A/N : Just a little one-shot to get back in the groove of writing.

In August, I had all these ambitious plans for a multi chapter Merhayes fic (overly ambitious, I would say), but real life obligations have a way of derailing our best intentions. I'm still plotting out that fic, but in the meantime, I don't want to get too rusty. So, I decided to tackle some small one-shots to stretch my writing muscles.

Thank you to everyone for all your lovely comments in my various fics. They've kept me going.

Hope you all enjoy this one.

"Where is he?" Meredith mutters under her breath for the hundredth time, another corner of the hospital searched and found lacking. Worry rockets down her spine, wrapping and twisting its smarmy tentacles around her already-frayed nerves.

It's not like Hayes to not answer his phone when she texts. He knows… he thoroughly knows the undue fear and stress it inspires in her when her loved ones make her wait too long for a response. She tries to calm her breathing and reason with her demons. Twenty minutes isn't that long in the grand scheme of things, right?

He's in the hospital. That much she knows. Thank you, Find my Friends app, she muses, sending a silent prayer to the "stalkery" invention.

"Who are you looking for?" Maggie pipes in, sneaking up behind Meredith and shattering her concentration. Her heart jumps, her shoulders tensing at the interruption.

Before Meredith can slip a word in, Maggie rushes on, a truckload of curiosity filling her voice, "The interns might have been whispering of a Chief on a tear. I think the words 'fixated' and 'crazed' were uttered."

Meredith heaves a deep sigh of frustration, despair clinging to her like nasty cat hair. "Hayes! I can't find him anywhere and he's not answering my texts or my calls." Notes of panic linger in the air and she's not oblivious to her uncharacteristic lack of sang-froid, as the French call it.

An amused smile emerges on Maggie's face, despite her sister's best attempt to tamp it down.

"What?" Meredith barks out, her eyes narrowing in annoyance.

Her sister's smirk morphs into a grin right before Meredith's eyes. "It's nice to see this side of you."

Her brows draw further together. "What side?"

"The caring side. The stuck-in-a-love-bubble side, the worried-affectionate side. It's been a long time since I've seen you care this much about someone other than the kids."

Shooting her sister an irritated "give me a break" look that only seems to inspire her Maggie's beaming smile to grow exponentially and her shoulders to shake with silent laughter, Meredith dismisses her sister with a swift turn, striding towards the elevator.

"Wait! Wait!" Maggie yells after her, hurrying along to keep up with the anxious mess before her.

Not bothering to look back, Meredith doesn't break her pace. "I don't have time for your therapy sessions. I need to find Hayes."

"Did you check the lounge?"

"Of course, I checked the lounge. About twenty minutes ago. He wasn't there," she huffs out, pressing the elevator button with a certain accumulated ferocity, expelling her aggravation on the poor button. Doesn't anybody understand that she needs to find him?

Seeming to finally grasp the magnitude of her anxiety, Maggie's compassion shines through. Meredith feels a light, comforting touch on her forearm.

"Hey... We'll—we'll find him. I'll take his office and you go check the lounge again. If we can't find him, we'll have him paged. Ok?"

Her fearful gaze searches her sisters' for reassurance, finding it in spades through her kind, understanding expression.

"We'll divide and conquer," Maggie proposes again like a drill-sergeant, orders at the ready. "I'll take his office and the peds floor. You check the lounge and the ER. I'll have Winston check the cafeteria."

Ten minutes later, a text alert pings Meredith's phone, the sweet melody she's been praying for. Please, please let it be Hayes! Unfortunately, disappointment sears through her when Maggie's name flashes across the screen, but the accompanying picture of a sleeping Hayes, face down on his office couch, one arm hanging over the edge, seemingly dead to the world, slows the newborn-baby like beats of her heart. Strangled relief wells up inside her, the chokehold fear had on her loosening, and suddenly, all is right in her world again. Back pressed against the lounge door, shuddered breaths ripple out of her.

With a quick shake of the head, trying to erase the last hour of chaos, she hightails it to Hayes' office, a woman on a clear mission. Hasty steps here, evasive maneuvers there, her destination is locked in her radar. The get-out-of-her-way gleaming look in her eyes sends an effective message as any to those who try to stop her on her way to salvation.

His door within reach, her pace accelerates until her momentum has her striding into his office like a bat out of hell. The sight of his slumped body stops her in her tracks, an image Maggie's photo didn't quite capture. Sweat blankets his forehead, his red nose reminiscent of Rudolph, and his breathing is laboured enough to hear from the doorway. A mountain of bunched up tissue papers liter his coffee table. For the first time all day, annoyance filters in and the fog of fear dissipates completely.

Stubborn man! What am I going to do with you? She chastises him.

Meredith tiptoes towards the couch and grabs, from the backrest, the soft fleece blanket she gifted him. Taking great care not to wake him, she covers him as best she can, tenderly evaluating his forehead. The burn nearly stings her, thrusting her mounting frustration into high gear.

Mother hen out in full force, she puts her plan in action. In his pristine bathroom, she reaches for the tap, opening the faucet slowly to avoid a splash. Once the water reaches the desired temperature, she runs a small washcloth under it, making sure to wring it out to avoid excessive dripping.

She heads back, making sure to quiet her tread. Kneeling before him, her heart is ready to burst and her arms are just itching to wrap themselves around him, hoping to miraculously command an immediate reversal of his sickened state. She tries to be gentle when she lays the wet cloth on his neck, but it's never been in her nature to coddle excessively. And this man, with all his secrecy, deserves the rude awakening. A dose of harsh medicine.

Warmth and coolness. That is the dichotomy his body feels when consciousness rouses him awake. Soothing, balmy caresses on his back; a tepid, cool weight anchoring his neck. It comforts him for a few seconds, but the thorns waging war and grating his throat, the jabbing pain between his eyebrows and the heat swathing his head resurface in full force. The tension will not ease away quietly into the night.

At his groans, the gentle touch on his back pauses.

"Hey." The body attached to the hand speaks. His subconscious recognizes the hoarse whisper and relaxes instantly.

His eyes crack open with great difficulty, shuttering closed seconds later despite his best efforts. Maybe just one eye. He tries again to pry one eyelid open, peeking at the shadowy figure through the miniscule slit his right eye affords him.

"Stay still. Don't use too much energy."

Meredith.

For her, his energy will power him through. His eye mercifully cooperates, but only a few seconds pass before he feels the need to use duct tape to keep it open.

The first thing he notices is deep concern. Not far behind, a rigid calmness...a storm lurking in the shadows. It's a composed mask for his benefit only. Something brews beneath the surface, and the only thing preventing the eruption is his prone body.

"I'm—I'm sorry," he manages to croak out through the glass lining his throat.

"Don't." Her hand resumes its motion along his back, travelling up and down, offering warmth and relieving aches one stroke at a time.

The haze around his brain remains, but the hitch in her timbre unleashes the first cut though the thick fog. "Don't try to talk. Just rest. I'm not going anywhere." Her soft puckering lips reach the back of his neck, leaving a trail of lingering kisses in their wake.

He summons the last dredges of energy he has to say, "You shouldn't be close to me right now."

An angry growl springs forth. "And where should I be if not by your side?"

"I'm sick, Mer. I don't want to get you sick. Not again. Not so soon after..." his words trail off, his eyes finally wide enough to get a good look at her and plead his point with renewed emphasis. "Not so soon after you've just recovered yourself."

"Is that why you weren't answering me all day?"

Stony silence falls between them, his overprotective streak weaving around them, his need to insulate them both from their fears of the other getting sick alive and well.

"I turned my phone on silent. The beeping was exacerbating my headache," he offers lamely, a gravelly cough expelling out of him.

She hums, not even remotely convinced. They know each other too well for his half-truths to get past her.

"You can't keep stuff like this from me. Even if I get sick, I'm supposed to take care of you." Her voice breaks off tearfully. This is what he was trying to avoid.

"Promise me," she insists. "Promise me you'll never keep something like this from me again."

He musters all his strength to turn his body sideways and face her completely. Bones crack and muscles tense, his neck the worse victim of all.

Despite his inherent need to shield her, to protect her from her own worst impulses, he reluctantly acquiesces, "Aye. I promise luv."

He reaches blindly for her hand, a few fumbling moments passing before finally making contact with her smooth skin. Their fingers intertwine as they usually do, familiar muscle memory at play. He tries to lift their combined hands to burrow them close to his chest, but the effort proves to be too much. His chest expands in displeasure, grunts and growls of exasperation released. He doesn't let that deter him. Trying once more, he even twists his head down to minimize the distance his mouth and her hand have to travel to achieve contact.

Small chuckles pierce through his concentration. Glancing up, a radiant smile bursts out of her and blinds him once again. She understands his intentions. Doesn't she always? He realizes.

Meredith obliges his earnest wishes, but not before bringing his hand to her lips and showering it with loving kisses.

"Always have to outdo me," he complains playfully.

"You know it!"

She extends her hand towards his cracked lips and waits patiently for him to do the same. Even through his sick haze, he feels the quivers dashing through her from his touch.

The moment is interrupted by an unfortunate sneeze.

"Ugh. Sorry."

"Did you take anything? Tylenol? Advil? Benylin?" Dr. Grey rises to the surface, Meredith taking a back seat.

"What time is it?"

She checks her phone. "Almost 2."

He grunts in pain as he tries to settle on his back. "I took some Tylenol cold about six hours ago."

Meredith lifts herself up from her seated position on the floor and heads towards the medicine cabinet in his bathroom. The sound of the faucet running trickles in. Seconds later, she's kneeling beside him once more, a cup of water in one hand and two pills in the other. "You're due. Open." He obeys the doctor's orders without any push back.

"Slowly," she says, when he opens his mouth too wide and water drips on his couch.

Once he's through swallowing, his head snuggles back against the pillow. Meredith reaches for the blanket and wraps it tightly around him like she's aiming to stuff a burrito.

"At the very least, you should wear a mask," he begs, the water easing the bark-like texture of his throat. "Please. For me."

"But how will I be able to kiss you with a mask on?" She teases.

The deadpan look he gives her beckons a laugh out of her.

"I'm gonna go get you some soup and some electrolytes."

"Come back with a mask on or you'll be refused entry," he jokes, a tinge of seriousness in his words.

"You and what army?" She kids right back.

Rising to her feet, Meredith bends down and lays one last kiss on his forehead. "I'll be back in a few minutes," she whispers, her breath fanning his ear soothingly.

When she returns to his office fifteen minutes later, arms filled with soup, crackers and hot water with honey and lemon, he's passed out again, guttural snores welcoming her back. Her mouth quirks up in faint amusement. She settles in by his side... right where she belongs.