TRIAGE | grey's anatomy (ON HOLD INDEFINITELY)

002: "new person, same old mistakes"

WHEN IMAGINING HER FIRST DAY OF WORK AT SEATTLE GRACE, CLEMENTINE HAD ENVISIONED THE PERFECT MORNING LEADING UP TO IT-- WELL, SORT OF. She would wake up at the ass-crack of dawn, refreshed after chugging a gallon of breakfast-buffet free coffee. Go on a run around the park near her crappy motel, listening to her favorite prerecorded lecture about osteologists and their forensic body farms as the sun rose. Shower, attempt to tame her hair into a bun, grab a bagel that made New York's shittiest bodega look like a Michelin-rated restaurant, and arrive at SGH with time to spare for wandering around.

Instead, Clem was sweatily digging through the supply closets of the intern's locker room, looking for a pair of scrub pants that would fit her ass. Luckily, she'd been lugging her carry-on around, and had her comfiest pair of New Balance's and a heather-grey thermal on hand, but the scrubs at Seattle Grace had so far proved to not be suited to her. Whatsoever.

George had been kind enough to guide her through the hospital after they dropped Joe off in the ER, where everyone there seemed to know him and assured them they would make sure he got the best treatment possible. He even had fetched her a cup of slightly-burnt coffee from the nurse's lounge to soften up the quick sobering up she was enduring, chattering nervously the entire way. George was immensely endearing -- cute and scrappy like a puppy, though she would never injure his pride and tell him so-- but also shyly intelligent with a hint of courage. He'd turned bright pink and started stammering something about a fizzy ( a drink?) when she began stripping off her interview suit, and he'd left in a hurry. Now, here she was barefoot in yesterday's underwear and her scrub shirt, desperately looking for a pair of pants that would fit her.

The locker room door swung open angrily, and Clem couldn't help but jump. In stormed a guy with an absolute bruiser on his face, scowling at the floor before turning his gaze towards her. It was obvious he'd thought he was alone.

"Sorry," he grumbled, like it was a pain to say so, and then he looked at her closer. He obviously wasn't affected by the fact that she was half naked like George had been. "Who are you?"

"Clementine Santos, transfer surgical intern." Clementine stuck out her hand, almost daring him to check her out.

He snorted and shook her hand. "Alex Karev. I'll let you, uh, prance around in your underwear some more. Alone."

Clementine snatched her palm back and glowered. "It seems like all your scrub pants are in kids sizes."

Alex looked at the closet she'd wrecked and started laughing. "That's because they are. Those are extra ped's scrubs. You wanna look in this one." He opened another door, rummaging around inside until he tossed a pair of light blue pants at her face. "That'll probably fit."

Even though Alex seemed moody as hell, and most definitely the guy George had punched, Clementine couldn't help but laugh along with him.

"Jesus! Thanks, Alex!" She turned to talk to him some more, but he'd already left, the door swinging. You'd probably be in a bad mood if everyone hated you and your eye was purple, too, she reminded herself, turning to the sink to scrub her face bare.

She caught up to George as quickly as she could, who was looking over a binder next to a tall, gorgeous blonde.

"Is that Joe's?" Clem asked, wrestling her messy curls through a ponytail holder and peering at his chart.

"Uh, who are you?" The tall blonde asked, attempting to seem intimidating.

"Oh, sorry! Clementine Santos. I transferred from Columbia's intern program."

"We like her, Iz," George confirmed, and her stoic face melted into a brilliant smile.

"Welcome, then! I'm Izzie Stevens! What made you transfer?" So George had not been looking for a fizzy drink. He'd been looking for an Izzie. That made a lot more sense.