Be Prepared

"You don't have to go back to work if you're not ready," Ben said sitting on the edge of the bed. He watched Miranda pack up her bag.

"A storm is hours away," she explained. "They need all hands on deck."

"What about you coming with me to L.A.?"

"The storm is too close—they're not even going to let us fly out."

He sighed. "Well, after?"

"Ben, I have to go; I can't talk about that right now."

"Then I'm coming with you."

"You don't have to come. You don't have to wife-sit me." He blushed; that's exactly what he'd planned to do. "I'll be fine." She walked toward him and put her hand on his cheek.

"I know you'll be fine, but if it's all hands, I have hands." They laughed. Ben stood up and started to walk away. He paused and leaned down and kissed Miranda's cheek.

The storm that was supposedly a few days away was getting closer and more threatening by the hour. They dropped Tuck off at Tucker's house and headed to the hospital. "Are you sure you're up for it, Miranda?"

"I am. Maybe not for surgery, but I don't know." He nodded and made a turn onto the highway.

"Don't force yourself to do something you're not ready to, sweetheart."

She touched his hand: "I won't. I just feel like helping—a call to action if you will."

They arrived just in time for the meeting about prepping the patients and building for the storm. Owen Hunt, the Head of Trauma, was speaking to the nurses, techs and surgeons. Ben stood at the back and leaned against the wall. A few seconds later, he was joined by Richard Webber. "Most importantly, we're gonna need to print hard copies of all computerized patient charts in case of a power loss."

Jackson Avery, Ben's former running buddy, piped up: "All of them? Do we have time to—?"

"I'll do that." Miranda's voice cut through the soft hum of the large crowd. Ben looked over the heads in the bunch and immediately recognized her purple jacket. All heads turned in her direction. Ben's body tensed—he knew people would start gossiping and it pissed him off.

"Bailey, it's good to have you back," Owen said quickly. "I'll put you on the OR rotation."

"Uh, I mean… I'll do the charts," she answered and walked away. Miranda moved past Richard and Ben. Ben tried to get her attention, but she kept going.

When the meeting was over, Webber turned to him: "How's she doing?"

"She feels like she can't go into an OR. She thinks she'll kill anyone she touches. I tried to convince her to come down to L.A. with me, take some time off, but then we heard about the storm and she said she had to stay and help."

"Anything I can do?"

"I wish there was, but honestly…" Ben's voice trailed off. Richard had done so much for them, he was ashamed to finish the sentence. Luckily, he didn't have to.

"Anyone but me." They both offered weak smiles to the other. "I know," Richard said and he walked away.

Ben walked through the halls and found Miranda sitting in a lounge. "Baby?"

"Yeah?" She said standing up and pulling on her white coat. She was so sexy with it on and she knew it. "Want to help me with the files?"

He scoffed. "No, do I look like an intern to you?"

She made a face. "Yes."

"Well, in Cali I am, but here at Grey Sloan, I am an attending anesthesiologist."

"I love when you pretend to take charge," she said standing up. He grunted in a low voice. "I suppose you'd better go find some scrubs."

"I will."

"God, I love the way they look on you." Miranda winked at him and his heart fluttered. He could go with that; the dark blue scrubs looked so good on his dark skin. He often joked to Miranda the scrubs were the only reason she'd noticed him.

"And what are you going to be doing?"

"Uhh, paperwork and I need to make sure the ORs have enough surplus blood."

"My lady is always so prepared," Ben said tugging on her lab coat and kissing her cheek.

After finding scrubs, Ben rushed past the scheduling board on his way to find Miranda. His eyes scanned the board and he saw Miranda's name on it. She's performing surgery? "She's doing surgery?" He said to himself.

"She's doing surgery," Richard repeated behind him. The two men smiled.

Ben saw the name of his best friend and former co-worker, Knox, as the anesthesiologist. He texted him and asked him to switch. The surgery was supposed to start in ten minutes, he hurried to OR 3.

"This guy was cleaning his gutters in hurricane-force winds," a chatty intern, Shane Ross, said filling him on the details of the patient. "It's like he wanted to spend the night on an OR table." Ben furrowed his brows. "Not that I'm complaining."

"You're awfully excited about another man's misfortunes," Ben told the young man.

The intern sputtered. "No, I just meant—I'm glad Dr. Baileys getting back into an OR."

"Yeah, so am I," Ben agreed smiling. He looked at Miranda getting prepped. She took a small step toward the table and he could read her entire face beneath her mask. She wasn't going through with it. It was too soon. He blamed himself. They should be in their apartment in California, not stuck in a storm in a hospital where they'd lose power soon because the lights kept flickering; he wondered if the generators had enough juice to keep the hospital functioning properly.

"Mm. I can't do this," she said pulling off her surgical gown.

"Miranda…" She left the room without answering him. He sighed heavily, ignoring the look from the intern. Ben ripped off his face mask and ran after her. "Miranda!"

He followed her into her office. "I can't… I c-can't do this!" She said closing her eyes and sitting down.

"Of course you can, baby," Ben said taking a small step toward her. "You're just not ready."

"I am!"

His voice was calm. "You're not. And you need to stop rushing it."

Miranda turned away from him in the chair. He walked over to her and pulled her out of the chair. He touched her hips. His wife put her arms around him and collapsed into his arms. "Hey, not being ready doesn't mean you're weak or lacking." He ran his fingers through her hair, pulling it a little. "Time. That's what you need. Or inspiration. But mostly time."

She kissed his cheek. "I'm not ready."

"And that's okay."

His phone buzzed. "I have to go." She nodded. "Why don't you finish doing your blood thing and then when I'm finished, we can find an on-call room to relax in."

"Sounds like a plan," Miranda answered with a deep sigh.

"Good," he said while kissing her forehead. "I'll see you later, yeah?" She nodded and he dashed out of the door.