"Morning, interns of Seattle Grace."

Those who passed the intern exam three weeks ago have the opportunity of training their own sets of interns, regardless of wanting to or not.

Five young faces stand behind me, eager to learn but frozen in fear.

"I have five rules. Memorize them."

Since I had transferred to Seattle Grace a little later than the others, they taught me all about Bailey's speech to the interns.

"Rule number one: don't bother sucking up. I already hate you, that's not going to change."

One of them gulps nervously.

"Trauma protocols, phone lists, and pagers. The nurses will page you, and you answer every page at a run."

As I turn around to walk down the hallway, they gather their materials and run to catch up behind me.

"Your first shift starts now. . .and lasts 36 hours. You all are grunts, nobodies, the bottom of the surgical food chain. You run labs, you write orders. . .and you work every second night until you drop. So don't complain."

We stop by the infamous on-call rooms, which have been used a lot more times for sex than anything else.

"These are the on-call rooms. You sleep when you can, where you can. And if I happen to be sleeping — which is a rarity — don't wake me unless the patient is dying. Dying, not already dead. If you're gonna wake me up, it better be a good reason."

"That was four rules. You said five."

"Final rule. . .when I move, you move."

After getting rid of the interns for their first day, I stumble into the deserted hallway used by the residents for a private hangout area.

"I think it's time we go back to Hawaii." Pulling the end of my scrub shirt, I look down. "I'm paler than white bread. We have to go back."

"You seen Burke yet?"

"No. Have you seen Derek?"

"Of course not. He wanted to be a McAss, so I'm letting him be a McAss. . .by himself."

"Wait, you haven't seen either of them since the wedding?" Izzie looks up in shock. "And you're all fine?"

"Obviously."

"You're either incredibly healthy or completely messed up."

"We're an unhealthy balance of both."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Who cares? We're not interns anymore."

All five pagers beep erratically, directing us and our interns to the E.R. for victims from multiple M.V.C.s.

"Where have you been?"

Newly appointed chief resident Dr. Torres stands in front of the nurses' station with a stressed look on her face.

"Just get ready and monitor your interns."

As we take our respective patients to the various rooms, Meredith drops the bomb that her sister is one of the new interns.

"Damn it, I need her arm!" Pent-up frustration flows through my voice.

"She's in harm? Maybe you should call a closer hospital —"

"I'm in a hospital, sir. I work for a hospital, and I need to find this woman's arm!"

"Okay, okay. Just give me your name and the name of the hospital, and I'll call again if my team happens to find it."

"Thank you." I breathe a sigh of relief. "Leven Phoenix, Seattle Grace Hospital."

"Hey."

I look back to see Derek Shepherd's more-than-unwelcomed face behind me. Forcing down the urge to roll my eyes, I walk to the other side of the station.

"Can we talk?"

"No. No, I don't think we should talk."

I furiously drag the pen tip over the paper, heaving a frustrated sigh when no ink marks appear. Derek gracefully touches my hand to stop my movements before offering his own.

"Leven. . ."

"You could've fought for me."

Through the tips of my lashes, I watch as his face falls. Tears threaten to spill, but a child's voice screeches from the near distance.

"Help, we need a doctor! Help!"

I shove past the neurosurgeon towards the voice, finding a young child and his father standing by the entrance. . .with a dismembered arm.

"I have been searching for this." Carefully, I take the limb out of his hands. "Uh. . .thanks."

Meredith cleans the debris from the arm in one of the empty exam rooms. Cristina and I leave our respective interns to be with her.

"Still no sign of Burke." Cristina purses her lips. "Oh, you've got a severed arm."

"My arm. Mine."

"I'm the one who called to find it."

Meredith shoots the dirtiest of glares in my direction.

"Fine, fine. It's your precious, Gollum." I raise my arms in mock surrender.

"Maybe he's not on today."

"Maybe you should just see him and get it over with."

Her hands run over her face. "No, no, no. If I never see him again, I won't care."

"Derek saw me. . .I saw him."

"And?"

"I was already frustrated with the damn arm." I gesture to the limb. "And he was the sweet, bitchy cherry on top of my aggravation."

"Callie's a bitch."

"Word."

Alex and Izzie enter the room with irritated looks on their faces, although they perk up when they see the severed arm.

George opens the room but doesn't enter, instead staring blankly inside.

"Oh, George." Cristina greets him. "Severed arm. Plus Mer's half sister is my intern. Izzie is playing Dr. DoLittle, Alex hates your wife. . .oh, and Lev wants sex."

"How did you get I want sex from me talking to Derek?"

"Dr. Sloan's ready for the arm."

And he walks away without another word, the door shutting behind him.

"I'll say it." Meredith lifts a gloved hand. "George is being an ass."

"I think it's my fault. I said some things, and now he's not talking to me." Izzie stares at the arm intently.

"I don't know what he's got to complain about." Alex nonchalantly shrugs. "Those new chick interns are hot."

"He's married, Alex."

"Yeah. He's married."

"You know who's seriously hot? That Lexie girl."

"Get out. . .before I hurt you."

Mark, Meredith, and I prepare to begin Nancy's procedure. She lays across a table dressed in a patient gown and cap, taking deep but uneven breaths.

"Okay, Nancy. Could you count back from a hundred for me?"

"No. No, I'm not ready."

"It'll be like taking a —"

"No, I'm scared. I am scared, Leven." Her hand grips my forearm.

"It's okay to be scared." I reassure her with a gentle smile behind my mask. "Everything works out for the best in the end."

"That's what I think."

"Let's take this one step at a time. . .starting with your arm."

"Okay."

Out of nowhere, contractions start, and her water breaks. Before O.B. or peds can get here, I grab George and have him help me with the baby.

"You're a sweet boy, aren't you?" My lips curve up involuntarily as I stand outside of the newborn nursery. "Got a great mom, too, buddy. Independent and confident."

"Reminds me of someone else."

The head of neurosurgery stands with an arm against the wall and his hand on his hip. Any other time, I would've scoured, but the fresh memory of delivering a newborn keeps me steady.

"You still want to talk?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

That's how he and I end up in a dark, empty on-call room. He leans back against a set of bunk beds while I pace back and forth.

"You could've —"

"Fought for you, I know."

The sleeves of white coat lift as he plants his hands on either side of my waist, closing the severely limited space between us.

"If your mentor was dying, wouldn't you do the same?"

Before I can say anything else, his lips come crashing to meet mine. Bursts of energy spark energy within me, and I find myself kissing back.

"Is this good?" His breath is hot against my neck.

I nod lightly. "Yeah. . .yeah, it's good."

"Good."

"Good."