Chapter Six

In Which the Heroine Fixes It

"Excuse me, dears, but you really might want to finish this somewhere private."

I stiffen, and pull away from Derek. He groans a little, but I'm too busy trying not to turn around to nudge him.

"I didn't mind you being in here when this fine young man was being so romantic," the voice – the, kind, amused, definitely elderly voice – continues. "It was even better than one of my television programs. But a rather large crowd has gathered outside this door, and I think you might be better of continuing your activities elsewhere."

Great. Now, instead of just being afraid to turn around and face the patient who I just had a panic attack (and kissed my boyfriend…with tongue. Lots and lots of tongue) in front of, I also have to avoid looking at the crowd of gossip-hungry people who are probably peering in the window right now.

"Maybe we should go back to the kissing," Derek whispers in my ear.

It's a good idea. A very good idea, actually, and one that I really want to follow through on. But we are doctors, and we aren't supposed to be doing this in front of a patient or a bunch of nosy people. Well, we shouldn't be doing this at all, but that went out the window a long time ago.

So, instead of agreeing with his (almost perfect) idea, I say, "We're in a patient's room? A room with an actual person in it?"

His grin is amused, teasing, and 100 percent McDreamy.

"You picked it," he says.

"Don't remind me," I mutter. Fog. Fear.

"We're going to have to talk about that," he murmurs.

That should worry me, or at least make me stop smiling like I've just won the lottery, but it's so hard to think of anything beyond here and now when they are filled with things like his hands in my hair and his lips on my neck.

"We're going to have to talk about you inviting Mark to Seattle," I say, before running my hands through his hair.

He pauses and looks up at me, letting one of his hands fall to my waist.

"He came, then?" he asks me.

"Yep. Nice warning you gave me, by the way."

"Well, I would have told you, but you were too busy telling Burke that we had sex last night," he replies.

My eyes widen.

"He told you that?" I gasp.

He smirks at me. I don't know if I want to slap him or kiss him right now.

"Yep," he mimics my earlier response.

Off my look, he elaborates, "Well, not at first, but there are only so many looks a person can take before they snap."

I feel like snorting at that, and then I realize that I can, because I have a McDreamy who likes it if I snort.

So I do.

And he smiles.

"You realize that half the department is probably standing outside this door right now," I point out.

He shrugs.

"And there is also a patient in this room. A patient who will probably be my witness when I tell Cristina that you bothered Burke," I continue.

"She bothers him all the time," he responds.

"But that's because she's Cristina and you're McDreamy," I explain.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Sure it does," I protest. "She's allowed to bother him because that's how their relationship works, and since they have the best track record of any of us, I don't think we should question that. And you aren't allowed to bother him because you are Dr. McDreamy, and Cristina thinks you're an ass."

"You should make different friends, then," he tells me seriously.

I raise my eyebrows at him. I don't get any chance to respond, though, because someone else beats me to it.

"You wish," Cristina snaps. "And, for the record, I don't think you're an ass, I know you are."

Derek and I finally move apart so we can face Cristina. Behind her, I can see the now-locked door and the curious faces of people peering inside.

Derek raises an eyebrow at her.

"You know, Dr. Yang, that kind of disrespect-," he begins.

"Save it," she says. "In here we aren't doctors, because if we were, you wouldn't be all over Meredith. And since I just stopped about fifty annoying people from getting in here, I am allowed to tell you that you are an ass. If you want to change that, then go ahead, but you can't stand there in front of me and tell me that you haven't been an ass, and a lot of other words that I can't say in front of a patient."

Derek nods. I'm not too concerned with this, though. This is just two people I care about (and who care about me, although Cristina won't publicly admit that) being themselves. What can I do about that?

Yes, I realize that I just sounded sickeningly laid back and happy. But you know what? I deserve to be sickeningly laid back and happy right now, because the last time I felt this good Addison showed up and stomped all over my life in her tasteful and expensive designer heels. So if I want to be scarily happy, I will be.

It wasn't too obvious that that was the argument I'm probably going to end up using on Cristina and Alex, was it?
"I'll meet you outside at eight," Derek whispers in my ear as we walk out.

My smile gets even wider, but like I said, I deserve to be happy right now.

We push our way through the small crowd that had gathered in front of the door. Everyone suddenly seems quite anxious to get back to work. I really can't imagine why. At least we've given the people in this hospital plenty to talk about. I think I can consider that my good deed for the day.

I mention this to Cristina after Derek leaves to check on his patient (the one whose surgery he was leaving when I ran into him. And no, I did not freak out. I had a brief instance of panic, there's a difference), and she tells me that those kinds of thoughts are why we're friends. Which is touching, if a little (okay, a lot) disturbing.

We've got another three hours left of our shift, so we head down to the pit. Technically, we should be here for another eighteen hours, but the Chief has us doing half-shifts for the rest of the week as punishment for not telling him who cut Denny Duquette's LVAD wire.

It's strange. I've been in this hospital for twelve hours, and so much has happened in that time. So much has happened, that it feels like I should have been here longer. Last night, I was Dr. Shepherd's dirty mistress, and now he's divorced, and I am Dr. McDreamy's potential something. Which is a lot better than being the dirty mistress. Less than twenty-four hours ago, Denny was alive and Izzie was dreaming of a wedding…We were facing the Chief…planning a prom…I was choosing a bottle of tequila as my companion for the night…Callie was peeling me off a barstool…Izzie was still crying…

Call me crazy, but I don't feel any nostalgia for that time.

I'm doing sutures for a while, when Bailey comes down and starts yelling for a trauma team. Which, in the world of surgical interns, means one thing, and one thing only: good surgery.

I'm at her side in an instant, with Cristina just behind me.

"This is mine," she says.

"Not a chance," I whisper back. "I was here first."

"You ended my lunch with Burke to talk about your sexcapades, this is so mine." She hisses.

"Would the both of you cut it out," Bailey interrupts crossly. "There'll be plenty of carnage for everyone."

I think it's understandable that we all smiled at that. After all, we're surgeons, it's our job to be excited about cutting people open (and even if it wasn't, we'd still be excited, anyway). And wouldn't you want a doctor who's happy to perform surgery as opposed to one who doesn't like it when they have to cut people open? Besides, we always sew them back up again.

All of this was at the front of my mind when Bailey turned to me with her eyes narrowed and opened her mouth to speak. In fact, I was so prepared for an argument that I interrupted her and blurted it all out.

Behind me, Cristina suddenly develops a coughing fit that sounds a little too much like laughter for my comfort. What happened to "and this is why we're friends"?

Bailey's eyes narrow even further, and suddenly an image of her turning on me with a scalpel flashes into my mind. Which is ridiculous, because she's a surgeon, and she wouldn't do that... Uh oh. She's still looking at me. An eyebrow rises. Okay, maybe I should just back away very slowly.

"I was going to ask you what it is you think you're doing here," she says.

"Huh?" I ask.

Alright, I admit it, I'm afraid of her. There is a reason we call her the Nazi, you know, and I am the person who just made out with an attending in front of a patient. Last time, it was only sex in a car, and even then she made my life hell. Of course, then my life went to hell on its own, so maybe she'll figure she doesn't have to do anything. Karma, right?

"I told you that you wouldn't be going into an OR until I said otherwise. So what the hell do you think you're doing on my trauma team?" she snaps.

"You said I couldn't scrub in on anything until I fixed…it," I say, cringing away from the thought of correcting her. But she hasn't turned around and tackled me (hey, she could take me, she said it herself), so I continue hurriedly. "Well, it's fixed. I fixed it."

Okay, maybe I didn't exactly fix it, but one little white lie won't hurt, will it? Because we don't have very long until the ambulance arrives, and I don't want to lose a spot on this surgery because I was too busy trying to explain my love life to Dr. Bailey.

"So I heard," she snorts, turning away from me.

I guess that means I'm in, right? Even if it doesn't, I'm not missing the chance to scrub in on something today, because suddenly, surgery has meaning.

And, you know, we get to cut people open.

They start wheeling in the patient about ten seconds later. Now we're all surrounding him in a sort of organized chaos. Frantic hands are grabbing the gurney from the paramedic as we are told his stats, and the patient is wheeled into an OR in the midst of a frantic crush of people.

He's young, only about 20 or so, and as we leave the ER, I see a frantic young woman rushing in. The odds of her having any connection to this man are slim, but somehow I know that she loves him. It's the expression on her face. She looks like the man she loves has literally got his heart on his sleeve. I look down. He hasn't got his heart on his sleeve yet, but it's definitely out for the world to see.

As the gurney crosses the red line into OR 3, all thoughts leave my mind. It's time to be a surgeon.

"Retract," Bailey tells us.

Cristina and I obligingly pull the retractors farther apart. I'm still surprised we need them at all. The wound in his chest was so big that I was almost afraid his heart would fall out. Of course, we obviously do need them.

Bailey frowns. "Someone go page Dr. Haan."

Dr. Haan? The cardio sub from Mercy West? Why would she need to be here, all Bailey has left to do is close the wound. I look more closely at the heart. That's when I notice it – a small tear in one of the ventricular valves that is already starting to fill with blood.

The rest of the surgery is a blur to me. Everything started happening too quickly after that. Dr. Haan got there just in time, and despite what Cristina says about her being a bitch, she is good. She managed to contain the bleeding and repair the tear. He's alive right now, but one of the other interns is supposed to monitor his vitals overnight.

I don't even know the man's name, but I can't help but hope he'll be alright even more than I usually would have. I think of the worried woman in the ER, and think of Izzie crying on top of Denny's dead body, and I have to hope that he will live, just so one woman can escape the pain of heartbreak.

We clean up and go to the locker room to get dressed. The surgery ran a little long, so I've only got about fifteen minutes before I have to meet Derek outside.

"She dated Burke," Cristina says unexpectedly as I pull my shirt over my head.

"Huh?" I'm still busy wondering why I didn't decide to wear something nice to work. Well, I already know why, but that doesn't stop me from wishing I wore something better than a plain blue shirt.

"Dr. Bitch dated Burke in med school," she says.

She doesn't look at me. She stares straight ahead and spits out the facts like bullets – bullets that would probably be aimed in Dr. Haan's direction. I guess it's time for me to be the supportive friend instead of the other way around. I think I like the change.

"It doesn't matter," I tell her. "They've been over for years, and he picked you."

"She came to visit him," Cristina says stubbornly. "She was there, and they were laughing and being sarcastic with each other. It was sickening."

"Seriously?" I ask, before recovering. "Well, it still doesn't matter. She was just visiting an old…friend, and you have him. You had him even when you pretended you didn't want him. She can't top that."

Now Cristina turns to me. She's giving me that are-you-deficient? look.

"She's an attending," she says slowly. "One of the best cardiothoracic surgeons in the country. Do you get that?"

"Yeah, but she's not you," I try to explain. "Nobody is. And we already know that Burke? He wants you."

Of course, George has to walk over to his locker just in time to catch that.

"I did not want to hear that," he says.

Cristina rolls her eyes, all signs of worry now carefully hidden.

"Grow up, Bambi," she snaps.

I ignore them both and focus on trying to make my hair look okay. Not an easy task when you've just spent three hours sweating and stressing in an OR.

"So I heard about you and Shepherd," George says.

Cristina snorts.

"He was right outside the door with everyone else," she reveals.

"I was not!" he protests. My eyebrows rise. "Okay, I was, but- but only because someone should be able to tell Izzie."

"I could tell Izzie," I deadpan. "And Cristina was there, too, she –,"

"Yeah, no," she said. "I am so not going to give Betty Crocker hospital gossip."
"Cristina!" George and I say.

"What?" she shrugs. "She obviously doesn't want to have anything to do with this hospital."

We huff, but there isn't a response to that. She's right, of course, but it seems to cold to think of it like that. Izzie's our friend, so we tell her things. That's just the way it's supposed to be, right?

We finish getting dressed in silence, all of us busy thinking about the things we don't want to talk about. Izzie. Burke. Callie. I hand George my keys on my way out.

"What are these for?" he asks, confused.

"You and Callie are going to need a way home," I explain. "I'm meeting Derek outside."

"Oh," he says. Then, "And you didn't mention this because…We just had an entire conversation about gossip, and you and Shepherd, you could have said something then."

"Let Callie drive," is the only thing I say to that.

"Okay."

I nod and leave, shifting my tote bag a little. I really need to empty it out. I've been planning to do it for a while, but when people die or have Dirty Exam Room Sex, cleaning a purse out moves down on my To Do list.

I walk outside, and there he is. He's smiling at me, wearing one of those sweaters he likes so much over a t-shirt.

"Hi," he says.

For a second, I can't think of anything to say. I can't believe this is really happening. Yesterday, he was married, and I had no hope for a future with him, and now, here he is. Free. Smiling. Crinkly-eyed. So, I say the only thing that pops into my head.

"Hi."

We walk over to his car, both of us grinning like we can't believe our luck. And, I, at least, really can't.

But I'm open to trying.