Wake Up

P

Phoenix 47

Cadet
Disclaimer: i don't own the characters or any of the other stuff that the amazing Alias creators/writers/crew came up with. I also don't any plotlines from Grey's Anatomy, which I sort of mention. Those are owned by the creators of Grey's Anatomy. The story is about Sydney's daughter. Some of the plot lines from Alias have changed or been tweaked as you will soon see. And other ones that have not yet come to pass (aka, series finale) will be different than what the writers write, probably. So, while reading this, just kind of ignore those, and go with it. Have some fun!
By the way, I'd say this was rated PG-13.

This is the first part of chapter 1. The rest will come probably tomorrow. So please try to hang with me while I start the story. Thanks!

Wake Up​

Chapter 1
Freddie Mercury once wrote, "It's so easy, all you have to do to fall in love, is play the game."
Then again, Freddie also wrote a song all about riding bicycles.
The game isn't that easy. It's not easy at all. The game is hell. It leaves you completely and utterly broken. Which is how two people generally end up avoiding each other for the rest of their lives in order to forego the humiliation that's a consequence for bad judgment.
So why do we keep playing?
Alright. Guess I should fill you in on what happened. But the short version. Not the long, sordid, angst filled version. Though, I don't know how angsty it actually is. It feels angsty. My name is Grey Bristow. Daughter of the famous Sydney Bristow and Michael Vaughn, raised by my grandfather Jack Bristow. If you didn't already know. Anyway, I just finished med school at Dartmouth (my dream school since like, 11th grade). But, after my residency at a major Washington DC hospital, I somehow ended up here, at the CIA Medical Services. Not quite as cool as a huge prominent university hospital, unfortunately. Actually, it's nowhere near the excitement as working in a public hospital. We don't get the cool patients with brain tumors on the hypothalamus or patients with 160 pound tumors, or patients with blood clots the size of my fist, or even patients that accidentally fell down the stairs and shot a nail gun in their heads. We pretty much only make sure the agents don't die in our care.
So, we're not really responsible for sleeping with agents, as long as they don't die.
Right?
Okay, now I'm trying to self deceive myself into believing that sleeping with Senior Agent Stryker Adams wasn't that big of a deal. It's not working.
If only I had never had to suture him up; that's where it all went downhill.
Or maybe it started going downhill when I decided to become a surgeon...
 
Next part of chapter 1

Grey awoke that morning with a pounding headache and a knot of dread in her stomach. Maybe it was the drinks she had the night before. The lack of sleep her job induced. The fact she was going to have to drag herself out of bed and go to work. She went to her bathroom and immediately stuck her head under the shower head, and turned it on, in the vain hope that the cold water would wake her up.
“There’s no way,” she said when she saw her exhausted gray eyes in the mirror (cause of her first name). But of course she couldn’t just skip. No matter how much she wanted. So she pulled herself together and got dressed in jeans and a comfortable shirt. No point in putting too much effort in it, considering she‘d be changing anyway. She let her dog out into the fenced in yard, and left the house.
When she walked into work, through the hospital entrance (they weren‘t privileged enough to use the subway door like the agents did), he was the first one she saw. Their eyes met, and he quickly looked away, just as embarrassed as she was. She stared at his turned head, his wavy black hair, just for a minute, and then went to the locker room.
At least that’s the only time I’ll see him today, she thought to herself as she pulled on her scrubs, As long as he doesn’t have some injury.
“Dr. Bristow,” Dr. Roberts the hospital chief, said, walking by her in the locker room, “We have a patient in room 306. He was shot in his leg, and he needs stitches. We’ve got the bullet and everything. You just need to stitch it up.”
“Alrighty,” she said, pulling her long brown hair back out of her face. That’s what the surgeons did for the new surgeons, like herself. They’d leave something simple like a suture for them to do if they hadn’t been able to scrub in on the surgery. Grey couldn’t wait until they’d let her do more than one surgery a month. She was looking forward to pulling bullets out of people like this agent, instead of just suturing him up.
But for now, I'm stuck doing sutures. I’m a licensed doctor, and I’m stuck with sutures.
She walked in the hallway and grabbed the chart on the desk.
“Is that really Jack Bristow’s granddaughter?” somebody said behind her as she walked to room 306. She turned around to see who it was. It was just two junior agents. That was the bad thing about having Med Services mixed in with the headquarters. The rookies wandering in making comments like that.
“Yep,” said the other, “I wonder why she’s just a med personnel and not an agent.”
“Because,” she said loudly and annoyed, “I’m good at my job. And I’m probably going to be the reason you’re alive one day. And I’m not med personnel. I am a doctor and a surgeon. Just because I’m stuck here with sutures and I only have one surgical patient, doesn’t mean I’m not. So, thanks.”
And then she went into room 306 where an agent sat on the bed smirking. His leg was propped up, a deep hole like wound in the middle of his calf.
“Nice job,” he told Grey.
“Thanks,” she said to him, “Senior agent who actually appreciates what we do?”
“yeah,” he said, holding out his hand, “Agent Dan Thomason.”
“Dr. Grey Bristow,” she said, taking his hand and shaking it.
“Jack’s granddaughter,” he said, smiling, “how’s he doing?”
“He’s good,” she said, with slight hesitation. She’d have to work on that. These agents were trained to pick up on things like that and analyze it in seconds. She opened his chart, thanking god that he didn’t pick up on it that time.
“My first year, I was on a team with him leading,” Thomason said, leaning back and revering in the memory, “I was so excited to be in the presence of that legend.”
“You allergic to anything?” she asked, leading him away from talk of her family. Not the most friendly subject to her, since her family was so screwed up to begin with.
“Nope,” he said, “Stitch me up.”
After she sutured his leg, she finished up the chart and shut it.
“Nice meeting you,” she said as they both headed out of the room, him leaning on a crutch.
“You too,” he said, “Tell Jack hey for me.”
“I will.”
***********
“There’s my favorite granddaughter,” said Jack Bristow as Grey walked in the room, “I’ve been waiting for you to show up all morning long.”
“Sorry,” she said, smiling as she picked up his charts, “I had to stitch an agent’s leg.”
“These younger agents can’t seem to keep the bullets away from them,” Jack said disdainfully. He stood up. Grey smiled and opened his charts.
“Grandpa,” she said, her smile quickly fading, “You’re not doing any better.”
“That’s what Dr. Summers told me,” he said, sitting down on the bed, “Why can’t you be my doctor?”
“Because,” she said, “Dr. Summers is a good doctor who can keep a secret. And doctors can’t treat their own family or friends. It has to do with the emotional attachment involved.”
“Oh,” he said, “That makes sense.”
They stood for a minute in awkward silence, both knowing what was about to come, but neither wanting to instigate it.
“You need to consider the surgery…” she began, breaking the silence, but Jack cut her off.
“I’m not getting surgery,” he said, “and that’s final. I want no more suggestions of it from you.”
“What, you want to stay here forever?” she asked him. He shrugged and smiled.
“Why not? I get to see my granddaughter everyday,” he said, grinning.
She looked at him without returning his grin.
“Please, it‘s only going to get worse…” she started but he held up his hand.
“I said, I’m not getting the surgery. End of discussion.”
Grey threw the charts down on the bed and stormed towards the door. She stopped in the doorway, and turned back around to face her grandfather.
“Fine,” she said, keeping her tears back, “Then die. Die like Mom and Dad. At least you can try to get some help. But no. You won’t. I’m sure Mom and Dad fought for their lives, unlike you. You’re the most stubborn and cowardly agent that I’ve ever heard of.”
Then she slammed the door behind her. She heard Jack call her name, but she ran down the hospital wing and to a closet, jumping inside and locking it behind her. As soon as she was safe, she slumped down the wall, the tears flowing freely.
Then the door opened. It was him.
“The door was locked,” she said, looking at the agent in front of her.
“Lock-picking skills come in handy,” Stryker said.
“locked doors generally mean don’t come in,” she snapped.
“I’ve never been one for following rules.”
“What do you want?” she asked, standing up and wiping her face with her sleeve.
“I saw you come in here, and I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said.
“I’m fine,” she said, “And we’re not talking about how we slept together the other night. It was a bad judgment call by both of us, and it never happened. And it‘s embarrassing for us, because agents and medical personnel, especially doctors, do not mix. Ever.”
“Did I say anything about us sleeping together? But it would be a good topic to get on…I have fond memories of it.”
“No.”
She stalked over to him and Stryker let her shove him out.
“Alright, but if you ever want a drink…” he began with a grin, but her pager beeped.
“No, I have a 911, and I have to go,” she said, and ran down the hallway. He watched her hair fly behind her. The more she pushed him away, the more he fell for her. He’d never forget when they met. He touched the wound on his cheek in memory. He had just gotten back from a mission, with a long gash down his cheek. It was deep, and they sent him to her.
“My name is Dr. Bristow,” she said, as he sat on the bed, “I’ll be stitching you up today.”
“Stryker Adams,” he said, holding out his hand. She took it, and then quickly let go to grab the supplies.
“Are you allergic to any medications?” she asked, as she pulled out a swab.
“Nope,” he said, “Well, except for some over the counter cold medicines. And an acne medicine I took in high school.”
“Ok,” she said, glancing at him. He was busy staring at her face. Arched eyebrows, light gray eyes, high cheekbones, dark brown hair. It wasn’t beautiful…but it was interesting and different. Which made it beautiful.
“So what did you do to get this?” she asked. She had started stitching up already. He hadn’t even noticed her clean it, he was so enamored.
“On a mission,” he said, “Ran into an enemy. Huge brawl. He cut me with his knife. I shot him with my gun, once I got to it.”
He felt her stop for a second, but she immediately started again.
“It doesn’t bother you?” she asked.
“What?”
“It doesn’t bother you to just kill people like that?”
“No. Not if they’re going to kill me. And he was.”
“Ok. Just wondering.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Don’t know. I never really cared for guns. I save lives, not end them.”
“That surprising, considering your family history.”
“How do you know my family history?”
Stryker looked at her, shocked that she would ask such a question.
“Your family is a freaking legend. Your mom and dad were the best agents, pretty much, ever. You grandfather will go down in CIA history. You‘re inbred.”
“So? Doesn’t mean I have to be an agent.”
They sat in silence for a moment, which at some point led them out to get drinks at the bar across the street in order to break the awkward silence. It was loud, but it was her “Two Guiness’,” she ordered for them both without even consulting him. Good thing he liked Guinness. But hey, she took the initiative. That turned him on.
And somewhere along the line, drinks led to talking, and talking led to her bed. He laid there the next morning, with her asleep beside him, revering in it. It was…it was the best he’d ever had. Maybe because he was doing it with someone he actually liked…maybe even loved. He wasn’t doing it just to get information. That was the only sex he’d had lately. Ever since his girlfriend had been killed. Grey slowly opened her eyes, and smiled at him.
“Oh my god,” she whispered, extremely happy. Then she looked again, her face changing to horror.
“Oh my god!”
“What?”
“There are rules,” she said, apparently annoyed about the whole thing, jumping out of bed and wrapping the sheet around her, “There are rules about this.”
“About what?”
“Doctors and agents…you know.”
“No, I don’t,” he countered with a smirk, “Please elaborate.”
She promptly picked up a pillow and threw it at him.
“I’m going to be late,” she said, running to the shower, “Please leave.”
“Okay,” he said, “I’m going to be late too.”
“Good,” she said, “but it was nice meeting you…erm…Stryker?”
“Yes, Grey,” he said, “nice meeting you too.”
Stryker realized that he really needed to talk to Grey about this.
 
Next part of Chapter 1...it's a long chapter, due to the whole introducing characters and such, but I promise it'll be more like Alias soon, so please read and reply! I love feedback!

"What have we got?" Grey said, running into the room. She was prepared for a lot of nurses and doctors to be around the bed, since the page was a 911, but, nobody was in the room except for the patient.
"Ben," Grey said, angry and out of breath, "How many times have I told you not to do that?"
"Sorry Grey," he said, really looking sorry, "But I was feeling some chest pain. I didn't want it to be anything too serious, so I exaggerated it a little to get you up here."
"Ok," she said, pushing her anger back, "We'll get you down to a CT just to be safe. But it's probably just soreness from the surgery. And next time, just tell the nurse. Don't exaggerate."
Ben's dark eyes beamed up at her. His full name was Benjamin Weiss. His dad was Eric Weiss. Ben had never known his mother (she had left when he was born, and neither Ben nor Eric ever spoke about it), so Grey didn't know who she was. Grey and Ben had been best friends from the age of 10. Eric had baby-sat her a lot while Jack was on what was then called "business trips", since Eric had moved back to LA from DC after Sydney was killed, when Grey was only 9 months old. Eventually, though, he was called back to DC, so Ben had to go with him. They parted ways for high school, college and grad studies, but somehow ended up in Washington DC together looking for jobs. Grey was hired as a surgeon for a black ops division of the CIA (APO) and transferred to LA first. Ben followed two years later to join APO. Ben didn't have a place to live (his dad still lived in DC, and Ben wouldn't let him buy him a place), so Grey let him move in her mom’s old house, which was too big for one person. From there, they'd become like brother and sister.
"Well, good news Ben," Grey said, after Ben came back from the CT scan and the tests were in, about an hour later, "Everything looks clear. Chest pain was just soreness from the stitches, like I thought. You'll be discharged this evening. See you at the house."
"Thank you Dr. Bristow," Ben said, teasing her about her title. She rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but truthfully...
She really loved the ring of it.
 
As she left Ben’s room, she ran into Abby Summers. Abby was her best friend, also a surgeon. She finished her residency in LA, so she had no problem acquiring a home. They had met their first day, when Grey had been planning on spending the night in the on call rooms (legalities with her mother‘s house being passed over to her…it took about two weeks to get that straightened out) and Abby let her stay with her.

“There’s a guy in ICU that was exposed to a bioweapon,” Abby said nonchalantly, “You should see him. It’s insane. His internal organs swelled double their size. I really want that surgery.”

“I ran into Stryker,” Grey said lowly as she opened up Ben’s chart to mark it. Abby set her chart down.

“You ran into him? On purpose, or accidentally?”

“Let me rephrase. I went into the supply closet and he followed me.”

“Why did you go in the supply closet?”

“I’d just been to see Jack, and I was upset,” Grey turned from the desk and leaned her back against it, “He’s doing really bad.”

“I know,” Abby said, repeating Grey’s movement, “I was going to tell you, but I didn’t know how.”

“Have you talked to him about…”
“Yes. And so has Dr. Roberts. Everyone has. He’s stubborn.”

“yeah. I know that. I grew up with him pretty much.”

“Now we know where you get it from,” Abby said as soon as she got a 911 page, and then she went running down the hallway. Grey stood there for another minute.

“I’m not stubborn!” she called after Abby.

Abby shrugged as she continued down the hall. Grey, with a smile, went to the elevator. She needed to go see Dixon. Let him know how Jack was doing. The elevator was crowded when she got on. When it stopped at the next floor, everyone got off. Everyone, that is, except her and Stryker, who was strategically hidden behind her. He sidled up to her, and she moved to get off the elevator. He moved in front of her and hit the close door button.

“Oh no,” he said, “We’re talking.”

“Oh no,” she retorted, “We’re not. There’s nothing to talk about. It happened. That’s it.”

“Maybe it didn’t just happen for me,” he said, looking a bit frustrated, “maybe it was more than sex for me.”

“Can we not..” she began, but he placed his hand over her mouth, effectively shutting her up.

“I need you to let me talk about this. Here. Now. When you can’t get out of it. The other night was the best night of my life. You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. And not just in the bedroom. Everywhere…the hospital, in the bar. Just, in life. I think that it wasn’t a one night stand. I think it was real. I think I really, really do love you.”

He took his hand off her mouth. She stared at him, pretty shocked.

“Are you drunk? Have you been drinking?” she asked.

“No.”

They stood there for another minute in silence.

“you know,” she said, “We only met like three days ago, and you’re already telling me that you love me. Slow down, my friend.”

“Ok.”

They looked at each other for a second, and then she pressed herself against him, kissing him fiercely.

“No self control,” she told him when she came up for air.

“I can see that,” he breathed back.

They didn’t stop until the elevator doors opened. She quickly pulled away and walked out, not looking at the people getting on the elevator, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“See you,” he called out.
********
“Grey!” Dixon said when she walked into his office, “Good to see you.”

He came over and gave her a hug. Dixon had been like a second father to her while Jack was raising her. His children, mainly his oldest daughter who was 18 at that time, used to babysit Grey if both him and Jack were gone.

“It’s good to see you too,” she said, “but I have some bad news.”

“Exactly what you don’t want to hear from a doctor,” Dixon laughed.

“Jack’s not doing well,” she said, not returning Dixon‘s chuckle, “His tumor is getting bigger. If we don’t get it in a certain window of time, there’ll be nothing we can do.”

“I see,” Dixon said, thoughtfully.

“And he refuses to let us do the surgery to fix it.”

“Sounds like Jack.”

“Can’t you talk to him?” Grey sighed, obviously exhausted with the whole situation.

“No. he won’t listen to me. But,” Dixon said, rubbing his chin, “I know who he would listen to. But we‘ll have to keep it under wraps that we talked to him. Because currently, he‘s an enemy of the United States. But it might work.”

And it was with that statement that Grey spent the next 3 hours getting ready to leave for Arvin Sloane’s villa in Tuscany.

Dixon watched her leave his office to prepare to leave for Sloane‘s villa. It was Sloane’s safe haven, the only place he couldn’t be touched. APO needed him alive, or he would have been dead a long time ago. Especially after what he did to Dixon’s wife. Especially after what he did to Sydney. They never even found her body. And he had left Grey without a mother.

Jack didn’t know that Sloane was the one who had killed Sydney. He still thought it was Kelly Peyton. And with the current situation, Dixon felt it was necessary not to tell him the truth.

But Grey knew. Grey knew Sloane was the one who killed Sydney. She found out when she first started working at APO. But she knew that Sloane was the only way to get Jack to have the surgery, because Jack still considered Sloane an ally and a friend. It was a consequence of losing Sydney. He had lost a part of himself when Sydney’s death came to them. And Dixon believed that telling him that his best friend had brutally killed his daughter wouldn’t help his situation. Grey agreed when she started working at APO, especially after they found the tumor. But it frustrated her to no end.

Have patience Grey, Dixon thought, his own anger welling up in him again as he thought of Diane, We’ll get him eventually.
 
Wow! This is awesome! I love the story line and the ideas. It's cute and I hope Sloane will convince Jack, but I'm not sure if Sloane will kill Grey. Yikes! Please PM me when you update next!

-Erin :smiley:
 
I'm so excited that people are reading. Please spread the word and get other people to read! I'll have the next part up tomorrow.
 
Yep. I should have the next part up later today!

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So much for tomorrow, lol. :blink:

The worst thing about being a surgeon for the CIA? Not the disrespect from young agents, not worrying about being sent into the field, not when patients die under your care, not when you screw up during a surgery, and not when you do something that could incriminate the hospital’s integrity. Though those are equally bad.
The worst thing is when you have to go and do things like talk to the man who killed your mother to convince your grandfather to have a surgery that will save his life.
I told you my life was screwed up.
I can’t help but think what my life would be like if Sloane hadn’t killed my mom. Would I be any different? Seriously. What if my mom was alive? Would I still be Grey Bristow? And what if I wasn’t? Who would I be?

Grey stumbled out of the hotel room bed. She dreaded going to see Sloane, because her hatred for him ran so deep. And she really had to be nice so that he would help her out.

I hate that he of all people is the only one who can help me.

She quickly showered and dressed in a black sweater, jeans, and tennis shoes. There was a chance she’d have to run, for instance, if Sloane decided to try and kill her.
A few hours later, after eating breakfast at an Italian coffeeshop, Grey walked up the stone steps to the front of the villa, an hour after she arrived. It had been a mission just to get through the security at the front gates, with all the checkpoints to make sure she didn‘t have a gun, or a bomb, or a scalpel (though she would feel better with a gun by her side). And now she had to go talk to Sloane without him killing her and without her killing him.

Like he killed Mom,she thought bitterly. But currently he was her only ally to get Jack to have the surgery.

The wooden doors opened, and Grey pushed her bitterness away. Sloane was standing there, waiting for her.

“Hello, Grey,” he said, motioning her inside. She entered. It was a magnificent home. Traditional Italian villa style. She followed Sloane to his office. Books lined shelves that covered the walls, and there was a wooden desk with a black leather chair right in front of a huge window that overlooked the ocean.

“What can I do for you today?” Sloane asked. He had aged. His eyes were tired, and he settled into his chair with some difficulty. He had aged. The death of his daughter and wife and killing so many had finally taken their toll on him.

And Grey didn’t feel sorry at all for him. After all, he had left her without a mom or a dad.

“I need your help,” she said, despising the words coming out of her mouth.

“yes?” he prodded, with a grin.

Grey breathed deeply. She had to calm herself before she started cursing him out. That wouldn’t help the situation any.

“It’s Jack,” she said, “He has a tumor on his brain. We can fix it, if we can get it in a certain window of time, which is about 2 weeks.”

“Well,” Sloane interrupted, “Fix it. That was a simple answer.”

“He refuses to get the surgery,” Grey said, almost smug since she’d just shot Sloane down.

“Hmm,” Sloane pondered, standing up and walking to her side of the desk, “Well, I guess that runs in the family. Your mother refused to work with me. Your grandfather refuses to let you help him. You refuse to have a relationship with Agent Adams.”

Grey jumped up from anger.

“You have got to be kidding me!” she yelled, knocking him over onto his desk and holding him down with her hands, “How dare you talk to me about my mother? How do you know about Stryker? Have you been watching me? Have you been spying on me? Are you that sick and twisted?”

Sloane easily pushed her off of him. After all, she had no training, and he did. He stood back up, brushing off his suit jacket, making sure she hadn’t ruined his impeccably clean jacket.

“I’ve kept up with you,” he said, walking to the bar and pouring himself a drink, “but, since it seems to make you so angry, I’ll stop.”

“You know what,” Grey spat, still seething, “Screw you. I don’t need you to help me. I can do this myself. I can’t believe I even came here at all. Now I see how you can live with yourself after murdering your own daughter.”

Sloane turned. His tired eyes were suddenly raging and he instinctively reached into his coat pocket. Grey was just about to run when he dropped his hand, exhausted.

“Not as evil as you used to be?” she sneered, still enraged. He didn’t answer.

She stormed out of the office. Sloane called her name, but she kept right on walking. A guard grabbed her arm, but she flung his arm away. She actually ended up running out of the house and through the gates as fast as she could, trying to escape from the thought of Sloane watching her. As soon as she made it into her car and had driven about a mile from the house, she let her tears of anger flow freely.

“Damn you,” she whispered, still unnerved by the fact that Sloane had been watching her.
****
“How did it go?” Dixon asked as soon as Grey walked into his office the next morning. She was exhausted from her trip, and hadn’t slept in about 72 hours.

Doesn’t matter if you get enough sleep, she thought, You're only doing damn sutures anyway.

She was pissed. She had been pissed ever since she left Sloane’s house. She had blatantly ignored Abby and Stryker this morning as she passed them in the hall.

“Not too well,” Grey said, “That’s not the approach we’ll be able to take with this.”

“I’ll have to think of another way,” Dixon sighed, though he already knew exactly who he was going to call.

Grey and Dixon stood in silence for a moment.

“Well,” Dixon said, coming back from his thoughts, “Grey, that’s not why I called you in here. How would you feel about going into the field?”

“Excuse me?” she asked, shocked.

“We have a mission,” Dixon said, “It’s a raid. In Russia. We’re expecting injuries, and we need the best surgeons on task. Will you go?”

“Yeah,” Grey said, without even thinking about what she just said. It wasn’t until after she had answered did she realize what the question was. But she needed to get away for a while. Away from Jack, away from…well, away from life. And this was the perfect opportunity. She might even get to perform surgery.

“Good,” Dixon said, “Dr. Roberts will be going as well. Stryker Adams is the senior agent on task. You’ll meet with him to get briefed. You leave in 6 hours.”

“Thank you,” she said, thinking that despite the fact she needed to get away, she swore she’d never, ever, go in the field like her mother did.
****
“I’m supposed to meet with you,” Grey said, walking into Stryker’s office. He looked up from his desk as soon as he heard her voice.

“you’re going on the mission?” he asked, incredulous, “After you just ignored me in the hall this morning?”

“Yes,” she said, “I am. As your medical backup.”

“you’ve never been in the field, have you?”

“No. And I can’t believe I am now.”

“Well. You’ll probably be a natural, but I’ll give you the rundown anyway. Okay. We’re going to Russia, it’s not important for you to know exactly where…”

“Sverdlovsk,” Grey chirped.

Stryker stared at her, stunned.

“What? How do you know that?”

“Dixon,” she shrugged.

“Okay, well we’re going to raid the headquarters of a terrorist organization. It’s not important for you to know the name of the organization…”

“White Skulls” piped in Grey.

“Will you…Will you stop doing that?”

“Sorry,” she said.

“Okay, anyway. So we’re going to take down White Skulls. Now, what you do, is you and the other doctors will stay back. We’ll have a whole warehouse set up as a hospital for you guys. That’s where we’ll be bringing the critically injured for you guys to treat. Got it?”

“Absolutely,” Grey said, surprisingly excited to be going into the field, “Oh, and I’m sorry I ignored you. I was pissed.”

“At me?” Stryker asked, incredulous.

“No,” Grey said, hesitating, “At…other people.”
****
“So how psyched are you to be going on a mission?” Ben asked in Grey’s room that night as she was packing.

“On a scale of one to psyched,” she replied, grinning, “Crazy psyched.”

“There’s no high like being out in the field,” Ben said, plopping down on her bed.

“I bet there is,” Grey said, “Brain surgery gets me pretty high.”

“Nothing like field work,” Ben said, “I could argue this all day. But you won’t know till you’ve been out there.”

“And you won’t know until you’ve done brain surgery,” Grey shot back. Their playful banter sent them into laughter.

“You sure you’ll be all right here?” Grey asked when their laughter had subsided.

“yeah,” Ben said, “Abby’s coming to eat dinner with me.”

“So that’s why you’re cooking lasagna,” Grey said.

“Yep.”

“Do you like her?” Grey asked.

“As a friend,” Ben said quickly, “I like someone else.”

“Oh,” Grey said, interested, “Do tell.”

“No,” Ben said, embarrassed, “Not right now.”

“Aww, Ben, don’t be embarrassed about liking someone. Embrace it. Go with it.”

“Don’t you need to pack a scalpel or something?” Ben said, annoyed and trying to get Grey off the subject. Grey rolled off the bed to grab another pair of jeans when Abby appeared at the doorway, holding a can of Coke from Grey’s refrigerator.

“You’re early,” Grey said, “And yet, somehow already raided my food supply.”

“Yeah,” Abby said, “I was on the worst date of my life, and used you guys as an excuse.”

“What about dinner with me?” Ben asked.

“That was my backup for if the date was bad,” Abby said, “Which it was. So I’m here. To eat dinner with you.”

“You used me as a backup?” Ben asked.

“Yeah,” Abby said, “Get over it. It happens. Hey Grey, how was your trip?”

Grey paused in her packing. She couldn’t tell them about it. Dixon had made her swear to keep the fact that she met with Sloane a secret. And as much as she needed to vent about it, she couldn’t. Not even to her best friend.

Another reason being a surgeon for the CIA is not fun.

“To San Diego?” Grey confirmed, “It was good.”

Abby and Ben looked at her, waiting for more details. Grey noticed them glance at each other during the awkward silence.

“Well,” Grey broke the silence, closing her suitcase and picking it up, “Wish I could stay, but, I have to go on a mission.”

“yeah, rub it in that you get to go practice actual medicine,” Abby said, “Just think. I get to stay here with Ben and do sutures on stupid agents who think they‘re cool because they punch each other in the face. The CIA‘s sole purpose is to fuel the testosterone production of males, I swear. By the way, I’m also raiding your closet while you’re gone.”

“okay,” Grey said, “just bring everything back.”

“Have a good time,” Ben said, “Be safe. And the CIA has other purposes besides fueling testosterone…”

Grey jauntily sauntered out the door as Abby and Ben argued and was heading to her car when she saw the black car pulling up at the house next door. She recognized the driver immediately, and went to it.

“Figured I’d give you a ride,” Stryker said when she got in.

“Well,” Grey said, “That was very nice.”

“I know,” Stryker said, “Plus I knew you’d be leaving early.”

“just to be sure I wouldn’t be late.”

“But, it does give us a good chance to…” Stryker began, leaning towards her.

“No,” Grey said, interrupting him, “We can’t. We have a mission tomorrow. You actually have to be a spy and save the world, and I actually have to be a doctor and save lives. So, not right now.”

“Will we ever again?” Stryker sighed, as he drove the car down the street.

Luckily, Grey’s phone rang before she had to answer.

“Hello?” Grey said.

“Well, good to see Sexy Agent Man picked you up,” Abby said, clearly amused.

“Yeah. He did,” Grey said with a smile.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Abby said.

“I won’t,” Grey laughed.

“Maybe you should,” Abby said, and then hung up.
 
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