Okaay, i don't have anything to say about this. I do feel a lot about it. This starts after 17x07. I started writing it after 17x07 but I couldn't go on.

Also I do feel obligated to put a trigger warning.

So trigger warning: general mental health struggles?

Falling Slowly - Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova

She doesn't know where to go or where to start. She tries to take a deep breath and compose herself because it's a lot. Today was a lot. And she tries to close her eyes for a second to go to her happy place, but for some reason she can't for her life remember where that is or what that looks like. She stands in the scrub room, lost for words, for mental clarity. She doesn't quite know what to do next or where to go. A lot had happened in one day. She had lost so much in one day. Losing Andrew Deluca was one thing, putting Meredith Grey on a vent is another thing, closing the door on Tom Koracick is another thing, but she also blew up any chance she had of getting back together with Owen or at least being on good terms with Owen.

It's a lot. She feels overwhelmed. She stands in the scrub room, leaning against the skink, gripping tightly. She looks up and she sees him laying there, lifeless. Tubes, blood, gauze everywhere. She lost Andrew Deluca. They lose people all the time, but this isn't anyone. This is someone they knew. They did everything they could, but he's still gone. She repeats the steps in her head. Where did she go wrong. What happened that this stab wound, seemingly simple, turned fatal. He lays there under harsh light, people who have loved the charming resident cleaning him up.

She failed him. She adds Andrew Deluca as another person she failed today. It seems to be a fast-growing list. She knows when she leaves this scrub room she'll have to face everyone and tell everyone how much she's failed them. She'll have to explain to Carina Deluca that her best friend, her baby brother, is gone. She'll have to explain to Bailey and Webber that she couldn't save their beloved resident.

She pushes herself off the sink and goes back into the OR. "I got it" She said. The nurses looked at her confusedly. "I'll… I got him. Thanks"

"Dr. Altman….?"

"I'll finish up. Thank you."

She waits until the last nurse walks out. The solemn energy fills the room. She wipes the blood off of his face and takes a deep sigh.

"Everyone's gonna hate me even more now. They already all hate me, and now… I'm so sorry I couldn't save you, Andrew" She says, chuckling at first followed by a sigh. "I know it isn't fair. You deserve so much more than this." She starts to close him up. It felt peaceful and somehow cathartic. "So much happened today. Meredith is… on a vent. I don't even think I told you that yet. That was painful. And this, this is painful. I have failed you and I'm sorry. You are kind and talented and so promising….and I … I am so sorry"

She takes a deep breath and blinks away the tears pooling. "My husband died in this same OR. Everyone also did everything they can and brilliant doctors tried to save him and … I guess what I'm trying to say is it's unfair. And I often think about how my life would have turned out if he didn't … die. Like, would I feel as awful as I feel these days. Would I be comfortable with opening up to actual living people or just.. dead bodies" She sighs and consumes herself in the eerie silence. "Why the fuck am I talking to a corpse." She whispers to herself.

"You know… Owen and I are really good at working together. We have been working together for a long time. And we've lost plenty of people and this.. is… I keep thinking of ways fix everything… everyone.. and I'm just.. panicking a little because I can't and everything I touched just got… worse. So much worse. You didn't deserve this. Your family didn't deserve this. Your mentors and friends… they…" She sighs heavily as she finishes up. "I know a thing or two about losing people. It's not…easy. And I'm not one to show feelings or share feelings. And I harbor all that inside because I don't want anyone to see me as weak or…I harbor it all and I try not to bother anyone with my feelings or my problems. I just self-destruct. I don't wish loss on anyone. Even people I really hate because it hurts. So I always do everything I can to save people"

Her eyes burn with the tears and her chest get heavy again. "So I try to save everyone so their loved ones don't have to feel the unimaginable heaviness of loss. Sure, we see death all the time and it is inevitable—death. I know that. We can't shelter everyone from that. But senseless deaths? Like this? This, and men and women being blown up in a war, and for what? And you have to think about the ripple effect of a senseless act like that and the number of people affected by it. So I failed you. And I failed your friends and family and…it's a lot. And I'm so afraid of failing anyone else. My kids have to live in this world and I'm sure I'll fail them in a lot of ways. I'm already failing them by not taking care of them or protecting them. I—… Sorry, there's a lot of… confusing thoughts. Oh, god, I just apologized to a dead body."

She drapes his body and sits on a stool by him and places a hand on him. "I'm so, so, so sorry Andrew. I wish I could have done more."

Somehow everything got progressively worse. Miranda Bailey is looking at the autopsy. She's most likely going to have an M , why else would she ask for the autopsy, and more people will point her fingers at her. Her chest constricts and she knows she's on the verge of a panic attack, but she has to keep going so to hell with her shitty mental health and shitty panic attacks. Just put that aside and keep going. A part of her is getting angry, and not particularly at anyone. That part is screaming at herself saying 'hey move the fuck on because you did everything you can and people still died. Everyone is doing their best. Take a deep breath and take care of yourself'. That's the logical part of her brain. But most of her brain and thought is consumed by the guilt, by so much guilt and so much shame. So she hides in a supply closet for a few minutes until she can breathe again. Until this stupid PPE isn't suffocating her anymore. She gasps for air and she exhales slowly until her heart is beating normally. Until her breathing is steady. And then she's back at it.

She cannot erase the image of Andrew Deluca's dead body laying in the OR table out of her head. It eats her alive. And she looks around and she feels alone and afraid. For once in her adult life she actually wants to reach out and ask for help. She wants to scream 'hey can someone please fucking hold me for two fucking seconds so I can fucking feel something and fucking let go of every fucking pent up grief I'm holding inside'. But she looks around the Covid floor and everyone is too busy with their own shit. Busy saving lives. So she feels so fucking selfish because she's literally surrounded by people trying to survive and people literally gasping for air and she was hiding in a closet crying about her shitty mental health and her shitty need to be held.

She feels shitty in general. And she feels suffocated. And she feels trapped. And she feels lost. And she doesn't know what to do or where to start.

Someone calls her from a patient room. Someone is coding, of course someone somewhere needs her. And she's there because she took an oath to heal. So she puts her shitty thoughts aside and tries to save someone else.

She feels that she's moving through her life in autopilot, with not much thought other than the fact that she killed Andrew Deluca. Her body does whatever it takes to save her patients, but her mind is elsewhere. She also feels that everyone else is staring at her, glaring at her, probably secretly cursing her for killing Andrew Deluca. And she thinks no one is probably thinking that way but she feels that they do blame her. She knows for a fact that the Chief of Surgery definitely blames her. So if she does, then everyone else around her think that she killed Andrew Deluca.

She's really trying her best not to think about it. So she tries to think about something else. Something less…. awful. But before she could come up with another thought, Owen creeps back into her brain. Tom creeps back to her brain. 'Owen doesn't want you' is a strong statement. She wants to believe that that statement is wildly false. It's false. But if she's going to be honest with herself that's probably very true.

Owen has a history of not wanting her. It's been proven by history. And she tries to convince herself that that's not true. But naturally she can't shake that feeling. She's angry at Tom for saying that to her because it won't make her go back to him. It doesn't work that way. It's petty, it's shitty. It's upsetting because it doesn't make her feel any better. It just.. validates how she feels. And that makes her so mad. So, so mad.

There was a second there, where she had a ray of hope that maybe it's not over between her and Owen. He squashed that by saying don't think into it. Naturally it's all she thinks about. It pulls herself further and further away from any hint of hope that she had. She also likes to think she still has some pride. She begged and cried and he doesn't care, so she maybe she should just accept it and stay away because who the hell wants to force themself with someone who doesn't want them. So she decides to put that thought aside and move on. She tries, at least because obviously she loves him. She loves him so much it could kill her.

She has no concept of time and space anymore. She just floats around from room to room. Administering meds. Checking on vent settings. Walking away from people. Hiding from people. She scolds herself and tells herself to pull it together before she kills more people. So when she checks on Meredith Grey, she takes no risks. No 'let's hope for the best and hope she breathes on her own'. So she puts her back on the vent. It's better to be safe. She's one fuck up away from being tarred and feathered.

There are so many different kind of shame she's feeling at the moment. She supposes it's her fault anyway. She looks around and everyone is gathered. They're all there for each other. Being there for each other the best they can. Even Tom fucking Koracick has someone to be there for him. So she's enraged and also sad and guilty and afraid. She couldn't even bring herself to make a video tribute for him because it seemed, inappropriate to her. And also she can't find the words. Because she has no words except "I'm sorry, it's my fault you're all here. It's my fault, I killed your friend" so she just stays away from everyone. She wasn't even going to attend in the first place but she has to—to show face. So she doesn't appear to be a heartless killer.

So she finds a spot and she sits and it feels good to breathe fresh air and at the same time it hurts to breathe. There's also something masochistic about sitting here listening to people talk about how much they love him. And how much they're going to miss him and how brilliant he is and she feels the guilt build and build. It's almost like a punishment that she had to listen to it. To feel the weight of her crime. Not that it's a crime, but people definitely think it should be. They make her feel like it is.

And suddenly she's paralyzed. And she hears nothing. Sees nothing. Time has passed. Plenty of time has passed. It's a weird feeling— hat feeling where you can't move, can't breathe, can't think. When your literal own thoughts paralyze you. She wants to get up. She wants to move, and she can't. So she just sits there. And she hopes this feeling would pass. So feels the fresh air hitting her face, her body, and it makes her feel alive, but at the same time she wishes that she's gone on with everyone else on the other side.

She hears his voice. She hears him saying her name softly. She feels a hand on her back. And she wants to scream 'Owen, I'm here please fucking wrap your arms around me and I know you hate me right now but I just need some human touch and maybe I can shake off this feeling'. But the words didn't come out of her mouth. And she is very much aware that her brain can't make her body do the things she wants to do. She panics. She has no idea how much time has passed. How long she's been sitting on the curb.

"I'm going to take you home, okay?"

And she wants to say 'Home? Our home?' But she knows her eyes are just staring at him. She knows words are not coming out of her mouth. But he helps her get up. And he carries her home.

Maybe she's not that far gone.

He glances at her in the car. She's sitting upright, her gaze out the window. Her hair, covering her blank stare. He reaches for her and tucks her hair behind her ear. So he can see her face and maybe she'll show some sign of life.

"Teddy?" He asks, but she doesn't even blink.

He knows she has her own trauma and demons and grief. He's been there for a lot of it but he's never seen her like this. He's not quite sure how to deal with it. Whenever he's not sure on how to deal with things, she's usually his first call. So no, he doesn't know what to do. She'd know what to do if the roles were reversed. She's coaxed him out of his dark places in the past and he's not quite sure how she's done that.

She has this sixth sense about people. She feels so deeply that she just knows when someone needs her somewhere. And she would move mountains for you if you're lucky enough to be loved by Teddy Altman. She is good at comforting. She's very good at listening. And she can see right through you when you're spiraling.

So then how has he, and other people she cared for, not see her go into her dark place? Does he have anything to do with it? Of course he does. So he just puts his pain an anger aside because he clearly has to take care of her.

He found her sitting in a curb, not moving, not feeling. And people have walked past and not stopped to even check in. He feels a burning rage for people, and also for himself. He saw her there during the memorial. He knew she wasn't okay. But he didn't know how far away she was. He cares about her, he loves her of course. And he wonders how to fix the fixer in his life.

"Have you eaten?" He asks, hoping she'd answer, and she blinks but that was it. He's going to take that as a no. Her stomach growling loudly betrays her, but she doesn't even flinch.

He knows that when Teddy is going through something, she lashes out. Usually on him, at least that's what happened when Henry died. And he doesn't really know what happened then because Teddy just kind of disappeared for a few days. No one heard from her and she just came back to work hardened and also stoic and very angry. So he doesn't quite comprehend what's going with her right now except that she's tired and definitely in pain and definitely triggered.

He carries her into their home and he holds her close, so close and so tight and he leaves a kiss on her temple to tell her that he's there for her. And that she needs to snap out of whatever this is because he needs her. He needs her to be okay.

His heart beats fast and he's afraid when her face doesn't change. When her gaze is distant. When her breathing this even. He doesn't want to think about the number of times he's seen people in a catatonic state. Some of them don't end up okay. So he whispers "please be okay" over and over, hoping it would cast some spell on her.

He tucks her into their bed and he lays next to her and he prays. He doesn't know the right way to pray to be honest, but he whispers to some higher being, because there's already so many awful things happening in this world and he's thinking about their family, and he can't lose her, not like this.

He wraps his body around her and holds her close. She doesn't move, she doesn't push away, she doesn't resist, she doesn't give in either. She's just existing. So he buries his face in her hair and apologizes for not being there.

He falls asleep and he hopes that when he wakes up tomorrow, she will too.

anyways i hope you liked this one :)

Finallly the next episode is the Teddy centric episode! Our queen deserves it.