S5 EP18

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, this is Mr David Young," Mark introduced. "Today, he'll be receiving a face transplant." David sat on the hospital bed; more than half of his face was gone from severe facial trauma.

"Dr Hunt and his team'll be recovering the donor facial graft," Mark informed, moving the mouse on the screen, "We're replacing seventy percent of Mr Young's face. You can see the deficit here."

"Or here," Mr Young offered. Some doctors chuckled quietly; some were sending the patient uncomfortable stares.

"The donor recovery will include his nose, left eye, lips, left zygoma."

"Why will allotransplantation work better than traditional techniques?" Owen quizzed.

The group of interns and residents looked at each other, but none of them had a clue. Norah and Timothy shared a look, and he shrugged at her. Seeing that nobody could provide an answer, she raised her hand. "Allotransplantation has a better aesthetic outcome, which allows for re-enervation of the facial nerves," she answered, "Hence, giving the face a better functional result."

"Very good, Dr Lawrence," Owen nodded.

"We'll position the flap over Mr Young's face," Mark resumed as the animation displayed on the screen. "How do we know we're in the clear?"

This time, Kirian shot up his hand. "When the graft turns pink."

Mark nodded at the intern, though his eyes wandered to the resident. "Dave, any questions for us?"

"Has anyone seen the donor?" Mr Young asked.

"Yes, he's a match with your age, skin tone and blood type," Mark replied.

Mr Young chuckled awkwardly. "What does he look like?"

Mark smiled at him, knowing what his words meant. "I think you'll be satisfied."

"Who am I kidding? It's a face, right? If I end up anything above a point and stare freak, I'm gonna call it a success."

The interns and residents shared a smile before they got dismissed by the attendings. "Lawrence, you're with me and the donor," Owen stated; both siblings turned their heads to him.

"Uh... He-Lawrence," he specified, handing Timothy the chart. "Usually, we take them at the same time, but the donor's life support is fading fast. We got to move."

Timothy thanked the attending and took over the chart, quickly scanning through it while walking away from the crowd. Mark stepped out of Mr Young's room, his eyes darted among the group waiting outside. "Lawrence, Rook," he appointed. The resident gave him a smirk while the intern had a bright smile on.

"Dr Sloan, only one resident?" George asked.

"Wait for Bailey. There's enough of a crowd," Mark stated as he walked over and handed Norah the patient's chart. "Call me after the pre-op labs come in," he stated before lowering his voice, "Or call me anyways."

Norah noticed Kirian snorting at the attending's words while some other interns were sending dirty looks in her direction. They were whispering to each other with unamused and jeering looks on their faces.

"They think you got the surgery because you're sleeping with Sloan," Kirian whispered to her while they went through the charts.

"Correction: I'm dating him," Norah stated before furrowing her brows. "They think he's playing favourites?"

"He could be," he shrugged, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Alright, if I were to be completely honest, it does look like it. Sometimes... Most of them times-sorry."

This is what you get from leaving Neuro for three days. Brilliant.

Norah lifted her eyes to the interns, sending them a glare. They quickly hurried off to their assigned duties as Bailey walked up to the remaining residents. "O'Malley, Grey? I need you on pre-ops and post-ops," she instructed.

"There's the biggest surgery in the world happening here today," Meredith frowned.

"Yes, and half our attendings are involved, which is why we need strong residents on pre-ops and post-ops," Bailey stated. "Yang, you're with me today. You're moving to the big leagues."

"She gets a solo?" George asked in surprise as Cristina's eyes widened, "Today?"

"Nice old lady with a hernia. You're gonna fix it," Bailey nodded, handing over the patient's chart.

"Congratulations," Meredith spoke with a shrug, "I know I should seem more enthusiastic, but I'm not that big a person."

"Don't worry about it," Cristina grinned back.

"Hey, Cardio-junkie, don't go slicing the wrong part of the body," Norah teased and was returned with an unamused look-and the finger.

"Oh, and Lawrence," Bailey added before the brunette walked away, "I need you to go out to the woods and talk Shepherd into coming back here." Norah cocked a brow at Bailey's request. "Look, I know he beat up Sloan-"

"No. Mark beat him up, not the other way round," Norah corrected, "And he got Tim a broken nose. So, if you want him back here in one piece, I suggest that you don't suggest that I head out to the woods."

Bailey gasped before shaking her head. "Fine. Go prep for your boyfriend's once-in-a-lifetime surgery," she sighed, "But think about it, please? Go drive to the woods, and kick him back here if you need to... Just don't break his hands."

"No, thank you," Norah smiled politely before walking away.

Your boyfriend's once-in-a-lifetime surgery. Frowning at Bailey's choice of words, she could not help but think about what her intern had mentioned to her.

❦ ❦ ❦

NORAH SAT IN THE CORNER of the cafeteria, rubbing her eyebrows with her fingers. The tray of food in front of her remained untouched.

Timothy and Lexie sat across her, passing confused looks between each other. He reached his hand over to steal some of her fries, and she snatched away both his pudding cups in process.

"Okay, Nor, your head looks like it's about to fucking explode right now," Timothy finally voiced out, "Why're your gears spinning?"

"Bailey planted a seed in my head," Norah sighed as she leaned back against her chair, folding her arms above her chest, "She wants me to go get Derek back. I said no, because of the whole Derek-Mark situation."

"I thought you don't do sides?"

"I don't," she shook her head, "But a line is drawn when he gave Tim here a broken nose." Lexie shrugged in agreement, and Timothy smirked. "I mean, watching my favourite and third-favourite guy in the world, beating each other up-that's just brilliant."

"Favourite and third-favourite?" Lexie asked, "Who's second?"

Norah raised a brow at the intern and shifted her gaze from her to the cheeky grin, whose nose was still healing. Timothy's proud grin had a hint of mischievousness to it.

The chair next to Norah scraped against the floor, and a tray got placed on the table opposite Timothy. "Ugh, and then there's the gits of interns thing," Norah groaned before lifting her eyes to the pair in front of her, "Not you two... and not my ducklings either."

Mark sat down beside her and shifted his chair closer. "Which is why I hate interns," he spoke before turning to the two opposite them, "No offense." Timothy and Lexie returned him with a forced-out polite smile. "What's with the interns?"

Norah thought for a moment before turning her chair to face him. Mark raised a brow at her while he took off the plastic wrapper of his sandwich, tearing off the crust of the bread before placing it in front of her mouth. She sighed and took a bite off it while he nibbled on the bread crust.

"I'm gonna ask you a question, Mark, and you're gonna answer he truthfully," she mumbled through a mouthful, "Did you play favourites today when you picked me for today's surgery?"

Mark quirked a brow at her question. "No, I chose you because Dave needs the best treatment for his face transplant, and you are the best in plastics." He shoved her another bite before she could speak. "And I picked Rook because you put in a word before, and I trust your judgement for it," he added, "I was gonna pick Tim here before he got taken away by Hunt."

Timothy grinned then winced as Lexie smacked his hand away from stealing more fries. "What's it with you Lawrences and plastics?" she asked curiously, and the siblings turned to her. "You're both... the best intern and resident in plastics-but have zero interest in the specialty?"

Norah could see that Mark, too, was waiting for a reply, but the siblings shrugged at them in unison, a laugh escaping their mouths.

"Hey, Nor, four o'clock," Timothy nudged his head towards another table.

She glanced over her shoulder, only to see a group of interns pointing towards her direction, whispering and laughing to one another. "Bloody gits," she shook her head with a sigh; Mark stared at her with a confused look on his face.

"They think she's sleeping with you to get into surgeries," Timothy explained and chewed on his burger.

Mark turned to his girlfriend, who had rolled her eyes. "I mean, you can do that-but there's no need for that," he stated, "Attendings pick you for your talent and smartness. Hell, you even got the first solo surgery, little genius."

Timothy cocked a brow at the name. "First, it's Laurie, and now it's little genius?"

Mark sent him an unamused look. "Who are you to judge, Timmy?"

"I mean, Norah is a genius," Lexie spoke up, "You graduated high school when you were 16, got scholarships to double major in Biology and Psychology, which you graduated with top marks while doing volunteer work. Then, you got a full ride to Harvard Med School-which was where I studied, too-and your internship in New York was specially offered to you by Dr Shep..." she trailed off when the resident stared at her wide-eyed, "I-I have a photographic memory, and... I might have read your files? B-But I didn't mean to! Please don't report me to the chief-"

Norah snorted at the intern's fearful look. "Lexie, you summed up nearly ten years of my life. I'm impressed."

❦ ❦ ❦

NORAH HELD THE PIECE OF the face steady while Mark dissected the last of it from the patient's flesh. The gallery had a full audience, filled with surgeons who wanted to observe the once-in-a-lifetime surgery.

She could see through the glass where the group of interns were laughing at each other, their pointing fingers and stares giving them away, yet she did not seem to care.

Jealous gits who cut out each other appendixes for fun; I know my worth.

"This is the final dissection," Mark informed, "We'll place the facial graft. I'll be connecting the vessels and nerves. Get the microscope ready." Norah lifted the piece of the face away from the patient then she placed it on the tray next to her that was held by a nurse.

"Okay, people. It's time," Mark announced and got up from his seat. He lifted his head to the resident opposite her. "I'll take the right side, and you take the left," he instructed, watching her face lit up.

They carefully picked up the facial graft from the bowl of saline, gently moving it towards the patient's face. "That's it. Take your time. He's not going anywhere."

Their movements matched each other almost perfectly-synchronised would be the word she would use. They moved through the intubation tube and lowered the facial graft gently, slowly, definitely.

"Dr Rook, what do you see here?" Mark asked.

Kirian perked his head up next to Norah, observing the facial graft. "The graft is slightly off-centred, Dr Sloan," he pointed out, "I mean, your side is slightly off-centred. Dr Lawrence's side of the graft is lined up... perfectly. Very precise."

"Precise," Mark repeated in awe as he adjusted his side of the graft. He raised his tone, directing his words to the gallery as he spoke, "Plastics determines a patient's future, and that's why I only pick those who are the best at their work. If you don't show any promises, you sit your ass in the gallery to observe."

Norah peered up to the gallery, where the interns had quieted down; a few of them had looks of shame. She shifted her gaze back to Mark, who gave her a wink before lowering his eyes back onto the patient.

Her grin under her mask had never faltered.

❦ ❦ ❦

"IZZIE HAS STAGE FOUR metastatic melanoma that has spread to her brain, liver and skin," Cristina informed Alex before she began her solo surgery, "She may only have months to live, and she's resisting treatment. She needs help."

Norah sighed as she looked out to the dark trees surrounding either side of the narrow road. The headlights of her car shone on the path in front of her.

The surroundings were fresh, peaceful, even beautiful, but driving alone in the middle of the night would probably scare her to her death.

"Norah, I'm gonna take Izzie's scans to Derek. I'm gonna get him to take a look," Meredith sighed while Norah stepped out of the changing room. "I know you denied Bailey this morning, but I really need your help to go and convince him, too."

The brunette cocked a brow at her. "I might punch him when I see him."

"I don't care if you're gonna beat him up, just... knock some sense into him."

"Alright. No promises, but I'll try."

It was around one in the morning when Norah stepped on the gas. She, along with Meredith, Cristina, George and Alex had accompanied Izzie as she was admitted to treat her cancer.

Norah chuckled to herself at the thought that how she once wished for Izzie Stevens's death, now she was driving to the person that could possibly save her life.

"You're heading to Shepherd's?" Timothy questioned, "What happened to 'a line is drawn when he gave Tim a broken nose'?"

Norah sighed, turning to look at her unpleased brother. "Then, there didn't exist a variable of a dead friend," she muttered, "As far as she and my history goes, I still hate the idea of a dead friend, Tim."

Norah pulled up at the grassy ground and shut her car door behind her. As she expected, the lights to the trailer were still on. Derek was sitting on the deck outside with the scans on the coffee table beside him.

"You look like hell," she called out, catching his attention. He furrowed his brows at her appearance while she pulled the jacket closer around her body.

"Thank you...?"

"I'm probably one of the last people you wanna see at this hour-well-I know you are the last person I wanna see right now. But I'll be generous and be your therapist for tonight," she stated as she took the seat on the other side of his table. "So, what do you need?"

He raised a brow at her. "What do you mean?"

Norah placed her hands into the pockets of the jacket. "I like a good ol' sturdy punching bag whenever I wanna blow off some steam."

"This is not blowing off steam."

"Yes, yes. I know, grumpy," she rolled her eyes.

"Grumpy?" he cocked a brow at her.

"Seeing that you're no longer my boss, yeah, I'm calling you names now," she shrugged before nudging her head towards the cooler box next to him. "Pass me a beer."

"Norah, it's one a.m. And you're driving," he reminded.

"Now, why do you care again, nosey?" she raised a brow, and he caved. He opened the cooler box and passed her a can of beer, which she took and clinked it against his. "Cheers, you git."

Derek coughed at her words, shaking his head. "Okay, stop with the nicknames," he frowned, "Are you trying to get me back to the hospital by calling me names?"

She shrugged. "It's working."

"It's not."

"It is."

"It's not."

"But you've willingly talked more in these three minutes than you did for the past three days, haven't you?" she stated; he processed her words for a moment before sighing. "See? It is working."

They sat under the light, listening to the crickets chirping near the bushes. The night was chilly, without a doubt, and quiet, since there was no other residency near the trailer. Derek sighed, "I don't wanna talk."

"Well, I do," Norah stated and took a sip off the beer. She turned her head to him grimly. "Because the alternative would be me ruining that McDreamy face of yours."

"What-oh," he sighed, "I beat up Mark..."

"Beat up is an exaggeration," she corrected. "I can beat your arse up and toss you down the stream without leaving a trace for the police."

Derek moved his chair slightly away from the brunette, watching the smirk on her face grow. He noticed the jacket she was wearing that was slightly big on her; the sleeves were covering up till her fingers-he immediately recognised it as one of Mark's many leather jackets.

"So, you and Mark... You two are like, actually serious?" he asked, and she nodded while gulping down the beer. "How long have you two... been together?"

"Months, now."

He narrowed his eyes at her reply. "And I never knew?"

"Hell, we were really obvious," she deadpanned, "You're the pea-brained one."

He snapped his head to her. "Don't insult my brain," he scoffed lightly, "I'm a brain surgeon."

"Good to know," she fired back in a highly sarcastic tone. He shook his head as he reached into the cooler box for another can of beer.

She was halfway through her can when she spoke again, "Mark and I... I feel that what we have between us is true, you know? It's real. I'm happy, we're happy, and I haven't quite felt like this in a long time."

"That was exactly what he said," he muttered, thinking back to his friend's words before the whole fistfight happened. "Sorry I punched him," he gave her a smile, which she returned with a snarl.

"Yeah, you apologise to him, not me," she stated a little harshly, "And Tim, too. You gave him a broken nose. Be glad I had not decked you already." She huffed and crossed her legs on the surface of the wooden deck.

"The plastic surgeon with cuts on his face had been getting questioning looks from patients..." she trailed off, and he snorted.

"How bad did I hit him-"

"Pretty bad, honestly," she admitted with a chuckle.

They laughed at the thought. He was pleased that their conversation had been the best joy he had for around a week now since Jen's surgeries and his hidings. He stared at the scans on the table; usually, he would be thrilled for surgery, but this time, a tiny fear ignited inside of him.

"I can't go back," he sighed, "I can't-I can't operate on Stevens. I don't want to be the one who kills her."

"Then don't go back," she merely shrugged back.

"Don't?" he narrowed his eyes at her, confused. "Is this your plan of revenge? Through me?"

"I'm smarter than that, Shepherd," she rolled her eyes, folding her arms in front of her chest. "Well, go on and waste your life fishing with that two-million-dollar-a-year hand of yours," she said, "Go sell fishes in the market. Try not to chop yourself, and you'll be squeaky-oh, but remember to give me a discount when I drop by."

He frowned. "You're not here to talk me back?" he asked, but she shook her head expressionlessly. He narrowed his eyes at her, a thought crossing his mind. "You're using reverse psychology on me..."

"No, you're psyching yourself," she corrected. "You're the one who said you can't go back-and that I was dragging you back-and saying you can't operate... I didn't even mention about the hospital," she pointed out, "You did, because there's where you should be, and you know it."

She tapped her fingers against the scans on the table, and his eyes