Title: Shades of Grey
Summary: A series of one-shots examine the various moods of Meredith Grey. They're all one-shots, but they create a larger story.
Morrigan's Note: I know, I haven't written anything in over a year. And, honestly, I had no intension of doing so, but I was inspired when I was updating my livejournal by the 133 moodsets. I liked the idea of using them to describe Meredith and how different situations would impact her emotions. In the end, it will be about 25 chapters long with each chapter consisting of a set of 5 or 6 moodsets.
Disclaimer: I don't own Grey's Anatomy… if I did, the plot would be very different right now.
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A/N 1: Each chapter is a mini-story that takes the pervious episode as inspiration and a jumping off point, and incorporates it to fit the various moods. Ideally, after each new episode there would be at least one new chapter—possibly more depending on if there's a major directional shift in the show. And since it's 25 chapters, and there's not 25 episodes before the season finale, I'll probably be taking liberties directionally during the summer.
A/N 2: As I know nothing about medicine, I'm not even going to attempt trying to sound like I know anything about it.
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Sets I consists of: Accomplished, Aggravated, Amused, Angry, and Annoyed; and was written post "Band-Aids Cover Bullet Holes."
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Shades of Grey
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Accomplished:
Your arms feel like they're about to fall off. Dropping the stack of labs onto the surface you lean against the counter trying to catch your breath. Pulling your notepad out of your pocket, you struggle to find a pen. Shit, it was here a minute ago! On the far side of the nurse's station, you finally find it, but only succeed in knocking it to the floor. There the ballpoint pen stares triumphant as you practically topple the tower of labs.
"Having trouble, Grey?" Bailey smirks as she walks by you trying desperately to keep the mountain from collapsing in a messy heap of folders and papers.
'God, how long have you been at it?' you wonder as you tentatively bend down for the pen.
Checking your watch, you realized you're less than 4 hours into your shift. Ouch! Apparently, checking your watch, but not watching your head as you stand, isn't the greatest of ideas. As if answering your silent question to the gods of surgery if the day could possibly get any worse, Dr. She-Bitch chooses to walk by. She's dressed up today, you observe, in a skirt, heels, and designer top. Her hair's all fabulous and perfect, while your stringy hair is falling out of a sloppy bun and you're standing like a lost child in wrinkled scrubs.
Who the hell shows up to work at a hospital dressed like that anyway? Does Derek notice that she can maintain her Manhattan Power Diva look while you could barely look presentable when living in a trailer? Does he think every morning: 'Thank God I chose the smart, genius, gorgeous doctor over the stupid, stumbling intern?'
You hate her! But, you know that's a lie, like every other time you've promised yourself to hate her, and to work harder at hating her. You can't even accomplish hating your ex-boyfriend's wife that he left you for. God, can you do anything right?
Flipping through the pages, you find today's page. Victoriously you cross off 'deliver labs.' Not trusting your sleep-denied eyes, you count the items on the list again, ticking each one off with your fingers, double, and triple checking what you think you're seeing. Seriously? Only 3 more grunt-related tasks left, only 4 hours into the shift? Maybe you can sleep or study or maybe even scrub in on a minor procedure before lunch.
As your mind wanders to consider all the possibilities for the morning, you see him. Shoulders hunched over, eyes dead ahead, he ignores your attempts to catch his eye—to simply have him acknowledge your existence. There's no way he can't see you, reason proclaims, he's walking directly past you.
"Hey George."
He doesn't stop, doesn't slow down, doesn't answer; but you see his eyes flick over to you, before settling straight ahead again. It's nothing major, but it's something. It's a start. And it suddenly occurs to you, that the biggest thing you've accomplished this morning isn't written in your notepad.
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Aggravated:
She finds you sitting in the far corner of the gallery. Somewhere between awake and unconscious, you've leaned your head against the wall and are trying unsuccessfully to disappear.
"Here's my list," Izzie says as she drops a pink scrap of paper proudly displaying "Hello Kitty" into your lap as she takes the chair next to you. As you pick it up, your eyes dart nervously around the small room, sure that this conversation, like so many recently, will escalate into a full-blown fight.
Derek throws a glance over his shoulder from the front row, and you're not sure if he simply didn't see you or if he's been deliberately avoiding you. He can't act like an ex boyfriend now, not when George has so readily taken on that role and all your other friends still give their disapproving looks whenever George is forced to be in the same 40-foot-radius of you. Whore. So what if no one says it? They're all thinking it. All the while he promised to act like a friend, but he's been giving you that look—halfway between disappointment and despair. What does it mean that he wasn't there this morning? Maybe he told Dr. McPerfect about the walks with the dirty-mistress-whore who broke her friend's heart.
You return to the list, trying to figure out what the hell Izzie's going on about now. It doesn't help that you didn't sleep last night.
"Eggs… butter… chocolate frosting… bread… tampons… milk… toilet paper…"
Unsure of what to say, you pass the list back to her. "It's not my turn. I bought last week," you explain.
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say.
"Um, you're right, Meredith," she starts, her voice rising after each word. "Actually, it's George's week-"
"Izzie!" You hiss at her, and jerk your head towards Derek to remind her to just shut up. As you shoot your eyes towards him you see his jaw clench, though his eyes remain glued on Dr. Burke and the patient lying open on the cold metal table down below.
Not missing a beat she continues, her tone the same, thank God her volume's not. "But since it's your fault that George isn't here to do the shopping this week-"
"What? You want me to buy groceries two out of three weeks? Will that make you get over it? I mean, what the hell do I have to do to get it through your head that it was a mistake and I'm sorry?"
"Fix it," she orders. "Until then, you get George's grocery detail."
"Fine," you answer, voice tight. Damn her! Damn George too! You snatch the list from her hands and attempt to get out of there as fast as possible, but in your haste, you practically trip over Derek. He gives you that damn look again as he helps steady you and you glare in response. And damn him too!
As you storm out of the gallery you can't decide which of them has you more aggravated.
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Amused:
"And it's not like I even asked for it," Christina vents, "I mean, what was I suppose to do?"
You smirk at her as you take a bite of your sandwich. It's hard not to laugh when she's carrying on like this.
"Oh shut up," she commands, still seething.
"Good thing it's a cool day," you observe as you pull your jacket tighter, "you're pretty steamed."
But Christina's clearly not amused, "Oh, you know what? I hate you. You know that right? I absolutely hate you."
"What'd Meredith do now?" Alex asks as he joins the two of you at the cafeteria table. You look over to the table by the door and see Izzie watching Alex pull out a chair and sit across from Christina. Stifling a laugh, you steal a glance at Izzie sitting alone in the cafeteria. It's hard not to feel vindicated when she's the one that demanded the other interns choose sides, and she's the one sitting alone. Why isn't she sitting with George?
"I didn't do anything," you answer. "Why is everything my fault?" It's a very fair question, considering how some of them have been acting recently.
"You've been screwing over everyone recently," he reasons. "So, ah… when's my turn?" He asks, leaning in and wiggling his eyebrows. Christina snorts into her water. You throw a power bar with your left arm, and hit him with your right.
"Shut up," you say. Really, what kind of response can you give? It's funny, but it's hurtful, and laughing it off would only encourage him.
"Consider it as me helping you improve your bedside manner." God, he's in a mood today! "Dr. Yang," he asks seriously, "would you like me to assist you in mastering the bed…side manner?"
"I hate you too," she answers as she grabs for her cookie. She stares off at the door as she takes a bite and begins chewing.
The three of you sit there, chuckling together, and you realize how much you've missed this, you and your friends just playing around and joking. You try not to think about the two others that are missing.
"Oh crap! They've found me." Christina suddenly springs to her feet, struggling to gather up all of her things sprawled out on the table.
"What's wrong with her?" Alex asks. You motion towards the door as a large, middle-aged couple marches towards the three of you. Their eyes are bright and their smiles stretch ear-to-ear. It's disgusting.
"You'll get to meet the Hailers," you explain to Alex. He hasn't been subjected to their gratitude all morning. Thank goodness you were only there for rounds with Burke; poor Christina's been was to their case.
"The who?" He asks, still confused.
"Dr. Yang!" exclaims Mrs. Hailer as the pair flank Christina.
Seeing the look in Christina's eyes, Alex starts to laugh until you kick him from under the table. But you want to laugh too, and you bite down on your lip hard to keep from smiling. It's hard not the laugh when Christina's trying to escape human interaction.
"We just can't thank you enough for everything," Mr. Hailer starts, frantically shaking her hand. It's almost comedic, and you wonder if it'll fall off like in a cartoon from the rate he's going pumping it up and down.
"It's just, it's been, so… Thank you!" Ms. Hailer shouts, throwing an arm around Christina and drawing her in for a hug. Christina's head is shoved to the woman's breast as she and her husband break into an impromptu group-hug. Poor Christina's absolutely trapped.
Christina looks terrified. "Aww…" Alex gushes in his sarcastic, ass-hole drawl.
You glare at him and get back to your sandwich, trying to give Christina whatever bit of privacy you can afford her as she's undoubtedly experiencing her public humiliation. If you stop watching, maybe you'll stop shaking from the silent laughter.
When they finally leave, Christina collapses back into her chair, her head in her hands, clearly embarrassed. "God, I hate people."
"So Betty Hailer's being discharged?" you ask.
"Not a moment too soon," she groans.
"Dr. Yang, I guess I should be asking you to help me with my bedside manner," Alex notes.
You mean to say something, anything to try to make her feel better, but you dissolve into a fit of laughter after seeing her expression. You shouldn't laugh. You're a horrible friend.
"I hate both of you," she states.
But it's just so amusing that you can't help but laugh!
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Angry:
"So what are our options?" Derek asks the three of us in the hall, unleashing the battle to win the chance at scrubbing in.
You had been trying constantly to apologize George all morning. With him avoiding you, this had been the first case you've shared in weeks. However, trying to assure him of your sincerity is pretty hard with Derek and Alex hanging around. With Alex being… Alex, and Derek shooting down everything suggestion you have, your good intentions, and your positive attitude are quickly shot.
While you and Alex go back and forth over the proper treatment, Derek turns to George, "O'Malley, what would you suggest?"
Alex mumbles something under his breath about George and his suggestions. Derek, however, approves of George's suggested procedure. "Excellent. O'Malley, you'll be scrubbing in. Schedule the procedure, and then take Mr. Parker and prep him for surgery—he and his wife seem to trust you. I'll see you in the OR."
George has to know you're looking at him, but he just thanks Derek and walks off and won't even turn your way. You watch him go, but quickly snap your focus back to the conversation.
"We're going to need an extra hand," Derek explains, "Dr. Grey, you'll be scrubbing in. Dr. Karev, you'll be monitoring my other patients."
Before you can recover from the shock of Derek actually choosing to put you and George together, and trying to quell the growing excitement that always comes with surgery, Alex alerts him to his error. "Dr. Shepherd," Alex starts. You stare at him, shaking your head in disbelief. He can't possibly be doing what you think he's doing. 'No Alex, don't do it. Don't be an ass,' you plead silently. But it's Alex, and whatever camaraderie you may share during lunch disappears when brain surgery is on the table. "Do you really think having O'Malley and Grey scrub in together for surgery would be a good idea?" Alex smirks, "I mean, it might not be in the patient's best interest."
Derek looks at you, and that look's back again. "I see your point, Dr. Karev. Dr. Grey, you'll monitor the floor. Dr. Karev, I'll see you in surgery." His eyes linger on you, but you look away, you're too upset to return his gaze. Instead you focus your wrathful gaze on Alex. All you can see is red. You hear Derek's footsteps retreating down the hall.
Grabbing Alex by the lapels of his lab coat, you drag him into the locker room, receiving the questioning glances of the passing nurses. Once in the locker room you push him onto a bench, standing above him with your arms crossed.
"What was that?"
"Dude, calm down," Alex insists. "It's nothing personal, but common, it's brain surgery."
"You have no heart! You're heartless! No wonder Izzie's always off with Burke's heart patient—at least he has one!" You know that was harsh, and you know you only brought up to piss him off. But seriously, if he ever deserved to hear that, it was now.
"Hey, you can be as mad as you want, but while you're making rounds, I'll be assisting in the OR." He's not angry! How on earth is he not furious from that? His lack of a reaction only serves to feed your anger.
"Do you ever think about anyone but yourself?" You scream in frustration.
He smirks, "This coming from the girl that broke Bambi's spirit?"
He strides out, completely unperturbed by his betrayal. He broke the code. You can't remember which code, but surely, what he did, was breaking a code. You slam your palm into a locker while you seethe with anger.
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Annoyed
"Are you angry with me?" Derek asks when the elevator doors finally slid shut.
"I'm not angry. I'm annoyed," you answer truthfully.
You both lapse into a silence. He's looking at you, you can feel it. But it's with that look, which doesn't help. And you're still annoyed with him, and this latest stint with George didn't help.
You give him a sideways glance, he's completely turned and is facing you. "What?" you finally ask.
"You are angry with me," he insists.
"No. I'm annoyed with you," you explain, barely concealing your displeasure. "You stood me up this morning, and then you threw me out of surgery."
"I didn't stand you up. I had a… thing."
"A thing?" you don't think you should believe him.
"Yeah," he maintains, but offers no other explaination. Leaning towards you he whispers, "Would I stand you up?"
"You did," you point out. "And kicking me out of surgery doesn't make up for it."
He laughs, thinking this is some sort of game. But you're annoyed and it's not funny today.
"So I take it George is still mad at you." 'Why is he fishing for information?' you wonder.
"What are you being like this, Derek?" hiding the edge in your voice is pointless by now.
"Like what?" he asks as though this is still a game.
"Like…" but you can't say it. No matter how annoyed, you can't make it awkward by actually saying it… can you? "Like…" You can't concentrate with him wearing that amused expression leaning towards you. You're starting to stutter.
"Like...?" he supplies.
"Like non-friendly!" you finally say. Ouch, it sounds harsher than you intented.
He takes a step back and crosses his arms over his chest, stunned by this accusation. "I'm very friendly," he insists.
"Right," you snort. The elevator doors 'ding' and you exit, shoving your hands into the pockets of your lab coat. You walk briskly down the hall, but you can hear him running to catch up with you.
"I am," he continues, sounding completely content, despite you insulting him and then walking away from him. "Would I be this concerned if I wasn't friendly?"
With this, you turn and face him, stopping dead in the hallway to drop the bombshell on him. But seriously, there's no way he can't see this coming:
"You're acting like my ex-boyfriend, not my friend." This confession stings. He looks completely shocked and pulls back from you. Strangely, you feel no remorse—you're actually glad he's hurt. It's good to know he still feels something. "Don't give me that look you've been giving me all day." He doesn't respond, but his eyebrows climb higher as he silently dares you to continue. "That look where you're so disappointed in me, but you can't justify it by being outright upset, so you give me this disapproving look whenever you see me."
"I'm not-"
"You are. And it's annoying. And you're annoying. And if you won't kick anyone else out of surgery for whatever problems they're having with another intern, you shouldn't kick me out of surgery either. Because that's annoying too. And you're annoying me."
You pivot, whipping your ponytail around. Secretly, you hope it hit him in the face—just to emphasize your displeasure. Striding away you hear him answer, "You're annoying me, too."
You look back, and smile. He smiles back with a bemused grin. You're annoyed, and he's annoying, but he's still Derek. "You owe me a surgery. Don't forget!"
"But I thought I was annoying?"
"You are," you smile back. God, he's so freaking annoying!
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A/N: I'm sure I ruffled some feathers with 'Annoyed' but don't get me wrong, I adore MerDer, but if it's not happening in the show, it's not happening here…unless these characters lead me there… but… we'll see.