AN: Hello, our fellow fanfiction lovers. So sorry for the long wait. Both of us have gone through a lot of life changes in the past few years and haven't had enough time to remotely collaborate on the story, but fear not, the story is not being abandoned. Please enjoy the new chapter.

Ref: S01E06

Chapter Eight


Benjamin Franklin once said, "Never leave that till tomorrow, which you can do today." Sounds easy enough, right? So why are we so willing to put things off again and again until external forces push us to face the task? If I had to guess, I'd say it has a lot to do with either something as benign as time, or as malignant as fear. For some, it's just that life gets away from them, but for others, it's fear of failure, fear of pain, fear of rejection, fear of the unknown, or fear of commitment and boundaries. The thing with putting things off though is, the more you put them off the more they weigh on you, tear you apart, and sometimes leave you with irreparable damage.

Meredith's POV

Mer stirred from the first peaceful night of sleep she had experienced in what felt like the longest month in recent memory. Allowing herself the momentary luxury of just lounging under the weighted blanket, listening as the heavy raindrops cascaded against the window panes, soothed her frayed soul. The rollercoaster ride that had been the past two months of her life, from nearly losing her very first patient, her embarrassingly stupid antics with the brain dead patient almost jeopardizing her internship, her mother's deteriorating health, and everything that comes with it, George's sweet but awkward hovering, and… It has now been a few weeks since the ill-fated house party, the disastrous night Dr. Bailey had caught Derek and her having sex in his car. While her resident supervisor hadn't reported them, things had been tense between her, Bailey, and Derek. Now that was a whole other conundrum the dark blonde had avoided spending too much time on.

Derek Shepherd, supposedly a simple one night stand, had much to her surprise, turned out to be not just a colleague but an attending at the hospital where she was interning. The following weeks had become a series of cat and mouse flirtatious encounters where he slowly whittled away at her resistance until she couldn't stop thinking about the confident, smug, charming, annoying, wonderful, frustrating ass. The mere thought of whom made her heart race faster in excitement and in whose presence, despite her admittedly half hearted efforts, all her inhibitions flew out the window.

To say the least, yesterday she had reached her breaking point and had needed to get away from it all, which after an hour of aimless driving in the dark rainy convoluted streets of Seattle had led her here, to Harry's house. Harry, who continued to prove time and time again to be her shelter against any storm, a constant home she could always return to, and most importantly, her Batman. A tragic past, a life of struggle, abrasive, blunt, and overly cautious at times, but a superhero nonetheless with a saving people streak an ocean wide. He had welcomed her with a smile and warm hug when she had wrung his doorbell doing a commendable impression of a drowned rat.

Being the amazing brother he is and despite both of them having early shifts the next morning, he had brought out two generous slices of ice cream cake left over from his birthday party a few weeks earlier and listened to her bemoan her life for hours curled up in front of the fireplace. Although he had internally, she could tell, rolled his eyes at her back-and-forth with Derek, and still wasn't fully in favor of her relationship with the man, he had agreed to respect her choice. So, while her troubles hadn't disappeared and she hadn't come any closer to coming to a decision about Derek, she at least felt a smidgen more centered to handle them.

Glancing at the vintage alarm clock on the bedside table of one of Harry's more Ravenclaw'ish guest rooms, she forced herself to get up and ready for the day ahead.


Mer hastily pulled into a parking spot and hurried around the car to gather her things from the passenger seat. Her intern group had rounds this morning and she was running late. This is what she got for treating herself to a little lay-in, desperately hoping to slip in before 'The Nazi' noticed. Slamming the door, she turned to dash for the locker room, only to come face to face with the last person she wanted to see getting out of their car in the spot next to hers.

"Crap," she blurted out, startled at seeing none other than the man who stubbornly refused to leave her thought. It's official, the universe is actively conspiring against me.

"Crap?" Derek echoed, disbelief etched across his features, a mix of amusement and curiosity in his twice-be-damed pretty eyes.

Struggling to find her footing at being caught unaware, she rushed away with a, "Hi, I'm late", her words a feeble attempt to divert the impending conversation.

She could feel Derek's penetrating gaze bore into the back of her head. "You avoiding me," he accused, his footsteps matching hers as they made their way to the hospital entrance.

Feeling a little balsy, the intern admitted, "Yes, but also late."

"Okay, are we going to talk about this?" He pressed discreetly as they navigated the hustle and bustle on their way to the elevators.

"No."

Being his annoyingly relentless self, a quality that both frustrated and endeared him to her, the Attending continued despite her short response. "About us and Bailey and what she saw?"

With a surge of resistance, her 'queen of denial' tendencies flaring to full mast, she shot back, "I don't need to talk about it. I experienced it. Naked!"

"This is getting complicated."

"Complicated for me," Mer confessed, her voice tinged with impatient frustration at the need or timing of this encounter. "I'm the intern sleeping with the Attending. Bailey hasn't been speaking to me properly, if at all anymore," she pointed out, trying to calm herself as her anxiety started to rear its ugly head again. God, how did my life become so fucked up? Shit self-control of the illogical kind, that's how.

"Not that that's a bad thing. If I was a better guy, I'd walk away," Derek offered.

"Yes, you would," Mer replied looking back at him, hoping to convey with her gaze how much she needed for him to take the action she wasn't strong enough the take.

"Do you want me to be a better guy?" Derek's voice held a note of vulnerability as if he feared this option might become a possibility.

"Yes." Her response was swift, instinctual. It would be the ethical, easier thing to do, and bring an end to all her current problems. "No." As if her brain was a different entity from her mind, she heard the denial coming from her lips, laying bare her internal battle.

Feeling exposed at the turn this conversation had taken and realizing the time she had wasted waiting for the elevator, she exclaimed, "Crap, I'm late," she ran towards the stairs.

"Take your time. Think about it." He called out behind her.

Yeah? What do you think I've been doing for the past month?


Cristina's POV

Cristina raced into the locker room, preparing herself for the ass-chewing she had no chance of escaping from Bailey. Their resident despised tardiness, almost as much as incompetence. But if there ever was a worthy excuse for being late, a quick but satisfying bout of sex with Burke in the on-call room definitely qualified. She burst through the door and rushed for her locker with barely a noticeable stutter in her step at finding Meredith still there.

"You're late," the blonde needlessly pointed out as she changed into her scrubs.

"So are you," she quickly shot back unapologetically, her hands rifling through her locker for her pager and a hair tie.

A heavy sigh escaped Meredith, "I know, and I can't afford to piss off Bailey anymore. Do you think she told anyone?"

Cristina contemplated the question for a bare moment before shaking her head. "About you and McDreamy? No, he's her boss too."

"If they find out, what can they...?" Meredith asked with a tinge of nervous tremor, "Can they kick me out, or...?" Cristina slammed her locker and fixed her fellow intern with an indifferent gaze, her dark eyes focusing on the visibly anxious intern.

"No... Not officially. You'll just get edged out, blacklisted, banned from his surgeries, passed over for chief resident," Cristina laid out pragmatically, growing exasperated with her, at times, overly emotional frie… competition. "It'll be humiliating, but you'll live."

A pregnant pause hung between them as they both pulled their hair hazardously into messy updos. This is exactly why she never let her emotions get in the way, satisfaction welled within her at the thought of her clean and unentangled engagement with the Cardiothoracic attending.

"I have to end it, I definitely have to end it," Meredith muttered, the words more for herself, than Cristina. "I have to end it, right?"

She rolled her eyes and fixed the slender woman with a pointed look. "Meredith," she admonished gently, "shut up." Cristina ignored her surprised "What?" and hastily strode out of the room swinging her coat over her shoulders, bounding up the stairs two at a time.

"Did you seriously just tell me to shut up?" the blonde questioned as she trailed behind Cristina.

"Oh, please, you've got a hot doctor who likes to make you open up and say, 'ahh'," she quipped neutrally, images of her dark cardio God flickering across her mind. "It's the American dream, stop whining about it."

As they joined the other interns, Cristina paid little heed to Meredith's response. The grimace on her face deepened as Bailey's voice cut through the air, a stark reminder of their unpunctuality. "Cristina, you're late."

"So is Meredith," she clarified.

Bailey's stout figure led the way with a sense of authority that commanded attention. "When we walk in this door, you will maintain decorum," the Resident directed, "you will not laugh, vomit, or drop your jaw. Are we understood?"

Cristina shared a curious look with Meredith as they stopped outside an inpatient room.

As they all made their way inside, she took in the hitched breath from George beside her. The magnitude of the patient's abdominal tumor was astonishing, and she wanted 'in' on it. Karev greeted the patient with a level of politeness that was starkly uncharacteristic of the 'Evil Spawn' and the surreal sensation of having woken to an alternate reality continued, as she and the others watched the resident jackass sweet talk the patient.

"Good morning Annie, how are you? This is Dr. Bailey, and these are my fellow interns," he introduced, motioning to the others with a polite smile. What the fuck kind of alternate reality is this?

"Dr. Karev, we refer to patients as 'Mr.'..."

"Oh, I told him to call me 'Annie'," the woman interrupted self-consciously, before turning towards Karev to give him a shy smile.

Cristina glanced back at the sound of approaching footsteps and tried to maintain her composure as Burke entered, memories of their intense rendezvous early this morning, the way he had leaned above her, muscles corded in tension, highlighted by the enticing layer of sweat resurfaced.

She blinked the images away, averting her gaze as their eye met briefly, and focused solely on brainstorming ways to get assigned to this case. This one was for the books and she'd be damned if she couldn't find a way to be in that O.R. when the procedure happened.

She tuned in as Karev droned about the patient. "Annie Connors is a 43-year-old woman who presented last night with progressive shortness of breath for the past three months. Found to have a very large tumor of unknown origin pressed against her diaphragm. Stable vital signs. Scheduled for CT this morning, sir." Burke tucked the patient's file under his arm asking her a few questions.

"I've been housebound for the last year. How claustrophobic could I be?"

How pathetic does your life have to be to not leave your house for that long? Christina's thoughts may seem uncharitable to most but she was comfortable in the fact they were true, nonetheless.

Burke proceeded to assign the initial workup to Izzie only for the patient to request Karev instead.

As all the interns filed out of the room, Izzie's curiosity surfaced, sparking a conversation about the tumor's weight.

"60 pounds," George replied without hesitation.

"Gotta be more," murmured the blonde, "She's carrying a whole extra person."

"I've got to get in this," Cristina commented with a determined expression.

"I almost did," Izzie pointed out with a dejected frown, "Have you ever seen Alex like that? He actually seemed sincere."

Meredith finally joined the conversation, her voice laced with skepticism. "Seemed, being the operative word." Cristina scoffed as she checked her pager absently in the hopes that there was another tumor hiding elsewhere, but no dice.

"He must have been on-call last night when she came in," the Korean woman muttered, "I am never leaving this place again."

"Let's move, people. Ms. Connor's surgery, should we choose to proceed, will take most, if not all, of the surgeons off the floor," Bailey suddenly explained, "which means you people will have to work extra hard not to kill anyone, cause we won't be there to fix your mistakes."

Bring it on!

Preston's POV

Having given his orders for Ms. Connor, Preston had walked on ahead of the interns only to be intercepted by another doctor seeking a quick consultation.

Beside him, Cristina's voice cut through the air, her determination evident. "I really want in on this," she asserted just as he concluded his conversation with the other physician. Preston observed the rest of Bailey's group continuing their advance, oblivious to the fact the Asian intern had strayed from their midst.

A surge of frustration mingled with a touch of wounded pride crept over him at recalling her volatile behavior over the past month. "I thought we weren't talking," he retorted, his words a subtle reminder of her words to him after their latest tryst.

"I'm not talking. I'm just saying," Preston scoffed at her getting technical with him, but found himself almost giving in to her request anyway before a conversation he had a few months back gave him reason to pause. He was admittedly fond of this feisty intern, even though their interactions thus far, had centered solely around sex without delving into anything remotely deeper. However, something inside him nurtured a glimmer of hope that Cristina's insistence on remaining casual might evolve into something more.

Their Head of Trauma had struck a chord, Preston was walking a fine line being involved with a subordinate, and he needed to exercise a certain amount of restraint. Steeling his resolve, he questioned with hard-earned authority, "Dr. Yang, are you trying to use our connection to secure a surgery out of an attending?"

He could practically perceive her defenses rising as she quickly backtracked, "What no, I was just wondering if I could be included too."

"Prove to me you deserve it by doing the leg work like any other intern, and I'll take your request into consideration," Burke finalized before walking away. He had to admit, even to himself, that a part of him was disappointed she had tried to use 'them' to gain favor, but another part desperately clung to hope this wasn't all there was to Cristina's intentions for their relationship, or lack thereof.


Derek's POV

Derek reviewed Mr. Levangie's chart while the elderly man, extremely shaky due to his condition, walked around with his daughter's support. Dr. Bailey entered with her interns, and Derek's gaze inadvertently lingered on Meredith, admiring the way her bangs framed her beautiful face. As she looked away, he sensed the hushed atmosphere that had pervaded the room, making him realize his regard may not have been as unnoticed as he had hoped. A quick scan of the room revealed Bailey's disapproving glare. Well, this just became a whole lot awkward, he thought, trying to ignore the hint of embarrassment settling in.

"Who's presenting?" Bailey prompted, looking away from Derek, only for O'Malley to speak up. "Edward Levangie is 63 years old, admitted for pain management for Dyskinesia. He's been stable since last night, and responding to the bolus injections."

"Izzie, possible treatments?" Bailey asked.

"For Parkinson's disease? Um, deep brain stimulation has shown…"

Derek interrupted her to clarify, "Not for Parkinson's, for spinal pain."

"Oh, um…" Dr. Stevens started searching her white coat pocket, presumably for her notes, but his gaze once more shifted to Meredith, unintentionally inviting her to respond.

He was aware of her intelligence, appreciated her medical insights, and just longed for a reason to hear her voice. Ever since Bailey had caught them at the party, Meredith had been avoiding him.

His ears and heart sighed in relief, as her voice, soft and slightly husky, finally broke the silence. "Intraspinal catheter. That way, he can have constant pain medication."

With a surge of pride at her quick response, he introduced her to the patient and his daughter. "She's gonna prep you for the procedure and assist."

Distracted by his beeping pager, he missed the baffled looks exchanged by Drs. Stevens, O'Malley, and Bailey, and the discomfort written on Meredith's face. He excused himself and headed into the elevator, surprised to see Bailey join him.

"Miranda," he greeted her, trying to bridge the tension as the elevator emptied.

"Excuse me?" She asked in a contemptuous tone. For such a small woman she sure is frightening.

"Well, that's your name, right? It's on your jacket." His light-hearted attempt at conversation only earned him a smug look, as if she was waiting for him to dig his hole deeper. "All right, fine. I'll just call you Bailey then," he finished, with a palacating air.

Derek had noted the unsubtle hostility directed his way over the past weeks. Even though he often brushed aside social cues, he wasn't oblivious to Bailey's underlying resentment. Meredith might believe she was the only target, but Derek knew he held the brunt of Bailey's ire as the attending physician, the superior. As he'd told the slight intern earlier, if he were a better man he would walk away, and despite a large part of his brain screaming he should, he physically couldn't bring himself to.

"You think you're charming in that talented, neurotic, overly moussed hair sort of way. Good for you." Was she berating him or complimenting him, he wondered. "But if you think I'm going to stand back and watch while you favor her...

"I don't favor her. She's good," he defended, maintaining a pleasant façade, even as her skepticism rankled him.

"I'm sure she is," was her biting response before she stepped out of the elevator.

"You know, technically, I'm your boss?" he countered, irritatingly tired of her constant unspoken criticism. Did she think so little of him, believing he hadn't thought about the consequences a hundred times over?

"You don't scare me. Look...," she said, her hand intercepting the closing elevator doors. "I'm not going to advertise your extracurricular activities with my intern. However, the next time I see you favoring Meredith Grey in any way, I'll make sure she doesn't see the inside of an O.R. for a month. Just for the sake of balance," and with that parting shot, she walked away, leaving Derek to mull in weary frustration. Why couldn't life just give him a break, hadn't he faced enough trials these past few months?


Harry's POV

At only 34, he had achieved more in the field of surgery than most do in a lifetime. A far cry from the insecurities of his childhood, he was confident the prestigious position of Head of two departments, one of them a Level I Trauma Center, had been hard earned and granted to him due to his exceptional skills and innovative ideas. Seattle Grace's Chief of Surgery had to fight against some of the biggest institutions in the U.S. to get Harry on his staff. Yet, here he was, forced to take a deliberate, calming breath once again - he had honestly, lost count of the times he had performed this ritual since his shift had started.

Days like today, made him almost regret accepting Richard's offer. His appointment as the Head of Emergency and Trauma Medicine had thus far been met with an interesting mix of curiosity, admiration, skepticism, and criticism.

As he stood in an alcove listening to one of his peers critique his recommendations for one of their patients, he tangibly felt the weight of his new responsibilities. Allowing the critical care surgeon to drone on, he took in the bustle of the emergency room, a constant reminder of the challenges he had found himself faced with. The fluorescent lights buzzed with anxious energy, much like the staff scurrying around to manage the ceaseless influx of patients. Harry had always thrived under pressure, and a large part of him was looking forward to navigating these new hurdles with anticipation, but even his seasoned composure was beginning to be tested in the face of people like Dr. Davidson.

The man was a veteran surgeon, known for his precise techniques and vast experience who had been with SGH for over a decade working alongside Harry's predecessor. He, along with a select few staff members in Harry's new domain, had been displaying noticeable reluctance in embracing some of his newly introduced proposals. The likes of which, Mayo Clinic St. Mary's had greatly benefited from.

Whether their resistance was rooted in his age or simply to the changes he was bringing to their established practices, Harry was a patient man. After all, having grown up around people like the Dursleys, Snape, Hermione, Ellis, and the Lords and Ladies in the Wizengamot, one could say he was groomed to handle individuals of the stubborn and deeply entrenched in their convictions variety. Not to mention, having raised the chatterbox that is Teddy and surviving the sprog's teen years, had made him an expert in patience and logic.

"Dr. Davidson," he interrupted the surgeon in his tirade and conscientiously maintained a steady voice as he continued. "I understand that conventional imaging strategy for traumatic injuries has been limited to selective scanning, but can you please help me understand the detriments to the patient in performing a full body scan?"

"It may not be detrimental, but there is no need to order extensive scans when we have already identified the injured area. I appreciate that the young have an idealistic and ambitious zeal to make a mark, but excessive change is wasteful if it's not needed," Harry's colleague coached him consideringly. "When a patient comes in with a head injury, why on earth would we scan the feet? It's a drain of time and resources."

He wasn't oblivious to the overtly confident expression adorning Dr. Davidson's countenance, reminiscent of that which had frequently graced Dumbledore's features when he possessed unwavering certainty in his correctness.

Harry suppressed the need for, in his opinion, a much deserved eye-roll. "You make a good point. However…"

Just as he had started speaking, he spotted one of Bailey's interns, Karev maybe, waving him down from the other side of the nurses' station. Harry nodded in acknowledgment, before turning back to finish with Davidson. "...towards the end of last year, the Foundation for the Advancement of Medical Education and Research, released a study of over 4000 trauma patients reporting a significant increase in the probability of survival when given full-body CT scanning compared with localized scanning?" This particular study, conducted by him and others in the program his grandfather, Fleamont Potter, had founded a little over fifty years ago, had been a major factor in one of Harry's biggest contributions to the field of emergency medicine. At seeing the effectiveness of Harry's proposed emergency and trauma response guidelines on not just patient outcomes but treatment costs overall, some of the most renowned trauma centers in the world had already started altering their infrastructures to implement, what was now called the Potter-Black Protocols.

Making note that the general surgeon in front of him had nothing more to say, Harry excused himself to check on the still waiting intern. The road to gaining acceptance here may be long, but he was a Potter and a Black, and as he had learned after the war, they were forged in resilience.


Harry strode into the dimly lit imaging room, Karev had directed him to, interrupting Burke, Shepherd, and Bailey's discussion of treatment options for the patient. He directed a greeting towards each surgeon, before positioning himself by Burke, where the man stood in front of the illuminated wall panels displaying the patient's scans.

"Harrison, we appreciate you helping with this. I hear the E.R. has been pretty busy today," Preston acknowledged looking away from the images. "With the Chief away at a conference, we could really use your expertise in general surgery."

"I haven't been involved in a non-emergent case in a while, not since my last stint in India about a year ago, so this is an exciting change of pace. Plus, it's not every day a patient comes in with a tumor this large," he remarked while his gaze honed in on the details of the CT and MRI scans of the patient's torso. "How's the surgical plan coming along?"

"It's not," Burke admitted, his voice tinged with frustration and disappointment. "The tumor has infiltrated multiple systems. The right hemidiaphragm is so high that it's completely displacing her lung tissue."

"It's intersecting her spinal canal in three places," Shepherd chimed in, his posture more relaxed as he sat in front of the monitors, his feet propped up on the desk, and fingers massaging his tired eyes. "We should start there. It's going to take 3 or 4 hours to get around those nerves."

Harry sensed Burke's dissatisfaction with that suggestion but continued scrutinizing the images. The longer he looked, the more impossible the patient's survival seemed. Yet, the faintest glimmer of an idea began to form in his mind.

"I'd prefer to start in front, and then flip her," the other man countered, his tone determined. "You never know what kind of vessels are involved, how intertwined they are. I'm going to need a good head start." Harry's glance shifted towards Bailey, who had been strangely quiet for most of the discussion.

"I should really go with the spine fresh, if I miss a step, she's paralyzed." Shepherd countered with a dejected expression straining his handsome features. Harry could understand what Mer saw in him even if something held him back from being happy about it.

"Yes, but if I don't relieve the pressure on her lungs, she'll be dead. So, she won't mind if she can't walk." Harry held back a twitch from escaping his lips at Preston's dry retort and turned to address his fellow surgeons with a contemplative look.

"The problem is, she's likely not going to survive either way," he stated bluntly, causing the others to look at him in surprise.

"I know it'll be a difficult surgery, but we can't give up on her," Shepherd declared fiercely, earning him some points in Harry's estimation.

"Oh I agree," Harry replied, moving to lean back against the back table, placing his hands in the pockets of his white coat, and crossing his ankles, trying to find the best way to lead into his suggestion. "The most daunting issues we are facing are not the ones we can readily see, but the ones we are blind to," Harry assessed, his tone measured.

"From everything Karev was able to fill me in on, we have a middle-aged woman who, for at least the past year, has led largely a sedentary lifestyle," he stressed. "Her tumor has been siphoning her nutrients away from her other systems and become intricately entwined not only with her organs and spinal code but also with her nerves and vessels." He could see the despair increasing on their faces the longer he spoke.

"However," he paused in hesitation, before deciding to press on. "...there might be a way to increase our chances of success." He couldn't help but stifle a chuckle at the trio of utterly perplexed expressions that greeted his statement. He quelled any questions by cautioning, "But, I will need to make a few calls to determine if what I'm thinking is even possible."

Turning towards the two attendings, he asked, "How long can we postpone the surgery?"

"How long do you need?" asked Shepherd. Harry pursed his lips in thought, considering how long Dennis might need to confirm everything.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "Anywhere from a few hours to a few days." Then another thought crossed his mind. "I'll also need to meet the patient," he added, wanting to get a better idea of the patient's condition before speaking with Dennis.

The room lapsed into silence as Shepherd, Burke, and Bailey exchanged quiet considerations back and forth before the cardiothoracic surgeon confirmed, "We should be able to hold off for two days, possibly three, but it will all depend on the patient's condition."

With a solidified initial plan of action in place, they made their way toward the exit, ready to update the patient and her mother on the recent developments, as well as introduce Harry to the patient. Harry followed closely, eager to get the much-needed firsthand assessment of the patient's condition.

CHAPTER END

4932 Words, Updated Sept. 01, 2023

AN: Please leave a review about your thoughts on the chapter, how you feel about the story so far, things you like, don't like, and things you are hoping to read as this story progresses. As always, thank you for reading!