There's something going on with the interns.

Bailey doesn't need to hear any of the hospital gossip to know it. She can taste it--and it tastes a damn sight like stupidity waiting to happen.

She's doing her damnedest to not know who's dating who, and who's having a personal crisis this week. It's harder than anyone gives her credit for, because even though she's finally starting to turn them into credible surgeons, her interns still have no clue how to shut up when she's in earshot.

Residents need eyes in the back of their heads more even than the strictest teacher. She's got five fool interns all salivating over the chart she's carrying, a partial gastrectomy with the Chief scheduled for four, and all of them are thinking if they just suck up that last little bit, it'll be theirs for the taking.

What they don't seem to realize is that today is not that day. It is never that day on Bailey's watch, but today it's true more than ever. It is not. That day.

Bailey's on edge. She's being watched. Whatever's going on, it involves her, and she doesn't know what it is. She has a feeling somebody's ass is going to get busted once she finds out.

Her back is killing her, her ankles are burning like the lowermost depths of Hell, she had to duck into the washroom three times during rounds, and there are eight cholecystectomies on the board when she knows full well they've got only three surgeons and a single OR scheduled for the morning.

That's all par for the course, and she'll have every one of those gall bladders out before her shift is over or know the reason why. That's not why the eyes on the back of her neck are making her rethink murder as an acceptable management technique.

She feels more like a duck than ever, waddling her way through the surgical wards, with all her pretty little ducklings in a row behind her. She's on the tail end of a twelve-hour shift, and it's sure to go longer, just like every one this week. Dr. Tamil's already grumbling about the hours and the strain on the baby. Ray is looking more hang-dog with every day that passes before she puts in for leave.

That's not it either. She'll work until she can't anymore, and only she knows when that is. Ray understands that, no matter how puppy-eyed he gets when she's late home from the hospital. He tries to stuff her with proteins and vitamins, and she loves him for it. She's told him it's not that work is more important than the baby. It's just more important for now, which is a world of different.

No. If the interns haven't overdosed on rumours yet, then they aren't likely to any time soon.

Maybe it's only that Bailey's hiccuping, and she can't seem to stop.

She grinds her teeth and swallows back every one, but she is certain there are already bets going in the whispers behind her. How often per minute, how long before they stop, and just who is going to pull a stunt stupid enough to scare them out of her.

There is a person inside her, and the fact that he's hiccupping right along with her is daunting even to a resident who's seen the insides of more people than outsides.

Bailey ignores that and whirls on O'Malley, then Yang, then Grey, and finally Kerev, and scatters them like frightened birds. She supposes she's earned a few minutes' rest before she's due in surgery.

Except that there's one left. Looks like her ability to terrorize has gotten rusty, because Bailey's pretty damn sure she just told Izzie to get on the charts piling up and clear them out before the nurses' station is completely buried.

Izzie is eying her, and Bailey doesn't like it one bit. No one, not the Chief, not Ray, and most certainly not Addison Shepherd's little darling, is allowed to study her like she's already in the stirrups. Izzie looks like she'd like to have Bailey flat on her back, with an ultrasound all hooked up, and that nasty cold gel close to hand.

Bailey turns full around, putting her hands on her hips. She's already heard more than one person snickering at the picture that presents, but if they think that's a safe thing to do around the pregnant lady, they haven't been assigned enough shifts in the pit. Thank God the hiccups have given up for now. "Did you need something, Dr. Stevens?" she asks, and there is no way there is any right answer to that question but a quick no and a run in the opposite direction.

Izzie's smart enough to hear that message loud and clear. Not smart enough to follow good advice when it's given, though. "Oh, um, no--" she says, but she is still there.

Bailey gives her another second to get her brain in gear and get. When Izzie doesn't move, she rolls her eyes and says, "Then there's no reason why those charts I assigned you aren't being written up right now?"

"It's just that, uh, I have something for you. At the nurses' station," Izzie says. She smiles, but it falters.

Bailey gives her the eye right back. "This had better not be a surprise party you're throwing for me."

Izzie's eyes widen. "Oh, no. No. I wouldn't-- It's not."

"Hm," Bailey says, but the station's just down the hall, and she's going that way anyhow. She's certainly not following Izzie for any other reason.

When they reach the counter, Izzie pops around behind it and comes up like a Christmas elf. That is definitely a present she's holding, and Bailey notches up the glare. Izzie presses it into her hands, as if she doesn't know that Bailey won't just drop it and grind it under her heel. She's not far wrong to think so, either. She looks like she doesn't know what to do with her hands, now that they've released the present.

Bailey narrows her eyes at the brightly wrapped package. The gold paper is thick and heavy, with a high gloss. The ribbons--and there are plenty of them, in deep red and forest green--were probably curled one by one, and Bailey can just see Izzie with a pair of scissors and the look she gets when she's about to make her first pass with a scalpel. "Uh-huh," she says.

"It's from all of us," Izzie says.

If she thinks Bailey's going to believe that load, she isn't as smart as Bailey thought. Of course, the estimation's gone down ever since this Christmas monstrosity appeared in her hands.

"It's not much. Just. For the baby. We all thought--" Here Izzie glances around, like she expects her cohorts to be there to back her up. "Like a secret Santa," she says.

Bailey tosses the gift on to the countertop. "Dr. Stevens, where are you supposed to be right now?"

Izzie's bright smile disappears. She looks like every patient she's ever been assigned have all died at once. "I'm on charts," she says.

Bailey shakes her head. The package was soft, and it's probably something she has a million of already--onesies and miniature outfits that Ray thought were just too cute to abandon in the stores for some other baby. Somehow, she knows it isn't, though. Izzie's as careful about ceremonies like this as she is about surgery.

"Anyway," Izzie says. "I'll go get on that now."

Bailey doesn't look up until she's sure she can do it without smiling. "No you don't. I need you in the gastrectomy with the Chief."

"I thought you were assisting."

"I am."

"So--" Izzie starts sparkling again. The girl is irrepressible.

"So, get in there with me, Stevens." Bailey glares, but there's no point in adding, "And for God's sake don't go blabbing about this with all your little friends," because that never works. Hell, she was an intern once, and she knows the Chief's reputation is never going to be the same.

"Thanks, Dr. Bailey."

"Yeah, okay." Bailey shakes her head. She picks up the gift, and can't quite give up smiling as she holds it. "And get this out of my sight until my shift's over. One thing at a time, Izzie."

"Right. Of course." Izzie's nearly bouncing as she stashes the present.

Izzie won't even pause before telling all the interns that "their" present was a big hit. The Nazi carrying Christmas parcels. The hardass of the department going soft over paper and ribbons. They'll all get a big laugh out of Bailey's gift, she doesn't doubt for a minute.

Still, she watches carefully to see where it's put.

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January 7, 2006