens, is yours heading back upstairs," she yelled.

Defeated, Izzie turned around and headed back upstairs where she found Mark lounging at the nurses' station.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Isobel Stevens," he said smugly. "See? Told you I'd remember."

"Why aren't you downstairs with everyone else?" Izzie asked, not in the mood for McSteamy at the moment.

"Oh, is that where everybody is?" he said, throwing his feet up on the desk while sipping his cappuccino. "I knew I didn't hear any whiny interns, arrogant residents, or useless nurses around anywhere," he said, flashing his damn grin again.

Izzie decided to ignore his degrading comment and gestured to the abandoned halls all around them. "And you didn't find that odd?!" she asked, frustrated with everything.

Mark just shrugged and continued sipping his coffee.

Izzie rolled her eyes, a reaction she was getting used to associating with Mark. "There's been a major accident on the freeway. Bailey says they need all the help they can get."

Mark kept right on chugging that cappuccino.

"Don't you think maybe you should go help?" Izzie said slowly, as if talking to a child.

He finally put down his drink and grinned. "Don't you think I should be asking you that same question?"

It took all the strength she had to not strangle him, she was so annoyed. "Probation!" was all she could muster. She was trying really, really hard not to lose it.

"Ahh, that's right," Mark said, getting up from the chair to go stand next to Izzie. "You know, you never told me what you did."

He looked at her expectantly, but she didn't say word. "Okay, let me guess, let me guess," he said, moving even closer to her. "You fell asleep, consequently ignored a patient, they got pissed and sued?"

Izzie just stared straight ahead, jaw clenching in anger, while Mark leaned kept leaning in closer. She didn't say a word. "No, that can't be it. You wouldn't get probation for that. Let me see... Oh, I know!" he said, snapping his fingers in an epiphany. "You're an addict who's been swiping drugs from the pharmacy!"

Izzie whipped her head toward him and shot him a death glare, causing Mark to step back, almost startled. "Okay, guess not."

She shot him another "look" and then moved her head back so she was facing forward again.

This time, Mark leaned in so close, Izzie could feel his warm breath on her neck. He whispered in her ear, "I bet you went all Kevorkian on a patient's ass."

Izzie immediately reacted, whirling around, her hand coming in direct contact with his face. "How dare you?" she hissed.

"Looks like I touched a nerve there," Mark replied, rubbing his cheek but still grinning.

Izzie grabbed him by his white jacket, and pulled him close. "What in the hell do you think gives you the right to speak to me like that?" she asked, sternly yet quietly, her teeth gritted.

"You do realize that, technically, I am your boss, right?" he asked her, amused.

"Oh, please," she said, now shoving him away. "If you told the chief I slapped you, he would probably give me raise."

Mark opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted by a very frantic man coming out of one of the rooms.

"Oh thank God. Dr. Sloan, I need you to come quick. My wife...she...she...," the man cried out, breathlessly.

"What happened, Mr. Rosenberg?" Mark asked, brushing past Izzie, moving toward the man.

"I don't know," he replied, near hysterical. "One minute she was fine, just had a little flu, like you said, and the next she began vomiting blood and her eyes starting turning red and now I think she's unconscious."

A look of extreme concern flashed on Mark's face. "Did you say her eyes?"

"Yes, her eyes," Mr. Rosenberg said, his eyes growing even more wide when he saw the look of panic on the doctor's face. "Dr. Sloan? What's happening? What's going on?"

Mark ignored then man, and instead barked at Izzie. "Stevens. Come with me. Now!"

"But, Dr. Sloan, I can't. I mean, I'm not allowed. Dr. Bailey said-"

Mark interrupted her. "Dr. Stevens, I am Dr. Bailey's superior. I can make an exception. Especially because if the feeling I'm having is right, I'm not going to be able to handle this alone," Mark said, his voice straining, trying to to sound too concerned in front of the worried husband.

"Maybe it would be better if you paged someone or-" once again she was cut off.

"I don't have time to wait for anyone right now. And besides, I'm sure it's probably so hectic down there, they're not going to be worrying about pages from me," Mark told her, his eyes telling Izzie that the potential situation in front of them was very serious.

Without another word, Izzie started toward Mark and the two of them followed Mr. Rosenberg into his wife's room.

"Mrs. Rosenberg? Mrs. Rosenberg, can you hear me?" Mark asked, opening the unconscious woman's eyes and checking them.

After getting no response, Mark started feeling around her stomach. "Abdomen's rigid and enlarged," he said, turning to Izzie.

"She's bleeding internally?" Izzie asked.

Mark turned down the bed covers. "I think it may be a little more complicated than that," he said, staring at Mrs. Rosenberg's legs. "Dr. Stevens, come look at this."

"Will somebody please tell me what's going on?!" Mr. Rosenberg asked frantically.

Izzie moved to the patient's bedside. "Purpura," she said, noticing the red discolorations all over Mrs. Rosenberg's legs.

Mark moved her hospital gown out of the way to check her stomach. "They're everywhere," Izzie stated, seeing the trend continue on Mrs. Rosenberg's stomach, arms, and back as Mark continued checking her over.

"It could still just be internal bleeding," Izzie said.

The look in Mark's eyes told her there was more to it than that. "Mrs. Rosenberg just recently came back from a trip to Africa," he told Izzie quietly.

"Okay, so what does that mean?" she asked.

"She works with monkeys," he told her, his voice struggling to remain calm.

Izzie still wasn't sure what was going on. "Dr. Sloan, I don't know if I-"

"Dr. Stevens, it is entirely possible that Mrs. Rosenberg has come in contact with the Ebola virus."