a/n: and so the dreaded covid storyline begins (don't worry it won't last too long here). favorites, follows, and any comments you have to offer are much appreciated!

i hope you all are having a great 2021 so far! : D

4. 'tis the damn season

i won't ask you to wait / if you don't ask me to stay

"Derek!"

Meredith could see her late husband standing down the beach, waving like a madman with a grin on his face, "Meredith!"

Then there was darkness and the sensation of body heat on either side of her head.

"I need rapid response, oxygen, and gurney now! Go! Hurry up!"

Crashing ocean waves, a rock shore.

"Meredith!"

"Can you hear me, Grey? Grey? C'mon stay with me, Grey."

An all-too familiar Irish lilt. A chilled dampness clinging to her back.

The grin she missed with every cell in her body. Hair she dreamed of being able to run her fingers through again.

"I'm here, don't worry. It's gonna be okay. I'm right here, I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

"Meredith!"

"I got you."

Cormac felt his body pulsating with every rapid heartbeat. His breaths were coming in rapid gulps of air at this point, his body desperately trying to calm down after his race from the parking lot to the E.R. while pushing a gurney holding an unconscious Meredith Grey. Hunt and Altman took over almost immediately, asking him quick-fire questions about what condition he had found her in.

"Collapsed, good pulse, shallow breaths," he managed. "No signs of head trauma, but we should page neuro just be sure."

"On it," Simms called from across the room.

The medical jargon he could usually keep up with became gibberish as he watched them take her stats. Slowly the adrenaline was leaving his system, but all he could remember was the spike of terror that shot up into his chest before pooling in his stomach when he saw her body lying there on the pavement.

"-ayes!"

"Dr.-"

"Cormac Hayes!"

A commanding voice brought Cormac back to the present moment. Turning to his left, he saw a concerned-looking Chief Bailey sitting in a wheelchair being pushed by Schmidt. His head snapped back towards Grey, "She needs, I found, I, uh-"

" Hayes ," Bailey interrupted, voice stern but soft. "You might have saved her life. You did good, but Altman's already suggesting Covid, seeing where Grey's been working. You were in surgery with her today, right?"

He nodded.

"Look, we've got her from here. You need to go get yourself tested."

"But, I-"

"But, nothing. You're not in full PPE like Hunt and Altman, and you possibly exposing others isn't going to help Grey. Please."

Cormac took a couple of deep breaths, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment, "Okay."

"Thank you."

He can't seem to sit still. It hadn't even been ten-minutes since he was swabbed for the rapid-Covid test, and the results took at least twenty. Cormac kept unlocking his phone and checking his messages. He wasn't even sure what he was looking for.

He didn't care about the bloody test results.

(Please don't die.)

Cormac's stomach twisted in snarls of worries, and his brain was begging to be distracted, but social media would just remind him that the rest of the world collapsing too. The feeling that he should call someone kept popping up, and he wasn't sure why. Most of the attendings were people who had known Grey ages prior to his arrival; they would take care of informing her sisters.

Her "twisted sister," on the other hand… but those who knew Grey likely also knew Yang and were aware of how close the two were. There was no way she wouldn't know within the next day. That wasn't his responsibility.

(Please don't die.)

And yet, Cormac found himself pulling up Yang's contact information, his finger hovering between "messages" and "call." He settled on texting.

I found Grey collapsed in the parking lot less than a half-an-hour ago. Last I saw, she was under the care of Altman and Hunt. They're thinking Covid, but the test results are still pending. Figured you might want to know.

He locked the screen and placed his phone face down on the desk. The beginnings of a headache began to arise between his brows, and as his adrenaline high crashed, his limbs became heavy with the longing for sleep. His mind, however, didn't follow suit.

(Please don't die.)

The following days passed in a blur. Cormac was exhausted, functioning on autopilot, and barely able to muster up a smile for his boys. There was a constant tinge of worry in the air since Meredith's diagnosis. The peds floor was still relatively slow, so he buried himself in paperwork and got to know his patients better-anything to keep his mind occupied.

She was doing better, much to his relief.

He had swung by the Covid floor the day prior under the guise of seeing if he could help. At least, that's what he told Pierce. And himself. He keeps pushing away the thoughts about how much his talk with Grey over video chat had eased the tension in his shoulders. She looked frailer than should be allowed for someone with her level of grit. But, she still kept up with his banter, and he didn't need sleep, not after seeing the crinkle of her crow's feet when she smiled at him under her mask.

Mostly, Cormac kept to himself in his department. Or, that was his intention, at least. Somehow he ended up rationalizing to himself a variety of various reasons to go to the Covid ward. And since he was already up there, it never hurt to swing by Grey's room and glance in the window, just to see how she was doing.

Grey had been doing better, but now she was being kept past her initial release day. And she was rarely alone. The faces he saw most often were Altman and Deluca, followed closely by Webber, Bailey, and Pierce. She had her team, her family.

So, he kept to the window.

Jo was annoyed. Not just slightly, tingling in the back of her mind. No, viscerally irritated. She could feel it running through her nerves, lighting up the surface of her skin. He was just watching her like a lost puppy-sad and pathetic.

She just got dumped by her husband over a letter before being thrust into a global pandemic as a practicing medical professional. She was worried for Meredith too, one of her closest friends, thank you very much. And she was handling better than Mr. Whiskey in the Dark and Peering Through the Window over there.

Jo imagined pounding her hands on his stupid shiny bald head until he wised up and actually visited her in her room if he was that concerned. It brought her some relief to the overwhelming vexation. Playing that scenario in her mind now and again made it manageable. That is until she was forced into a room with him for several hours performing an emergent surgery on a fifteen-year-old.

The air in the room wasn't pleasant. Jo's movements all had an edge of aggression to them, her answers were short, and whenever she had to look at him, there was disdain apparent in her gaze. But, she was doing her best to keep her cool and not rip him a new one. Because, really, it wasn't him she was pissed at. The world was on fire, and for some reason, he was getting on her last nerve, therefore becoming the main target of her outrage. Admittedly (begrudgingly) somewhat unfairly.

"I know they say some looks can kill, but I don't seem to be gettin' any deader."

Jo's eyes snapped up at Cormac's first attempt to converse with her about something other than the surgery at hand. She pursed her lips and fought back rolling her eyes before focusing on her sutures once more.

"C'mon, I get if you're having a bad day, but takin' it out on me-"

Jo set her instruments down sharply, meeting his eyes with a glare, "Oh, you think I'm taking it out on you now? I've been trying to avoid taking it out on you for days!"

Cormac blinked, "Days? Now what on the bloody Earth did-"

"You do?" Jo interrupted. "You stand there. You stand there gazing into her window, looking like the family dog that got put outside during dinner time. You probably think no one notices; well, they do. It's pathetic."

"Pathetic?" Cormac scoffed.

"Yes! Pathetic. Because before that, you and Meredith were having your little whiskey nights pretty often. You wanna know what they call people who hang out like that? Friends. You wanna know who's allowed to go visit Meredith in her room? Her friends.

"So stop acting like your one of the goddamn outcasts and move past the window before I throw you through it."

Cormac took a deep breath, seeming like he was about to respond, before letting it out with a sigh. He nodded at Jo for a second because she wasn't entirely wrong and turned back to finish his part of the surgery.

Jo's eyebrows raised in slight surprise. Maybe that worked. She felt better at least.

Personally, he thought as he gradually opened the door to Meredith's room, Jo could've been a smidge nicer about it all. But, now, he was entirely within the perimeter of her room, so he didn't have to worry about anyone tossing him through a window anytime soon.

Visiting hours had ended when he was getting suited with PPE. He didn't bother turning on her lights; she was sound asleep. She'd been spending an increasing amount of time unconscious, which seemed to be going in the opposite direction than what they were hoping for.

That definitely was the case with Abigail.

Cormac shuffled forward, stopping about four paces from the bed. He could just make out the outline of her face in the dim light the hallway provided. She was on her side, facing him, one hand curled up close to her face. Smooth hair was resting across her cheek, and part of him wanted to brush it away.

He didn't move.

The sound of a door opening had begun to pull her from her subconscious, but she didn't open her eyes. She figured it was Andrew or Teddy rechecking her vitals or something. Then, there were no sounds of further movement. That made her gently blink her eyes open to squinty slits. Blocking most of her limited field of vision was the lower half of a body dressed in full PPE, just standing there. In the dark.

Meredith blinked a few more times, adjusting to the dim light. Tilting her head up slightly and opening her eyes wider, she found a face she had only really seen through facetime or in flashes as he passed by her room. His eyes met hers, so she knew he knew she was awake, but he didn't react.

Hayes was just there.

A thought passed through, asking if maybe she was dreaming? She considered that, but if she was dreaming, she was now aware she was dreaming. Lucid dreaming-she'd done it once or twice in the past. Meredith remembered being able to control her dreams in that state.

She tried willing Hayes to talk or move. Nothing. Okay, so maybe she wasn't dreaming. The fuck was he doing standing in the dark? But, she couldn't find enough energy within her to talk.

Her eyes stayed locked with his until she felt the lull of sleep pull at her again, and her lids slowly shut.

Cormac breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Grey begin to drift off. The point of coming when he did was so that she would be asleep. If Jo had noticed his behavior, he wouldn't be surprised if Grey had to. And if not, Jo had most certainly brought it to her attention right now.

Knowing Grey, she'd poke at him about it, and he wasn't sure what he would say in response. If she asked why he's not sure he would know the answer. Or, maybe he would; he just isn't quite ready to admit to himself what it is. What it means.

And so, he slunk out of her room, scrambled out of the PPE (which was becoming more restricting by the second), and retreated to his office. As Cormac slouched in his chair and his hand went to unlock the familiar amber stash, Jo's words from earlier in the day echoed in his mind.

" Pathetic."