S3 EP20

NORAH AND MARK walked alongside each other as they entered the hospital; coffees of the same order were in each of their hands. It was a few days after the ferryboat accident, and the patients who were admitted that day had slowly gotten discharged. The whole situation had started to quiet down.

"So, we know what triggers you to freeze," Mark spoke.

"Bloody left hand," Norah replied as they stepped into the elevator, "The red liquid covering each of my fingers. It's like I can almost feel it slowly running down my hand. Warm, but cold. Knowing that the owner of the blood could die out any minute."

He stared at her. "That was too detailed... And a bit dark," he commented with furrowed brows. "So, how do you plan to overcome that?"

She shrugged. "Don't look at my bloody hand when I can feel the liquid."

He raised a brow at her, and she looked back at him in confusion. "That's... that's not overcoming the problem-that's avoiding the damn problem."

"Hm... There's a difference?"

"Of course, there is a difference, Laurie," he shook his head as they stepped out of the elevator. "There has to be one day in the future that you'll need to look at the blood on your hand without freezing, you know?" he stated, "Could be a big trauma, accidents, more triage... Could even be your first solo surgery."

She casually sipped on her coffee while she continued listening to him. His eyebrows knitted together while he thought hard, her walking next to him with curious anticipation. "You can try tackling it," he suggested.

"Like... chopping off my hand?" she narrowed her eyes at him.

"What-no," he deadpanned. "More like... making your hand look bloody while you stare at it, something like that." She was about to speak when he cut her off. "And, before you say that we start stealing blood from the blood bank-no."

She sulked at the refusal of her idea. "What do you suggest, then?"

"Paint."

"Paint?"

"You know, the colourful tubes of things people use to colour an artwork-"

"I know what paint is, Sloan," she shot him a glare, "But how paint?"

He smirked. "We can try mixing the colours to make it look like blood, and then you dip your hand in it and... try not to freak out?"

Her eyes fixed at him for a long while, her mind still figuring whether he was serious about his words. "You're worse than my therapist."

"Oh. You're seeing a shrink? That's great."

"I'm not."

❦ ❦ ❦

TO NORAH'S SURPRISE, THE 'paint' idea was actually helping. Norah had to start keeping the other interns away from crashing in her apartment, just in case they somehow suspected that she was a psychopath preserving her victims' blood on metal trays.

"I look like a bloody psychopath," she stated as she lifted her hand from the paint, watching as the droplets of the cold colour slowly rolled down her forearm.

Mark shrugged as he leaned against her kitchen counter, his arms crossed in front of his chest. "We cut people open for a living," he said, "The only difference is the outcome-life or death."

She started wiping the paint over to her other hand, gently spreading the colour over her skin, watching as the fading red gradually covered up each inch of her skin.

She was not dumb, of course, noticing the man next to her staring at her in the quiet space. Mark's eyes fixed on her hands, her fingers, her movement; his mind wandered elsewhere.

"I hope you don't do that with real blood, Laurie," he cleared his throat while turning on the faucet at the sink, "Or you will look like an actual psychopath."

Norah turned her head to him as she washed off the colour on her arms under the cold running water. "Is that really such bad of an idea?" she wondered. "Psychopath sounds brilliant to me."

He sighed at her. "Sometimes, you scare me."

"And other times?"

He smirked and lowered his head next to her ear, the strands of her hair tickling his face. "Other times, you turn me on," he whispered; she had to hold her breath when he ruffled her hair and walked away.

Oh, the butterflies.

❦ ❦ ❦

JOE'S BAR WAS FILLED with people of all ages, who were drinking and dancing, chatting and laughing. Norah was taking turns with a group of strangers around her age as they shot darts; loser drinks-that was the rule. Was.

Now, they were just plain drinking whenever someone was sober enough to hit the dartboard.

"Shots! Shots! Shots! Shots!" the group chanted as Norah hit her dart slightly away from the centre point. Smirking proudly, she downed her fourth shot of the day, feeling the heated liquid run down her throat. She thanked herself for having a considerably high alcohol tolerance that comes in handy whenever she wanted to have some fun.

"Your aim is flawless," a young man said as he walked up to her. "But I can show you mine if you're up."

She shook her head with a chuckle. "If that is your pickup line-sorry to say-but it sucks."

He placed a hand over his chest as though he was slightly offended by her words. "Well, they say action speaks louder than words. Do you wanna know how loud action speaks?"

"Take it slow, dude," she spoke, "You might've seen me gone through four shots of tequila, but I'm very much conscious." The man widened his eyes in surprise. "Yes, I noticed that you were staring at me the whole night."

"Well then, let's take it slow," he said as he held out an arm, "Dance?"

On the other side of the bar, Mark was sitting adjacent to Webber as the chief's claimed-to-be wingman for the night. "Not just surgery, but Chief of Surgery," Mark told the woman he was trying to set up with Webber

"Really?" the woman asked, impressed.

"Well... not for much longer, really," Webber smiled awkwardly back at her.

Mark stared at the woman across the bar, watching as the brunette accepted the young man's hand, and they headed over to the middle of the bar. The dance floor was packed with people dancing and swaying their hips to the music; some were dancing slowly while some were really getting into it.

He watched her moves, her laugh, the damn black dress she wore so perfectly-a craving within himself he fought to suppress.

The young man had his hands snaking around her waist as they swayed along the music playing in the background. Mark did not fancy the sight of that. What was this-jealousy?

"I'm gonna go... over there," he nudged his head a bit, turning to Webber, "Hold down the fort, Chief."

Mark was about to step towards the crowd when an amused-looking Addison stood in front of him. "Just admit it, you're falling for her," she mused, and he let out a sigh.

"We're friends," he claimed, shaking his head impassively.

"Right. Keep telling yourself that," she snorted, "I'm just saying, Mark-it's kinda obvious."

He lowered his eyes from the brunette to the red-haired woman in front of him, furrowing his brows as her words circled his mind. There was a fuzzy feeling in his chest-which he felt for a while now-but he never considered himself to possibly fall for someone.

It was just not him.

He was puzzled-Mark Sloan had ever only felt sexual attraction towards people, yet that particular intern made him feel different.

It was a feeling he had yet to explore and accept.

"Just friends," Mark reassured firmly before walking past Addison and through the crows on the dance floor. He dodged several arms and received bumps from people, then rejected a girl who was trying to hook him up.

He made his way to the brunette, who saw him from the corner of her eyes while he approached her. An unhidden smile tugged on her lips as she met the bright blue eyes.

Even though the person she was dancing with, whose name was Jonathan or something, was not too bad of a bloke, she felt a flutter in her stomach at the way he was looking at her-Mark's appearance seemed to lighten her night.

The plastic surgeon cleared his throat and turned to the young man, sending him a solemn glare-which did not go unnoticed by her. Jonathan's face fell slightly as his dance moves slowed down, staring back at the intimidating look by the taller man, who shot him a passive smile.

"Mind if I cut in?"

❦ ❦ ❦

NORAH FLUNG A PILLOW at the man on the couch, who groaned and covered his eyes with it. She rolled her eyes and walked over to him, taking in his sleeping features; his hair that got messy through the night, his eyes were still shut, his mouth that gaped open as he breathed...

He looked peaceful, and peaceful to look at.

But did she care? Eh.

"Sloan, I may have mentioned that my apartment was a go-to crash site for my friends, but you-" she slammed another pillow to his chest, "-are a jerk. Get-up-!"

"Ow-that one actually hurt, Laurie," Mark grunted and stirred on his side.

"I start my shift in an hour, so you have got to leave with me," Norah sighed as she walked over to her kitchen. "And I'm not lending you my apartment key."

"Yet," he mumbled, but she did not hear him. He finally caved and got up from the couch, stretching his back before he rearranged the pillows. "Are you always so grumpy in the mornings?" he queried while walking towards her in the kitchen.

"No, but I gotta do what I need to get you up," she shrugged while she poured the caffeine into two mugs. "And knowing me, it worked," she smirked smugly, "Bone dry cappuccino?"

❦ ❦ ❦

S3 EP21

"WHAT'S CONN'S SYNDROME?" Alex inquired as the six interns gathered in Burke's apartment while they quizzed each other in preparation for their intern exam.

"Wait, wait, I know this..." Meredith thought.

"No," Izzie spoke, "Tick-tock, dude."

"Cracking under pressure?" Norah guessed but got the wrong answer.

"Um... Hypercortis... cortosolism!" Meredith answered.

"Primary hyperaldosteronism!" Cristina shouted, and Alex nodded. "Yes! Out of the seat! My turn!"

"No, it's not!" Izzie exclaimed as she sat on the chair in the middle first.

Burke approached Cristina with a slice of cake in his hand, and he asked her to taste it. As the two of them bicker over a flavour of cake, the other interns resumed with their quizzing.

"What is the strongest layer of the small bowel?" George quizzed. "It is not snot," he hinted.

"Submucosa!" Norah replied, and George nodded. She gave him a high-five, and Izzie sighed as she stood up from the seat for the brunette's turn. Ever since the incident in the ER, the pair had rarely talked unless medically required to. However, 'coexist' became a concept they finally grasped hold of.

"Wait, wait, wait-how do you know that?" Cristina asked George, "Are you studying with the wife's cards?"

"What cards?" Meredith questioned as she lifted her head from the book in her hand. The other interns turned to look at them, too.

"Callie was ranked number one in her year after this test," Cristina explained. "She has legendary flashcards."

Izzie scoffed lightly and shook her head. "We don't need the flashcards," she claimed, "We are independently brilliant."

"Dream team," George and Norah chimed in unison.

❦ ❦ ❦

THE INTERNS WALKED INTO the conference room that looked like it had turned into a bakery. Burke was laying out samples of different cakes to be chosen for their wedding, causing the interns' mouths to water at the sight of the desserts.

"The bakery wants me to make a decision by tomorrow," Burke informed the bride-to-be, "So if you can tell me your favourite by then, that would be great."

"Cakes and little place cards? Okay, he's turning into a girl," Cristina muttered when the cardiothoracic surgeon left the room. Norah had already gone for a bite of cake, as well as the other interns.

"I think it's sweet," Izzie stated. "He obviously cares about this stuff."

While Cristina grumbled in annoyance, Alex voiced out through a mouthful, "This white one tastes pretty good."

"I second that," Norah added.

"I should bring a piece to Derek, right?" Meredith asked. "That's what good girlfriends do. Take their boyfriends cake and communicate..."

Alex shook his head. "No, the best ones just keep all that stuff to themselves."

"I pity your future girlfriends," Norah told him, "Or boyfriends."

"Did you bring Callie's cards?" Cristina turned to George, who had just gotten himself a slice of cake.

"Uh... no," he scratched his head.

"No cake for you," she smiled and took away the plate from his hand.

"Dr Bailey, I saw hemiglossectomy on the board," Meredith spoke up as the resident walked in. Bailey stared at the cake samples spread across the table, then to her interns, who were busy eating them. "Can I scrub in?"

"No, none of you are doing surgeries today," the resident stated, and the interns snapped their heads to her. "Your intern exams are in two weeks. You need to spend every available minute studying for them."

"But-"

"Believe me, when you won't have to repeat your year as interns, you'll be thanking me for this opportunity," Bailey cut the intern off, "So, Grey, Yang and Lawrence, you're doing scut. O'Malley and Stevens, you'll be joining me in the clinic. Karev, you're with Ava."

❦ ❦ ❦

"YOU LOOK LIKE HELL," Norah noted as she approached the attending.

"Just a long day," Derek sighed, his tone duller than usual.

"Surgery problem? Sleeping problem?" she guessed, "Relationship problem?"

When his face turned bitter at her words, she smirked, knowing that she had hit the jackpot. "With the run for chief and Meredith, it's just..." he trailed off.

"Pick the girl," she stated, and he turned to her. "Well, you can be powerful but miserable for the rest of your life if you want to. But personally? I don't think it's worth it."

"It's a tough decision."

She shrugged in disagreement. "Only if you make it to be."

A body slid next to her, and they turned their heads to the smiling man. "Ah, my two favourite people," Mark greeted and handed her a cup of coffee, "You free tonight?"

"No, I'm not. But thanks for this," Norah replied before taking a sip. He frowned at her refusal, and she sighed, "I have an exam to study for, Sloan."

"In that case, I can help you study," he offered. "I'm smart."

"He hates studying," Derek interjected, and Mark glared at him.

"That's not true," the latter claimed.

Norah shook her head. "No. You're starting to like my apartment, and that's bad."

"He's been at your place?" Derek questioned with a raised brow while he handed scribbled on the chart in his hand.

"We're friends," Mark replied before turning to the intern, "And you have a nice couch."

She rolled her eyes at his words. "Go home."

"I live in a hotel room."

"Well, go find a home, then."

"You're stealing my friend from me," Derek voiced out.

Norah cocked a brow at him. "Derek, you hate him."

Mark made an offended noise, and she smirked back in response. "Larry Jennings has a penis fish in his... you know," he spoke. "Do you wanna scrub in?"

"The chairman of the board of this hospital? That sounds painful," she cocked a brow at him, "But Bailey assigned us studying for our exams."

Mark nodded with a sigh, and Derek walked over to stand between the two, facing the intern. "I have a guy who is leaking spinal fluid through his nose," he informed, "I'll talk to Bailey to let you scrub in."

"Aha-yes!" Norah's eyes lightened up as Derek handed her his patient chart. "Sorry, Sloan. Spinal fluid over... penis fish," she snickered.

Mark sighed as he watched her hurrying away with the other attending-the curious feeling in his chest screeching for him to do something about it.

As the attending and intern pair walked off, Derek glanced back over his shoulder, staring at the plastic surgeon whose eyes remained glued to the intern walking next to him; she was seemingly oblivious. "He's hitting on you."

"Hm?"

"Coffee in the morning? Free time at night? Sleeping over at your apartment?" the neurosurgeon raised a brow as he pointed out the obvious. "Mark and I are like brothers. I know when he's hitting on someone."

"Except your ex-wife," Norah blurted out a little too quickly, causing him to give her a bitter look. "Whoops? My bad."

"Just... Let's not talk about that," he waved a hand before emphasising again, "He's hitting on you. Don't let him."

She thought about the way he randomly watched at her without a word, how he held her when she was having flashbacks, how he was willing to help her fight her fears-the way he whispered soothing words in her ears while she broke down in the stairwell. The stares and the flirting, the morning coffees and late-night drinks, the cutting in the bar-it made sense, doesn't it?

"Why not?" she asked, and he snapped his head to her. "I... Hypothetically speaking, you know...?"

"Mark gets around a lot, and you know that," Derek explained, shaking his head. "Don't get your hopes too high, for your sake. And I know you'd pick someone better than him."

Oh.

She did not know what to think-that their friendship could be something more or that even the thought about it made her feel a skip of her heartbeat.

Nah, I'm just overthinking it...

❦ ❦ ❦

S3 EP22

NORAH FELT AN EERIE stare over her shoulder while discharging a patient from the ER.

Turning around, Cristina stood there with an uncanny and troubled look on her face that was screaming for help. Norah shifted her gaze from the intern to the two older women behind her with broad smiles on their faces.

"Hi, um... you look... troubled," Norah stated as she slid her pen into her pocket.

Cristina looked like she was about to implode before she managed to blurt out a single word, "Bridesmaid." Norah raised a brow at her, confused. "My mother and Burke's mother have been talking on the phone a-and now they are here... with me."

"To plan the wedding," Cristina's mother added.

"Oh, that's brilliant!" Norah grinned.

"Cristina led us to believe that you were friends," Burke's mother mentioned.

Cristina mouthed a 'save me' urgently to the brunette, who chuckled in response. "Cristina and I are friends, yeah," Norah nodded, "I think the both of them look cute together, don't you?"

Both the mothers agreed enthusiastically while Cristina looked horrified. Norah was amused at the whole situation.

"Sweetheart, I am actually asking you to be one of my bridesmaids," Cristina deadpanned.

"Oh," Norah blinked, her voice rather surprised. "Well, yes... I guess?" she raised a brow at Cristina, who let out a relieved exhale.

The two mothers stepped up to her and began taking measurements of her body as the bride-to-be smiled gratefully and apologetically at the brunette. Norah stood with her arms awkwardly raised in mid-air as Cristina took over the discharge forms in her hands and quickly ran away from them.

❦ ❦ ❦

"LAWRENCE, COME ON, BED 2," Bailey instructed as Norah walked along with her in the clinic. The resident pulled open the curtain, and a woman was sitting on the bed with hiccups.

"Susan Grey? You sure you're in the right place?" Bailey queried as they put on their gloves.

"I have reflux. Acid reflux," Susan informed, "And the hiccups come and go when it gets