"Who's service are you on?"

In the 15 minutes she had been an employee at Seattle Grace, Cristina Yang had become Meredith's favorite fellow resident. The were the last two left in the lounge before rounds started.

Meredith consulted the sheet she had been handed by a woman named Miranda Bailey. "Um, Shepherd. In neuro." she looked up at Cristina, searching for an indication of what she might be in for.

Cristina inhaled sharply through her teeth. "Yikes. Ok, so, you're going to want to stay very professional. He's a nasty flirt. If you aren't careful you'll wake up in his trailer in the middle of the woods while he's asking you how you like your eggs."

Meredith laughed humorlessly. Her mind flashed briefly to Mr. Recently Divorced. "Are you speaking from experience?"

"God no!" Cristina guffawed. "I'm married. And even if I wasn't Shepherd is way below my standards."

"You're married?" Meredith questioned, eyeing Cristina skeptically.

She shrugged. "Why? Do I not seem like the married type?"

Meredith felt the corner of her mouth tug upwards. "Not in the slightest."

Cristina leapt up from her seat as Meredith slung her stethoscope around her neck. "I have to go. I'm on Burke's service, from cardio." She flashed Meredith her left hand where there was a diamond on her ring finger.

Meredith nearly strangled herself with the stethoscope. "He WORKS here? As an attending?"

"Oh, yes," Cristina said dreamily. She arched a brow. "What, you didn't think I'd get married for love, do you? This is a career move." With that, she winked at Meredith and stepped into the hall.

Meredith laughed in disbelief. She was definitely right about Cristina Yang.

XX

"Are you lost?"

Finally. There hadn't been nearly this many hallways and staircases in Iraq- just a ton of desert. Miranda Bailey had given Meredith a brief rundown of where she could find the neurology ICU, but she had a terrible sense of direction. Stevie always told her it was because she was a woman.

Turning on her heel, Meredith was shocked she didn't drop dead when she saw who had spoken.

Mr. Recently Divorced looked slightly caught off guard, only for a moment. Then that stupid smirk and those perfect white teeth. "Ah. So we meet again."

"Oh, my god," Meredith groaned.

"I've heard that before. Probably twice this morning," he teased. "Although I probably wouldn't have taken you home if I knew you were in intern. I don't like to rob the cradle."

"I'm a resident" Meredith said rigidly.

Derek tilted his head to the side in confusion. "I thought you said you were in Iraq."

"I was," Meredith said in the same tone she might use with a six year old. "As a trauma surgeon."

"I see." Derek glanced over Meredith's shoulder out the window. It was overcast and a few drops of rain were beginning to pelt the glass. "So what compelled you to return to sunny Seattle?"

Meredith felt her stomach twist. "None of your business."

Derek laughed. "You know, most people are happy after a good hook up. You're just… in a mood."

"I am lost," she blurted. "I was looking for neuro."

Derek grinned. "Were you? Dr. Shepherd, by chance?"

"Yup."

"Well, you're in luck. You found him on your own." Derek extended his hand for a handshake, and as his labcoat shifted, Meredith caught the name embroidered on the pocket-

Derek Shepherd, MD.

XX

Meredith didn't get to do a lot of brain surgery in the field. There was a lot of packing bullet wounds and the occasional burr hole, but never real, actual aneurysm clipping. So this should have been interesting.

Except it wasn't.

"Suction please, Dr. Lieutenant Meredith Ellis Grey, MD." Derek said, holding out his hand.

Meredith passed him the tool reluctantly. Honestly, if there wasn't a live body on the table, she would have ignored him.

Ever since Meredith had objected to Derek's pet nickname, bar chick, he now only addressed her using every possible title he could think of. Where he had dug up her middle name remained a mystery.

"Dr. Lietenant Meredith Ellis Grey, MD, could you please -"

"Shouldn't you be focusing on the skull you're poking around in?" Meredith blurted.

Derek grinned confidently. "I've clipped hundreds of aneurysms. Probably thousands. Besides, we're about ready to close." He held out the instruments he was holding. "Do you want to?"

Ok, so he was officially the worst. "Of course I do."

Meredith accepted the instruments and took Derek's place at the head of the operating table.

Apparently, something about reattaching a skull flap made Meredith feel particularly generous, because suddenly she was sharing personal information with Mr. Recently Divorded.

"I got shot," she said without looking up. She could feel Derek watching her, not saying anything. "That's why I came back."

"Are you ok?"

Meredith had to remind herself that she had her hands immersed in a human brain to keep from flicking Derek the finger. "No. I got shot. And that's not even the worst part."

"That sounds like it would be," Derek pointed out. How articulate.

"No. The worst part is they sent me back here to my senile mother, which is the reason I left in the first place." She finished laying the last stitch and handed the instruments back to Derek. "So that's why I'm in a mood."

Before Derek could respond, she stomped out of the OR, letting the door slam roughly behind her.