The Aftermath, Chapter 22 – Side-by-Side

If you know them, they belong to Grey's Anatomy. If you don't, they're mine.

For seventeen hours, Arizona and Lauren worked side-by-side. They pushed trough the unfathomable, building each other up and supporting each other through the most daunting ER shifts either had ever experienced. They buoyed and encouraged, lead and directed, taught and assisted, braced and sustained. Neither was stoppable and both were brilliant.

When Emelia, age eleven, went into renal failure, the couple instantly read the signs, collaboratively increased her calcium levels, and secured emergency hemodialysis. The result of their unified response insured Emelia would live a long healthy life. Yes, she will need time to recover and the trauma of the shooting will always be with her, but she will celebrate birthday after birthday with her loving mother, father and baby sister. Her father would never make peace with the man who brutally attacked his baby girl and 33 other students, three coaches, and one police officer before taking his own life, but her mother will. She will pray for his soul. And she will teach her daughter the power of forgiveness and because Emelia was only eleven when she was attacked, she will embrace her mother's teachings with grace and ease. Neither mother nor daughter will ever forget what happened, however. This is not a bad thing when one understands forgetting is not the answer.

The man who attacked Emelia was mentally ill and a victim of abuse, but he made a conscious choice and because of this, Emelia's mother felt strongly about holding him accountable, even in death. "He chose anger and rage over reaching out for help," she would say to family and friends. And every anniversary of the attack, she will allow herself a moment to relive the horrific memory of standing in line at the grocer when a distraught looking woman ran up to the cashier and said, "There's been a shooting at the Asheville Middle School." She will give herself permission to replay the sound of something heavy hitting the floor next to her and a woman scream. She will revisit the sensation of her psyche severing from her body and she will see herself, as if from the heavens, run to her car and call her husband. And she will forever question the power of the mind and how for that brief span of time between the check out line and her phone, she was convinced that her husband hadn't brought their daughter to gymnastic after all; that for some reason, even though he had never done such a things before, he had taken her to IHOP. That they were eating her favorite pancake with whipped cream and sprinkles and she was speaking incessantly about anything and everything. Most times, Emelia's mom would stop her memory, but on a rare occasion she would let it go one step further and replay the sound of her husband's voice on the other end of the line say, "Yeah, I dropped her at gymnastics, why what's wrong?"

Arizona and Lauren communicated as First Responders would, with words. When words weren't enough, or couldn't convey honest emotion, they spoke with their eyes. They were together, working side-by-side, and it was obvious to anyone paying attention that they were a couple.

As a duo, Arizona and Lauren brought out the best in the other and saved lives that might otherwise not have been saved. They understood each other completely, as well as the nature of crisis and how it affects tiny humans. They moved gracefully in and out of each other's physical and emotional space, like dancers elegantly assisting the others performance. They kept an eye out for the moment when one needed something; whether it was assistance, a bathroom break, a chance to refuel, a mind to bend around a complicated matter, a kind word, or reassurance on a risky call, they did it all. They were there for each other. When the reality that there would be additional fatalities become unbearable for one, the other made it possible for her to continue. When the same occurred for the other, and equal amount of generosity was provided. The energy that sustained them was the exact same energy that brought them together all those months ago at Grey Sloan Memorial. To quote Meredith,"…there is a kind of power, more of a spell really, and when we get it right, it can be pretty damn magical."

Anyone who knew Arizona and Lauren's dynamic before that night would have recognized the moment when Arizona's physical fatigue caused her to doubt herself, but Lauren revitalized her by saying, "Even if it takes days, we will help each and every person in this ER and everything will be okay." And those who recognized the dynamic would have also clued into the exact moment when Lauren was at a loss for words with a distraught parent and Arizona stepped in saying, "Jordon is a fighter. I can tell. My daughter is the same way. She's willful and strong, and most importantly, she's resilient. Just like Jordon is resilient. His resiliency will pull him though. It won't be long and he'll be asking to play video games." And as the distraught parent sighed a sigh of indescribable relief, the look that fell upon Lauren's face revealed absolute adoration that wouldn't be missed by any observant party. And, as one might guess, Lauren stood firm in her belief that Arizona's status as a mother gave her special insight. The woman really did know what to say and it was in fact a "mom thing."

Their final surgery of First Responder shift involved Arizona assisting Lauren in constructing and reshaping the hearing canal of a boy named Aiden. He was an incredibly small child for his age and Lauren could tell immediately that he was painfully shy. His mother was extremely quiet and clearly in shock yet did everything in her power to hide her fear from her son. The moment she walked in the room, he lit up, even though he was medicated to the gills. Their connection was loving and kind. It stirred something deep within Lauren's psyche. She thought of her mother and felt certain she was still there assisting traumatized patients and parents. She loved her mom dearly and could easily compare their relationship to what she saw between Aiden and his mother. Relieved to see that a few more ER docs had arrived, she took extra time to repair both the structural damage of Aiden's inner ear and cosmetic damage to his outer. She didn't want him to look in the mirror and remember this day, over and over and over again.

Dr. Carrie Sheldon, acting ER Chief, approached Lauren and Arizona the second they finished briefing Aiden's mom. She handed them bottles of water and thanked them personally for all they had done. She apologized for the hospitals policy on mandated sleep shifts for anyone who had worked a double and said she had several On-Call rooms prepared with clean sheets and fresh scrubs, should they like to stay. Both Lauren and Arizona were grateful that she took time to provide updates on the status of their patients. Before making their exit, she thanked them again and extended an invitation to attend an all staff debriefing the following afternoon. She closed by saying, "If either or both of you ever want a position with Asheville Memorial, we would be honored to have you join us. You are both amazing surgeons and the work you did here is beyond reproach."

Dr. Sheldon's offer hit Arizona and Lauren women square in their chests, though neither responded with anything other than a thank you. It wasn't that they weren't interested, they were. The idea of working together on a daily basis, in the same city, was alluring, to say the least, but the timing wasn't right; and timing was everything.

"Do you want to sleep here?" Lauren asked as Dr. Sheldon walked away.

"Absolutely." Arizona husked, her voice sounding just as tired and raspy as Lauren's. "I like to stay close, in case anything happen," she added with a seductive grin, repeating verbatim the words Lauren said to her the first night they kissed.

Lauren couldn't help but smile in response. And even though she was exhausted to her core, she felt a surge of heat run through her body. She leaned in slightly and whispered, "You amaze me Dr. Robbins. Absolutely amaze me."

Arizona felts her cheeks flush. She knew Lauren was referring to the work she did in the ER and felt proud; proud that her lover recognized her surgical skill and proud that others did as well. It occurred to her in that moment, standing outside an operating room in Asheville North Carolina, wearing borrowed scrubs, and on the tail end of a seventeen-hour First Responder shift that she had arrived. She was Dr. Arizona Robbins again, and everything that happened to her from the plane crash on was powerless to the fact that she was finally home in her body, mind, and soul.

Lauren didn't follow Arizona to the On-Call room. Instead, she set out to find her mother, who she knew was still in the hospital somewhere. She found her sitting quietly with a family that had converted a corner of the waiting room into a makeshift sleep area. As she approached, she watched her mother lift her finger to her lips and make a nonverbal request to not disturb the sleeping family. Lauren did as directed and stopped four feet from her mother then pressed the palms of her hands into prayer position and brought them to her temple expressing an invitation to sleep. She was not surprised when her mother shook her head gently and used the same hands to cheek gesture to indicate she would sleep where she was.

Arizona stood motionless while waiting for the shower to heat. She was exhausted to the point of hallucination. Or that's what she told herself after hearing her brother's voice in her head. It was a memory of him at her graduation from Johns Hopkins talking about how proud he was of her; that she was an amazing person and would do great things for kids everywhere. Wading through this memory brought tears to her eyes. She hadn't thought about that particular interaction with him in years. He had died in combat, not from a wound, but because there were no First Responders available to treat it. That's when it hit her. Her desire to convince Lauren not to go to Syria stemmed from fear of loss when she could instead focus on all the lives that would be saved. Asking Lauren to stay was selfish. She didn't chastise herself for feeling fear or wanting things to go her way, she simply recognized both and made a promise to make peace with the fear of potential loss and support whatever decision Lauren made.

Arizona was in bed by the time Lauren arrived. She padded softly about; uncertain as to whether Arizona was asleep or not. As she showered, she let the hot water wash away every last biological and energetic remnant of the ER. She stood under the streaming water much longer than she normally would. There was so much to process; so much to consider, so much to let go of; so much to work through.

After leaving her mother, Lauren saw a photograph of the shooter on a screen in the waiting area. He was a kid himself, barely a man, and clearly a wounded individual. She closed her eyes and tried to erase his image from her mind. She wished the media would stop glorifying shooters by plastering their names and photos everywhere. She knew her country fell short on helping those who were mentally ill, but she also knew that it was a rare person who could not tell right from wrong. She shook her head from side to side and exhaled long and slow then dried off quickly and slipped into the clean scrubs left for her. She slid into bed next to her lover and melded into the subtle curve of her body. Like two pendulums swinging in close proximity, their breathing fell into rhythm, then in sync.

Arizona was the first to communicate. She gently rolled over and rested her head upon Lauren's breast. Lauren responded by disappearing every fraction of space between their bodies. Neither said a thing, for both knew words would have fallen short. There weren't verbs for something as monumental, something as magnificent, and something as miraculous as saving lives.

To be continued….