Summary: Meredith Grey had never witnessed a case even remotely similar to that of the stranger who had stumbled into her hospital several months ago. He had afterwards been dubbed "The One Who Got Away", because that's what literally had happened. One moment he had been bleeding out on the OR table, the next second he had been legally dead, and only half an hour later he had been gone. Vanished. Not even a body to dispose of; to mourn; to wonder who's son, brother, husband, or father he had been. But these questions would soon be answered, because the stranger was about to return to Seattle Grace Hospital, along with a few other surprises.

Timeline: Set in some period after "Devil's Trap" for Supernatural, and sometime after "Losing My Religion" for Grey's Anatomy.

Rating: M

Warnings: Foul language, suggestive themes, and a lot of blood, because that's really only what's to be expected in a hospital, right?

THIS STORY HAS BEEN REVISED!!!

A/N: All right, so I hope none of you who have already read the first four chapters of the previous version will be angry at me, but I've decided to revise this entire story. I was rereading it and I personally thought it wasn't very good and had kind of lost interest in writing it, so I changed the plot, and now here it is in its brand spankin' new form... The prologue is similar to what I had previously written, but the rest is completely different. I hope you enjoy anyway! And for those of you who have just begun to read, I hope you like as well! Oh, and forgive my lack of medical knowledge...

MEDICALY MYSTERY

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"People to use.
Lovers to break.
Handful of pills.
No life to take.
River too cold.
Oven too hot.
Bridge a one hundred and fifty foot drop."

- 'Front Street' by Gutter Twins

--

Prologue

Seattle Grace Hospital was nearly empty aside from the usual bustle of doctors and nurses attending to their patients. The last few days had been surprisingly quiet, only a couple of trauma cases having been wheeled in the previous day. Even the OR board was looking suspiciously barren.

"This is absolutely ridiculous," stated Cristina as she leaned back in one of the chairs situated in the main entrance of the hospital. "My shift has lasted eighteen hours so far and I've spent it all on rectal exams."

"Yah, well, shouldn't we be happy there are people out there who don't need a hospital at the moment?" Meredith asked with a slight smile on her face as she repeatedly tapped her foot against the clean floor tiles. She could already perceive Cristina's reaction.

"Screw that. I need some action here. I need to scrub in on a brain surgery or something. I'm going crazy."

Alex laughed as he leaned his back against one of the sturdy pillars that climbed two levels until attaching to the hospital's ceiling far above. "Yah, me too," he agreed, the humour simultaneously disappearing from his face. "If only an ambulance would pull up to the hospital right now, carrying some car accident victims with severe cases of traumatic brain injury. Maybe I can scrub in on one of the surgeries; remove some hematomas, repair some contusions... " He sighed, obviously realizing that he might be asking for too much.

"Don't any of you have some place to be?" The voice was instinctively recognizable, stiffening each of the intern's shoulders as if they had just been shocked with a surge of electricity. Dr. Bailey appeared out of nowhere, a stern and demanding look upon her face. Hands on her hips, she had no reason to say another word, because the three already knew what she was thinking. She wasn't called 'The Nazi' for nothing.

"I was just going there now," said Alex in a smooth voice and with a charming smile. "Excuse me ladies." As he quickly sped off in the opposite direction, his fast pace revealed that he didn't want to deal with Bailey's wrath any more than Cristina and Meredith wished to. However, he disappeared behind a corner before either could say a word in protest.

Dr. Bailey adjusted her gaze to focus on the two remaining interns, both sitting in chairs reserved for waiting family, friends, and patients. They weren't any of these, and right now they were expected in 'The Pit', where they were supposed to be stitching up minor cuts and injuries. The only problem was, there was no one to take a thread and needle to.

Cristina opened her mouth to speak, but before a word could pass between her lips, a scuffing sound arose from the front doors. The three women twisted their heads in the same direction, and what they saw was a surprise to them all. A man was walking unsteadily through the sliding doors, his feet dragging exaggeratingly across the floor, which was probably the origin of the noise that had first grabbed their interest. However, what now gripped their attention was the bloody, pale hand that reached out desperately and clutched at the back of a chair sitting near the front doors. The guy was trying to stable himself, because it didn't look like he'd be able to support his own weight for much longer. Wearing dark blue jeans, a black T-shirt, and muddy boots, he was holding his stomach as if he was trying to keep his organs from spilling out and forming a messy puddle at his feet.

Meredith was the first to take action, immediately realizing something was terribly wrong and pushing herself up from the chair to rush over to the man. As she neared him, the sound of Cristina's footsteps just behind her, she was able to study the man's injuries in more detail, mechanically cataloguing which were the worst and what had to be dealt with first.

Blood covered both of his large hands, soaked his shirt, caked his face, and stained his jeans. It was difficult to pinpoint where all the blood had come from, because it seemed to be everywhere, and Meredith found herself wondering if all of it was actually his. However, as the man turned his face to stare at the woman approaching him, it was clear that he was in pain. Not only was he having a hard time standing straight, but his teeth were clenched in agony and his eyebrows were cut downward in concentration, as if he was focusing all his strength simply on keeping his legs from buckling beneath him.

Oh my god, Meredith thought to herself as she reached the man. "Sir?" She could hear Bailey calling for help behind her but her main attention was on her patient. He was staring at her, blood pouring from a head wound obscured by his hair and running down the side of his face. He appeared to be in his mid twenties, but his eyes spoke of something older. They were hazel, focused but hazy, surrounded by bruises that stretched around his temples, across his cheekbones, and along his strong jaw line. His short brown hair was a mess, part of it matted down from the sticky blood and the other half pointing up in different directions.

She reached out a hand to grab one of his bloody arms, to try to steady him herself, but suddenly his exhaustion seemed to be too much for him to handle and he slumped to the floor in a damaged heap. Meredith was just able to slow his fall before he hit his head on the hard metal of the chair, and she was brought down to the ground with him. Landing hard on her knees, she ignored the resonating pain as she began to assess his injuries more thoroughly, gently moving the hand he had clutched to his stomach. It wasn't as bad as she had expected, for when she lifted his shirt enough to view the wound, she recognized it as a clean slit probably caused by a knife, and not a gaping wound that allowed his intestines to spill free. However, it was still enough to kill him, allowing his life to slowly leak away.

Meredith swiftly glanced behind her and spotted Bailey and a nurse rolling a gurney towards them as Cristina knelt down beside her and placed her hands on the abdomen wound. "There's probably internal bleeding. A lot of it," was all she said as red liquid began to collect between her fingers, spilling over and running down the sides of her hands. She pressed harder.

Meredith nodded her head once, but she barely caught Cristina's words because the man was trying to tell her something. His eyes barely open, only slits amongst the dark bruises littering his face, he parted his cracked lips and began to move them, but no sound came forward. Instead, Meredith did the talking, grabbing the hand that had clutched so desperately at the chair only moments ago and squeezing it in her own.

"Stay with me," she said as the gurney was lowered on the other side of the patient. A puddle of blood was forming on the floor, and Meredith knew that there was little time left to save this man's life. "Stay with me," she repeated, not knowing what else to say, but his eyes closed as she helped to lift him onto the gurney.

She ran beside him as he was wheeled deeper into the hospital, but she couldn't possibly know that any attempt to save his life would be fruitless; that this man would be lying on the OR table in less then five minutes, his body cold and lifeless; a sheet pulled up to cover his pale, bloodied face. She couldn't have guessed that the hospital would be sent into a frantic panic when that very same body went missing half an hour later; the sheet strewn across the operating floor; the room reeking of sulphur. And she couldn't have ever perceived that her life would be sent into chaos when the stranger returned months later, living and breathing and talking, and completely unrecognizable to her.

To Be Continued.