TRIAGE | grey's anatomy (ON HOLD INDEFINITELY)

019: "distractions"

(prepare yourself for a lot of clemonologues lol)

THERE WAS LITTLE CLEMENTINE LOVED MORE THAN SNACKS AND A GOOD SHOW-- EXCEPT, MAYBE, A CHECK IN HER NAME FOR EIGHT AND A HALF MILLION DOLLARS. Considering the fact that it was Izzie, not herself, with the latter in a puddle of orange juice on the kitchen counter from breakfast earlier that morning, the snacks and the good show would just have to do.

Bailey had announced casually that they would be allowed to attend the morbidity and mortality conference instead of finishing rounds, and it had been like Christmas had come early. Half of the time, Clementine felt like she was too busy wrapped up in the drama and the odd amount of worker accidents at Seattle Grace to practice true medicine. She was craving shards of broken bone, the purpling skin of internal bleeding, unresponsive pupils, crash carts and crike kits. Clem was quite literally craving blood.

As she joined Meredith and Cristina in their hunt for snacks, while George and Alex saved them seats in the conference room, she tried not to feel so bad that she was craving chips to go with the hospital's discussion of lowering their mortality rate. Clem was a surgeon, down to her marrow-- she was hardwired to cut and to crack open and to sew back together in beautiful, perfect stitches. She was not, on the other hand, built for staying in hospital beds for little more than a headache, or ignoring the phone calls of a plastic surgeon who she had no idea got her number, or skipping out on work to attend court cases that refused to appeal to justice.

The room reminded Clem more of a packed theater, as she searched through the rows of chatting attendings and residents for her interns, her arms nearly overflowing with food and bottles of water. She hurried to take a seat next to Alex, passing out food with skilled determination. Nitpicking her superiors, watching them get torn to shreds by their colleagues? It would be a nice change in pace.

George and Meredith were discussing his latest mishap with Callie, and Clementine briefly wished Izzie was with them to roll her eyes instead of attempting to pack up her locker a few floors down. Isobel Stevens was a righteous, judgmental bitch-- but she was their righteous, judgmental bitch. They were Bailey's interns, and Clem felt an intense need to convince her roommate to finish what she had spent years attempting to start.

"Okay, people," Chief Webber began, leaning into a podium on the stage. "Let's begin. Patient #34986 died last month from complications following a heart transplant. Dr. Burke will present."

A sudden chill passed through the five of them, as cool realization hit. Clementine's good mood circled the drain.

"You guys..." George began at a whisper.

Alex swallowed loudly. "Isn't patient #34986--"

"Denny." Cristina and Meredith mumbled in sync.

Clementine couldn't help but sink low into her seat, chips forgotten. She may not have been one of the interns who assisted in the cutting of Denny's LVAD wire, but she'd witnessed the aftermath with horrific clarity. Her people had done the crime, and judging by the looks already swarming in their direction, she would be paying the price along with them. "Eight million dollars. If I had eight million dollars, I'd fly us all very far away."

Dr. Burke did his best in explaining away Denny's death the best way he knew how, by presenting the medical facts of the case and not the personal ones that had made all the difference when actually occurring. Clementine had buried her head into a hand, the elbow propped up on the chair next to her. Questions peppered the air stiffly, including words like company line and LVAD. She only raised her head to look at the stage when the same annoying male voice continually asked about Dr. Bailey.