A/N: Sorry about the delay in updating, this has been written for a while, I've just been hesitant to post. But here it is. Thanks again to Waltzmatildah for her beta services.
Richard - Convergence
Life. It was filled with failed marriages and broken dreams, sick bodies and even sicker serial killers. Richard sometimes wondered what brought about such impressive doom on the world. Was it God? Karma? He wasn't a man of faith, so he couldn't blame God. And in order for 'bad karma' to occur, bad acts had to have been committed, and they hadn't, so karma couldn't be blamed either. But Richard had developed a new theory, the only one that he believed held some logic to it. Bad things had to happen with good things in a convergent manner. Nothing in life was free; no piece of happiness or success came without having to pay for it later on. The more good you got, the more bad you would be handed. He had been deliriously happy during his first ten married years with Adele, and after that, there had been nothing but bitterness and dissatisfaction. He had had years as working in one of the top hospitals in the country, and now that he was Chief, its rankings were plunging. Of course, this rule of Richard's also suggested that people who were only ever marginally happy or successful had lower 'debts' and hence, faced fewer tragedies and failures. It was a dumb and messed up way to live, but what could you do?
At this moment, Richard knew that life's debt collectors had knocked on Miranda's door. She had a lot of paying up to do. He wordlessly placed a hand on her shoulder and felt her body tremble slightly beneath his palm. She had turned so that her back was to him, but he still knew that she was crying. Her body was warm, a stark contrast to the chill of the scrub room they were occupying. This was the woman who was always in control, who was always on top of her game and who didn't cower in the face of pressure. But control was slipping from her grasp, her world crumbling at her feet. Her child, her marriage, her career, her interns. Who knew what would remain of them after this storm had passed?
She wasn't alone though. He knew she would never be alone, especially not in a place like a hospital. Hospitals were filled to the brim with people losing lives and losing family members; filled with sick people and hurting people; filled with doctors who worked so hard and so much that they forgot that they led outside lives with spouses and children and homes. No, you were never alone in your grief in a hospital. There was always someone worse off than you.
This was Richard's hospital.
Perhaps he was responsible for Miranda's troubles. He had been thinking of her when he'd chosen Torres for Chief Resident. He knew from experience that it wasn't a position worth losing your family for. But in the end, hadn't he given it to her? Hadn't he placed immense pressure on her, great expectations that he knew her incredible work ethic would never allow her not to meet?
New theory: Richard was to blame.
A shrill sound formed and echoed in the hollow room. It was Miranda's pager. Seconds later, Richard's pager followed suit. Damn. This wasn't good.
It took only a moment of realization between them before their bodies carried them brusquely to the room. As he walked in the doorway, Richard discovered Yang and Karev hunched over Izzie Stevens, their hands urgently performing medical tasks. All he heard was the symphony of monitors and alarms.
"What happened," he inquired.
"Is it her brain?" Miranda was right behind him.
"No, it's hyperkalemia," informed Yang, smoothly continuing with her procedure.
"We couldn't control the arrhythmias." Karev looked awful, Richard couldn't help but notice. He was a rapidly deteriorating maniac. The worst part, Richard knew, was that this wasn't even the worst part yet.
"Her pressure's dropping off a cliff."
"Give me an intubation tray."
"Alex!" Cristina hoarsed accusingly. "She signed a DNR," she admitted, turning earnestly to Richard and Miranda. Her eyes betrayed an uncertainty and hesitation never before observed in Yang.
Damn. Richard had forgotten about the DNR. He had known about it though. He recalled Derek, bright-eyed and full of nerves filling him in on his way to scrub in. At the time Richard hadn't questioned it, not caring to what lengths it took to get her to agree to the surgery. Now it complicated things significantly.
"Shut up, Yang."
Richard felt a shiver run down his spine. He had the curious desire to leave the room, to leave the hospital; something he could honestly say he'd never experienced before. There was something discomforting about this building at this moment. Despite his uneasiness, he suspected that his disappearance would not be well received, and would result in unfavorable consequences. His feet remained rooted to the floor.
"She knew this might happen, that's why she signed it," Yang pressed.
"I don't care what she signed."
"Alex, this is not what she wants."
Life. Death. Life. Death. Life. Death. Life. Death. Life. Death. Life. Death. Life. Death. Life.
The sound in the small room changed as one of the monitors indicated a flat-lining.
"Get a crash cart!" ordered Karev.
Richard knew this was an ugly conflict of interest but remained silent. Karev felt dangerous. Crazed. It was all surreal. Miranda managed only to murmur softly, carefully.
"Karev, if she doesn't-."
"I- look at her. Get a crash cart!" demanded Karev fiercely.
Richard felt nothing but eyes on him; heavy, expectant stares. One could say that this was the responsibility that came with having a beautiful office with a view, a fat salary, a prestigious reputation. The price.
Death. Life. Death. Life. Death. Life. Death. Life. Death. Life. Death. Life. Death. Life. Death. Life.
Who decides?
"Oh, screw the DNR. Hand me those paddles!" he announced firmly, not wanting to waver in his decision.
"Yang, take over compressions, Karev- back, back."
People moved in every direction, doing various tasks, barking various orders. Richard did too. He knew that he had just made a life-altering decision, for many people, and he didn't know who would pay for it, and how.
"Charge to 300," he said, seizing the defibrillators from the nurse, gripping them tightly before thrusting them at his patient.
"Clear!"
Richard glanced at the monitors, hoping for (but not really expecting) a change.
He repeated his actions over and over, each time growing more panicked.
"Come on, come on," he urged, not sure if the words escaped his mouth or not.
So thick was Richard's spell of concentration that he saw and heard nothing but the monitor.
"Clear!" he tried once more, attempting to force life back into the girl.
Lifting the paddles from her chest, Richard's eyes returned immediately to the small screen. His fingers slid clumsily along the instrument's handles, hot sweat dripping down them as they relaxed until the next shock. In a split-moment's pondering, Richard couldn't help but wonder how many people in this room were funding Izzie's death, or else how much her survival would cost later on.
Whatever the cost, he was willing to pay.
*Next up is Alex's POV… definitely the hardest one for me to write.*
