A/N: I don't own Grey's Anatomy.

Okay, one thing I must say is that I don't really know how to write in medical terms or about medicine. So I'm sorry if I get it all screwed up, I really do try to look up the stuff. But I might get some stuff wrong. If I do please tell me. I want to get it right. Also, I know that Lexie is now a resident, not a intern, but I just got the fifth season. So I'm writing from there.

Chapter 1

Sam's POV

"Heart rate's steady… Gotta keep pressure on the wound… Start her on a drip of Morphine.."

The sound of a siren, and a hurried male voice shouting orders is what woke me up. My eyes fluttered open, my vision blurry from the bright lights of the ambulance. The small trunk of the ambulance seem to swirl around me. All kinds of medical supplies danced around me. Cotton balls, syringes, gauze.

The paramedic looked down at me, a bit of his black hair falling over his forehead.

"She's waking up.. Sweetie, Can you tell me your name?"

My gaze lifted to the other paramedic who was applying pressure to my stomach wound, and back to the man who spoke to me.

"S-Sam..," gravel roughened my voice, making me sound like some kind of beast. The other paramedic inserted the IV into my right arm and knocked on the window, connecting to the front of the bus.

"Okay Sam. I'm giving you some Morphine to help with the pain. When we get to Mercy West, the docs are going to get you all patched up okay?"

Panic surged through me and I shake my head as much as I could with the drugs starting to take affect.

" No..," my voice came out as a whisper, "Not Mercy West… I-I have to go to Seattle Grace.. Please." A few lone tears ran down my cheeks, stinging a few cuts on my face.

The paramedic looked at me with a sad face. I could tell he pitied me, just from his eyes. He was silent for a minute before he banged on the front window.

"Pull a 180 we're taking her to Seattle Grace instead!"

"What? Why?-"

He ran his fingers through his long black hair, " Just fucking do it, Steve! You owe me, remember?"

There was a grumble from the front of the ambulance before I felt the bus turn around. As he moved back to apply pressure to my wound, I grabbed his bloody gloved hand.

"Thank.. You," I whispered, and gripped his hand tightly.

He gave me a sad smile that didn't reach his ice blue eyes, and went back to tending to my wound.

The trip to Seattle Grace took longer than it would have to go to Mercy West. But we made it. The paramedic, whose name I learned was David, had called in ahead so the doctor's knew I was coming.

The morphine had fully kicked in so, embarrassingly enough, I was high as a fucking kite.

I felt no pain, but I was seeing things. All the colors around me where different, and swirled into one big haze. Truth be told it made me nauseous. The bus nearly screeched to a stop, and my gurney jolted, making a light clanging noise. Then the shiny metal doors of the ambulance were thrown open. A group of doctors in scrubs and yellowish colored gowns were waiting outside the door.

David pulled the sides of the gurney up, " Female, approximately 17 yrs. She has possible broken ribs, a broken arm, nd multiple lacerations and contusions. Her name is Sam," David carefully pushed the gurney out, and handed my morphine bag to a tall man with short brown hair. He also had a light brushing of bristle along his chin and jaw line. I had to admit, he was hot. And that wasn't the morphine speaking… Well maybe a little bit.

The other doctors bustled around me, pressing more gauze to my bleeding cuts. Quickly, I was pushed into a very busy E.R. The man who was holding my morphine, grabbed my hand.

"Sam, my name is . We're going to get you all fixed up okay? But first I need you to tell me exactly what happened."

Groggily, I turned my head to look at him. He had kind caring eyes, that I couldn't bring myself to lie to. Plus the morphine made me a little more willing to spill my guts.

"M-My step dad… He got angry and.. Told me I needed to be taught a lesson." My breathing was impaired from a tightness in my chest, so I had to stop to wheeze.

I felt Dr. Karev's grip tighten on my hand, but as quick as it came, it left. My gurney was pushed past all the commotion in the ER and into an empty trauma room. Dr. Karev hung up the medicine and on to a metal pole. He turned to one of the other doctors.

"Lexie, can you get me more gauze and a stitch kit? And then get to work on cleaning out the cuts on her arms."

The woman, Lexie, nodded and ran out the door. Dr. Karev turned back, his chocolate brown eyes meeting my green ones.

"You only have a few cuts I see that are going to need stitches. Once we get those taken care of I'll have Dr. Grey take you for X-rays and a CT scan so we can check for broken bones and internal bleeding… Is there anyone I can call for you? Your Mom?"

My lids were trying to drift shut but I hold them open, "M-mom's dead.." I inhale deeply, "M-my dad… works… here."

I tried to keep focused on his hand in mine, but my eyes grew heavier.

I was able to get out a few more words before the morphine finally conquered my "H-he d-doesn't… know… I… exist… H… His name… is Derek… Shepherd."