BUZZ. Meredith Grey woke in her bed from her deep sleep with the sound of the pager she so desperately didn't want to hear. Initially, Meredith looked as if she had been hit over the head or had her brain wiped, displaying only a blank face on her pale complexion. When a surgeon is not on call, a pager can only mean one thing; an emergency.
Running through the automatic doors to the trauma room, she was joined by Dr Owen Hunt, a talented trauma surgeon, who informed her of a pile-up on a nearby highway. As the casualties started to roll in, Meredith looked at the sheer number of gurneys carrying writhing men and women, and sadly a few children through to the hospital beds. Before long, she and the few surgeons who hadn't been kept away from the hospital by the typical Seattle weather, had processed the trauma cases and were beginning to count the numbers. Absent-mindledly, Meredith looked to the door and saw the spill of lights from an approaching ambulance. Running to the door, it was clear that this trauma would be one that she would never forget.
"Push one of epi and get me a 16-gauge needle, I'll have to do a pericardiocentisis because of this damn tamponade!" The sound was deafening to Dr Grey, Owen was sticking a needle into her little sister. A needle. If she wasn't a surgeon, the experience would be a lot more worrying for Meredith but all she could do was hope. "Mer, you should get some rest, come on." she heard Cristina say from behind her. "Yeah," she replied almost instantly as if she was expecting the order, "you're right. Just let me sign some stuff for Lexie first." "You're her contact?" Cristina quizzed. Meredith was confused as to why Cristina would expect her not to be, "I am, why wouldn't I be?" "No reason, I just thought your," Cristina paused. Realising the subject was still sore even to this day, she said no more of her sentence. "I know you were going to say 'my Dad'. No, he's probably in a bar somewhere right now, drinking himself to oblivion and you know, there's a good chance that he knows Lexie's here possibly dying and he is likely to not even care!" "Um, Mer, he's not at a bar." "What are you, his sponsor?" Meredith snapped. "Turn around!" Cristina directed. The room turned quiet as Meredith subconsciously blocked out everything but Thatcher Grey who stood just feet from her. He obviously heard her comments, explaining his ice cold expression. "Thatcher, um," Meredith's conversation was not returned as her estranged father wandered over to the window, peering into the trauma room where his almost lifeless daughter lay on a table. Sober for over a year now, he was aware of every inch of his body slowing down as though unable to cope with the pain he was feeling. The guilt of every single day he had spent drinking rather than...then he realised this was not directed toward his relationship with Lexie but to the daughter standing next to him, Meredith Grey.