As Clarke walks through the doors she sees her group of interns following Dr. Washington. The attending is a large man, lots of muscles, dark hair, dark beard, gentle eyes. Clarke sneaks into the back of the group next to Jackson who hands her her white coat and stethoscope.

"Overslept again didn't you?" He whispers in a sigh. It was happening more and more. Between residency, her job at the gas station, and moonlighting sometimes with the EMT's Clarke wasn't getting much sleep. Sleep is for the weak.

"Only a little. Thanks, Jax. I owe you one." She whispers back with a smile. She owes him lots of ones. He saved her ass endlessly. No way would she survive without him covering for her, but he wouldn't survive without her whispering answers to pre-rounds questions to him either. He was a good doctor, he knew the stuff, but struggled under pressure sometimes. He would probably switch from surgical soon.

"Clarke.." You need sleep. You're running yourself ragged.

"I'm handling it." Drop it, Jackson.

"Nice of you to join us, Griffin." Dr. Washington states as they round a corner into the surgical wing. He really isn't a bad guy. Awesome really. He served as a Army Doc for a long time so he's a bit of a hard ass but Clarke finds it endearing. And by bit she means majorly endearing. He's a hard ass but a total softy at the same time. "Sorry, Sir."

They pull up the the first bed. A sleeping kid drools on the pillow as his head turns slightly to the side. Dr. Washington picks up the chart and looks it over as the interns internally panic they will be called on. Clarke already knows it's her and she was prepared. She memorizes charts when she has breaks. Makes it a game almost. It helps. Adam Cochrin, 20 year old male, acid burns… Octavia had a thing with him a while back when she first got out here, she was happy when her best friend ended it though. Kid was an ass but he didn't deserve this. He probably wouldn't make it. "Griffin. Tell me what I need to know."

Deep breath. You've got this. "Yes. Sir." You could do this shit in your sleep. It's a good thing too because her mind is still basically catching some z's on her pillow.

Lexa's alarm goes off too early for her liking, she never used to mind getting up early but now, with everything, she kinda just wants to sleep.

Snooze.

A few moments later it rings again, the beeping on her watch ordering her out of bed for her morning run. Not today.

Snooze.

It only seems as if she has just fallen asleep minutes ago. Her mind finally turned off from wondering about the possibilities today would bring, what had happened that got her to this point in the first place. It wasn't until her mind went hazy in exhaustion her aching body allowed itself to relax and finally fall into a restless slumber. She looks at the watch as its starts to beep at her again, 05:30.

Damn it.

She slides out of bed immediately moving toward the bathroom and into the shower. Sliding out of her sports bra is no more of a discomfort than usual nor is her core's stiffness new nor the stabbing in her back unusual as she bends down slightly to rid herself of her basketball shorts and underwear.

The hot water feels so good on her aching muscles as it leaves her skin a light shade of pink. She washes quickly making sure to run a razor over her slightly fuzzy legs for the doctor's sake before she dries quickly and gets dressed. She has 20 minutes until she has to leave for her appointment. Fucking Army. Why has this stuff gotta be so early?

She slides on an old grey PT shirt a pair of soccer pants and her green Wounded Warrior Project quarter-zip Anya gave her for Christmas over a pair of nike pros. Lexa slaps her watch back onto her wrist and throws her hair up in a wet ponytail that is more than a little messy as she only pulls it part of the way through the last loop of the hair tie in a partial bun. She grabs an apple out of the fridge on her way out the door. A yellow notepad paper is clipped to the otherwise empty door with a stolen ARMY STRONG recruiting magnet.

Lex,

Sorry I missed you the last few days, been busy at the base. Make sure you eat something this morning. I have a good feeling about today. Good luck, kiddo. Everything's going to work out. I'm proud of you.

~Anya

p.s. Don't lie to the Nyko. It gets angry when you lie. And try to remember it's not his fault DoDMERB sucks.

p.s.s. Tell him high for me.

Jesus, Ayn. It's a doctors appointment. It's not like it's my first one. She aggressively bites off a large chunk of granny smith as she grabs her keys from the hook, sliding into perpetually untied shoes, and ventures out her broken front door into a light snow. All this water shit falling from the sky almost makes her miss the desert. Almost. A lot of things make her almost miss the desert… How sad is that?

She does though. Miss it. Deployment. It's the only place she's ever really felt like she belonged. It's the only thing that gives her life meaning. Its the only thing to make her happy anymore.

She slides into her car and lets out a small groan as her muscles contract around the baseball sized knots in her quads and the tight pull across the backs of her shoulders as she straps her seatbelt across her chest. As much as it sucks she loves the feeling - the soreness. It makes her feel alive. Whole. Actually worth something. She had missed this a lot in the last year and a bit. Especially those nine and a half months from hell. Well it was longer than that but she couldn't remember the other 9.

It's been three months since Nyko cleared her for "light" activity and she feels like she is finally getting back to her old self. Finally. Maybe today's the day he tells her she's really back. God, please let today be that day. She needs it to be that day.

Lexa pulls into the parking lot and parks in the back. She hasn't used the handicap tag they gave to her. She doesn't need it. She manages just fine on her own. The only reason she hadn't burned it the moment she saw it on their kitchen counter when it came in the mail was because Anya had said it could come in handy if she was running late or something. Lexa knew it was a tactic to get her to keep it but she did anyway. Anya's lectures suck.

She revels in the stale, sterile, old coffee ridden hospital air. It reminds her so much of her past. Months in the bed. Rehab. Checkups. Surgeries. Her childhood. As much as the smell reminded her of all the bad happening right now she always loved the damn sterile old coffee smell.

It was just like her dad's when he would come home from a weekend shift and wrap her up in his warm arms, squeeze her till she grunted at her inability to breathe, and placed a kiss on the top of her head. She would bury her her face in the strangely soft polyester khakis that still somehow managed to smell like laundry and wrap her arms around his waist as she would look up into his hazel eyes as they looked into her own. Eye contact always was a big deal to him, he taught her that from the time she was little. "Hows my girl doing?"

I'm ok, Dad. I'm managing. She shudders at the phantom warmth she feels around her torso in remembering his embrace. Yes. That's what the hospital smell was to her and she was thankful that no amount of pain could ever change that.

She grew up in places like this. A little busier with soldiers, sailors, and jarheads than these civilians, but a hospital was a hospital and she always felt at home here. Her playpen had been at the nurses station on the surgical floor for crying out loud. She had taken naps on unused gurneys in the hall. She colored on the backs of old charts. Made forts out of white coats in the doctor's lounge. She had done homework in the in the observation gallery or at the nurses station surrounded by her dad's staff trying to help her. She was practically raised by the odd mixture of military and medicine.

She checked into the desk where a young man was sitting. "Captain Alexandra Woods." He just smiled and asked her to wait a moment as he walked away. He returned quickly and said Nyko would be a few minutes and said she could go ahead and just wait in the doctor's lounge around the corner. He handed over the man's swipe card and Lexa took it with a smile and turned down the maze of halls to her private waiting room.

She plops down on the couch and kicks her feet up finding another apple to munch on while she waited. You never know how long a few minutes could be when it came to Nyko, he is a busy man. Though she felt at home in the hospital nervousness churned in her gut. What if I haven't healed enough? What if I never will? It was a good possibility and she knew it but she never actually believed it... however, the longer it goes with no improvement the more the reality hits her.

Her palms grow uncomfortably sweaty as she wipes them up and down on her thighs without much success of removing the moisture. Deep breath, Lexa. It's a fallow back feels good. Well.. good enough. You're gonna be fine.

Clarke is leaning tiredly with her elbows against the table in the cafeteria as she tries to eat her breakfast in the 30 minutes between pre-rounds and the rest of her day. She tries to answer all the questions quickly so they have time to eat. Some of the people in her intern year hate her for it but hey, she's not trying to drag out those torture sessions. If they don't like it they can work harder at knowing the charts. Clarke certainly did.

A coffee slides its way into her periphery as she assumes Jackson sits down across from her. "Extra extra shot of espresso, extra black. Just like you like it." He teases. Somehow they had developed a joke about how she took her coffee, the blacker the better.

"Thanks, Jax. I really am sorry about this morning, again." She shoves a bite of the worlds grossest scrambled eggs and chases it down with a sip of the bitter goodness that is coffee.

"Don't mention it." He sips his own tea with light brown eyes playing at her behind his long eyelashes. He has the biggest crush on this girl and she has not even the slightest clue. She lets out a long yawn as he bobs the tea bag in and out of the steaming cup in front of him "Coffee can't replace sleep, Clarke."

"Sure it can." She smiles up at him and gives a wink as she takes a sip savoring the not quite satisfactory taste a moment in her mouth before she swallows it with a small lump sliding down her throat. The hospital coffee was always a little burnt but it still warms her now half full belly. "It's the lifeblood that fuels the hearts of champions."

He rolls his eyes deep in his head. "You can't quote Kicking and Screaming and expect me to accept that as an actual thing. Do you even remember how that turned out?"

She shoves in another too large bite of the eggs and chews rapidly. A loud beeping cuts off the answer about to come out of her still chewing mouth. The little black box vibrates rapidly on her hip. She quirked her eyebrows out in apology to her friend.

Washington:

Griffin. My office. Now.

Seriously? I'm not even on his service today. I'm with Hobbes. She starts standing as she hurriedly throws two more bites of eggs into her mouth and grabs the piece of toast in the same hand as her coffee. "Don't bite off more then you can chew." He warns her only half talking about the choke hazard size bite she is currently chewing. Too late. The backs of her legs push the chair out from under her as she slides away. She is too practiced at this. Can't a girl eat?

"That's the beauty of it, Jackson." She shoves another large bite of eggs into her mouth as she chuckles still standing at the table stalling herself a moment to fill her still grumbling stomach. She's fully aware he means more than just food. "I'd rather choke on greatness than nibble on mediocrity."

"Those eggs hardly count as greatness." He quips as another dangerously full fork of eggs is shoveled into a not yet empty mouth as she goes to hurriedly grab the tray. "I've got it. Go." She smiles at him softly, Thanks. Owe you one. He can't help shake his head as he watches her hustle from the cafeteria to a surely less than friendly attending. He stopped keeping track of the IOU's a long time ago. It was definitely more than a few.

Clarke swallows the last bit of toast with the last long gulp of the still a little too hot coffee. She tosses the cup forcefully into the trash and takes a deep breath before entering Dr. Washington's office mentally preparing herself for the new hole about to be torn into her ass. Here it goes. She presses the handle down and the door in slowly as she steps in. "You paged me, Sir." No emotion, Clarke. Nice and easy.

He just looks at her from over his glasses at a file he is studying. He sits up in his chair that was quite reclined from the weight of the large man pressing back into the worn-out spring. "You've worked with VA patients before with your mother back at MasGen, yes?" Clarke swallows. What has that got to do anything? The last thing she wanted to think about right now was her mother or Boston. When her answer isn't immediate he asks again. "Dr. Griffin, did you or did you not work with VA patients?"

"Yes, Sir. I did." Practically her whole medical career she's been working with military patients. She liked it. She was even considering becoming a military doctor deep in the back of her mind. It would help with the debt at the very least.

"With wounded warriors? You're familiar with DoDMERB standards and procedures, correct?"

"Yes, Sir." That was the reason she wanted to go into trauma medicine. There had to be better ways to treat these patients. The means used to save a lot of their lives took just as much sometimes. Though she never felt sorry for them, they'd probably kill her for that. Just inadequate that they had given so much and she was enjoying college and her position as an undergrad intern. She'd learned how to empathize without pitying them. How to trick them into doing what they needed to do but were too hard headed for. They as a whole were a difficult bunch, lovely, but difficult. Too proud or stubborn or "tough". It made her life as a doctor/intern/caregiver much much harder but she didn't really mind at all. He grabs a chart from his desk and extends it to her.

"Familiarize yourself with this case." He continues reading his file without even looking up. "Be ready to recommend further treatment, diagnosis, and insights. You'll be with me on this one. I've already talked to Hobbes. This patient is your only focus this morning. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

If she wasn't mistaken she would have thought she saw a grin from the ever serious surgeon. "Good. I'll meet you in exam 1 in 15." He starts walking out the door. "Oh, and Griffin, don't be late again."

"Yes. Sir." She spins on hear heel and walks out to study this massive chart. Jesus, this is the biggest chart I've ever seen.

Lexa had started to doze off on the couch when the passcode outside the door to the lounge beeped with someone pressing a code into it and she became fully aware of her surroundings again. She had a feeling it would be Nyko so she stood in a posture closely resembling attention, old habits die hard I guess. "Hows my favorite little war hero?" He smiles at her and she falls out of her stance and into a quick warm hug. Nyko was a hugger, she however.. not so much.

"Nyko." She warns. I'm not little anymore and I'm not a hero. She eases quickly and a genuine smile works its way out from under the mask at his warm laughter that fills the room as he motions to the door. "Better once you clear me for active duty."

"Lexa." He warns back, We've been over this.

"Ayn says hi." They stride down a long white hallway into an exam room. She tries to change the subject. "She always did like you. Not sure why though." She chides at the familiar doctor despite knowing they had likely talked last night. She's known him for years. He worked with her dad a while back and was with her unit her first tour. Hell they had grown up together.

He shuts the door behind them. "Because I got her sorry ass through OCS and all those "adventures" you three used to drag me through." He is grinning now, white teeth contrasting against his dark beard. Lexa's heard the story from both sides about a million times. And the memories of their adventures were among her favorite, they had gotten her through some of the tougher times in her life. "How's she doing?"

He already knew but he thought he'd ask Lexa just to see. Part of him is thoroughly surprised she hadn't come with the young Captain in a while. On second thought he isn't. Lexa wanted to prove that she could handle this. He remembers the phone call his old friend had given him a few nights ago. She was really worried about Lexa. "She still isn't dealing, Nyko." - "Give it time, Ayn." - "It's been a year."

He grabs a pair of paper shorts and a gown from a cabinet and puts it on the counter by the little sink. Lexa just looks at it and her stomach flips - not the good kind. She hates those things. "She's ok. Annoying as ever."

"I'm sure." The doctor pulls the rolling stool beneath his but as he sits down. Lexa just jumps up on the table and dangles her feet kicking her shoes off beneath her. The paper crunches under her. "I have an intern with me who's going to help out if that's ok." Lexa just nods knowing with the potential of today's visit Nyko wasn't allowed to be the only evaluation since they shared a close personal relationship. The doctor was her brother, kinda, after all. "She's good, only the best for you Kiddo."

"Oh, shut up."

He rolls over to the door and opens it smirking at her. "Dr. Griffin, come on in."

In walks a blonde with eyes the deepest brightest blue Lexa has ever seen and she immediately recognizes her as, Clarke, the chick from the gas station she's been crushing on for like the last month. Oh, fuck me. Lexa swallows hard, thank god Nyko doesn't notice as he rubs hand sanitizer into his warm palms and up his lower arm.

"Go ahead and present."

A lump rolls down the girl's throat. A blush quickly fading from her cheeks as she straightens her back and hands the overly thick chart to Nyko. "Alexandra Woods. 28 year old Female. 5'10" 142 lbs. In for post-op check on multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, abdomen, and legs, shattered right pelvis and femur, torn ACL, PCL, LCL, medial meniscus, and popliteal tendon. Minor concussion, fractured vertebrae, spinal-."

"We all know what's on my chart." she says colder than she had wanted. Even though she knew all about how residents present, she used to do it with them when she was a kid, but Lexa hates it. She doesn't want to hear it again, she knows what's coming next and it's the worst part. Open Heart Surgery. Super serious spinal cord injury. The use of too large words for her shrapnel and torture wounds. Bla, bla, bla. Diagnosis: odds of full recovery minimal. Progress: as expected.

She was just a girl to the blonde. Just some random girl who took a lot of ice baths. Well now she knows why. She wasn't some washed up war hero. Though she was surprised she hadn't at least recognized her a little Lexa had been grateful. Her picture was quite popular on the news for a while. First Female Green Beret Awarded with Medal of Valor. Female Green Beret Escapes Torture Camp, Saves 48 US Soldiers. GI Jane Carries Fallen Comrades From Battle with Broken Back. Captain Alexandra Woods to receive Congressional Medal of Honor. Tortured Heroine wakes from Coma.

"Lex-" She feels her posture stiffen and her mask slide back on. No emotion. No pain. This didn't happen. Not to her. It does not affect her. Not at all. She doesn't care. She's coming back. She's going back. She has to go back.

"No. Come on. She knows the stuff. Let's just move on. Get this over with, Doctor."

He rolls over to her and puts a hand on her knee. "It's good for you to hear it, Alexandra." Lexa clenches her jaw and looks him deep in the eyes. The man has seen her through a lot and she knows he's only looking out for her but she doesn't want to hear it. Enough. The tone of the whole room switches from their personal comforts with each other as Lexa's walls go up. Maybe the intern was a mistake. "Alright." He tugs at the bottom of her shirt and pullover. "Off with this." She crosses her hands at the front of her hips and pulls the two layers off in a swift motion only slightly hitched by her aching back and tight shoulders before tossing the tangled shirts onto a chair in the corner.

The air is cold on her bare skin and she feels goosebumps from as a chill runs down her spine. She notices her thin black sports bra doesn't have much padding for her chilly chest. Nyko runs his hands over her shoulder where two of her 12 bluet holes are.. well 14, but the other two hadn't been from her latest little bit of fun. Then to just above her breast on her left side. That one had missed her aorta by less than a millimeter they said but it still caused some damage. The one slightly more central had nicked the right atrium. It was a wonder she hadn't died in the field. He checks what's exposed of the zipper scar next and moves quickly to the other GSW scar just below her right ribcage. There are other scars all over her torso and arms but those aren't significant really, at least not in regards to why she was in the hospital for five and a half months after she woke up and medically suspended from active duty.

She leans back on her hands so he can get a better look the pressure on her shoulders makes her fingers tingle and go cold. This isn't her first rodeo. He continues to check the other large jagged scar at her hip, the muscles just below her ribs pull tight and her stomach churns. She couldn't figure out - didn't want to admit - why it bothers her so much still but hands in any place below her bellybutton close to her area freak her out a little. More than a little if she was being honest - which she wasn't. The final semi visible bullet holes are exposed as Nyko pulls down slightly on the waistband of her pants and underwear careful only to expose the skin he needs to see right now. He walks around back and checks the scar up her spine, the now tattoo covered lash marks and the final two centrally located bullet holes. "Scarring is looking good. Keep using that lotion."

Without being told she lies down and bends her knee for him to tug on and bend every which way. "Knee 's looking great, Kid." She only nods as they make eyes contact. It hurts a little but she's not telling him. Not until he clears her. Not a chance. Nyko moves to her hip, the tests are pretty uncomfortable but she can manage. She's had worse after all. "Range of motion is back in the hip as well for the most part." He sounds optimistic but Lexa know's it's for her benefit. The knee and the hip were never going to be the problem, not the hard ones at least. It was the spinal injury. It was the open heart surgery.

"Gown up. Then Dr. Griffin will finish up your exam and physical and take you down to imaging.

She can't help but groan. "Not the ass-less gown. Please, Nyko. There's no metal in my sweats." Why would that matter? There is metal in me.

He tosses her the garments he set out earlier they hit her chest and fall into her lap. "Gown up. Lexa. That's an order." The doctor can't help but chuckle at the girl's childish whines, every damn time. He turns to the blonde who just stands in quiet observation in the corner of the room and motions toward the door. Lexa had forgotten she was there. "Dr. Griffin will be back in a few minutes. I'll talk to you after imaging." He points at her as the two go to leave the room. "Behave."

Fine. Prick. She is a little mad at the whole ordeal. He had to get an intern. Though she was a little glad at that. She didn't think she had anything too invasive to be done today but she was glad Nyko never did it. But seriously, It had to be Gas Station Clarke? The universe did in fact hate her. It's been decided.

Her mind wanders back to the months of recovery, learning how to walk again, moving her leg, her shoulder, lots of different hands where she didn't want them, too many surgeries to count. Would this nightmare ever be over? She strips her clothes and folds them on the chair next to the table before sliding into the gown. The semi-paper cloth stuff is a little scratchy on her skin as she ties it as best she can in the back. She feels so damn exposed in these things. Perfect. Let the fun begin.

Notes:

DoDMERB (dod merb, pronounced as a word)- Depart of Defense Medical Examination Board responsible for deciding if someone is medically fit to serve in the armed forces

OCS - Officers Candidate School

Essentially Basic Training for officers in the military. Each branch has separate ones.

PT shirt - PT (pronounced P. T.) stands for Physical Training, the shirt is the uniform/issued shirt that they have to work out in when it's in an official capacity. Each branch has different PT gear.

Jarheads - Marines