Post by Amélie Grey on Jan 30, 2007 15:34:32 GMT -5
"Tired?" Andrew asked, tapping Amélie on the shoulder.
"I'm an intern," she said. "I'm always tired. We are always tired."
"Fair enough," he shrugged. "Though we're not doing anything too strenuous at the minute."
"No, we're clearing up this," she said, gesturing at the casts. "How wonderfully fun."
"You're in a good mood," he said, going over to put some cast in the bin.
"Oh don't mind me," she groaned. "I am just so annoyed at Watson."
"You and the rest of the hospital," he moaned. "God, I hate him."
"Snap," she said, raising her fist and lightly hitting his with it.
They both laughed.
"Don't let me do that again," she said, grinning wearily.
"I won't," he grinned.
"Are you taking anyone to the prom?" she asked.
He cleared his throat. "Well... I am going to ask someone, but I'm kinda ... very nervous about it. I feel like I'm in high school again."
Amélie laughed. "Life is high school. And this is just high school with scalpels."
He smiled. "That's a very good point."
"So who is this girl?" she said. "Of course, if it is a girl..."
He laughed again, mock-outraged. "Will you stop implying that I'm gay?"
"Oh, I know you're not, I just enjoy teasing you. So who is she? Does she work here?"
"Yes..."
"Is she an intern? Do I know her?"
"You may, but she's not an intern..."
"Oh?" she asked, intrigued. "Who?"
"Anya Baker..."
Amélie raised her eyebrow. "From Psych? You're going to ask out a shrink?" she laughed. She really had nothing against the Freud Squad, but most doctors considered psychiatry as an airy-fairy specialty.
"Hey, I'm not the one sleeping with a resident," he said.
Amélie's jaw dropped. "That was uncalled for!"
He immediately looked guilty. "Sorry, I didn't mean it. I know you and Lucas have a deep and meaningful relationship and all..."
"Oh, go away," she laughed.
"I never saw why you two don't move in together," he said.
Amélie took some empty casts over to the bin. "Reason 1, we've only been going out for four months-"
"But you practically live at each other's places anyway, you are sleeping with each other," he interrupted.
"Thank you for that," she said. "Reason 2, my mother would have a coronary if she found out."
"But she lives in France..."
"And Reason 3, I have a roommate, and Reason 4, there's no point."
"Yes there is. A point, I mean."
"No, there's not," she said firmly.
"Well, how do you feel about him?" he inquired.
"That is none of your business."
"Yes it is, I'm your buddy."
She snorted. "Buddy?"
"Yes, I'm your buddy," he said. "Tell all."
"You'd think you'd have asked before," she said, shaking her head.
"Well, this is your longest relationship since arriving in Seattle. Normally they only lasted a week or so."
"Oh thanks," she exclaimed. "What are you suggesting?"
"Nothing!" he said hurriedly. "Honestly, nothing."
"Well, in case you're suggesting anything - and I'm not saying you are! - it's the new millennium, it's allowed. Besides, I lost my virginity at what, 16, so it's not like it was a big problem..."
"Who was that?"
She hesitated. "Some French guy..."
An experience she wasn't willing to talk about. It had been a mistake, a huge mistake. It was true in her case that the loss of the stable male figure in her life had messed her up. She was messed up. One messed up teenager, and an even more screwed up adult.
She had so many daddy issues.
"You do remember his name, I hope?"
"Of course I do! I just don't want to talk about it, that's all."
"Bad experience?"
"Not particularly..."
"Compared to what you've had since?"
She smiled. "Andrew, what is this, twelfth grade? Quit it with the questions!"
"Hey, it kills the cast crap clearing time," he shrugged. "When do you think Watson will reappear?"
"Search me," she said. "Eugh. I do not like the man."
"Who does?" he demanded. "Workaholic with a God complex-"
"We're all workaholics with God complexes, we're doctors," Amélie interrupted, smiling. "Watson is just an ass."
"That works," he grinned, then groaned. "I want to do a surger-yyyyyy."
"Stop whining and finish cleaning. Then maybe we'll see the inside of an OR."
"How do we survive six weeks of this?"
"The same way we survived the last year - we grit out teeth and bear it. We've made it this far," she said absentmindedly.
"No sleep, no life, having so much responsibility, people's lives in our hands..." he muttered.
"When did we become adults, and how can we stop it?"
Andrew laughed. "We can't."
"Unfortunately."
Amélie looked at the rest of the stuff she was supposed to be cleaning. "Andrew, we shouldn't be doing this."
"What?"
"We are interns, not janitors. Before this we were, and after this we will be again, surgical interns."
"What has that got to do with anything?" he asked, confused.
Amélie gestured at the room around her. "This is not us. It's not Jake and Rob either. They're cleaning up in another room. Why are we even here? We are supposed to be in the OR, with scalpels and clamps and..." She groaned. "I hate this place."
"What, the hospital? St. Meredith's? Washington? America? The world?"
"No, just Ortho," she grinned. "Not that bitter yet."
"Good," Andrew smiled. "Come on, you can do this. Like you said, we've been through worse. And this is just high school with scalpels, remember? We used to have classes we hated so much. Like double maths on a Monday morning."
"I liked maths," Amélie said. "Hated art though. With a passion."
"Well, art then. This Ortho thing is like the sucky class, but then you get to the classes that you love!"
"Art didn't last six weeks," she said. "But I get your point." She sighed and cleared up some more cast crap.
Watson appeared at the door. "Oh good, you're finished. Now, come with me, you're going to set some bones."
Amélie raised an eyebrow at Andrew, who grinned.
"Come on, get your asses out of there and follow me," Watson said, already striding down the corridor.
They fled out of the door running after him, eager to do the important stuff.
"I'm an intern," she said. "I'm always tired. We are always tired."
"Fair enough," he shrugged. "Though we're not doing anything too strenuous at the minute."
"No, we're clearing up this," she said, gesturing at the casts. "How wonderfully fun."
"You're in a good mood," he said, going over to put some cast in the bin.
"Oh don't mind me," she groaned. "I am just so annoyed at Watson."
"You and the rest of the hospital," he moaned. "God, I hate him."
"Snap," she said, raising her fist and lightly hitting his with it.
They both laughed.
"Don't let me do that again," she said, grinning wearily.
"I won't," he grinned.
"Are you taking anyone to the prom?" she asked.
He cleared his throat. "Well... I am going to ask someone, but I'm kinda ... very nervous about it. I feel like I'm in high school again."
Amélie laughed. "Life is high school. And this is just high school with scalpels."
He smiled. "That's a very good point."
"So who is this girl?" she said. "Of course, if it is a girl..."
He laughed again, mock-outraged. "Will you stop implying that I'm gay?"
"Oh, I know you're not, I just enjoy teasing you. So who is she? Does she work here?"
"Yes..."
"Is she an intern? Do I know her?"
"You may, but she's not an intern..."
"Oh?" she asked, intrigued. "Who?"
"Anya Baker..."
Amélie raised her eyebrow. "From Psych? You're going to ask out a shrink?" she laughed. She really had nothing against the Freud Squad, but most doctors considered psychiatry as an airy-fairy specialty.
"Hey, I'm not the one sleeping with a resident," he said.
Amélie's jaw dropped. "That was uncalled for!"
He immediately looked guilty. "Sorry, I didn't mean it. I know you and Lucas have a deep and meaningful relationship and all..."
"Oh, go away," she laughed.
"I never saw why you two don't move in together," he said.
Amélie took some empty casts over to the bin. "Reason 1, we've only been going out for four months-"
"But you practically live at each other's places anyway, you are sleeping with each other," he interrupted.
"Thank you for that," she said. "Reason 2, my mother would have a coronary if she found out."
"But she lives in France..."
"And Reason 3, I have a roommate, and Reason 4, there's no point."
"Yes there is. A point, I mean."
"No, there's not," she said firmly.
"Well, how do you feel about him?" he inquired.
"That is none of your business."
"Yes it is, I'm your buddy."
She snorted. "Buddy?"
"Yes, I'm your buddy," he said. "Tell all."
"You'd think you'd have asked before," she said, shaking her head.
"Well, this is your longest relationship since arriving in Seattle. Normally they only lasted a week or so."
"Oh thanks," she exclaimed. "What are you suggesting?"
"Nothing!" he said hurriedly. "Honestly, nothing."
"Well, in case you're suggesting anything - and I'm not saying you are! - it's the new millennium, it's allowed. Besides, I lost my virginity at what, 16, so it's not like it was a big problem..."
"Who was that?"
She hesitated. "Some French guy..."
An experience she wasn't willing to talk about. It had been a mistake, a huge mistake. It was true in her case that the loss of the stable male figure in her life had messed her up. She was messed up. One messed up teenager, and an even more screwed up adult.
She had so many daddy issues.
"You do remember his name, I hope?"
"Of course I do! I just don't want to talk about it, that's all."
"Bad experience?"
"Not particularly..."
"Compared to what you've had since?"
She smiled. "Andrew, what is this, twelfth grade? Quit it with the questions!"
"Hey, it kills the cast crap clearing time," he shrugged. "When do you think Watson will reappear?"
"Search me," she said. "Eugh. I do not like the man."
"Who does?" he demanded. "Workaholic with a God complex-"
"We're all workaholics with God complexes, we're doctors," Amélie interrupted, smiling. "Watson is just an ass."
"That works," he grinned, then groaned. "I want to do a surger-yyyyyy."
"Stop whining and finish cleaning. Then maybe we'll see the inside of an OR."
"How do we survive six weeks of this?"
"The same way we survived the last year - we grit out teeth and bear it. We've made it this far," she said absentmindedly.
"No sleep, no life, having so much responsibility, people's lives in our hands..." he muttered.
"When did we become adults, and how can we stop it?"
Andrew laughed. "We can't."
"Unfortunately."
Amélie looked at the rest of the stuff she was supposed to be cleaning. "Andrew, we shouldn't be doing this."
"What?"
"We are interns, not janitors. Before this we were, and after this we will be again, surgical interns."
"What has that got to do with anything?" he asked, confused.
Amélie gestured at the room around her. "This is not us. It's not Jake and Rob either. They're cleaning up in another room. Why are we even here? We are supposed to be in the OR, with scalpels and clamps and..." She groaned. "I hate this place."
"What, the hospital? St. Meredith's? Washington? America? The world?"
"No, just Ortho," she grinned. "Not that bitter yet."
"Good," Andrew smiled. "Come on, you can do this. Like you said, we've been through worse. And this is just high school with scalpels, remember? We used to have classes we hated so much. Like double maths on a Monday morning."
"I liked maths," Amélie said. "Hated art though. With a passion."
"Well, art then. This Ortho thing is like the sucky class, but then you get to the classes that you love!"
"Art didn't last six weeks," she said. "But I get your point." She sighed and cleared up some more cast crap.
Watson appeared at the door. "Oh good, you're finished. Now, come with me, you're going to set some bones."
Amélie raised an eyebrow at Andrew, who grinned.
"Come on, get your asses out of there and follow me," Watson said, already striding down the corridor.
They fled out of the door running after him, eager to do the important stuff.