A/N: Hey everyone! So this chapter ended up longer than I initially intended it to be. But it was hard to separate the events that take place in it without interrupting the overall flow of the story. Additionally, you'll find that it's not exactly heavily filled with a lot of MerHayes interactions unlike the past two chapters. But I'd like to think I've captured the slow burn of their relationship through the events that take place here and I've taken the time to explore Meredith's feelings for Hayes that we haven't seen explicitly told in the show. So that being said, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! And again, I really appreciate everyone who leaves such nice comments! This may be my last update in a while as life has me busy the next few weeks. But that being said, I'm interested in starting a collection of MerHayes one-shots that would be shorter than these chapters. So if anyone has any prompts or ideas for me, feel free to leave them in the comments and leave as many as you'd like! Hope you enjoy!
FALL
For as long as she could remember, all Meredith Grey wanted in life was to be a surgeon. From a young age, she'd watch her mother in the gallery of the operating room performing the most difficult of procedures while she cradled Anatomy Jane in her hands trying to mimic her actions. She read her mother's diaries, watched every surgical tape and conference recorded. And although she always knew that surgery was what played a big role in her family's decline- the one of many things that was responsible for the majority of the trauma that occurred in her life- the moment she began medical school and first held a scalpel in her hand was when she understood why her mother was willing to risk everything for it. The high and adrenaline rush of putting the metal against the skin to cut, open, and repair what was broken was addicting, and for everything in her life that she couldn't control, the one thing she could was what happened in that operating room. Surgery was one of the most important things that defined who she was, and she never thought that she would have to possibly face a future without doing the job she loved the most.
Not until she couldn't do it anymore.
It had been three months now since Meredith Grey returned to Grey-Sloan Memorial and, during that time, had stepped into the role of Residency Director that Bailey had so graciously offered to her. Of the many things she learned to appreciate throughout her career thus far, teaching had been one of them, and doing so with the particular set of interns and junior residents that fell into her lap reminded her of the years long ago when she and her friends found themselves in the very same position; young and eager to learn, yet not prepared to embrace the fact that medical school blindsided them of the actual realities of being a surgeon. As much as she loved the job, however, deep down she knew that surgery and cutting was always what she was going to be best at. For months, she had bit her tongue as she stood in operating rooms behind her students, just observing and instructing. The symptoms that lingered around when she returned to work was enough for Bailey, Webber, Altman, and every other attending to watch her like a hawk ensuring she wouldn't pass out mid-incision. She had swallowed her pride to appease them, and, after the months of care they had given to her, she had given in and thought it was the least she could do to settle their ever-anxious minds. After all, there had already been so many times in the past when life threatened to take this one thing away from her. But every time she always fought back and won. And she wasn't going to let a COVID diagnosis and post-virus symptoms do anything different.
When the count of COVID patient admissions began its decline and few elective surgeries began to make its way back to the OR Board, Meredith couldn't help but think that maybe for once, luck was on her side. The post-virus symptoms were slowly diminishing as she couldn't even remember the last time she had actually coughed, and the amount of times she had needed to sneak into an on-call room to get some sleep was getting lower and lower as the fatigue was fading. Her moment back in the room to do what she loved the most finally came when a patient of hers, a 43-year-old woman with fibroids in need of a hysterectomy, was admitted to have the procedure done that had been postponed for months.
It was supposed to be a routine procedure done laparoscopically; a minimally invasive surgery that would have everyone out of the operating room in less than an hour. That was until a bleeder appeared that couldn't be seen and clamped through the camera and before everyone knew it, the small incision on the patient quickly turned into an ex-lap.
And then it happened.
In between her orders of more lap pads and the urgency in her voice repeatedly telling Helm to clamp, she began to feel the familiar shallow breaths that still often came with chaotic activity, along with the feeling of lightheadedness that usually accompanied it. Next was the small gasps for air underneath her mask, and finally the blurry vision that made it near impossible to continue looking over the open body cavity beneath her.
"Dr. Grey!" Helm shouted at her when her movements stopped, the scalpel and clamp in her hands hovering shakily above their patient.
"Page Dr. Webber right now," she had ordered weakly as she slowly began to walk away from the sterile field. "Stop that bleed and stabilize her blood pressure until he gets here."
She could feel everyone's eyes on her as she made her way back to the scrub room. Ripping the mask and PPE off her face, she then held on to the edges of the sink as she took deep shaky breaths in hopes of stabilizing her own breathing. She could feel it in her chest, not just the panic of feeling like she was being suffocated, but the numbing pain growing from the rising frustration of what she couldn't accomplish.
"What happened?" Webber's voice broke through the silence and interrupting her spiraling thoughts.
"Mrs. Thomas, 43. Laparoscopic hysterectomy," she answered shakily. "There was a bleed and we had to open her up. Helm's got it in control, but I need you to finish for me."
"What were you thinking doing a first surgery on your own without an assist?"
"I thought I could handle it," she snapped, her voice rising and firm, and at the sound of it, Webber felt nothing but pity for the woman he taught and cared for, knowing that such a setback would be enough to discourage her.
"Helm, scrub out and take Dr. Grey to a room upstairs. I'm handling this now," Webber now ordered the resident as he stood by the O.R. entry way.
"I'm fine," Meredith had stubbornly retorted.
"Damn right, you are!" Webber had sarcastically yelled back. "You nearly passed out in an O.R. while a patient was open on the table. You will do exactly as I say. This is not up for discussion, Meredith." Turning his attention to Helm, who had now joined the two surgeons and was promptly scrubbing out, he said, "Give her albuterol once she's settled in and page cardio to check on her. Altman isn't in today, so page Ndugu. Page Hayes if he isn't available. And if absolutely none of her doctors are available, page Pierce or Bailey as a last resort. And find me another resident to assist with this surgery."
"Yes, sir," Taryn quietly complied at her superior as he finished scrubbing in and entered the O.R. Directing her attention to her Attending, she now asked, "Dr. Grey, should I get you a wheelchair?"
All she could do was send a glare at her resident's way before curtly heading out of the scrub room, with the junior resident following behind her closely, yet quietly, knowing that it was in her best interest to keep silent as her beloved teacher and mentor reeled over at what had just occurred. As she strolled along the hallway, the buzz of the hospital with the nurses' hushed voices and the humming of monitors coming from occupied rooms and orders from the P.A. system and just the general activity of those around her was enough for her to continue feeling the lightheadedness the chaos in the O.R. had brought. She knew it herself that she was being as stubborn as ever; that she had no business right now ignoring the commands and suggestions of the other doctors in her company and that it would've been right to give in and be wheeled on a chair during the remainder duration of checking into a room. But she wanted- needed- to keep her dignity. She knew it wasn't going to be long until word of her unsuccessful comeback travelled throughout the walls of the hospital. But until then, the only thing she wanted was to wallow in her frustrations alone without the hovering and concerns that no doubt would follow her.
By the time she managed to let herself in to an unoccupied room on her own department floor, she could feel her breathing somehow worsen, the quick rise and fall of her chest becoming more noticeable by her as she struggled to catch some air. She was desperate to relieve the pressure in her head and haphazardly threw the covers of the bed over so she could finally lay her head on a pillow. The words of Helm telling her she was going to leave and return swiftly with an albuterol was heard by her only in echoes as she closed her eyes to prevent the room from spinning any further. By the time Helm did return with the medication, she could feel her inward thoughts spiraling, both with the efforts of keeping her breathing at bay and the thought of herself as an utter failure.
"I've paged Dr. Ndugu and Dr. Hayes," she heard Helm say in between the puffs she was taking, though paying attention to the resident's words was the last thing in her mind as she continued to make attempts at leveling her breaths, repeating a mantra in her head as if it would do her any good. Breathe, Meredith. Damn it, just breathe.
"I have to find Dr. Webber another resident," Helm continued on, "so I have to go. But one of them should be here soon. Should I call a nurse in until they come?"
"Helm, just go. Right now," she snapped breathlessly. If it were any other time, she would've felt a tad guilty for being snippy at her resident. She would like to think that she had grown up and gotten over the times when she herself was a young resident who deemed her interns incompetent and had now become a respectable teacher. For now, however, the last thing she needed was an over-bearing student when all she wanted was to be left alone.
At her command, Helm was quick to comply and hurried out of her room without any further questions asked or words said, leaving her finally on her own. The silence that enveloped the room was deafening, and the only noise that were able to compete were the ones in her head, her inner musings egging her on at her failed attempts. As she sat up straight and took the device in her hand out of her mouth, she focused her eyes on it as her disbelief continued. Of all that she had suffered, from drownings and shootings and crashes and attacks, she had always been able to shake the dust off her feet and start again; to pick up a scalpel again and save a life that only she knew how to save. She realized that recovery from any of those traumas were not at all perfect, with the mental and emotional scars taking longer to heal than anything physical. But the very least she could do was breathe, a simple perfunctory function her lungs could carry out that would allow her to do what she could with her hands despite everything else going on in her head and made her feel alive and whole. And of all the tragedies she had already gone through, it was a damning virus that was taking away that function, that ability for her to save lives.
She could feel it in her chest, the anger and frustration rising within her, disheartened at the fact that every single task that was effortless before now seemed daunting and made it seem as if she had no business carrying any of it out. Her spiraling thoughts now led her back to thinking of her mother, the one who sparked the interest in surgery in the first place. The great Ellis Grey would've beaten this hurdle by now, she thought to herself, as she began to compare herself with the woman who was always going to be her kryptonite. For most of her life, she had been so dedicated to prove her mother wrong; to prove to herself that she could have a career and a family and be happy and to ultimately have it all. Yet now, how disappointed her mother would be to discover that the one thing she would've approved off was on its way out the door.
Imagine my disappointment when I wake up after five years and discover that you're no more than ordinary.
The sudden remembrance of her mother's words came as a surprise to her. She felt something inside of her weaken, the words so cold, so harsh, that she felt its sting like a slap to the face as if it was the first time she was hearing them. With all that's occurred to her the past few months, she couldn't help but feel as if though maybe Ellis Grey had always been right; that she would be nothing more than ordinary. Without surgery, she was absolutely powerless.
As she reeled over the thoughts in her head, something inside of her snapped, and suddenly she felt like she couldn't take it anymore. Unfortunately for the albuterol in her hand, it became the victim of her rising irritation as she forcefully threw it across the room. Then the door to her hospital room opened, just in time for the figure to witness the medication fall to its demise as it hit the wall and fell to the ground.
"Nice arm there, Grey," a familiar Irish accent spoke. "You know Austin's been more interested in baseball as of late. Maybe I should have you give him some pro tips."
His attempt at humor only garnered a silent response from her as she blankly stared at the wall where the medication hit just seconds ago. Though, he had to admit to himself that his humorous attempts was to calm himself down of the anxiety threatening to kick in. When he received the page from Helm of an urgent consult for the one and only Meredith Grey, he felt his heart stoop so low as if someone was about to rip it right out. Ever since that day at her house when he had gone to assist her with her children, he always had a feeling of anxiousness within him, as if it was on a cloud above his head that always followed him around. He knew how damaging the aftereffects of the virus could be, sometimes even worse than the sickness itself as he witnessed this in some of his own patients. Her return to work had consequently brought in him a feeling of relief to see her finally trend upwards from the disease. However, his worry for her lingered around for this very exact reason they found themselves in right now.
"Ndugu was just scrubbing into a surgery when Helm paged," he continued when she still didn't say anything. "So I'm afraid you're stuck with me." Unbeknownst to him, it was a relief to her in the midst of all her internal conflict that it was him who appeared at her room as opposed to anyone else. Though it wasn't official yet, Winston was already practically family and she wouldn't have had it in her to face a family member and hide her embarrassment. As for Maggie, she knew that her concerns for her would've just overwhelmed her even more and as far as Bailey goes, she knew she would've had to face her wrath and lecture, something she already had enough of from Richard.
When it came to Cormac Hayes, though, she knew him well enough now to know that he was a balance of all those things; someone who worried but not in an overbearing manner. Someone who would tell her the facts and who would give her the information she needed to know but who would listen to her and understand her perspective. And someone who may disagree but who would allow her to sit with her feelings without judgment.
As she continued to sit in silence, he now slowly approached her bed. Her lack of speech was unnerving to him, as he always knew her to be a woman full of words and full of fight. He had grown to appreciate how vocal she was about everything, from patient care to treatments, including her own. She was opinionated on every subject possible, but it was a part of her personality he had grown to admire the longer he spent time in her company as it displayed her passion for her work. With her silence, however, the only thing he felt for her was pity and sympathy, knowing how destructive it must be to think to have failed at the one thing they were supposed to be the best at.
"Grey, let me check your vitals, okay?" He gently pushed, as he grabbed the blood pressure cuff from behind her bed and delicately placed it around her arm as he set up the monitors. "Your BP and heart rate's still higher than we'd like, but your 02 is normal so everything else should come down soon once you get some rest," he informed her as he himself felt a bit encouraged by her numbers. "Now, can you take a deep breath for me?"
Had she not been occupied with the taunts and demons in her head, perhaps she would've paid a little more attention to how her breathing suddenly hitched. This time, not because of the exhaustion, but due to the proximity she now found herself in with the pediatric surgeon as he placed one hand on her back and a stethoscope to her chest. As she took a breath, it didn't escape her attention the sandalwood scent that radiated off him and the smell of it brought her a level of comfort that was enough to give her goosebumps. It occurred to her now that never have they been this close, at least not while they were both conscious and aware of it. She was never the type to fully display and condone such intimacy; not until it felt like the feeling of home. But with him, she never had to try to feel that way. It effortlessly came about and perhaps that thought frightened her even more than the fear of never picking up a scalpel again.
"No uneven breath sounds," his voice interrupted her continuing thoughts. "You can thank the albuterol that you just used as a punching bag for that," he added, hoping again to somewhat lighten the mood.
As he completed his checks on her, he now separated his distance as he sat at the foot of her bed. At this time, she finally broke her blank gaze and shifted her attention to him. He couldn't help but feel something inside of him breaking as his eyes met her sea green ones and he saw the devastation and discouragement spilling out of them. He wanted to do something, anything, to take that pain away but he knew he had no right to try to even begin to understand what she was feeling. There was never a time in his life when he thought surgery was ever going to be taken away from him. And even though it took months after Abigail's death for him to get back into the rhythm of it all, that innate ability was always there and nothing internal was preventing him from doing it. But in her case, he knew that it was a whole other burden that was keeping her from doing the one thing she loved.
"So what happens now?" she voiced out, finally breaking her silence, with the defeat in her look and tone both going noticed by him.
He sighed. "Well, it'll be Altman's decision, but I imagine a few sessions of physical therapy followed by an endurance test."
A part of her already knew that that was going to be the answer to her question. It was the exact same process that so many of their patients went through, including some of their very own hospital staff. However, hearing it come out of his mouth seemed like it was all a finality; like this was the only thing that was going to be left of her destiny.
Sensing her dissatisfaction at his response he now said to her, "This isn't a death sentence, Grey."
To someone else, such a statement might have seemed rude. Too dark. Too honest. Too accusatory, as if he was assuming that was the only perspective. But coming from him, she knew the weight behind the words. They both did. They both knew what death sentences looked like. They've confronted it face to face only for death to say 'Screw you' to both of them before slapping both of their faces and leaving permanent imprints. But this- this was not that. She knew it.
And yet, "That's what it feels like," she responded in a hushed tone, breaking their eye contact, and looking at anywhere but at him. She never liked being too vulnerable around others, but she knew the power he had over her. Perhaps it could've been the attachment he had with her Person. Perhaps it was because of feelings that, even after months have already passed, she was still trying to avoid. Whatever it was, for some reason, she never held back with sharing her fears with him, even if they made her appear to be weak or fragile.
"I mean, is this all there is?" she now continued on, frustration and anger back in her tone. "We- I- spend years coming up with this dream; I go through all this trouble of internship and residency and making sacrifices just for it to end like this?"
"This is not the end for you, Grey," he then replied, with so much conviction in such a simple statement that she couldn't believe how he could be so sure. "You're not finished yet. There are hundreds of patients still out there that need you. All of this is just a setback. It's a complication. And it's one that isn't going to stick around forever. You will get through this. I believe that you could. There will come a time when you won't ever get to operate again and then you'll have to find a new dream. But it isn't time yet. And I've asked you once and now that I know you're definitely hearing me this time, I'll ask you again- Fight, Grey. I'm asking you to fight because you- you are not finished. Not yet."
To say that she was speechless at his declarations was an understatement. If she looked back at her entire career and all the events the past year had brought to have led to this moment, her immediate perspective was that this was certainly the end of her surgical career. No longer was she the young intern with limitless energy, though she was still the same doctor who yearned to change the world and save lives. But to her, the world was preparing her for the end. Yet somehow, the Irishman with her still believed she had so much more in her. With her sisters and their partners, and Bailey, Webber, Altman, and every single one of her doctors treating her like a damsel in distress for the past few months, Cormac Hayes continued to see and help her realize the ton of potential she still had left. And perhaps it was the pure earnestness in his tone or the way she had glimpses of flashbacks in her mind of the time she was unconscious and she had heard him say the exact same words that motivated and encouraged her now to still hold on to hope.
"Never stop telling me that," she now said with slight hesitancy, tiptoeing the lines of vulnerability and intimacy. "Never stop telling me to fight because I don't know how much I have left in me. So I need someone to tell me to keep going."
"I will tell you every single day if I have to," he promised with a smile, grateful to have known that he had encouraged her. "I promise you this will pass, and you'll be back in there soon."
"Thank you, Hayes," she said with full sincerity.
"I've got something else that might cheer you up," he replied, and the mischievous glint in his icy blue eyes made her worry as to what he was up to.
"And what would that be?" she challenged with an amused smile.
Rather than saying a word, she watched with expectation as he reached into his pocket and took out his phone. He then placed it in between them on the bed and after pressing a few buttons, it was music that started to play. And then came the sound of a familiar melody and words in which years had passed since she last heard them.
Where do you go with your broken heart in tow?
And what do you do with the left over you?
And how do you know when to let go?
At the look of joy, yet incredulity that took over her features, Cormac couldn't help but laugh. "I heard it the first time one day after Yang and I lost this one patient. It was a woman who had been on the transplant list for years. Finally got a donor, then just a few months later, she started rejecting it. Died before she could get another one. The day she died, I knew it hit Yang pretty hard. I walked into her office that day and found her waving her arms like a mad woman and jumping all over the place with this music on."
"She was dancing it out," Meredith said with a fond smile as a wave of nostalgia came over. It had been so long since she had done it herself and, even though there had been countless times she'd engaged in it with her sisters, it was a different feeling doing it with the one she called her Person. "I didn't think she still did that."
"You call that dancing?" he scoffed, a teasing smile hanging from his lips. "Well, whatever it was, she said it was a 'tradition of the Twisted Sisters.' Her words, not mine."
"Well, seeing as I am confined once again to a hospital bed, are you offering to dance it out for me?"
"God, no."
"It was worth a try."
The two then laughed then fell back to silence as the song continued to play in between them. And whatever frustration and anger she had felt earlier, she could now feel it momentarily slipping away as she gained comfort from the memories of her Person.
Where do you go when you're in love
And the world knows
As for the gift that sat in front of her, she couldn't help but feel that his presence and significance in her life was about to get even clearer now moving forward. And she, for one, had to admit that she couldn't wait to find out what it was.
Where does the good go?
Where does the good go?
The week leading up to Thanksgiving weekend was always a busy time for hospitals, and Grey-Sloan Memorial was in no way exempted from this fact. It seemed like every year, in between the high school Homecoming games and turkey dinners, various injuries resulting from anything from drunken brawls and car crashes, made its way to the Emergency Room and this year was no exception.
It was a week later after her O.R. debacle that Meredith found herself back hidden away in her office as the Chief made it abundantly clear that paperwork and planning lectures for her residents was the only job she was to do for the foreseeable future until she was done with her scheduled physical therapy sessions and passes an endurance test with flying colours. Although formally hearing the treatment plan from Altman did much to further damage her confidence, it was her conversation with Hayes that kept her afloat in the meantime.
Being stuck in her office meant that it granted her the opportunity to avoid the mayhem the time of year brought around. Thus, it was to her surprise when the day before the holiday came around that she had received a 911 page from Perez for an E.R. consult.
"Perez, you know I'm not cleared for surgery," she had reminded the resident when she promptly arrived in front of the triage room where he stood in front of. A part of her had thought to just ignore the page. But the thought of also being close enough to medicine was enough to pique her curiosity.
"I know, Dr. Grey, and you know whether you're still operating or not, you will forever be my queen," he responded cheekily, earning an eye roll from her. "But I'm sorry, he was asking for you."
As confusion overtook her, she walked past the resident and entered the room. And the person she now saw laying on the stretcher in pain that was being examined by the Chief of Trauma and Chief of Neuro caused a feeling of sickness and anxiousness in her stomach to sink in. Although only having met him once before, she would recognize his brown curls anywhere.
"Liam Hayes, 16," Owen's voice echoed through her ears as she momentarily stared at the teenager in shock. "Paramedics just brought him in. He was in gym class running the track when he collapsed due to severe abdominal pain. No syncope episode, but he did hit his head on the pavement when he fell over. We've given him morphine for the pain."
"His pupils are reactive and everything else looks fine," Amelia now chimed in. "But I can order a head CT just in case. He was complaining of nausea but that could be due to the abdominal pain."
"Dr. Grey, it hurts so bad," the boy now said in between baited breaths as he continued to writhe in pain.
All personal concerns for the boy she now had to push aside as she felt her doctoral instincts kick into gear. "Hey, Liam," she said gingerly as she approached the young boy. "We're going to take care of you. You're going to be fine. Perez, get me the portable ultrasound."
"My dad is going to kill me for bothering you. He said at home that you weren't doing surgeries, but you were the only other doctor I knew from here," the teenager said, completely oblivious on how he had just exposed his father.
"Don't apologize. I'm glad you called for me," she assured him, as she attempted to ignore the butterflies that suddenly arose in her stomach, wondering for what reasons would his father have to be mentioning her around him. "Does your dad know you're here?"
He shook his head. "Not yet. I told my brother to call our aunt, but to tell her not to bother to come. She would just worry, and I knew my dad would be here anyway."
"Should we page Dr. Hayes?" Perez inquired.
"Hayes is doing a heart transplant on Arthur Beaton with Pierce right now," she said, recalling how thrilled Maggie had been that morning that their patient finally had a donor. "Okay, Liam, I'm just gonna push down around your stomach. Tell me where it hurts."
As she began to palpate around the boy's abdomen, he let out a loud yelp as soon as she got to his right side. "Right there, it hurts," he continued to moan.
"Grey?" Owen questioned.
"His right side is distended. It's probably appendicitis," she muttered as she got the ultrasound ready. "Liam, this is going to feel slightly cold. Just bear with me here."
"What do you see?" Amelia now asked.
"Yep, his appendix is all swollen. We need to take it out right now or else it's going to burst any second."
"I need surgery?" the teenager shrieked, fear evident on his face. At his reaction, Meredith instinctively grabbed a hold of one of his hands in hopes of comforting him. "Liam, we need to take your appendix out. I promise you that you'll feel a whole lot better afterwards. We got you. You have nothing to worry about."
"Will you tell my dad?"
"I will absolutely tell your dad. And he'll be right beside you once you wake up," she assured him, giving his hand a squeeze and a comforting smile. She then turned her attention back to her resident and said, "Perez, take him up to O.R. one and page Dr. Bailey."
"You're asking the Chief of Surgery to do an appendectomy?" Owen piped up, puzzled. "Even one of your second years can do that themselves."
"If you really think I'm letting a second-year resident operate on the Chief of Pediatrics' kid, then you better think again. He deserves the best, and you know I would do it myself if I could," she snapped. Turning her attention back to Perez, she repeated her commands from before. "Just take him up now, page Bailey and the peds fellow, prep him for the surgery and then you can scrub in too. I'm right behind you."
As Zander began to wheel the teenager away, she started to follow him when Amelia called out behind her. "Mer-"
"Amelia, I promise you I'm not operating," she interrupted, detecting both the concern and warning tone her sister had.
"It's not that," Amelia hesitated. "I'm just worried that this patient and this case can get too personal for you."
She then hardened her look at her sister, knowing exactly what it was that she was insinuating. "It's our hospital's Chief of Pediatrics' son. Of course, it's personal. It should be personal to all of us."
"Mer-"
"Amelia, please," she begged. "I'm fine. Just- Hayes and Maggie are in O.R. three. Please, can you just call up the O.R. and tell them to page me when they're done the surgery. That's all I need." And with that she walked away before her sister could utter another word.
It's not that Amelia wasn't right because she was. Of course having Liam Hayes as a patient was going to be personal to her, not only because it was one of their own's blood that was on the line, but also because of all the promises she already owed to the child's father. It hadn't been that long ago since she declared him as part of her family and promised him that she and everyone else in her ever-growing village would have his back and pick up his broken pieces just as he had already done for her. She could only think back to the months she laid unconscious on a hospital bed and how he had been one of the people to not only take care of her but made sure her children were being looked after as well. And even if his contributions to their well-being was just made up of communicating through a screen and offering them and the rest of her family some company, the least she could do now was stand by his own child's side when he was unable to just as he had done for her.
And it was just that; returning a favour and sympathizing with the parental fears he would surely have as anyone else with a child would do. Nothing more. Nothing to do with any matters of the heart.
At least that's what she tried to tell herself as she arrived in the scrub room and began her process of scrubbing in while watching her resident through the O.R. window prepare the young boy and hoping and praying that the procedure would be as straightforward as it gets, and no complications would arise.
Then Bailey entered the room. "Oh, what in the hell do you think you're doing?" she accused her former student in disbelief.
"I'm not scrubbing in to do surgery," Meredith promptly clarified. "I'm scrubbing in to observe."
"Because you haven't seen enough appendectomies already?" Bailey replied sarcastically. "Get out, Grey."
"Bailey, the child asked for me in the E.R. I have to be here."
"See, that right there is part of the problem."
"It's Cormac Hayes' son!"
"I know it's Cormac Hayes' son!" Bailey now yelled. "And I know what Cormac Hayes means to you, which is why I cannot have you anywhere near me, hovering and talking all sorts of nonsense, while I have my hands inside his boy's body. And I cannot risk you almost passing out in an O.R. again because then not only will I have my Chief of Pediatrics be very worried about his child, but he will then also be very worried about you. So, no, Grey. There is no way I'm letting you enter that O.R. with me and if you even try to, just know that you'll be making getting cleared for surgery a lot harder." When she saw the face of her fellow surgeon fall, looking so defeated that it surprised her she wasn't even putting up a fight, she softened her tone and added, "Look, I understand why you're concerned. So if you really are so keen on observing, you will do so in the gallery room but I swear, Grey, I better not hear a word out of you."
"Fine," she grudgingly complied and made her way out of the scrub room, at the same time she tried to push away part of Bailey's words that suggested her relationship with the pediatric surgeon was more than just a friendship and being colleagues.
As she arrived in the gallery and situated herself on one of the chairs and tried her best to relax, she couldn't help but think back to the time not too long ago when it had been her own daughter on the operating table without her having any clue as to what was going on. She could recall the anxiety she felt, one that was so overwhelming and deep and one she hadn't felt since the night Derek had died. And how could she forget the similar feelings of fear she had after witnessing so many of her friends in the past lie down on that same table after being run over by buses, infected with cancer, shot in the chest, thrown over by planes, and so much more, leaving them dead or being so sick that they might have been good as dead. It was always an uneasy feeling when it was people who she cared for and loved at the end of the stick being the ones operated on instead of the one who was doing the operating. And for whatever reason it was now, she couldn't help but have those same feelings of fear and anxiety for the child laying open on the table now.
"Hey," a voice spoke a while later. Turning her head around, she saw Owen standing by the door. "Just wanted to follow up and see how he was doing. You were right earlier, you know, the kid belongs to one of our own. He should be getting the best."
"Bailey's just separating his abdominal muscles now, but he's going to be fine."
"That's great, I'm glad." He then paused before adding, "It was good to see you fight so hard for him."
"Like you said, he belongs to one of our own," she replied monotonously as she continued to watch the surgical scene below her. "If that had been Leo or Alison, you know I would've done the same thing."
"Yeah, except my kids call you 'Auntie Mer,' and you've met Liam Hayes only how many times before, exactly?"
"Once," she muttered before sighing and turning her head to face him. "What are you getting at, Hunt?"
He smiled softly. "I'm just saying it's good to see you care. Seeing you fight for his kid means you care about him. And he cared a lot for you and your kids when you were out, so I'm just saying it's nice that you have someone care for you like that and that you're doing the same for him."
"Hayes is a friend just as much as anyone else here is. Of course, I would care."
"Right, if you say so," he appeased her before starting to walk away, not believing at all that friendship was the only thing that factored into their relationship.
"You can blame this on your ex-wife, you know," she called out after him. "All this 'caring.' When she doesn't answer your question of whether this was gifted professionally or personally, it's hard to know where you stand."
"Why can't it be both?" he shrugged, a hint of a smile on his face at hearing her admit that whatever relationship she was brewing with their fellow surgeon was no longer just black and white. "For what it's worth, I think Cristina always knew what she was doing. He's a good guy, Grey, and you deserve to be happy."
With that, he finally left, leaving her alone to ponder what he just said. It was a surprise to her now that it seemed as if though everyone in the hospital, at least those she was the closest to, already had some sort of insight into her relationship with the surgeon that she was struggling to see for herself. Either that, or perhaps it was just feelings she had yet to admit.
She wasn't given the opportunity for too long to sit with her thoughts as her phone now buzzed, a page from O.R. three letting her know that Hayes and Pierce had completed their surgery. Sighing, she took one last look into the scene below her before standing up and making her way to the nearby operating room, mentally preparing herself on how she would break the news to the pediatric surgeon.
She didn't have to walk very far when she saw Cormac and Maggie themselves enter through the double doors, huge grins on their faces, indicating their procedure had been successful. At the sight of her, Cormac felt his smile grow even wider, something he had always subconsciously done whenever she was around. As they became closer, however, he then noticed the grim look on her face.
"Grey?" he questioned. "What's wrong?"
She took a deep breath before answering, "Something's happened."
Ever since the trauma that hit their family almost three years ago, there was nothing else in the world Cormac Hayes dreaded more than the thought of having another family member enter the hospital for the fear that, like his wife, they wouldn't make it back out. The dread that overwhelmed him when his sister-in-law was admitted a few months ago was enough to make him spiral as in his mind, he was already bracing himself to prepare another funeral and go through the stages of grief all over again. But not even that occasion could've prepared him for the tension and panic he was feeling now, knowing it was his own son that was currently laying in an operating room, the same room that he knew all too well that anything could happen in.
Sitting in the waiting room now, there was not much that could be done to calm his frail nerves, even with Meredith Grey at his side. "I have been where you are right now," she told him gently, as she recalled her memories from before. "Zola was born with spina bifida. A few years ago, Koracick had to go in and replace her shunt. I was a mess, and there was nothing Amelia or Maggie could do that could've calmed me down."
"The lad was complaining last night of a stomachache," he said quietly, a tremble in his voice. "Told him he was probably just nervous because of a unit test he had today. He usually gets like that. Didn't even think twice about it." He could feel it in his chest the guilt that was wanting to overtake him; the same guilt he's felt for years as he time and again placed blame on himself for being responsible for his wife's death.
"I would've probably thought the same thing," Meredith told him softly. "Don't beat yourself up for this."
"Damn it, Grey, I'm a surgeon," he cried. "I should've known better."
"I think we become worse doctors when it comes to family," she said, earning a puzzled look from the surgeon. "I mean, it didn't occur to me that Zola was that sick nor did I notice any symptoms at all from Amelia when she had a brain tumor. When my mother was still alive with Alzheimer's, I convinced myself that every time she was lucid that it would last. When Maggie's mother had cancer, even she didn't know when to quit with her treatments. We all do it. It's not our fault. I think when it comes to our families, to the people we love, as good as a doctor we may be, we just always see them as healthy and perfect because any other thought than that would just be too traumatizing."
It took a few seconds for her words to really sink in for him to realize that she was right. He only had to think about the last stages of Abigail's life; that night in her room as she prepared him for life without her, yet all he could think of was the clinical trial she was in and the possibility it could still work. He entered the stage of grief entitled denial prematurely, as he managed to convince himself that it wasn't the end. It was the kind of faulty thinking she was talking about now, that thinking that they were all indestructible. Of course, that was far from the truth.
As she continued to watch him in this state of panic, she felt a little uneasy seeing him the way he was. Between the two of them, he was always the one with his head balanced on his shoulder, always easy going and optimistic even when things seemed dire. The man who had declared her as fierce and who continually told her to fight was not the same man sitting beside her now. She knew the feeling of worry that came from thinking of every worse case scenario there was for someone you loved, let alone your own child, and for that, all she wanted in that moment was to take away his pain.
Without even thinking about it, and before she could stop herself from doing so, she reached out for his hand and held it tightly in hers. "Liam is going to be fine," she assured him softly. The sudden touch had surprised him, but he had to admit that it did bring him comfort.
"If I'd just taken him more seriously, you know?" he said, guilt still dripping in his tone.
"You know feeling bad about it now isn't going to change anything. Look, it could've been a lot worse, but it wasn't. He was brought it on time and now he's in excellent hands. And he was very brave. I think he gets that from you," she said with a sincere smile.
He chuckled slightly. "I'm not quite sure he'd agree with that." Silence befell them before he added, "Thank you, Grey. You know, for being there with him. Honestly, it makes me feel a little better knowing you were there. At least I know he was taken care of well," he admitted.
"Well, you helped save someone's kid today. The least we could all do is help to save yours," she responded. "I'm happy to have been there for him. And even if he never asked for me, you know that when I'd find out eventually that I would be there."
A quizzical look on his face, he asked, "What do you mean he asked for you?"
"Oh, well, uh, Perez had said he was asking for me as soon as he came in," she stammered, wishing she could slap herself now as she thought back to the boy's earlier words and how this was information he seemed to not want his father to know. "He said it was because I was the only other doctor he knew."
His feeling of fear and panic for his child momentarily turned into feelings of embarrassment, and, admittedly, annoyance. Of course he only had himself to blame as the words "Doctor" and "Grey" were commonly used at his house, courtesy of him. He could only hope that whatever else it was his son had managed to slip out did not bring any cause for suspicion for the General surgeon.
Thankfully, the opportunity to address the matter was pushed aside when the two of them saw Bailey enter the waiting room.
"God, Dr. Bailey, please tell me it's good news," he begged, as the two of them synchronously stood from their chairs. It didn't escape the Chief of Surgery's attention of the way the two surgeons thought they had discreetly detached their hands from one another.
"It's good news, Hayes," she announced, and she couldn't help but smile when her Chief of Pediatrics drew out a big sigh of relief. She sympathized with the stress he was under as she recalled her own fears so many years ago when her own baby landed on one of their operating tables. "I was able to take it out before it had any chance to burst. He's going to be just fine. Perez is taking him up to peds now. He's still sedated but you can go see him whenever you'd like."
"Thank you, Dr. Bailey!" he exclaimed, already starting to walk past her to make his way to his own department floor. When he realized, however, that a certain General surgeon didn't follow suit, he turned back around, "You coming, Grey?"
She smiled. "It's okay, you go. Spend some time with him. I'll come and find you later." He nodded and returned her smile before turning back around, leaving her to watch him disappear.
Once he was gone, she redirected her attention to Bailey who had now retreated to the nearby nurses' station. Hesitating slightly, she then approached her. Earlier words she had uttered had been stuck in her mind since and she was determined to make some sense out of it.
"What do you want, Grey?" Bailey had muttered as she was busy typing out post-op notes on Liam Hayes when she saw her fellow surgeon from her peripheral vision.
"You said something earlier."
"I say many things. You expect me to remember all of them?"
"You said that you know what Cormac Hayes means to me. I want you tell me what you think he means to me."
Surprised and taken off guard by her inquiry, she momentarily stopped typing on the tablet to fully face the woman beside her. "I'm not gonna tell you how to feel about the man, if that's what you're looking for."
Frustrated, she let out a sigh. "No, that's not what I want. It's just- you're Dr. Bailey, Chief of Surgery. You're the one who hired him, and it was Cristina who gave her recommendation, so I know that you know that he's here for more than just a job. But I can't seem to figure out what he's here for and what he should mean to me. But you're one of the very few people left here that know me better than I know myself, so I am asking you to tell me what you think he means to me."
A quick examination of the earnest features that spread across her former resident's face let her know that she was, indeed, going through an internal crisis. Then she sighed, preparing herself to give some advice to the woman, not as her co-worker and boss, but as her friend and family. "Okay, if you really want my honest opinion, here's what I think, Grey: I think that you have always been great at being alone. You were raised that way. And then you met Derek, and you met your friends, and you gained sisters, and you've built yourself a family. But then Derek died, and friends have died, and a sister died, and all your friends are gone and you're alone again. Now the only difference is that when you were alone before all of these people came into your life, you always felt like the earth wasn't spinning. But now, you're older and you're stronger and even when the earth did momentarily at times have still felt like it wasn't spinning, it did again eventually because you found peace and you were happy. And then, at a time when it did stop spinning again, this man suddenly came into your life. He was unexpected and different, but he makes you laugh, and he loves your family, and you know that he has the biggest heart because his own trauma didn't ruin him. And before you could even realize it, you've gained a friend and the earth started spinning again. All of these words is to just say that, Meredith, you don't need me to tell you what Cormac Hayes means to you because you already know yourself. And you know what's best for you. And I know that you know that this is something you can have and be ready for because you've done it all before. You just need to admit it to yourself. Go out there and get your happiness, Grey, because God knows we all need more of it."
All she could do was stand there, stunned, letting each and every word hit and sink in through her, covering every piece of her body and mind and soul. A part of her admitted that every word that just came out of the Chief's mouth was correct in every sense and were words that she just needed to hear said out loud before embracing the truth herself. But that didn't mean that it didn't hit her like bullets straight through her head, knocking her off balance, knowing that from that moment forward, every aspect of her life was about to change.
"Thank you," was all she could mutter as she turned her back and began to walk away.
As Bailey's words continued to ring in her ears, the words of another also took over.
Promise to torture yourself less.
The first step in living up to that promise was admission. And there, as she walked through the halls of Grey-Sloan Memorial, did she finally admit it to herself.
That in between every moment they stood opposite each other in front of a surgical table and every shared drink and every conversation in the dark and every word left unsaid and everything else in between, she did, in fact, find herself falling.
And now she was determined to not just fall, but to have someone catch her right back.