A/N: I got off my schedule - sorry guys! Hope this was worth the wait.
Chapter Twenty
"Are you sure?"
"Of course not," Bailey snapped toward Meredith, shaking her head. She returned her eyes to April's still face. "But I refuse to let her die. So, I'll need a ten blade, Dr. Grey."
Meredith didn't hesitate before walking over to the tray of surgical instruments and picking up an unused ten blade. Bailey held out her hand, her eyes never leaving April's face. Her stomach twisted when she felt Meredith press the ten blade into her palm. She was understandably hesitant. She had never done an emergency tracheotomy before or even seen one performed. Before today, she hadn't been in a situation that warranted one. This was that situation, though. As one of her residents laid beside her not breathing this was undoubtedly that situation.
She didn't hesitate any longer.
She made a small incision at the cricothyroid membrane, careful to not pierce the neck too deeply. Removing the knife, she slid her finger into the incision and opened it further.
"Hand me the intubation tube, Grey," she said, voice strangely calm. Meredith handed her the tube and she slid it carefully into the incision. Meredith reached forward and attached the ambu bag, slowly beginning to squeeze the bag methodically.
Bailey rocked back onto her heels, breathing heavily as her composure slipped away. With April stable for the moment, she allowed her overwrought emotions to show. Meredith glanced toward her, hand squeezing the ambu bag.
"Well done, Dr. Bailey."
Bailey nodded, dragging the back of her hand over her brow.
Owen told his assistant to call the OR and check on how the Marburg patient was doing. He was leafing through some paperwork from the hospital's legal team when his assistant came back in, her face drained of color.
"Chief Hunt?"
"Yeah." He looked up from the papers and his eyes widened when he took in her expression. "What is it?"
"Dr. Kepner had an allergic reaction to the antibiotic," she said in a measured voice, trying to repeat exactly what Bailey had told her. "She went into anaphylactic shock and Dr. Bailey performed an emergency tracheotomy-"
"She what?"
"Dr. Kepner is in stable condition," the assistant continued. "But Dr. Bailey said that it is best if they get her out as quickly as possible."
Owen stood up, for some reason feeling that the act of sitting was interfering in his ability to think clearly. He shoved his hands in his pockets and then pulled them out again, running his fingers messily through his hair.
"Let's get the room for that patient ready. It seems we should have had it ready an hour ago. And then page Dr. Sloan."
"Yes, Chief."
Owen began pacing after she left, running his fingers again through his hair. First there was the code yellow, and now he had to contend with one of his own undergoing an emergency tracheotomy. Weber wasn't lying when he said the code yellow wouldn't be his last issue as Chief.
He tried to keep himself busy. He checked on his patients. Took a longer lunch. He even sat in on a few surgeries to divert his attention; although that admittedly did little to calm his nerves. He stared into the OR and wondered what she was facing in hers. No one had given him any further information about what was happening, and he tried to not read too much into that. No news was good news. Or at least that's what he told himself.
"Look alive, Avery," Mark said, smoothly moving around him and producing a coffee from behind his back. "I come bearing coffee."
"Hey man," Jackson said, gratefully taking the coffee. He took a long sip, liking the way the hot liquid burned his throat.
"Have you heard anything else?" Mark asked, taking a sip of his own coffee.
"Nope. Not a thing."
"Well, no news is good news," he said. Jackson snorted, thinking to himself how he had repeated that countless times in the past hour. Coming from either mouth, it did little to quell his nerves.
"I know she's going to be alright," Jackson said, shoving his hand in his pocket. "Even if she did contract the virus, she's already on a round of antibiotics."
"Exactly," Mark returned. "So you have nothing to worry about."
"But what if she's not?" Jackson continued, voice strained. "What if she's not alright? Most of me believes that she is – knows that she is - but that doubt, as small as it is, won't go away. No matter what I tell myself, or what other people tell me, I won't be able to stop doubting until I see her in front of me healthy. Until then…"
"Just drink your coffee," Mark said, laying a hand on his shoulder.
"And keep pretending I'm not freaking the hell out," Jackson added, raising the cup.
"Yeah, no one's actually buying that. Your girlfriend is in code yellow lockdown. Sort of warrants freaking the hell out."
"Oh, well, in that case…"
Mark grinned. His beeper went off and he glanced down at the screen. He saw the Chief's number flashing on the screen and his smile dimmed.
"Hunt's paging me," he said. "I have to go."
"Hunt? Is it about them?"
"I don't know," Mark said, clearing the beeper's screen. "I'll keep you updated."
Derek heard one of the surgeons in the quarantined OR had a serious allergic reaction to the antibiotics. His first reaction was panic. Meredith was in there, and while she had no history of allergies, that was not to say that her body couldn't react strangely to the one she had been given. There also was the fact that although there was no history of allergies, there was a history of practically every horrible thing in the hospital over the past eight years happening to her.
He rushed to Owen's office between cases, wanting to know exactly what was happening in that OR.
"Sheperd, I really can't talk right now," Owen said, shuffling through paperwork. "I have CDC on my ass and now some patients' families are complaining and-"
"Hunt, I'm not here to waste your time," Derek said. "I just need to know if my wife's okay."
Owen blinked rapidly and said, "Meredith is fine, Sheperd."
"She's fine?"
"Yes, she should be out of the OR soon. There are just a few complications that we've had to deal with."
Derek nodded, feeling relief flood his chest. He felt bad, though, when he thought that since his wife hadn't been the one afflicted, either Bailey or April had. He hesitated a moment before asking, "Was it Bailey or April?"
"Excuse me?"
"The allergic reaction," Derek pressed. "Which one was it?"
Owen frowned before admitting, "April."
Mark Sloan headed toward the patient's room, nonchalantly opening the door as he wondered what Hunt had for him. That wondering stopped rather abruptly when he saw April Kepner stretched out on the hospital bed, intubated and a tube sans ambu bag sticking out of her neck.
"What the hell happened?" he said, walking over to examine her further.
"She went into anaphylactic shock," Owen explained. "Her throat closed and Dr. Bailey performed an emergency traech."
"Has she been put on a round of steroids?" Mark asked, leaning forward to inspect the incision.
"Yes, the allergic reaction appears to have settled. Now, we need to attend to her throat."
"I need some scans to see what I'm working with," Mark said, licking his lips. "And let's try to keep this as quiet as possible? Otherwise, we're going to have a raging surgeon on our hands."
"Avery," Owen murmured, nodding his head. "We'll do our best. Sheperd already heard that something happened."
Mark frowned. "News travels fast. That just means we'll have to work faster."
Naturally, Jackson heard that April was the one who suffered the allergic reaction. It was only minutes after Mark Sloan had asked for privacy across the hospital, but privacy was not something the personnel of Seattle Grace understood. One of the nurses told another nurse, who told an orderly, who discussed it while in line in the cafeteria, which is where one Arizona Robbins heard the news. And if anyone wanted something to remain quiet, Arizona Robbins was the last person to tell.
"Poor Jackson," Arizona said, shaking her head as her and Callie shared lunch. "He must be beside himself. I mean, I remember how I was when you were bad after the accident."
"He might not even know," Callie said, reminding her wife of how he had been just about the last person to hear about April being in the OR in the first place. It was possible he was not in the web of communication.
"The orderlies were discussing it in the lunch line," Arizona said. "Chances are, Jackson heard. Do you think someone's with him?"
"What do you mean?"
"The people around me really helped when you were hurt," Arizona said. "He shouldn't be alone right now, even if it's what he says he wants."
"Well, what do you suggest we do?"
Arizona held up the Reeses Cups she had picked up at the register. "We find him and give him some chocolate comfort."
He hadn't heard the news when Arizona and Callie found him. As a pained expression flitted over his face, Callie decided this was the last time today that news from her would cause such reaction.
"Do you know how she is now?" Jackson asked hurriedly. Arizona noted with some satisfaction that he was ripping into the Reeses as he asked this.
"We only know what we told you," Arizona said gently. "But I'm sure that she is getting the best care available. Seattle Grace takes care of its own."
Jackson nodded, thinking that despite its best efforts, Seattle Grace lost many of its own, as well. Her words jogged his memory though, something with Sloan getting a page from Hunt, and he knew who he needed to talk to next. He shoved a full Reeses cup into his mouth and chewed quickly.
"I need to find Sloan," Jackson said through a full mouth. Both women nodded supportively and he said, "Thanks for finding me, though."
"You're welcome," Arizona said, pulling him in for a quick hug. "Everything is going to be okay. You just need to keep believing that. It's amazing sometimes – the power of positive thinking."
Callie saw Jackson nod hurriedly, clearly wanting to leave, and she stepped forward and said, "And we'll do the positive thinking for you over here. You just find Mark and do whatever you need to."
The scans showed that Bailey's emergency traech was minimally invasive, not damaging any of April's vocal chords. From there it should be a relatively cut and dry procedure to patch up the incision. Mark stopped for a quick snack before telling the nurses to prepare April for the OR, and headed toward the operating room. He winced when he saw Jackson approaching, expression pinched.
"Jackson-"
"How is she?" Jackson demanded. "I know what happened; and I saw you get that page, so I know you're the one operating on her. Tell me, how is she?"
"She's doing fine," Mark told him slowly. "The scans showed no further damage from the emergency traech, so all I have to do is go in there and patch things up. It should be a short and easy procedure."
"Risk of complication-"
"Is always there," Mark interrupted. "But there is no reason to worry. She will come out of this surgery shiny and new. I promise."
Jackson nodded, eyes darting around nervously. "Alright, I'm going to be in the observation deck."
"No, you're not," Mark said firmly. "I'm not going to operate on your girl while you're staring daggers at me from above."
"I thought you said it was an easy procedure."
"It is," Mark said. "But that still doesn't mean I want you watching it."
"What am I supposed to do then?" Jackson said, shaking his head.
"Your job." Jackson frowned and Mark laid a hand on his shoulder. "I know this is difficult, but staring from an observation deck isn't going to help. Go and distract yourself, I'll find you when the procedure is over."
Jackson finished the rest of the Reese's Cups while he waited. There was some solace in the chocolate confection, but it did little to quell his mounting nerves. The thing about being a doctor, is that while it gives you more information and control over yours and your loved ones' care, it also gives you unlimited knowledge to all the ways that the care could go wrong. His mind was filled with complications, and it took every bit of strength in him not to run straight to that observation deck. But Sloan was right. It wouldn't do any good for him to sit there. It would only make Sloan uncomfortable, and with minimal benefits in the other direction.
So, he waited.
It came back in pieces. The patient. Her throat closing. The mounting panic as each exhale and inhale became more difficult. And then the darkness.
There was light now, though. It came from the light fixture above her, burning brightly through the cheap plastic cover. There was an IV in her arm and something in her nose to help her breathe. Jackson was seated beside her, fast asleep in the chair. She wondered what time it was. What day. Had she been out long? She didn't have any way of gauging the time, but she reasoned that it couldn't have been too long.
Mark Sloan walked into her room and smiled wide when his eyes met hers. "You're up."
She tried to speak, but her voice came out gravelly. She was drawn into silence by the unfamiliar sound of her voice.
"It'll be that way for a bit," Mark explained. "Do you remember what happened?" She shook her head. "You had an allergic reaction to the antibiotics given to you in the OR. You went into anaphylactic shock and Dr. Bailey had to perform an emergency traech." Her eyes widened and he chuckled. "Yeah, we had the same reaction. Everything went well, though. It was a good and clean traech. No damage to the vocal chords. You should be good as new in a few days."
Jackson stirred in his chair and Mark said, "I'll leave you guys alone for a bit. If you need anything, just ring the buzzer." He smiled slightly and added, "Or put Avery to work. Whichever you prefer."
She smiled and dipped her head in acknowledgement. Mark walked out and Jackson woke up, a groggy smile pulling at his mouth when he saw that she was awake. He leaned forward, grasping her hand between his.
"Hey there," he murmured, kissing her hand.
"I…can't…talk," she managed, squeezing his hand.
"It's okay. You don't have to. I'll do the talking." He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. "You really scared me in there. Next time you get a patient with Marburg, how about a little forewarning?"
She laughed, but the action made her wince in pain. He chuckled slightly, smoothing her hair away from her face.
"Alright, no laughing for you," he murmured. "So, are you feeling alright? Squeeze once for yes. Twice for no." She squeezed once. "That's good. Hopefully we can get you home soon."
She squeezed his hand again.
"You just rest," he said, touching her cheek tenderly. "Try to sleep. I'll be here."
A/N: I'm not completely happy with how this turned out. I had a vision, and I feel it sort of fell flat. Anyhoo, I hope you liked the sort-of-end of the quarantine arc. I still have one small thing planned for Jackson/April in the next chapter.
What were your thoughts on this one?