WARNING: THE MAJOR PAIRING IN THIS WILL BE A MARK/OC. DON'T LIKE DON'T READ.

2/09/17: This isn't really a couple-centric fic except for Mark/OC although there is a slight sprinkling of other couples we love in the show (MERDER, JAPRIL, ETC) but this isn't about them but more on the growth of our OC as she becomes an attending. Right now, these chapters aren't the best but as we go through the chapters, they'll flow better. Guest viewers, identify yourself so I can properly acknowledge your reviews and feedback (stay consistent!)

NOW FEATURED IN THE ULTIMATE OCS COMMUNITY.

ENJOY.

Each of you comes here today hopeful. Wanting in on the game.

She should not have gotten drunk at that mixer. Nope. She shouldn't. A pounding headache made her off balance as Emily reached for aspirin. Gulping it down with water, she shoved her toast into her mouth. Grabbing her keys, she ran to her car, slamming the door closed as soon as she got in. Her older brother always told her life was a game, fun and unpredictable like a pair of dice. But she was only seven. He never told her about the losing bits. Like right now, with a banging hangover. As the green light turned red, she slowed, grabbing the elastic from around her wrist and tying it into a messy ponytail.

But she couldn't deny the excitement. Today, she was going to work at a hospital. A real hospital, with real bodies. She was giddy in her car seat, hands clenched around the wheel. When she finally pulled into the hospital parking, she took a last look at her reflection.

A month ago you were being taught by doctors. Today, you are the doctors.

She bit on the granola bar. Scrunching up the wrapper, she sighed at the gooey chocolate. Throwing it away, she grabbed the white coat. It felt strange, the fabric cold around her shoulders. And her scrubs, light blue and thin. She patted down her pockets, filling one with a notepad and a pen, another with a spare granola bar.

The seven years you spend as a residency will be the best and worst of your life. You will be pushed to the breaking point.

She drank the last sip of her coffee. Frowning, she looked down at her cup. She would need more. Way more. Emily released her hair from its messy ponytail.

Look around you. Say hello to your competition.

"Hey," She slammed her locker closed, wrapping her stethoscope around her neck. She smiled. She could get use to this. Her fingers trailed the stitching. Seattle Grace. The blonde next to her looked up from where she shrugged on her labcoat. The asian woman looked over as well.

"Hey," The blonde replied. "You're Emily, right? Only six females out of twenty,"

"Right. Meredith?" The blonde nodded, lips quirking up a bit as she adjusted her scrubs.

"I heard one of them is a model,"

"You're Cristina, right?" But she didn't reply as a male voice called out for interns.

"Which resident you get assigned to? I got Bailey," She informed, tying her hair back. Emily twisted her hair into the bun as she sighed.

"Same." The brunette grinned as Meredith leaned against the lockers.

"The Nazi? Me too,"

"You got the Nazi? So did I?" A male's voice made them turn their heads to a brunet who closed his locker. His attention seem to focus on Meredith as he recited her mixer outfit. Her smile grew as he concluded they thought he was gay. As Cristina left with a disbelieving 'mhm', Emily saw Meredith's grin appear. She heard her name called, leaving the two alone until she saw Meredith leave George hanging.

Eight of you will switch to an easier specialty, five of you will crack under the pressure, two of you will be asked to leave

Emily adjusted her head against the window, sitting on the sill. One knee bent up, she rested her chin on the raised knee. Her fingers played with her shoelaces as George sat beside her. They didn't say anything until she spoke.

"Bad day?"

"The worst,"

It was silent after that. Meredith found them, sitting next to her. Crossing her legs, the blonde slid her eyes closed for one second, opening them. George's eyes slid to her form before focusing on the pavement. The green-eyed woman sat silent for a few more minutes. "I wish I wanted to be a chef. Or a ski instructor or a kindergarten teacher."

"You know, I would have been a really good postal worker. I'm dependable," George removed his hand from his cheek, letting it drop limply off his knee." The two girls let out a chuckle. "You know, my parents tell everyone they meet that their son's a surgeon. As if it's a big accomplishment - superhero or something," The brunet paused. Emily glanced at him, twirling the extra granola bar in her pocket. "If they could see me now," Offering it to the man, she smiled tiredly. Meredith spoke on her other side, looking off to the distance.

"When I told my mother I wanted to go to medical school, she tried to talk me out of it - said I didn't have what it takes to be a surgeon, that I'd never make it." Meredith's eyes faced forward again, and her voice was weighed with more exhaustion. "So the way I see it, superhero sounds pretty damn good." George seemed to think about it, opening the bar slowly.

"Your mother was the opposite of mine," Emily started slowly, letting her brown curls hide her face as she leaned forward. She fiddled her thumbs as their gazes turned on her, "She researched everything she could, from med schools to residencies, so I could do my best. She forced books on me, making me memorize terms that I didn't need to learn yet." She shook her head, "It annoyed the heck out of me. But," She shrugged, "what's done is done."

"We're gonna survive this, right?" George asked, sighing. Emily turned her gaze to the brunet. Meredith said nothing as the brunette laid a hand on his shoulder.

"No promises,"

This is your starting line. This is your arena.

"You're interns. Grunts. Nobodies. Bottom of the surgical food chain. Run labs, write orders, work every second night until you drop and don't complain!" Emily looked out the glass panes and down below to the nurses station. Everything was so big, so much realer.

How well you play? That's up to you.

Emily was silent as it continued beeping. George looked at them. Watched his fellow interns leave the gallery. She felt a pang of remorse. From what she read, the first solo surgery was meant for them to fail. George was just their unlucky pig.

"No one's calling you 007." Emily mumbled along with Izzie and Meredith. Exhaustion weighed at her eyes she glanced at her coffee.

"I was on the elevator, Murphy whispered '007'," George told them, rolling around in his wheelchair. She frowned, glancing at the book in her lap. Trauma protocols. She rested her head against the bricks. If she could close her eyes for just a second…

"You know, how many times do we have to go through this, George? Five? Ten? Give me a number or I'll hit you."

"Murphy whispered '007' and everyone laughed," He called after her. Izzie intervened with a weak lie. Which George found out. Easily.

"007 is a state of mind," Cristina called from the vending machine.

"Says the girl who finished first in her class at Stanford," He retorted, rolling away from her. The air was filled with a pager beeping as he finished. Emily looked at her pager at her hip, but realized it wasn't hers, closing her eyes again as Meredith ran off.

.

"Meredith? Cristina?" Emily saw the Asian woman run after the blonde. "What's going on?" She was ignored completely as the blonde walked out into the pouring rain. Staying relatively close to the door, she waited. Meredith walked in, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, followed by Cristina.

"I saved a life," The intern bit out, walking fast, past her and the station.

.

"That's why," Emily muttered as Dr. Shepherd walked in.

"Good morning," A quiet course of morning filled the air as he explained the case. Emily nudged Meredtih, who seemed to be staring way too hard.

"What's up with you?" She whispered, tapping her foot. The blonde sent her a look, and she was silenced.

"I need you to play detective. I need you to find out why Katie is having seizures. I know you're tired, you're busy. You got more work than you could possibly handle. I understand. So I'm gonna give you an incentive."

.

Emily flipped through the files stacked in the library.

"What about an aneurysm?" Cristina asked, as if to fix an awkward silence. Trying to find the source, she finally found the two sitting at the bottom of a shelf.

"No blood on the C.T., and no headaches." Emily butted in, grabbing a book from off the shelf. Cristina sent her a glare, as Meredith kept looking down at her file.

"There's no drug use, no pregnancy, no trauma." Meredith threw the file onto a short pile in front of her.

"God, it's like a lost cause," Emily mumbled, letting her eyes close again. She blocked out their talk about the 'Miss Teen whatever' until Meredith was silent. "What is it, Meredith?" Her eyes meet the blonde's green ones.

"Get up." A smile spread across her face.

"You found an answer." The light in Meredith's eyes confirmed her suspiscions. Now, all they had to do was find Dr. Shepherd.

A/N: Thoughts?