𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 & 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 [𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐧]

kung fu fighting

kung fu fighting

When Grace was a year old, she fell out of her stroller. She stood up in an attempt to get her mother's attention away from her brother and fell. She ended up only needing stitches, but her brother suffered severe trauma at the sight of blood after that.

When Grace was eight-years-old, she fell off her bike. She let go of the handles in an attempt to show off in front of her brother and fell. She ended up only needing stitches, but her brother suffered a severe panic attack after that.

Since those two incidents, Grace has realized falling isn't such a big deal (and seeking attention isn't either). With her fair share of bruises and scars, she isn't queasy around blood and she isn't scared of trauma.

But if she fell from 12,000 feet up, safe to say she wouldn't because scared of anything. She'd be dead (and so would her brother with the amount of fear coursing through his body). Except her patient was up and breathing, perfectly normal from the looks of it. With only a little cut, expecting a surgery to come didn't seem likely. Except for internal injuries, which is very, very likely. Though, she wouldn't be shocked if the man whose parachute didn't open and was somehow sitting up and talking didn't have any.

"He's talking?" The Chief questioned. Grace nodded, though Bailey answered. She looked down at her beeping pager from its place on the waistband of her pants. She excused herself from the trauma room to the main area of the ER.

A bloody wedding dress caught her vision. George O'Malley holding it opposite of a brunette girl with a visibly broken nose. The blonde nurse walked over to where a certain plastic surgeon stood. "Did—did you page me?" She asked Mark.

The man turned his head, smirking down at her, "Yeah. Wanna help me fix a broken nose?" 

Grace raised one of her eyebrows in confusion, "You—you paged me. To—to fix a nose." She smiled, softly laughing, still confused.

"And a facial and scalp laceration. You're telling me you don't want to hang out with me, Poulsen." His simper growing as he took a step over towards the patient.

Her bafflement rising, "How do you know my last name?" The blonde readjust her hair so it was out of her eyes, her feet moving to stand beside him.

Mark seemed to get a kick out of her perplexity as his grin grew as wide as possible with still being hidden enough to seem like a secret that he only shared with her. "I ask around about you, G."

Her jaw dropped open, "Oh my god! That loudmouth!" Her voice rising an octave as Mark walked to the Nurses' Station in the ER. She'd have some harsher words for Zibby later because that girl seems to never learn the art of keeping your mouth shut. "What else did she say to you?" Following him to the counter he was now leaning on.

"I'll tell you more if you help me with this broken nose." He pleaded. So, this is how he gets all the nurses to sleep with him. She gets it. Back at a time (really only about a month ago) she used to roll her eyes when girls like Olivia and Jolene would cry that Mark didn't call them back. Sure they should have known what they were getting themselves into, but could she blame them? Oh, crap. Here she goes.

She slowly nodded, hesitating before agreeing, "Only because you want to hang out with me so much." She bit her cheek, risking complete embarrassment to fall flat on her face because of a comment. She's forgotten the point when her brain started to feel this way all the time. Sure, there had to be a reason, but she used to be a bubbly, sociable girl. Okay, she was pretty introverted her whole life, but not stuttering every time someone asked her a question. She's working on it. Well, Ruth is pushing her she's just choosing to accept that push.

"Getting cheeky now, are we, G?" Mark teased, walking back over to the woman who occupied the broken nose.

The color red possessed her cheeks as she tried her best not to stutter her way through her words, "No—no. Um," She took a quick—but a deep—breath, "But if you're going to call me G, I guess I'll call you Marky Mark."

His mouth gaped open, "And the Funky Bunch?" She nodded, hand on her hip and all a sudden she felt like a bitch. Before she could persistently apologize, Mark said, "Fine, I will call you Grace, so long as you call me Mark."

"Okay, Mark."

"Okay, Grace." 

Not an expert on it, but Grace still felt the room get hot, her eyes wandered over to George O'Malley. "So, what exactly is George O'Malley doing holding onto a bloody wedding dress?" George stood still, stone-faced as he held the bloody once-white wedding dress. "He's holding it while the other bride-to-be is being operated on by Torres," Mark answered. 

From that moment Grace realized what the man's prerogative was, "He's the one that cheated on Torres?"

"Yep."

"Idiot."

"Yep."

Nurses' Station gossip really comes in handy.

—

"So," Zibby's voice is heard behind Grace, "Where were you today?" Grace turned around spotting Zibby and Ruth standing in the Nurses' locker room. Zibby with her arms crossed, Ruth with her hand on her hip. Both all ready to leave, waiting on Grace.

Grace lets a sigh out, "Working. Why?" Picking up her bag and placing on her shoulders as she walked, stopping in front of them.

They both looked at each other, leaving her out of the loop of the conversation. Ruth spoke up first, "I scrubbed in on the failed skydiver's surgery. The surgery that I heard you were on, but clearly you weren't."

Zibby then joined in, "Clearly, you were in the ER with Mark Sloan," the brunette scowled in confusion, "fixing a nose."

"Look, you and I have shamed the nurses, especially Jolene and Olivia who have slept with him and have comforted Zibby when she stupidly slept with him—"

Zibby interrupted, "It wasn't that stupid."

Ruth stopped and looked, "Really, Zibby?" Both hands now on her hips, facing Zibby. She lifted her hand turning back to Grace, "Anyway, what is up with you and Mark Sloan?"

Grace tried to form words, "W-what do you mean?" The three of them begin to walk out of the hospital.

Ruth rolled her eyes, "Instead of being on a surgery, you fixed a nose with Mark Sloan, which all of the sudden, you've been spending way more of your surgeries in on."

"We're friends, I guess." She shrugged rounding a corner.

Zibby scoffed, "Mark Sloan, friends, with a female."

Grace sighed loudly, "It's not like I'm sleeping with him. Unlike, someone." Head slowly turning towards Zibby. "I know that you've been talking to him too."

Eyes bulging out, mouth hanging out. "How'd you find out?" Her face returning to a regular state, a shock look still present. Zibby pressing the button to open the elevator doors.

Grace shrugged again, "From a friend."