Sunday Morning

A week later, Ben Warren sat alone in the hospital's cafeteria procuring a table for his work colleagues. Several minutes later, he was surrounded by colleagues, friends. The men and women laughed loudly while shoving food into their mouths. Ben's phone buzzed. He saw a Seattle number and smiled widely. "Must be the wife," Jonah said. "Tell wifey I said 'hello'!" Everyone howled.

"Ben Warren, here," he said answering the phone. He walked into an empty stairwell.

"Warren!" A male voice said robustly. He knew that voice well. It was Richard Webber, Chief of what was now Grey Sloan Memorial and Miranda's mentor. The man was like a father to Miranda and he treated Miranda and Ben, like they were his own. "It's Richard. Webber."

"Richard, yeah, uh, how are you?" The older man took a beat. And Ben's heart jumped. "What's going on?"

"Why haven't you come back to Seattle?"

"I've been working hard trying to become a great surgeon," Ben replied slowly.

Richard replied sternly: "I know that."

"Bailey hasn't talked to you?"

"About what?"

"So you don't know." Richard huffed. "You hadn't been here in a couple of weeks and I thought you just couldn't possibly get away, but now I know that you just didn't know."

"Know what?" Ben asked rushing the man. His slow cadence was driving him crazy. "What didn't she tell me?"

"There was a situation…" Richard began to tell him of how Miranda had incidentally infected three patients with a staph bacteria. She'd been a carrier of MRSA and through no fault of her own, those three patients were now deceased. Ben's chest tightened as Richard spoke. His wife had been in pain, physical and emotional pain and he hadn't been there. Hadn't known to be there. "They had to isolate her to contain the infection."

"What!"

"She's been cleared. She has been cleared, but it was a whole big thing—"

"Sir, I need to talk to her. Put her on the phone," Ben said firmly. "Please."

"That's why I'm calling. She's not… she won't…"

"Spit it out!"

"Bailey is in her lab and she won't come out. We've begged and knocked and called, but she's locked herself in there."

"How long has this been going on?"

"A few days."

"I mean, this whole thing?"

"About two weeks."

"Why didn't you call me as soon as it happened?!"

"Well, I assumed she'd said something—anything—to you," Richard responded calmly. And Ben appreciated it. He'd seen and heard the man go off before and now wasn't the time for them to point fingers or place any blame.

Ben sat at the top of the stairs. His head was hurting and his eyes were burning. "I knew something was wrong, but she said… she said everything was… how did I miss it?"

"I know, son. I know. You didn't know." Ben said nothing. He felt like a failure. There wasn't anything for him to say. "I'm sorry this call is so late, but I tried to give her space and time, now I'm downright worried." Ben nodded like the man was in front of him. "Just come," Richard said.

"I'm on my way."