Derek gets attached to a little girl with a brain tumour.
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A/N: So I currently upload chapters Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, normally anywhen between 7 and 12 in the morning (UTC+1, aka British time). I start school in three days so chapters will probably be up at 6:30 in the morning. If not, around 4:30 when I get back from school. :)
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"You know you did everything you could." Meredith sighed, placing a hand against the man's back and rubbing it reassuringly. His body rested solely on his hands, knuckles turning white as he gripped at the metal silver rim of the scrub sink.
"Sure I did."
"You can't fix everyone. You know that."
"He has major deficits." Oscar returned, hands now beating again the towel to dry them.
Meredith watched the anger being shoving into the movement, a little alarmed, but didn't say anything about it, continuing with her basic comfort. "We're not gods. We can't help everyone."
"His wife promised him that she'd look after him no matter what happened after this surgery. If she's true to that, she's just got a new job." He sighed, one hand shoving the scrub cap off of his head. "She's his carer now. He's never going to be able to do anything by himself."
"His life isn't over because he's going to be in a wheelchair. The start is always hard but there are people who can help."
"You didn't get anyone to help."
Her eyebrows creased. "What?"
"You and your husband. I heard it was a pretty horrific accident. That he was in a coma. That he had seizures. I mean- plus the other thing." He elaborated. She knew what 'the other thing' was. It was always obvious was the 'thing' was.
"And this is to do with Mattie and Jennifer because?" She prompted, wishing for a different kind of explanation this time.
"Car accidents turn one person of the couple into a patient, and the other into a carer. You probably understand how she's going to feel."
"I'm not one though," She denied, shaking her head. "Sure, I'm aware he's not as independent as he was before. He can't do everything he used to do and that does mean there are a few more things I have to do for him but just because he's disabled, that doesn't make me some poor, underappreciated carer."
He sighed. "I'm just saying, it's good that you stayed and helped him. Not everyone can do what you did for him."
"What, provide him with comfort after he was severely injured in something that wasn't even his fault? I'm a human with a heart, of course I stayed with him." She replied. She never considered leaving him. She asked herself why she was staying when he treated her so atrociously, but she never actually considered leaving. "I just hope Jennifer feels the same way."
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"Meredith Gre- oh. Hey." Connie greeted. She was expecting to find both members of the couple outside the door of her room, but was only met with one.
"No idea where she is." Derek said with a shrug before reaching to flick off the breaks of his chair.
"Well, you can wait in here, but I'm not sure I'll find much if I use an ultrasound on you." She joked, smirking.
He smiled and accepted the offer, her hand holding the door open, before taking his regular position by the bed, despite the fact that there was no one there.
"How is she doing?"
"Meredith is...a challenge, when it comes to this."
"I imagine she's been rather busy helping you for the last few months."
"Yeah. I've been working on being more independent since we were last here. Basic things that I always took for granted, you know? I've been paying more attention to what she's been doing recently though. We have a no-touch rule for transfers because obviously, no heavy lifting. Well, she does put my chair in the boot, but it's fairly light. No picking up the kids either, obviously. She takes all the vitamins that she's supposed to. I told her to buy eight thirty-day packs and she's been taking them. So, somehow, she is still following the rules, even with me...being me." He reassured her, eyes dipping to his knees for just a second.
She nodded, glad that Meredith was following the structure they set up. "And how are you?"
"Good."
"How are you feeling about Parenthood: part three?"
"I-" He sighed. He didn't know the answer to that question. "-think it's going to be very...odd."
"Odd?" Connie parroted.
"This child will only ever see me like this and I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Zola and Bailey, obviously, needed an explanation for why I'd gone from walking to the chair, but this one won't know the difference. In their mind, I've always been this way. I mean, when does a child even notice that the dad that they've known for however many years isn't quite normal? When they start school and it confuses them when they see other dads? Or in the park before that? Or do I have to wait for some kid to point it out to them that their father is weird for them to even ask about it? When will they realize that, technically, being in a chair is a bad thing?"
"Okay. Well, first of all, if you want to say that 'normal' is whatever the majority of the population is like, then that's fair enough, but you're not not-normal in the sense that you're in any way inferior. You're different, but so what? Being able to play football or tag is not one of the tick boxes on the list of good parent attributes, if such a thing existed. I've had many couples here where one - or both, even - had a disability. It depends on what kind it is, of course, but as long as you're trying your best and you love your child, you have no need to worry. And uh- not to downplay your problems at all, I know it's extremely difficult for you but-" She swallowed, hesitant. "-I have had mothers and fathers like you before and in terms of uh- ease of parenting, you're extremely lucky. I know you're not lucky, paraplegia is a horrible thing, but-"
"I could be worse. I get what you're trying to say. I know it could be worse and I'm glad." He sighed. "Doesn't stop me from worrying about it anyway though."
She smiled sympathetically. "I'd say we've got to be more concerned about Meredith. Her time-management skills aren't great, are they?"
"That's what we get for booking an appointment in the middle of the day, I guess." He replied as he looked at the door, only for the handle to move.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Meredith apologised rapidly as she opened the door. "I uh- had surgery. Tried to get out quick but I ended up having to take out the sple- nevermind, sorry."
"It's fine Meredith."
She closed the door. "You sure? You don't want me to come back another day when we have more than five minutes to do this?"
"Yeah, it's fine. I'm pretty sure we would have ended up staying here for another ten minutes anyway. Having a catch-up." She reassured her once again, handing Meredith a blanket. She didn't need to explain what to do with it. "I was planning on doing an ultrasound on this one here, but I was worried I wouldn't find much."
Meredith smirked as she positioned herself on the bed, first for an ultrasound. She tugged on the bottom of her scrub top so her belly was touching the air and found Derek's hand already near hers, ready to grasp it.
"So, any abnormalities?" Connie asked as she picked up the infamously cold squeeze bottle of gel and turned it upside.
Derek could feel his wife's hand constrict the moment it touched her skin, just for a second. She always complained about the cold.
"Nope. It's...scarily normal."
Connie gave a quick smile before turning her attention to the ultrasound, turned away from them so they couldn't see. Her eyebrows creased for a second and both members of the couple felt their hearts stop beating for a second but before either of them had a chance to say something or make a real reaction, they released the tension and she smiled. "Now, I know you want to see. So I'm going to cover the lower half of your baby with my hand to cover their sagittal sign. And you can enjoy your perfectly healthy, scarily normal little one."
"Really?" Meredith asked, mouth agape.
"Well, unless you want to claim that you can tell the sex by shape of head." She joked, swivelling the screen around, placing her hand against it, then picking up the ultrasound probe and finding the foetus again. Luckily, her hand was in the perfect place. She needed three hands to do that really.
"Oh- god. It's-" She turned to her husband with a beam on her face and eyes that shimmered in the light a little more than they did a second ago. "-Derek, it's our baby."
He had the same beam, same eyes. He didn't even look at Meredith when she called his name. It took him a solid couple of seconds to glance away to her and the second they finished, they were both back, looking at the screen again.
"So, of course, you can see that they're perfectly healthy. I'm not seeing anything to be concerned about. Good size. Development is where it should be. Yeah...everything is great."
"Will I need a C? Or do you think I could do it naturally?"
"I don't know until you're in labour but I'd say...don't surprised if you end up having one."
Meredith nodded; her eyes now dropped to her abdomen itself. Her bump certainly was large, but she found that she got a lot of bigger in the last month with Bailey. Some things were harder to do now but she knew it would get worse then, as it seemed to expand every day.
"Derek, do you have any questions?"
He swallowed and his grip tightened around Meredith's hand. "Nope- I'm good. I'm...perfect." He drew their conjoined hands to his lips and kissed hers. "You and baby are perfect."
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"Hey, what's wrong with you this fine morning?" Amelia inquired as he hunted through the pile of charts at the nurses' station, searching for one 'Jay Stone'. It wasn't a particularly fine day really. The sun barely had the power to creep out from the clouds and it was spotting rain when the day began. Although, it was at least a little better than the weather throughout the precious night, keeping half of Seattle up with its heavy rainfall.
Obviously, he was frowning as he scavenged. That or she could just tell. "Shelby dumped a patient on me so he could do surgery. Cool case though. But he still dumped it, no surgery either."
"What kinda cool?"
"T-C seizures from a tumour." He answered.
"And?" She promoted, feeling he wasn't quite finished from his answer before. "What else is wrong with you getting half given this case?"
"And this patient is only here to see him. Why does she want Shelby?" He pondered out loud. She shrugged. "I mean, you're a much better surgeon that him. Why doesn't she go to see you?"
"So are you." She said pointedly as she started looking through the pile too for her own patient. "You're quick, but careful. His work is…a little interesting sometimes. Slow and precise. Quick and sloppy. There are only two options for him." Although she was biased that she saw her brother as the superior of the two.
He shook his head. "But that's different, isn't it?"
"I don't think so." She returned, pulling out a folder from the side as she located it.
"You're my sister Amelia, you're not supposed to think that there's a totally valid reason for people not wanting me to perform their surgeries."
"I'm an honest human with a brain," She pointed out before changing her answer slightly as he raised his eyebrows. She was missing something from that. "-as well as your sister- and I say, you're a better surgeon than him."
"Right, whatever you say." He sighed.
"I like the new wheels by the way, very cool." Amelia noted, toes hitting against the wheel on her side to gesture with her foot. Meredith was smart enough to realize that a hospital-provided chair was pretty useless, so she brought a standard one for him but it still wasn't great in terms of comfort and efficiency. They really splashed out on this one (seeing as they knew it wasn't going to be left unused now), and she could see that the chair 'fit' him better. Any component that wasn't black, was blue, as it was before.
"Hey!" He exclaimed. "How about we don't kick the new wheelchair?"
"I was testing to see if it was sturdy enough for you!"
"It's custom. The whole point is that it's good enough for me!" He rolled his eyes at his sister.
"Lemme guess, paraplegia."
Derek paused half-way through the shop. That wasn't quite what he was expecting when he entered. Although, he had no idea what he was expecting. The man behind the desk wasn't what he was expecting either; he almost looked like a surfer boy with the long blonde waves of hair and a fat-free body.
"Uh. Kind of." He said, making his way to the desk.
"Incomplete? Grade...C?"
"Yeah."
"Trauma? Not tumour." He guessed next. "Car accident, right?"
"I would be impressed, but you and I both know that the majority of SCIs in people under 65 are from car accidents."
"Oh. My man knows stats, does he?" He said with a smirk. He stepped out from behind the desk, hand outstretched. "My name is Brody."
Derek didn't let his eyes linger on the man's legs for longer than a millisecond, knowing how annoying it was to be stared at, and simply took the hand he was offering. He made the observation that the right was an above-the-knee amputation, and the left was a below-the-knee amputation, and that was that. Clearly, that's why he was in this business. "Derek. I presume you can't guess names"
He smiled. "Nope. And I'm guessing you're on the search for a chair that actually works for you. Cause uh...no offense, but ouch!"
"Ouch?" Derek repeated.
"If you think you're comfortable in that thing, I'm about to blow your mind dude."
"Told you Meredith would be able to donate that chair she bought you like four months ago."
He pulled away from the charts, and her, done with the sibling annoyance. The whole point of that was that she was getting rid of the mobility aid all together, not because he got an upgrade. "I am not even going to answer that."
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"Callie. Tell me right now." She instructed of the woman as she practically shoved her into the Attending's lounge. It was empty, thankfully, free from listening ears.
She shook her head, gesturing to the couch. "Sit down."
"I don't want to si-" She protested, not shifting from her spot.
"Sit down." She instructed, a lot sterner than before. "Please, Arizona."
She sighed as the couch cushion depressed under her weight, back falling back into the sofa as a hand shuffled through her hair. She had come to the ICU to check up on a patient and she was met with this wash of despondency the second she stepped into the ward. She didn't realize it was her own friends causing the atmosphere before they attempted to explain. "Is he okay?"
"Derek's car was broadsided by a semi-truck on his way to the airport for that last trip to DC. Honestly…it's not looking good. He sustained a traumatic brain injury, a skull fracture, he had a splenectomy and colectomy, a good dozen fractures which include his left leg, that was shattered in several places, and two vertebrae."
"Oh-" She breathed before firing off questions about three times quicker than her average speed, "Oh, god. Where is he? Is he awake? Is he showing any signs of brain damage? Which lobe was affected? What kind of bleed? Is he paralyzed? Is it above T6? God- is it in the cervical region? Is he paraplegic or quadriplegic? Can he move anything? Is it incomplete? Is he-"
"He's in a medically-induced coma." She interrupted to stop her panic ramble.
She swallowed. "The palliative kind where you wait for him to heal from his injuries or the preservative kind where he..." She attempted, pausing as her face fell. "Callie, please, tell me he's going to make it."
"The damage was too extensive to heal without help and…he's not breathing well." She admitted, grabbing a hold of her hand. "There is some brain activity on the EEG and both pupils react to light but...I'm not sure we're clinging onto much real hope."
She grasped it back, fingers tight. "So you're saying no?"
"I'm saying…" She swallowed. She had no idea what she was trying to say. "I'm saying it's possible he won't. But if he does, it's going to be anything but easy."
"Wh- why?"
"Why?" Callie repeated, confused. She was perfectly aware of what a MIC was and what not breathing over the vent meant. She knew what she meant by 'anything but easy'. That meant that it was going to be a tough climb to recovery. Well, if it was even possible.
But it wasn't the words that she had said that were confusing her.
"Callie, what's wrong with this world?"
She embraced the woman in a hug, her hand running slowly through her hair. It didn't matter that they weren't together and constantly fighting. She needed it. "I don't know. I just- I don't know."
"Robbins." He greeted the blonde woman sat on one of the nurse's station's chairs at the entrance to the paediatric ward.
"Shepherd, hey." Arizona greeted with a smile. "Shelby told me you agreed to talk through this procedure with Jay."
"Yeah. And her parents, I presume." He said as he lifted the chart he had placed on his lap to the height of her hand.
She took it, flipping the cover open as she shook her head, her customary beam dropping. "They're working. Couldn't get the time off. But they are flying in for tomorrow, hopefully, she has a list from them of questions."
"A thirteen-year-old girl with a brain tumour flew here by herself?" He questioned, mouth dropping open a little. Zola and Bailey were far off from thirteen, but he couldn't imagine them doing that all by themselves. Heck, he wasn't even sure he'd be letting them walk to school themselves at thirteen. He could see himself being just a little overprotective of his kids when they were teenagers.
"Yeah." She nodded.
"Tough kid." He murmured.
"Very much so." She agreed. "Chart?" She offered to him, supposing that he could place it between his knees or on his lap. She wasn't going with him straight away, she had another patient, which meant he needed the chart for himself.
He nodded to the proposal of the folder.
He shoved hard so he wouldn't fall behind her in speed, one hand taking the chart from her hand. Evidently, one side of the push was much harder than the other was as his hand left the wheel a little early, making his path turn a little skew-whiff.
He winced hard, although for once it wasn't for himself. It was for her. And the fact that he was pretty sure he just broke her toes. "Shit, Arizona, I'm so sor-"
"It's alright." She dismissed, not even flinching nor frowning.
He couldn't help it when his mouth dropped open, chart only not crashing to the floor because it landed on his lap. His eyes jumped down to her foot. "But I-"
"Derek." She sighed.
He looked up to her to see her eyebrows raised. He still didn't get it.
"Maybe just don't try to take a chart from an attending who actually has a left leg. You know, just incase you break all their toes." She advised through a smile.
"Oh. Oh right." He hummed, his heart still beating a little fast and sure his eyes were still stuck a little wider than they were before. How he could forget that, he had no idea.
"Derek, seriously, you're looking at me if I'm lying about being in pain. I literally cannot feel a thing, it's made of plastic." She reasoned with him, seeing how horrified he still was. "Now, I have to go and discuss a scan with a patient, I'll meet you in her room in five?"
He nodded, finally settling himself. "Sounds good."
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He looked around the room, a little confused.
He had just sat outside of the room for about three minutes, reading her chart. He hated the fact he couldn't read and...push? It was one of the most irritating things about the chair at this point. Sometimes, someone would read him the chart, but he'd still have to stop to look over scans.
Then again, who needed a chart if you didn't have a patient?
There was no one in the room. The bedding was folded over unkemptly, as if she had left the bed with no care of how she left it, and her bag was open on the table beside it, clothes spilling out.
The sound of the bathroom door's lock clicking pulled him from his observation of the empty room.
A young blonde teenager stepped out. She was pale and looked a little unsteady of her feet.
"Oh- hi." She greeted as she closed the bathroom door behind her to see him, the room empty when she left it. She looked a little surprised, but it faded quickly.
"Hi, I'm Dr Shepherd." He returned. He would offer a hand, but he was pretty sure that if her weight shifted onto one side more than the other, she would collapse like a pile of Jenga blocks.
She gave a quick smile. For a second, he was sure she was doing what most people did. Despite his proclamation that he was a doctor (and the fact he was literally in scrubs) no one quite seemed to believe him for just one second. He was sure that was her problem too until a hand landed on the door frame of the bathroom. That wasn't the real reason then.
He nearer her a little, feeling his own face creasing with concern as she warbled. "Dizzy?"
She didn't respond, the opposite hand landing against his shoulder. He didn't flinch, but he was surprised by her hand sitting against him. She swallowed once, weight still hanging onto the doorframe and pushing against him.
"No, no… I'm not dizzuh." She tried her best to shake her head but failed, head evidently too tired and neck to weak. "Dr Shepherd, I'm bout to have nother se-" She trailed off as she fell forwards abruptly.
He grabbed at her arm and tugged hard so that her body fell almost into his lap.
She was stationary for a second before she erupted into a harsh fit.
For a second, he wasn't quite sure what his intentions were. He knew what his intentions should have been: the floor. He needed to get her to the floor. That was one of the main rules of most kinds of seizures. You shouldn't restrict a seizing patient, ever. It's dangerous for both the patient and the person holding onto them. But had he let her fall straight to the ground, it was very likely that she would have hit her head on the hard floor. And that was much more dangerous than the restriction of his hand wrapped around her waist.
Barely hesitating for another tick of the clock, he did his best (sitting forward in his chair so far that he himself almost fell off himself) to carefully lower her to the floor before pulling himself to the side of the room, pressing the call button once.
He looked to the door on his return to her, deciding in that single moment that if no one opened the door in the second that it took him to get back to her, he would drop to the floor himself.
No one answered the call.
He wished he didn't make that mental vow now but as he had been told before, he would do anything for a patient. That was true.
He blinked slowly (something close, but not as pained as a wince or a grimace) as he hit the ground, not quite ready. His eyes returned to her, perfectly focused on Jay when they reopened. He couldn't afford to hesitate for any longer.
He bent one arm out, then folded one knee as he tugged her into the recovery position in the hope that she would stay there while he tried to find something assist her fitting.
He needed something. Diazepam. Lorazepam. Phenobarbital. He needed some drug to stop her from seizing. He needed some person to come into the room with one, or all, of those said drugs.
"Jay. Jay, you've got to stop seizing now." He muttered to himself. "C'mon Jay. Please."
Where was the damn assistance he asked for?
It had been too long. Arizona had been too long. She was only supposed to checking on a single patient. He sighed as he looked back to the clock. She had been seizing for at least two minutes now.
He felt his stomach drop as she rolled backwards into her back, out of the recovery position he had placed her in. "Don't do that Jay. Don't choke. Please, don't choke." He murmured to himself as if the incantation was some kind of spell that would really stop the saliva in her mouth from being swallowed a little to suddenly due to her convulsions.
He pulled her back into the position he had placed her body in again, not letting his hands leave her this time as she continued to shake.
"Jay, please, I can't..." He stopped his plead and inhaled as she went still. "Oh, god."
He let out that held breath in a heavy sigh.
But before he even had a chance to check the clock for a time, she did exactly what he feared. She inhaled sharply, gurgling and coughing.
Choking.
Watching a patient choke was a horrifying thing to witness. With no context, it was horrifying, never mind being as helpless as he was.
His standard protocol would simply be to call for help, pull the patient into the recovery position and use suction in an attempt to help them breathe again. If the patient was on the floor, he would simply be able to lift the patient back into their bed and that would be that. Heart and breathing rate would return to normal and they would both be fine. The patient wouldn't be stuck on the floor and he wouldn't be waiting for a team of doctors to break down the door to assist her where he couldn't.
He waited.
And waited.
And…
"What happened?" A man in dark blue scrubs that he didn't know inquired as he ripped open the door to the room. A paeds attending, he could only presume.
He looked up, glad for the cavalry as half a dozen people flooded the room. "She was seizing. Just started choking."
"How long for?" He asked impatiently as he crouched besides him patient, apparently feeling the need to push his chair almost into the wall, instead of just besides it.
Derek understood why, they needed space. But the man really didn't have to be so violent.
"Uh…" He faltered, looking at the time.
"Dr Shepherd, I need you to move out the way." He instructed, invading his personal space in the hope that it would make him move. "You can't do any good here, let me do it. Page for a 9-1-1 neuro consult." He instructed, eyes brushing Derek with a look that told him the man was only requesting a replacement because he was disgusted at the possibility of him assisting.
He was a neuro consult. Apparently, not just a neuro consult good enough for the man.
He tried his best to think back to when he first looked at the clock, doing his best to ignore how blunt the man was too.
"Dr Shepherd?" He called again. He placed a hand against his shoulder and practically tried to shove him out of the way.
He nodded, dragging himself back with his palms flat to the floor until his back hit against a wall. Pulling his legs into his chest would have been more helpful in his attempt to vacate the premises, but they hurt enough already. "Two minutes, maybe."
"Maybe?" The man repeated.
"Two minutes." He confirmed doing his best to sound confident.
The man swallowed before looking away from him and placing his eyes back on the patient he was supposed to be focusing on. "Right, one, two, three, lift." He instructed as if their conversation hadn't just occurred and the whole room of eyes were flicking between the pair and the patient.
"Can you hear me?" He inquired to the patient before turning to a nurse besides him. "Name?"
"Jay Stone, thirteen." Derek murmured from the side of the room. Clearly, the man was wrong about him being useless, especially seeing as the nurse was about to grab for her chart to find out the information.
The door flung open again and a much more familiar person greeted the room. "Needed a neuro consult?" She inquired as she stepped into the room, instinctively pulling her penlight out of her pocket.
"Jay Stone, age thirteen, she just had a tonic-clonic seizure and…"
"Isn't this Derek's patient?" Amelia interrupted, confused.
"Yeah. He's…" He trailed off as she looked to the side of the room.
"Right, okay." She agreed, trying her best not to glue her eyes to her clearly in-pain brother. He had one hand on the cushion of his chair, but she could tell that he wasn't going to get up off the floor quite yet. Even if he was, she didn't want to watch him. The fact he had some function in his legs meant that he could manage to get himself into his chair in just one movement, plus some adjustments when he was there, unlike people she had seen with complete paraplegia. It hurt less to watch...but still.
"She suffers a tonic-clonic seizure at least once a month. This was her third in last four weeks. He caught her, so she didn't hit her head, I believe. That's why he's just..."
Amelia simply nodded to that, ignoring her trail off and looking up to him again before returning to the patient.
"And they're caused by?"
"A tumour in the temporal lobe, new films should be arriving soon." A man answered, handing her the folder.
She nodded as she skimmed through her chart. It appeared that she was new to the city and the country, seeing as none of her previous hospital visits were even in the US. "Okay, thanks. She's stabilizing, I think we're done here."
No one said anything for a moment before one man murmured, "Sure."
Seemingly speaking for the rest of the doctors in the room, they all left at that single word.
"Do you want me to-" Arizona asked, gesturing to the door.
She shook her head, mouthing, "I need you." before walking round the bed and sitting on the edge of the patient's bed so she was opposite him.
She could half guess what had happened. If he had caught her and dropped her to the floor, then he would have joined her there to keep her in the recovery position. That probably hurt to start with. Then, he was probably shoved to the side at the request of people to help return the girl to her bed.
"Derek." Amelia sighed.
His eyes looked up from his knees. His hands were under them, as if he was adjusting their position on the footrest, but he had finished doing that a long time ago. They met quickly and he felt his blink rate speed up a little, as if the more blinks he could do per minute, the less total time their eyes would be looking to each other.
"You okay?"
"'m fine." He murmured.
"You're not fine."
"Your doctor – the attending with the short blonde hair and the tattoo poking out under his left sleeve."
"Dr Barnes? What about him?" Arizona questioned, recognizing her attending's description.
"He uh- nevermind."
"Was he rude to you?" Amelia asked, feeling rather like she was the older sibling now, threatening to go and have a 'talking to' with someone upsetting her younger brother. She was sure Derek asked her that a thousand times from age seven to seventeen.
"He wasn't...just..." He swallowed, looking up at his sister. "Amy, don't make me spell it out."
She sighed, a hand rubbing against his shoulder in some kind of attempt to comfort him.
"I'm used to it."
"You shouldn't have to be used to it though. Should you?"
He looked up to Arizona, her regular smile faded to nothingness. "Are you? I mean… I suppose yours is less obvious. You don't enter a room and everyone just knows."
"I've been told that I'm faking having only one leg so I could have a closer parking space to the hospital."
"By who?" He asked.
"Edwards."
"Edwards?" He repeated, outraged that such a seemingly kind woman could say something so disgustingly rude. In fact, he had been working with her for weeks and she never even raised a single point about it. Not even once.
"No, no, not Edwards. But she was the one who told me what they were saying."
"Sure wish she would tell me what other people were saying about me."
"No one talks about you." Amelia promised him, shaking her head.
That was a lie.
"We've got uneven pupils. Left is sluggish. We need a CT. Could someone page Shepherd?" Amelia heard a woman inquired as she approached the trauma room.
"Which one?" A second woman returned.
Amelia paused at this second question, stepping to the side so the interns discussing her and her brother wouldn't be able to see her. That way, she could continue to listen to their conversation without being biased by the fact they knew that she was stood there, hearing every word.
"Which one do you think she was referring to?" A man asked.
She paused before asking, "Amelia?"
"Yes, Amelia Shepherd." She returned as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.
"You do know the other one is just as good, right?"
"The other one hasn't operated in six months."
The other one. She was always the other one. And in that moment, she was pretty sure she would give anything to return being the other one. If that meant they would stop talking about her brother in that way, she would accept it for the rest of her life.
"He's done five surgeries." A woman retorted. "Successful surgeries."
"Wow, five whole surgeries Mia. Impressive." A female voice snarked sarcastically, even giving three single slow claps.
"And how many of those had complications?" The woman identified as Mia asked before answering her own question, "None. Yeah, not a single one. He's good, okay?"
"Mmm, as good as a doctor who spent more time in the OR under the knife than holding it this year could possibly be, right? What an incredible surgeon he is, Mia. I mean, let's ask the guy in the wheelchair to operate on this single father of five. I wouldn't want him operating on me and I don't even have any siblings, nevermind kids. He's only here because of equality acts or whatever. Not allowed to allow a guy who-"
"Do you need a neuro consult in here?" Amelia asked as she stepped into the room before he could say any more.
"Ah, yes. The neurosurgeon who was disabled in a car wreck: that's totally not something anyone from this hospital would ever be interested in talking about." He returned, rolling his eyes at his own sarcasm.
Amelia frowned. The hospital was rife with gossip. He wasn't sure he had ever met a new attending that didn't comment on the fact that all people did everyday all day was gossip. It was like the Seattle Grey Sloan Memorial hospital culture. They had no proper traditions nor major lore but gossip was the one thing that was always kept alive in the hospital, no matter what.
Amelia looked at him, eyes creased with concern as she analysed him. He didn't quite look comfortable. It wasn't that he lived in a particular slouched nor upright position but it was anything but like him to sit with such anguish. It was like the first time Meredith took him out his room. She ducked out of their way, into a, luckily and conveniently, empty exam room, so they didn't see her. She didn't want to see either of them at that time. But she saw him, a frown on his face from being placed in such a seemingly outrageous place. A seemingly outrageous, temporary place, he thought at the time, but he was used to it now. She never wanted to say that he was used to it, but he was. If anything. She was pretty sure that if some magic cure appeared she would have to learn that it wasn't off for him to be walking. She was just used to it now.
"You want me to page Meredith?"
His eyes shot up at that name, saying, "No."
"You sure?" She inquired. Sometimes he said no, but she knew it really meant yes. That was when he was being too proud or too humble. But he looked calm and his refusal was clear.
"I'm gonna stay, until I get paged for something else." He said, pulling off his brakes, pushing himself just once before pausing besides the girl, one hand grasping round hers. "Or until she wakes up. Whichever one comes first."
"You sure?" She asked, posing the question carefully.
"I'm sure. She needs someone. I know she needs someone. And I'm going to be that someone."