𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐗 ━━ 𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐝

thirty seven | face

"You have to go."

"Wait, what?"

"You have to go now."

Derek lifts his head from under the covers, a confused expression lacing his features. I manage to push him back down when the door opens.

My father walks into the room, a tray of caffeinated beverages and pastries in hand.

"Morning, Leven."

". . .Dad. Good morning." I smile cautiously while adjusting the covers. "What are you doing here? And why are you awake so early?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Thought I'd stop by with breakfast."

A strained but silent gasp leaves my lips as he sits on the edge of the bed. My legs clench, and I feel a touch between my —

"Thank you, Dad!" The pitch of my voice grows at least four octaves. "I mean. . .thank you. But I have a late morning, so I might go back to sleep."

"Well, alright, then." He nods curtly. "I'll see you at the hospital, sweetheart."

My father leans forward to leave a parting kiss on my cheek and leaves with his portion of breakfast. I rip the sheets off of me and glare down at Derek.

"Care to explain why you did that in the presence of my father?"

"Involuntary reaction to you clenching your legs around my head."

"Why, you little —"

"Same time tomorrow?"

". . .and later tonight."

At the hospital, Mark greets me with a coffee from the cart before smirking like the conniving asshole he is.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Daddy got a new espresso machine."

"What the fu —"

"And because my best friend's doing the horizontal mambo with the sister from another mister." He nods towards me.

"He told you?"

"No. But you just did."

". . .well played, Sloan."

Callie pages me down to the E.R. for an eighteen-month-old, Brian, with a possible head injury. Since it deals with the region above the neck. . .Derek's paged.

"How close to the explosion was he?"

"Oh, we were, uh, we were in the living room. His mom was in the kitchen."

"The gas line blew?"

"I-I think it was the stove.

"Alright, we're gonna run some tests on your baby." Derek assures the overwhelmed father. "Uh, Phoenix, I'm going into surgery with the chief. Keep me posted."

One of my interns returns with the C.T. results from the baby. I pick him up into my arms and soothe his cries.

"Should I page Shepherd?" She slips the film out of the folder.

"No. He's in surgery with Chief Webber." I shake my head. "I can take a look at it."

The intern holds it against the overhead light as I thoroughly scan the image for any noticeable abnormalities.

"What do you see?"

"Uh. . .good thing is, there's nothing acute."

"Acute? Nothing?"

"We still need to run a couple of tests, just to make sure."

He nods his head and walks back to the hospital bed. Before the intern can leave, I pull her back by the sleeve of her white coat.

"I need you to schedule an MRI. And a tox screen on his blood."

"But —"

"No questions, Capron. Just do it."

We're able to move Brian up to the peds floor and out of the cramped and stressful environment that is the E.R.. The intern from earlier makes her way into the room.

"Dr. Phoenix."

"Got his lab work?"

I carefully set the infant down in the child-sized bed and meet her by the door. She hesitantly passes the papers, and I flip through them.

"Damn it."

"It's crazy, isn't it?"

My throat constricts in response. "I want you to stay here. You do not leave this room, and you do not leave that man with that baby. Am I clear?"

"Yes, ma'am." She nods her head in affirmation.

With a mask held against my mouth, I enter the O.R. room filled with scrub nurses, an anesthesiologist, Cristina, Derek, and the chief.

"Brian Kristler, the infant brought in with a possible head injury. . ." I sigh deeply. "He's strung out on meth, sir."

"What?" Derek looks back at me.

I shake my head. "There was no gas line or stove. His parents were running a meth lab in there, and it blew up."

The chief directs me to Callie, who has me call the police and social services. Meanwhile, I'm supposed to take care of the baby.

"Leven."

"Not right now, Derek. I'm dealing with a huge case and —"

"Leven."

"I really can't talk right now. I'm sorry, Der —"

"Leven."

I look up from my paperwork to see Derek standing by the door to the nurses' station, two to-go containers from the cafeteria.

"What's this?" My brows furrow in confusion. "I thought we're only having sex."

"A little lunch never hurt anybody, you know." He entices with the same shit-eating grin I had fallen for once.

"My patient is withdrawing from crystal meth as we speak. And he's not even two." A heavy sigh slips from my lips. "It's my turn to watch the kid and make sure his father doesn't take him away until the police get here."

"Do you want me to —"

"Just sex, Derek. That's all we have going for us."

Upstairs on the pediatrics floor, I catch Mr. Kristler in the act of unhooking his son's I.V..

"Mr. Kristler, what the hell —"

"I'm sorry."

- - - - - - - - - -

"Why does she get Dr. Shepherd?"

"He's just stitching her up."

"Don't you know about the Phoenix-Shepherd story?"

Derek swings the curtains through the metal rod, closing our privacy to the rest of the onlooking interns. I scrunch my nose as he dabs blood away from the open wound at the back of my head.

"You got in the face of a drug dealer." He growls under his breath. "You got in the face of a drug dealer. You got in the face of a drug dealer." The word he emphasizes differs with every repetition of the sentence.

"As opposed to a candy dealer, Derek?" I chuckle to myself.

". . .are you feeling alright?"

"I'd feel better if I didn't let my guard down and get knocked out. . .and have a missing child on my watch."

His nose nuzzles my cheek. "Leven. . .you got in the face of a drug dealer." A shaky breath leaves from parted lips.

"I hope I didn't worry you."

"Oh, but you did."

I look back at him, my hand grazing the top of his and taking the medical tools away from him. I gently smile, to which he relaxes.

"Do you want to get dinner tonight?"

"What?"

"I said. . .do you want to get dinner with me tonight, Derek?"

"I'd like nothing more, Leven."