Three's a Fantasy
Meredith
Meredith wished with all her heart that Derek had let her love him. She wished that she'd had more time with Mark. She wished she could see the day a medication was developed for Alzheimer's, to cure her mom. She wished she'd been able to perform at least one surgery on her own. She wished she could go to the bathroom... good grief, she was losing it.
She'd been standing here for hours, while the powers that be decided what to do. Every now and then Meredith's mind slipped a gear and she fantasized about pulling her hand out of the patient, and off the bomb, the way Hannah had done. Then she stopped herself sternly, and reminded herself that someone had to extract the bomb. Her hand was already on it. It may as well be her. She wasn't one to leave her dirty work for someone else to do.
Meredith had stopped talking several hours ago. There was nothing left for her to say. Besides, no one wanted to talk to her anyway. Burke kept looking warily at her like she was the walking wounded or perhaps the walking dead? The bomb squad guys treated her like she was a human bomb that could go off at any second, just like Hannah, the paramedic. Most of the time she stood with one hand on a device that could kill her at any moment, and the other hand squeezing a ventilator. She was utterly, starkly alone. Her world was narrowing down smaller and smaller until all that would be left was a single action. It was the bottleneck of her life. Or was that the aperture of her death?
She had hours and hours of looking death squarely in the eye, but her hands remained steady. If nothing else, she was sure now that she had the hands and nerve of a surgeon. After a while she became numb to fear. Though, over the hours, death honed her down. She thought about every single aspect of her life and numbly evaluated it with the unnatural crystal clear clarity that comes this close to death.
At least she'd told Mark she loved him one more time. That was good. She hadn't told Derek. Well, he wouldn't want to hear it after all, so maybe that was good too. And her mom... she was going to be left alone in the world if the bomb exploded. Thank God, Meredith had already put her mom's money in safe investments so that her care would continue uninterrupted for as long as Ellis lived. Meredith hoped her mom missed her when the bomb... okay, that was way too maudlin. The woman had Alzheimer's. Shouldn't wish any more pain on her than she already had. Her father... No, he hadn't been there for her life, why should she consider him at her possible death? Was there anything else? No... nothing else. Mark and Derek and her mom were all she had in the end. She regretted she'd never been the daughter her mom wanted or the woman Derek wanted. But she didn't regret loving them. And she refused to regret loving herself enough to let Mark into her life. She refused to regret loving him.
Meredith came out of her self induced meditative fugue to notice that not only did her feet hurt and her bladder ache, but a nurse was setting a sterile instrument tray at the foot of the table and gloving Burke. The other nurse who had stood his ground along with Meredith gently took the ambu bag out of her exhausted hand and took over ventilation. Meredith stared straight ahead as she realized Burke was asking her if she was ready. Every bit of the fear that she'd put off for hours came rushing back, lighting up every cell in her body like a Christmas tree. She fought to breathe slowly and steadily. She knew the rhythm she needed. Hadn't she been pumping the ambu bag for her patient?
She spoke for the first time in hours, "Yes, I have to be ready, right?"
She looked into the eyes of the bomb squad specialist across the table from her. His name was Dylan Young. She was actually supposed to put the bomb in Dylan's hand. He'd carry it out for disposal. Were they all crazy? They were all going to die right along with her and her patient. She was barely aware that Burke was calling her name.
"Grey ... Grey ... I'm ready Grey. The patient is bleeding out Grey ... Grey."
"No ... Burke ... this is crazy. You ... all of you get out of here. I ... can do this by myself. Dylan, you're just going to put the shell in the container, right? Bring the container in here ... I'll put it there. When I'm done, I'll tie off the bleeder in the patient. I can do it, Dr. Burke," Meredith looked frantically between Dylan and Burke, while the two nurses at the head and foot of the table exchanged glances, "There's no need for you to be at risk. Save yourselves, all of you."
"Grey ..." said Burke.
"Meredith, listen to me," said Dylan, "We have a plan. We need to follow the plan."
Meredith stared at him, her beautiful eyes wide and frightened, but she still made no effort to pull the shell out.
"Meredith, Meredith look at me. Pretend that I'm not the jerk that's been ordering you around all day. Pretend I'm someone you trust. Can you do that? Meredith?"
Meredith took a deep breath and let herself sink into a fugue again.
She nodded. Dylan's face shimmered into Derek's. They stood together, alone in the OR, peaceful and calm.
"Derek, I'm scared."
Derek's face was calm and loving, "You can do this, Meredith. I know you can."
"And I'm telling you to go ahead and lift it out ... slowly. Keep it level."
Meredith's hand had already been moving of its own accord when she heard and understood Dylan's instructions again. She never paused. She slowly removed the shell from the man's side and laid it gently in Dylan's level hands.
"You did good," he said in the low voice he'd used for hours.
Their eyes met for a timeless, breathless, soundless moment. Then Meredith blinked and Dylan turned away, slowly walking the bomb out of the OR. Burke crowded into Meredith and retracted the wound to get a look at the bleeder. She instinctively took a step back, giving way to him. She'd been attached to the bomb for so long it was as if she didn't know what to do now. She felt strangely disembodied. For some reason her feet started to move following the bomb. She cocked her head as she rounded the doorway, watching Dylan carry it.
Maybe the shell is a dud after all, she thought.
It exploded. The blast instantly killed Dylan and two others. It blew in a fraction of a second down the hallway towards Meredith. She threw her hands up and was blown back ten feet to fall against the floor. Meredith heard the fire alarm blaring and felt hot embers and ash sprinkling her face. Then she felt nothing.
