Everett Ramos is a resident surgeon at Mercy West Hospital in Seattle, Washington. She's on the uphill climb to becoming one of the best orthopedic surgeons in the world, studying alongside her best friends and hoping one day to make a difference...
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WITH ARIZONA'S watermelon slicer stuck in her locker, Everett tries not to worry about what it will be like not having Callie as her orthopedic Attending. She can't even imagine not being taught by the one person she has idolised since she realised ortho was the way to go, and now Callie is off to Africa with her girlfriend for three years. By then, Everett will be an Attending of her own, she won't need Callie to teach her anymore.
How is she going to last the next three years without the best in the business as her shining light?
"Ready for Hunt's certification lab?" Jackson asks as he slides up beside her at the desk. She groans, throwing her head back at the thought of spending the whole day in the lab getting certified to work in trauma all because people happened to die when they got shot. Hunt got a one million dollar grant to teach them how to save people quicker when everyone knows it should have gone to literally anyone else.
"I really can't be bothered with that. It better not cut into Callie and Arizona's party," she can't help but complain, thinking about how this is her last day with her friends before they get on a flight to another continent, ready to help children through medical issues they would have been forced to live through otherwise.
"It's cutting into actual work time. Does he really think we want to spend our whole time in the lab?" Everett nods along to his words, handing over Callie's results to the nurse on the desk before she follows her friend to the labs. They complain about the trauma certification labs that everyone is being forced to do to deal with trauma situations, until Jackson freezes on the way in, noticing a woman standing down the hallway, clutching a large Prada handbag to her chest. Everett swears as she goes crashing into his back, pushing him to get him to move towards the labs, but he's frozen in place, long legs unmoving.
She peers around him, head peeking out from the side of his body and catches sight of the woman at the end of the hall, bottom lip stuck between her teeth as she tries to get her bearings. She wears grey cigarette pants over a white turtleneck and grey blazer she definitely didn't pick out, the Gucci belt around her waist a sure sign of her mother's influence. Her heels are spiky and tall, making her at least five inches taller than she usually is. She's the same height as Jackson now.
"Alina?" The name falls from her lips before she can stop herself, moving Jackson out of the way so that she can get a better look. Her head snaps over, mouth tightening into an awkward smile as soon as she meets her eye. Her hands twist the strap of her handbag, heels clicking against the linoleum flooring as she gets closer and closer.
