"What'll it be, Levie?" Joe passes one of the drinks to his usual customers.

"Just a club soda, thanks." I smile lightly. "And Levie? Where did that come from?"

"Since you helped save my life and the bar." He grabs a chilled glass and pours some of my preferred beverage. "Even your friends are drinking. Can't I get you a scotch or something?"

I shake my head. "Club soda will be just fine, Joe."

"Better than a coffee." He humors.

"Dr. Phoenix." The voice comes from Dr. Shepherd, who sits in the barstool beside me. "Enjoying your night off with. . .club soda?"

"Dr. Shepherd, I don't comment on your drinking habits. I'd prefer it if you didn't comment on mine." I down the drink and flip the glass upside down before dropping a ten-dollar bill.

Before I can leave, a hand grips my wrist tightly.

"Has she. . .has Meredith said anything about me?"

My hair flips over my shoulder as I glance back at him.

"And why do you care?" I roll my eyes.

His eyes bore into my own, and for a split second. . .it feels like just us. But I rip my hand out of his grasp and stalk over to the others.

"Your ex-lover's an egocentric romantic."

"Tell me about it."

Bailey walks us through our rounds the next morning, in a mood since Cristina's still off work. Of course, being the woman she is, she comes straight out of her recovery room and chases us down in one of the patients' rooms.

With an IV pole in tow.

"Cristina Yang." Meredith stands beside her bed. "Post-op, day three, from a unilateral salpingectomy —"

Cristina cuts her off. "And ready to get back to work."

The woman seated on the couch, her own mother, sits up at her daughter's statement.

"Is she really?"

"I'm taking solids, and my pain is controlled with oral meds." It's hard for a doctor to become a patient temporarily. "I'm ready."

"Didn't the nurse say this morning you have a fever?"

"Mother."

Bailey cocks an eyebrow. "Cristina, did you have a fever?"

A pause of silence takes over the atmosphere.

"Temp spiked to 101 last night." The words grit aggressively through her teeth. "Big deal."

"She worked two shifts two months ago with a 102-degree flu." George shrugs his shoulders.

"Yes, exactly, George. Thank you."

"And we appreciate your dedication, but you're staying in bed until it normalizes."

"I keep telling her." Her mother shrugs helplessly. "There's more to life than surgery and career."

Before Cristina can make another sarcastic comment towards her mother, Bailey steps forward.

"Look, I need you to relax, shut up, and get better. You're a patient this week so you can be a doctor next week."

Before we can leave for our next patient, a hand clamps around my white coat and pulls me backwards.

"You have to save me." Her voice pleads. "I cannot stay in a room with her anymore. I'm going all cuckoo's nest over here."

I roll my eyes. "Like Bailey said. Rest so you can heal."

"I'm healed. I'm healed!"

As the time passes on, I work my way towards the nurses' station on the recovery floor. Only to see one of the patients out of bed and looking through the charts.

"Shouldn't there be an IV pole following you around, Cristina?" I stand with my arms crossed over my chest.

"I'm taking solids." She selects one of the clipboards. "I hep-locked it."

My left brow cocks. "And on whose orders did you do that?"

"Mine."

"If you say so." My hand snatches the file labeled Yang. "It says your orders are bed rest, bed to chair, bathroom privileges, and — would you look at that? There's absolutely nothing about snooping around the nurses' station."

"Fine."

In response, she grabs the nearest wheelchair, unfolds it, and plops right down.

"Are you satisfied? I'm out of bed and in the chair."

"Come on."

I curl my fingers around the handlebars, pushing her out into the hallway. She lets out a sigh of relief when I wheel past her room.

"Want a mocha latte?"

"Please."

With much difficulty, I settle her back onto the bed in her room with a nice hot beverage. On my way to the elevator, I cross paths with Dr. Shepherd.

"Dr. Phoenix. Pleasure to see you again." He greets with a firm nod.

I watch the numbers flash across the panel. "Dr. Shepherd. Can't say the same about you."

"Is there a reason you hate me?" His hands rest at his hips. "Because I don't think I've ever given you a reason to hate me."

"Oh, it's not that I hate you specifically." I assure him sarcastically. "I just hate your type in general."

"My type?" The senior attending questions.

"Having overly styled hair, reeking boastful confidence. . .do you want me to go on?"

"And how exactly do you know that I fall into this category?"

"Because I've had my fair share of experiences with the type to know when I meet one."

While walking through the new patient area, I overhear a conversation between a patient and his wife, one that sounds pretty private.

"How many times do I have to say I'm sorry? I love you, okay? I forgive you."

My heart swells at the sweet moment.

"You cheated on me. You cheated on me, and you do not get to play the martyr here."

"I got a bullet in my head!"

"And that doesn't make us even."

"You shot me."

Silently, I back away from the hospital and stop by Alex. Up until now, he and Dr. Shepherd had been watching the couple from a further distance.

"I think it's a good idea you call the police right now." I clear my throat. "Wife shot the husband for cheating on her."

"Yeah, good idea." Alex tugs on the deskphone next to him and dials the number.

The rest of my shift ends without a single surgery, but I can't say it wasn't interesting. Meredith and I meet up in Cristina's room after shift to discuss our day.

"So, Shepherd stepped onto the same lift as me. And we were alone for a good twenty seconds." I reluctantly give Cristina the two five's in my hand.

Cristina chokes on a bold laugh. "Last time Meredith did that with him, they ended up making out the whole time."

"Oh, believe me." I chuckle under my breath. "We didn't make out."

"What did you do?" Meredith furrows her brows, dipping a couple of fries into the vat of ketchup.

"Just told him I avoid his type at all costs." My shoulders shrug.

"And what type is he?"

"Gelled and pompous."

The three of us laugh aloud at my comment towards him.

"You know, this past month has been the greatest time of my life." I lift the disposable cup of coffee in the air.

"Looks like we're toasting." Cristina teases.

"She really does complete the trio, doesn't she?" Meredith smiles kindly in my direction.

"Hoes over bros."

"Sisters over misters."

"Docs over —"

"Don't say it."