Playing Doctor

By Lady Pyrefly

Author's Note: I don't know. I just always kind of liked to write about little things that affect people. Whatever. I do hope you enjoi this, becaue I'm quite proud of it.

----------

George had wanted it for a vague reason, to be quite honest. He had been sitting, quietly (because George had been a quiet boy) in a pediatric department office. His brother had fallen down out of a tree and needed a cast. With his parents waiting with his brother, George was alone. It sounded a it odd, but George kind of liked the hospital. It was…comforting, in a strange way. Like if something happened, there'd be a million ways to fix it right then and there. Yes, George thought to himself, I'd like to be a doctor.

Meredith had decided in a fit of rage. At age fourteen, screaming at her mother. Her mother who was never around, never cared, never even tried. See, her mother had come home, after a hard day at the hospital. Gotten upset over some trivial fact, like a low B on Meredith's biology exam. Said she could never get anywhere with these type of things. "Well you know what mother?" she screamed, unable to stop it, "I am going to be a doctor, and I'm going to be better than you!" For shame. That kind of ego got her grounded for a month.

Christina had just always known. She'd grow up, go to a prestigious college, become a world-renown surgeon, and never ever ever have to do what her mother wanted. Be beautiful and get married and have millions of children, that is. When other little girls were playing wedding, Christina was playing doctor.

Izzie, too, had been playing doctor, although not the same way. Seventeen, queen of the world, a different party every night. If she remembered hard enough, Izzie could remember the way the cool chill of the air conditioning made her skin get goose bumps because of the skimpy blue bikini she'd been modeling, for a random ad somewhere. She hadn't been paying attention, in her mind she was reliving last nights ER/real-life-drama episode. "I think I'm going to go to medical school," she murmured to herself. No one heard.

Alex had ulterior motives. He'd been walking down the halls of his high school, his senior year, bragging to his friends about the Future. "Tell ya what," he said to the one next to him, "I'm going to med school. I'll get rich, marry a model, and call you and tell you all about my great life." He laughed. And even louder when his friends scorned his ability to pass all the exams.