Losing Everything and Finding Yourself
Chapter 2. Too Close
December 14, 2005
12:01 am
Miranda Bailey
The call came in thirty minutes ago. A wreck not too far from the hospital. Two cars. Crunched up bad. The driver that caused the accident was unhurt. But they were having to cut the occupants of the other car free before loading them into the ambulance. Only two of them were conscious.
I wait at the entrance to the emergency room with the chief. We had both ordered an intern still on duty to page both Burke and Shepherd since they had already gone home for the day. After all you never know what kind of injuries a car wreck victim will have. And with one of them being unconscious it was necessary that we all be ready for anything. Especially when the wreck is so awful that they have to cut the car apart to get the people out.
There's a restless thump in my belly and I rub the top of my stomach to help relax the baby. He always gets active when I am anxious.
I smother a smile with a mouth creased by worry lines as I think of a few of my interns. Earlier in the day Grey and O'Malley had to help me in the operating room when I was nauseous. Frowning I look at the clock. They would have been on the way home with Stevens and the dog around the time the wreck happened. An uneasy feeling swept over me. I walk away from Richard and head to the nurses station where they had taken the call. She puts up a hand even before I open my mouth to say anything.
"They just radioed in." There is an exasperated tone to her voice as if she is irritated with me for even coming over to the desk. Well that just won't do.
"That wasn't what I was going to ask." I say in the most condescending tone I can muster up. "I need you to radio back and ask them if there was a dog in the car with the victims they are sending."
She looks at me first with shame I suppose for being rude and then confuzed as I tell her what she needs to ask of the emergency technicions.
"Why do you need to know if there's a dog?"
I look at her awash with wonderment at this person who was so impertinent. "Just do as I ask please."
"Fine." She radios in the question and even before the staticy answer arrives I know what it will be. I walk away from the desk leaving the woman in openmouthed shock and go back to stand next to Richard.
"Prepare yourself Chief." I say as we see the lights of the ambulance coming from the distance.
"It's just a car wreck Miranda. Why would I need to prepare myself? We deal with car wrecks every day." he asks with a questioning gaze pointed in my direction.
I answer without really answering him. "There was a dog in the car with the three we are about to recieve."
He looks at me astonished and then worry clouds over his face. He understands. He knows who is coming in the ambulances. He knows what might happen.
This is why we are supposed to stay professional. All business at work. You should never let your emotions get the better of you. Don't get involved. But all I can think about is how attatched I have become to them. How I can anticipate their moods and reactions to a case before they even see the chart.
If I had stayed professional then I wouldn't know how to do that. If I had stayed professional I wouldn't have this helpless feeling in my gut right now. But I didn't. Dammit. I didn't stay proffessional.
The doors slide open and the EMTs bring in the first patient. As they sound off on the vitals and we race to the elevator I feel tears threatening to fall from my eyes.
Her hair is matted with blood. A tear slips down my cheek. The nurses look at me in astonishment as we pass their desk. The Nazi crying. I mutter something about pregnancy hormones which seems to pacify them but I know it isn't true. It's just that I had gotten so close to them.
The doors to the elevator slide shut and as we head upstairs I close my eyes and admit the truth to myself. I didn't just get close. I got too close.
December 12, 2005
12:15 am
Richard Webber
I watch as Dr. Bailey, the Nazi, disappears with the first patient. It was shocking to me. In all my years as chief, hell in all my years working at this hospital, I can not remember a year with this many tragidies occuring to the staff. And I don't remember a single one that was bad enough to make the Nazi break her composure.
Miranda has always been in control of herself. Whether dealing with new interns, old repeat patients or her new family issues, I had never seen her composure falter. Until today.
The emergency glass doors slide open and the EMTs are bringing in the next patient. But I don't step forward. This one isn't surgical. The most he has is a broken wrist and some gashes that need sutures.
That's it, I tell myself as I avoid his gaze and questions as he is wheeled away into an empty room, don't look. Don't lose focus. They are patients. It doesn't matter if you know them and understand how they are feeling. You need to focus. He doesn't need your help. By all surgical standards he is fine. You need to concentrate. You need to be ready. The other one needs you.
The glass doors slide open again and I pace alongside the stretcher as a group we head towards the elevator. I don't spare a glance towards the woman until all the stats have been relayed.
Her eyes are open. She's awake. She knows just how slim her chances are. She tries to speak. I place a hand over her mouth and shake my head. She needs to conserve her energy as much as she can.
The beeps of the machines grow further apart as the elevator hits the surgical floor. Her eyes slide closed as the doors open and suddenly one long beep is heard and an alarm goes off on the machine.
I fight the feeling of worthlessness that swamps me as the nurse begins CPR and I notice the quick shallow breaths that I had begun tot take as we head in the direction of the waiting operating room. I acknowledge to myself the reason for my anxiety. I got too close. Much too close.
December 12, 2005
12:30 am
Addison Shepherd
The chair is hard and uncomfortable. Then again it is supposed to be that way. It is an interrogation room after all. I've been here for over half and hour now. No one has come in yet. I wish they would. Just get it over with and then let me go. The people in the other car couldn't have been hurt badly. I mean, come on, I don't even have a scratch on me.
Why is this taking so long? Aren't I supposed to get a phone call? I need to call Derek. He can get me out of this. He may not love me right now but he'll get me out of this. He'll fix it. And then I will spend the rest of my life trying to get him to love me again.
The doors across the tiny windowless room finally open and two men in suits walk through. What is going on here? Why are they acting like someone died? Oh God! Did someone die? They take the seats across from me and I feel slightly nauseous as I look at their somber expressions. We sit there for what seems like hours but I suppose it's really only a few minutes until finally one of them speaks.
"For right now, Ms. Shepherd, you are only facing charges on driving under the influence, reckless endangerment and causing a vehicular accident. But there may be more charges added after we recieve a call from the hospital updating the condition of the driver and passengers of the other car."
My mouth is hanging open in shock and I know I must look slightly unhinged to the two suits. The other people were taken to the hospital! Oh God! I hurt someone. More than one. Oh God what if I hurt a family? What if someone dies because of me? I'm a doctor. I'm supposed to fix people that get in accidents. Not cause people to die from an accident that I created.
I realize the other suit had asked me something and I ask him to repeat his question. A phone call. He wants to know if I want to call someone to come pay my bail. I ask him how much my bail is and stare at him when he tells me the number. $500,000.00. That's a large bail for the charges against me I mutter.
"Yeah, well, here in Seattle we take it kinda personal when three young people are injured due to a drunk driver. Especially when, according to the EMTs, two of them probably won't make it." the suit replies a bit harshly.
I stare off into space. Two of them might not make it. Oh god, what have I done? I close my eyes and take deep breaths to quell the nausea that had come with the thought that I had most likely killed someone.
The suit is talking to me again. Asking questions. So many questions.
"So, Ms. Shepherd. Why are you here in Seattle?"
"I work here."
"Then why does your driver's license say New York on it?"
"I moved here from New York a few months ago. I hadn't decided whether I was going to say or not so I hadn't changed my license yet. Besides I don't really have a permanent address yet. I live in between a hotel and the trailer my husband lives in."
"You and your husband live separately?"
"Yes, we've been having problems. That's why he left New York and came here."
"What kind of problems?"
"That's none of your business officer."
How in the wourld does my personal life relate to this I wonder. It shouldn't matter at all. I think about the fact that I am in an interrogation room and wonder why I don't have an attorney present. Aren't I supposed to have an attorney present? I turn my gaze to the suit to ask him about it when his phone rings.
He gets up from his chair and walks to a corner of the room talking queitly into his cellphone. His partner decides to take up the questioning business and I forget about my earlier question.
"So where do you work here in Seattle?"
"At the hospital. Seattle Grace."
By now the other suit has closed his cellphone back up and walked back across the room towards us.
"Really?" he asks, " In what field and capacity?"
"I'm an neonatal surgeon."
He smiles cynically. "Really?"
I nod.
"Well then, " he says as he motions to his partner that it is time for them to leave. "I'm sure you will be certifiably upset to know that the three people you hit are interns on the surgical ward. Promising kids I was just told. Too bad two of them probably won't make it out of their surgeries alive."
My eyesight falters as they exit the room and shut the door. Oh god. I only know of one set of three interns that almost always drive to and from work together. Oh god. If I've killed her, if I'm right, if she has been harmed...he'll never forgive me.
I shake my head trying to clear my thoughts. Surely other interns drive together to work. Surely it is not the three I think it is. But it's really too close to tell. Too close a coincidence. Too damn close.
December 14, 2005
12:35 am
Derek Shepherd
I stare at the names on the operating board not believing. I grab a nurse by the arm.
"Are these names correct?"
She nods. Oh god oh god oh god. The names stare glaringly at me from the board. Where they are written boldly in black dry erase marker. I want to erase them. Pretend it never happened. Pretend they aren't the ones that were in the accident and needed surgery.
My chest tightens uncontrollably as I read the first name again. Oh god how could this have happened? She'd already gone home. Hours ago. I'd watched her walk to her car. No this is a mistake. Just one huge mistake. She is at home eating brownies and drinking tequilla and watching tapes of surgeries on the television with her roommates. No way this was really happening.
I sit down heavily on a chair. Oh god. How can I do this? How can I operate on her? How can I put her life in my hands? One wrong choice. One slip of the scapel and I could alter her personality and life forever. Or I could do worse. I could kill her.
I stand up and go in search of the chief. I can't do it. He can't make me do it. He'll just have to call in someone else and she will just have to hold on until they get here. Anyone else. Just not me. That way I will be able to blame someone other than myself if the worst should happen.
I find Richard scrubbing in at OR 2. I tell him I can't do it. I can't operate on her. He stares at me in shock.
"You have to Derek. I realize that it is hard for you but there is no one else. She needs the operation. What would you have me do?"
"Call someone in. Anyone."
"There's only one person as good as you Derek and you know it. Do you want me to call him down?"
I stare at him shell-shocked. He could not possibly mean who I think he means. He could not honestly think that I would agree to bring down that bastard to operate on her. I'd brave the knife myself first. A voice comes from behind me and for a moment I feel like I must be hallucinating.
"You wouldn't happen to be talking about me would you?"
He is not here. Not here. I turn around. He is here. Dammit. What the hell is he doing here? I look at Richard and for some odd reason he doesn't look suprised to see my ex-best friend standing here.
"I thought you weren't coming in until tomorrow. Mr. Coleman's not even scheduled until Friday."
I am not even the tiniest bit suprised at this turn of events. After all, that's how he got Addison down here. A case that needed her 'so-called expertise'. I'm so not suprised.
"So what do you have? I saw the wreck coming in."
"We have an abdominal surgery needed but I am covering that. The other surgery from the wreck is one of our interns also. She has internal injuries and there is glass imbedded in her scalp and skull. There are other non-sugical issues but the glass is the priority. Her heart stopped coming up in the elevator and has failed twice since. The operation has to happen soon. Shepherd was just telling me that he couldn't perform the surgery."
"Well, if Derek is not up to it I would be happy to help out."
"No!" I practically shout the word. I mean what is Richard thinking about offering the surgery to him. He could kill her with one mistake.
"No." Richard says turning to me. "You were right Derek. You are too emotionally involved to do this surgery. Mark'll have to do it."
I swear under my breath. I can't stand the thought of him being near her. Let alone touching her. If he damages her I'll kill him.
Mark clears his throat. "Excuse me, but Derek why aren't you with Addy?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Her car was one of those involved in the accident." He says looking at me, "I figured she was brought here."
I stare at him lost in thought. The woman in the back of the police car was Addison. She caused the wreck. She was the one who almost killed Isobel and ... Meredith. Oh god. If Meredith dies it will be all my fault. If I had never come to Seattle then Addison would have never come and if she had never come then Meredith wouldn't be lying on that table dying. But then again, if Addison hadn't cheated on me I would never have come to Seattle. So either way it is her fault.
"Derek?"
Richard's voice snaps me back to the present and I look towards the room where Meredith lay dying.
"If she was in the wreck and isn't here then she doesn't need my help Mark. So how about you stop worrying about where my wife is."
I walk off leaving Mark with Richard and find myself suddenly standing in the room where Meredith is being prepared for her surgery. Her friend George is there watching as the nurse shaves part of Meredith's hair off her scalp near her left temple. George is pale as a ghost. His arm is in a cast. Belatedly I realize he must have been in the accident too.
He looks up at me and then back down at her. He knows her chances are slim. So do I. So we both stand there for God knows how long watching her until one of the nurses says that they are done and are ready to move her to the operating room.
George squeezes her hand, the one part of her that seems untouched by the accident, and walks out of the room mumbling something about going to check on Izzy now.
I stand there. Not knowing what to do. It sounds cliche but I know that if she dies a large part of me will die with her. So this could be my last moment with her. What do I say? I take an unsteady breath. There really is only one thing to say.
"Meredith. Hey, it's me, Derek. I um, want to tell you something. Earlier you asked me what was wrong and I said it was just the holidays, I lied."
I sit down on a chair beside the bed and take another shaky breath. "The truth was in a way the holidays, but not really. It was you, and Addison. I chose her but I love you. The holidays make me want to be with the people I love and that's not Addison in my hear. It's you. So I'm gonna fix this and I hope you wake up to see it but even if you don't I believe that you can hear me and I want you to know that I'm going to fix this. I can't live my life out of a sense of obligation anymore. I need you Meredith. So please, come back to me."
My voice catches on a sob and I stand up, bend over the bed, kiss her lightly on the forehead stroking the bloody hair away from her face.
I turn and leave the room abruptly thanking the nurse silently for pretnending to be deaf blind and dumb. As I walk down the hall I pause. Something in me is telling me that Meredith wasn't the only one to hear my confession and that the consequences would be harsh. I pivot on my left foot and look around. No one's there. Good. But I still can't shake the feeling as I walk off to check the surgical board to see how Izzy's surgery is going. I have to do something to keep myself from going stir crazy.
Mark walks by me as I'm checking the board. My hands clench and unclench. I hate him. It's a good thing he didn't hear me talking to Meredith a few minutes ago. I don't want him getting any ideas in his head like trying to tae her from me in order to hurt me again. I stop reading the board and glance at him walking away towards the operating room. I gauge the rate of spped he's walking and look back towards Meredith's room.
No, no, he couldn't have overheard. He is walking too fast to have overheard.
I spy George in the waiting room pacing nervously. I decide to join him, we both might as well keep away from everyone else so we don't make them skittish or angry with our anxiety. After all, misery loves company, right?
We sit down to a game of chess but my mind keeps straying back to Mark and the direction he had been walking from. It was a close chance that he overheard at least part of what I said. I glance down at the board where George has just captured my queen. Too close.
Continued in Chapter 3. Unexpected