thirty six | rules

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"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."

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