All or Nothing

Miranda Bailey had been through this so many times. The feeling of extreme exhaustion. She was worn down and she just wanted to go to sleep. Her first day back to the hospital had been okay. Her friends and co-workers had been warm and welcoming. Everyone was still trying to get back to normal even a month after the shooting at the hospital.

"This day was the worst day of my life," she'd said to the psychologist earlier that morning. He was the one who had been brought in to decide which doctors were ready to practice medicine again after the traumatic event. Her lip quivered as she remembered how the shooter, dragged her from underneath the bed while she clawed the floor, hoping to grab hold of something. How she'd pretended that she was a nurse so that her fate wouldn't be the same as the young surgeon who was bleeding out beside her. She'd held the surgeon, Charles Percy, as he lay dying, the blood coming from his body couldn't be contained and there was no way to get him to an OR. His six-foot frame leaked out of her arms, but she held on. Determined that he knew that no, she didn't hate him, he would have made a brilliant surgeon, she would tell Reed that he loved her. Neither knew that Reed Adamson, his crush, was the first surgeon to be killed by the shooter, Gary Clark, who was avenging the death of his late wife. She was determined to make Charles's last moments as comfortable as could be. Even though there was nothing that she could do for him, she'd felt guilty. Miranda stroked his head and prayed over his body. She felt his heart stop beating, saw him take his last breath.

"That was smart," the psychologist, Andrew Perkins, said while he fixed himself a cup of tea. Silently, he asked if she wanted one. Miranda declined.

"Was it?" She asked with a short laugh. "I felt cowardly."

"If you would have said you were a surgeon, then what?"

"I would probably be dead." She knew what he was doing. She'd had the same conversation with her father and mother and The Chief. And with herself. He was trying to get her to see how her actions had saved her life, although she couldn't have saved the life of Charles Percy. "But—"

"There is no but, you would be dead. Gary Clark was hunting for doctors. He was looking for surgeons. By you saying that you were a nurse, you saved yourself and Mary… uh, Mary…" He looked through his file on Miranda.

"Mary Portman, age 29, in for a colostomy bag reversal surgery. She's married to Bill Portman, age 30."

"Right, Mary Portman. You saved her life as well." Miranda made a noise. "I see you went away for a while. You left Seattle."

She nodded. "Yep," she said popping the 'p'. "I went back home."

"How was that?" He asked sipping his coffee.

"My mom fussed over me. My dad tried to make everything better. My son, Tuck, is great, he hasn't a clue what happened. And I rested and I prayed and I cried and I fell apart. My boyfriend… well, probably ex now. I don't know. He… he was understanding but I couldn't talk to him about it." She sighed. "But I'm better now. I'm not whole yet. I'm not the same. I won't ever be."

"No, you won't," he confirmed. "No, you won't." They were quiet.

"So," she said a little impatiently. "Am I cleared or what?" The psychologist signed her form and slid it across the table. Miranda picked it up and walked out.

And that was just the morning, all day, she saw looks of pity and received hugs in addition to ordering her residents around and doing the job that she was employed to do.

Stepping out into the night, Miranda rubbed her eyes, adjusting them to the darkness. She took a few steps towards the parking lot and felt a pair of eyes on her. Even if it was pitch-black, she would know that gaze. Miranda stopped in her tracks. Ben. Ben Warren, her boyfriend… her ex. Her heart raced. He looked exactly the same. Had she really expected him to look different? If she did, she was mistaken.

Ben stood up. He looked nervous. But he smiled widely when he saw her and gave her a small wave. It was starting to get chilly. Miranda folded her arms across her chest and took him in. It had seemed like forever since she'd last seen him. His brown eyes still pierced her. They begged her for answers. Answers that she didn't yet have. He was wearing his favorite jacket, the one she'd bought him for his last birthday. It fit him just right. His dark blue shirt was slightly wrinkled, but it complimented his brown skin perfectly. And his blue jeans were loose without being baggy. Still handsome, she thought.

"Miranda," he started and the sound of his voice…. it had been so long. It made her heart flutter and she almost digressed from the speech that she'd written, rewritten and rehearsed. Every step that she took towards him was breaking her heart. And every step he took towards her was going to lead to him getting his heart broken. "Um, I-I was playing golf. And I-I can't apologize for it because it wasn't anything I did on purpose. I-I was just… I was playing golf," he said quietly. His face showed regret. "I missed you."

"You're-You're a good man. You are handsome," Miranda replied touching his chest. Her eyes were tearing. "And kind and smart. I mean, you're perfect. But, um, I'm busy holding myself together with tape and glue. And a piece of me wishes that you hadn't played golf, because then you'd be all taped and glued, too. And maybe you'd be where I am." He started to interrupt and took her hands, locking them and putting them to his chest. "I-You're… you're too much for me right now. 'Cause I'm busy with the tape and the glue." She was breaking down now.

"Alright," he said simply. But it wasn't simple at all. "Alright." He was still holding her hands. He looked deep into her eyes, possibly seeing that this wasn't something she wanted to do, but something that she felt like she had to do. He searched for answers. Nothing. He was backed into a corner. There wasn't anything that he could say to change her mind. "Take care of yourself."

"You, too," she said with a whimper. Ben lifted her palm to his lips and kissed it, sending a shock through her body. Wait, her heart was saying. Just wait. Her mind ignored the message. Ben smiled weakly and walked away. The tears flowed from her eyes as she watched him walk away. She felt the urge to run after him and retract everything she'd just said. She'd almost wanted to tell him that they could be friends, but she'd have kicked her own ass if she'd suggested that. She did want to be friends with him, but with Ben, it was all or nothing. And right now, she couldn't deal with either. She wasn't ready. The shooting had changed her and she didn't know if she'd ever be ready again. She cried as she stood and watched him. The night air helped dry her tears.