Meredith Grey's POV:

"How many damn places could they have put the intubation tubes," I grumbled under my breath. It was only six o'clock, and I was already having a pretty shitty morning. Two trauma cases had arrived, a 43 year-old male with seven GSW's to the chest and his wife, a pregnant 39 year-old who had been declared dead moments after the ambulance had arrived. Because it was a shooting, the cops had arrived and had been trying desperately to get a statement from the victim. "You can't go in there," I had yelled, "The second bullet is millimeters away from his aorta and he's not going to be answering any questions anytime soon!" For god's sake, he would never answer another question in his life if I didn't get back in there and check for any bleeders. "Grey," Owen had yelled, "go grab a 7.5 mm intubation tube from the supply closet, the 8.0 isn't fitting!" I shoved past the cops, "I still have to check for bleeders though," God, was anyone making any sense today? "Bailey will cover for you, just get the damn tube!" Anger was woven in his voice. He had always had anger issues, yet Christina and Amelia had fallen in love with the red-headed trauma surgeon. "NOW!" He yelled. I had run down the hall to the supply closet, but after a minute or two of frantically searching, I still couldn't find the damn tube! The door creaked open slightly, and a short brunette emerged.

"Wow," Amelia said as she looked me up and down, "you look like your having an eventful morning." I was a sight for sore eyes for sure, with blood staining my scrub top as well as the front of my pants.

"Will you just shut up and help me find a 7.5 mm intubation tube!" I yelled. I was so done with her sarcastic comments.

"Okay, okay, jeez." She lifted up a bin filled with clear tubes. "Take your pick, sunshine." I snatched one off the top randomly.

"Thanks" I grumbled and I dashed back to trauma room one, only to hear a continuous beep emitting from the heart monitor.

"Time of death," Owen checked his watch, "Six thirty-two." The victim, Andy Hufford, was laying on the table, chest cracked and heart exposed. Owen ripped off his gloves and approached me in the doorway. "There wasn't anything we could've done, the bullets moved when we shocked him, and one severed his aorta." I had been a surgeon for years now, but the losses had never gotten any easier.

I returned to the supply closet and returned the unused intubation tube back into the bin. Tears threatened to leak out. Ever since Riggs had accused me of being scared of letting go of Derek, every male, middle-aged patient we lost always seemed to sadden me. I slid behind one of the rows of bins and sobbed quietly, flashbacks erupting in my head. However, I snapped back to reality when the closet door suddenly flung open, and two female voices filled the room.

It was Arizona and Eliza.