Chapter Text
Five Years After the Explosion
She moves quickly through the crowd, carefully carrying the trays; she couldn't let the precious contents fall. As she approaches one of the tables, the Grey sisters stand up to help her receive them. Once they are safe, she lets out a sigh.
“Come, sit for a bit,” Maggie says, pulling out a chair to make room for her.
She gives in, nodding and dropping into the chair for a moment. She needed to take a breath before continuing. If she had known that hosting an impromptu party in her backyard would be this exhausting, she would have convinced her beloved wife to abort the mission. Although, well, it really wasn't anyone's fault; the party had started as a small gathering to spend family time with Meredith and Maggie, but once the questions about weekend plans started, things spiraled out of control.
She was the first to succumb; she had been talking to Jo when the question arose. That single conversation led to inviting her and her family; with that, five people were added. Amelia, for her part, in a situation she never quite figured out how she got into, ended up inviting Miranda and Richard, which meant four more people.
Later, she herself succumbed again to Jules and Lucas; they had been nearby, overheard the plans, and when they asked, she couldn't leave them out. By that point, with half the hospital invited, they couldn't skip Teddy and Owen, adding seven more people. What was originally meant for ten people had evolved into twenty-six—and it would have been more, but Miranda’s older sons couldn't make it.
Teddy getting up with Jo to head toward where the children were playing snapped her out of her thoughts, and she turned her gaze back to the table where all the women were conveniently gathered.
“I still can't believe what I'm seeing,” Maggie said, focusing her gaze on a spot to her left, making her turn that way as well.
“Me neither,” Meredith added with a slight smile as they looked at the same spot.
“Seriously, Monica, how did you do it? I lived with her for a few years and saw her burn many things during that time,” she noted mockingly.
Amelia, who was at the grill with her nephew, turned toward her to offer a smile before returning to what she had been doing: preparing all the food. She smiled with pride at her sisters-in-law's comments; she had often been a victim of her wife’s meager cooking skills, but since they had moved into this house, her skills had improved remarkably. Their workloads had decreased a while ago, which they took advantage of to cook together more often at home, while little Scout served as the judge.
“I think I'm a great teacher,” she announced proudly, turning her gaze back to the table.
“I'll vouch for that statement,” Jules added with a smile while grabbing one of the pieces of meat she had brought over.
“Don't be such a flatterer,” Mer noted while also taking a piece of meat. Her dear protégé just shrugged, ignoring Mer’s words, and continued eating happily.
“They can't even move into a specialty because these kids have no respect anymore,” Mer commented, still with food in her mouth.
She shook her head, laughing at her words; Maggie was also amused by what was happening beside them. “Speaking of kids,” she noted, opening her arms to receive her little one, who was coming toward them holding Scout’s hand.
Little Bill let go of his Hombrecito (little man's) hand and ran into his mother’s arms, and she quickly caught him, showering him with kisses. Behind her, someone joined them at the table, but she didn't turn around; she had something a thousand times better right in front of her.
Scout approached her at a calm pace, his cheeks red from so much running. Her little man had grown so much since she first met him at the daycare; they knew he would be just as tall as his father. His hair was still just as blonde, a bit curlier, and he still wore his mushroom haircut. The only things that never changed were his beautiful blue eyes, always bright; just like his mother’s, they were a reflection of his soul.
“Mami,” he said in Spanish as he leaned against her; she could feel his clothes soaked with sweat.
“Tell me, Cariño (honey),” she replied, smoothing some strands of hair covering his forehead.
“Can I have some meat?” he asked, holding up his hands to show them to her—stained with mud and with grass between his fingers.
She nodded at his request, took a piece from one of the trays, and fed it to him. What he did next was something she was already used to; just like his mother, he did his little dance of joy. When he finished, she pulled him toward her and kissed his forehead. She really loved him; he was wonderful.
“Let's go,” little Bill said, starting to walk back.
Scout pulled away, took a few steps, but then ran back to her side, took her face, and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Te quiero, (I love you)” he said clumsily with his mouth full, returning to his cousin’s side, taking his hand again, and walking toward the others.
She looked back at the others at the table; her cheeks were flushed, and she thought her face might hurt at any moment from smiling so much.
“Awwwwww,” exclaimed the person who had approached them at the table. Next to Jules was Yasuda, looking very cozy together.
The young woman had returned two years ago to continue her studies; she wanted to complete her residency. She was able to start from her second year, which wasn't a major delay thanks to several exams she passed with ease. She was already at the beginning of her fourth year of residency, and as much as she tried to lure her toward her own specialty, that was a battle she had lost long ago. Now Amelia was trying to seduce her into joining her, but as hard as she tried, the young woman was easily tempted by Teddy.
She remembered her first year back very well, much to her regret. Everything she knew was thanks exclusively to her protégé, who hadn't known how to handle her presence in the best way. Jules struggled a lot with communication and, later, with working under her command. Her heart took quite a while to heal; she had encouraged her several times, but always received a refusal. But love found its way into her life again; it had been a slow process, the friendship lasting for quite a while until a few months ago when both young women could no longer delay the inevitable. It was normal to see them being very affectionate since then, and it really didn't bother her.
“Let me understand something,” Yasuda pointed out, gesturing toward where Scout had gone.
That caught her attention, as well as the sisters', who waited expectantly for what she had to say.
“If you are Mami, is Dr. Shepherd also Mami?” she asked.
“Ehhhh,” the sisters said; it seemed they were expecting anything else. They rolled their eyes and made a small dismissive gesture with their hands.
She smiled at their reaction and watched them start another conversation even more interesting than the one she was about to begin. But before she could answer, Jules explained the whole situation.
“It's very easy,” she pointed out first and continued, “Scout speaks Spanish, so Mami is Monica and Mommy is Dr. Shepherd.”
She nodded at her words. Jules had become an extended part of her family long ago; since her second year and thanks to a few scoldings, she had managed to get her to call her by her first name. Although with Amelia it was different; despite the many times she had slept in their guest room, she refused to call her by her name.
“Oh, that's very sweet, Dr. Beltran. Scout is such an adorable and intelligent boy.”
She could only nod at everything she said; it was true, her little boy was exactly that, and how she loved remembering the first time he called her that and she cried because of it.
The day of the proposal had been the first time; the emotion of the moment hadn't allowed her to fully process it. Over time she had forgotten, and Scout hadn't repeated it until one day she went to pick him up from school. It was Friday, so Link was supposed to pick him up after class to take him for the weekend. For her, it had been a quiet Friday, but for the others, it was not.
Link was stuck in an emergency surgery, Jo was out of town, and Amelia was in the middle of a thirteen-hour operation. Link had called her from the OR around the time they had to pick him up, asking her to please go. She agreed immediately; she didn't even change. She took her keys and ran out as fast as she could.
She arrived half an hour after dismissal, parked quickly, and ran through the school hallways looking for her little one's classroom. Once she was at the door, her little one raised his head and with a jump reached her legs, hugging them.
“You came for me!” he announced happily.
“Of course I did, hombrecito,” she said as she bent down to lift him in her arms and entered the classroom to grab his things.
The teacher was already holding the things to hand them over, but she was one she didn't know.
“Good afternoon,” the older lady greeted.
“Good afternoon, I'm sorry for the delay.”
“Oh, don't worry, Mr. Lincoln called to let us know; we understand the situation with Scout’s parents. We know surgeons can have these kinds of emergencies.”
She just nodded politely; she really appreciated it; emergency surgeries always complicated things a bit.
“Thank you so much,” she announced as she received the backpack and lunchbox, hanging them over her shoulder.
“Please, before you go, can you tell me who you are so I can note the information?” she said while picking up a notebook.
Before she could answer, Scout moved excitedly and answered for her.
“Sra. Gomez, ella es Monica Beltran, es Doctora de niños y es mi mami (Mrs. Gomez, she is Monica Beltran, she's a doctor for kids and she is my mommy),” he replied in complete Spanish.
The teacher, who seemed to understand without a problem, placed her hands over her heart and gave her a tender smile. For her part, she was shocked—not by his command of the language, but by how he had introduced her. He didn't refer to her as his mom’s friend, girlfriend, or fiancée. He referred to her as Monica, his mother, his mami. Her eyes welled up completely; she bravely fought back the tears.
“Then you are Dr. Shepherd’s wife,” she said, extending her hand.
She took it, greeting her but correcting her.
“Soon. The fiancée.” And it wasn't that she didn't want to be called his wife—she actually loved it and was already anxious for the day to arrive—but she was Scout’s teacher and had to be transparent with her.
After a short chat about how great Scout was, his Spanish skills, and how good he was with his classmates, they walked out together toward the car. On their way, Scout kept his gaze fixed on her and broke the silence in the best way.
“Mami, are you okay? Your eyes look like they want to cry,” he noted astutely.
And at that moment, she let herself be overcome by emotion. She let a few tears fall, but she smiled and nodded at his question.
“I'm just very happy to see you, mi pequeño (my little one); you make me very happy.”
And she showered him with kisses and a giant hug.
The arrival of Jo along with one of the twins snapped her out of her thoughts. The brief memory had filled her with emotion, so she stood up and walked to where all the children were. She stood there, watching all the kids play together, running up and down, jumping and laughing. Her gaze followed her little man, who was playing with the younger ones with great care, trying to make sure everyone could have fun.
She always sought to admire those moments. Six years ago, she had given up; she thought everything was over. She believed destiny had given up on her; happiness wasn't something she was going to find. How wrong she had been. Sometimes she had begrudged the decision to cross the country to start a new job at a hospital totally unknown to her. But a long time ago, just a few weeks after moving, that idea had vanished. She could easily understand that this was exactly where she was meant to be; Grey-Sloan wasn't just giving her a new future—a new home, new friends, the love of her life, and a new family were waiting for her. And the craziest thing was that everything—really, everything—she owed to a parking spot.
---//---
Her gaze wandered in search of her beloved wife; she couldn't find her among the groups scattered in the yard. Maybe she was inside.
“Lucas,” she called, catching her nephew’s attention. “Here, you're in charge until I get back,” she said as she took off her apron, held it out to him, and handed him the tongs.
Before moving from there, she raised her hand threateningly toward Lucas; she hoped he understood clearly what she meant—if he let anything burn, she would make Monica make his life a living hell at the hospital. Once he nodded, she turned and headed for the back entrance stairs. With one last quick look, she checked the yard again, and after the same result, she entered the house.
“Monica,” she called near the kitchen. She checked the pantry quickly, but her beloved wasn't there. She took a few steps and entered the living room, looking quickly toward the hallways, glanced out the windows, and turned back. Before she moved to another part of the house or went upstairs, the photos on the fireplace caught her attention. She stepped closer to see them better.
She picked up the first one to look at it in more detail. It was a photo from Jo and Link’s wedding; Monica was holding Scout while they danced and she watched them from afar. She let out a small smile at the memory. She put the frame back in its place, right next to another photo from the wedding; she was holding Scout while the two of them looked at each other with so much love and her little angel looked at the camera. The third was taken on their wedding day; it was the two of them, together, dancing during the ceremony. They both looked beautiful that day.
“What are you doing?” Monica asked, now by her side; she hadn't even noticed when she approached.
“I was looking for you, but I stopped for a moment to look at these,” she replied without looking away.
Monica asked no more questions; she positioned herself behind her, wrapping her in a hug while resting her head on her shoulder.
“Look at this one,” she pointed to the fourth photo.
In it were the three of them along with Monica’s parents, her brother, and her nieces, on a Christmas trip they took to Miami.
“I still remember when your brother almost left us without dinner that day; your mother wanted to hit him with the broom.”
Monica laughed softly against her shoulder; paradoxically, she had helped resolve the mishap with her newly acquired cooking skills. They had dinner very late that day, but they made it in the end; through laughter, small arguments, and several threats, it was done.
“Look at this one,” she took the next one.
Monica moved on her shoulder. “I still don't know how Teddy managed to get us all together.” And it was true; she had achieved what seemed impossible. It was two years ago, after fully recovering from the divorce and having upheld the cardiothoracic surgery department. When she returned as Chief of Surgery, she put all the departments, the residents, and a large part of the nursing group on the first-floor stairs. Though, well, the threats they received might have helped; they were in a corner, still in their surgical caps because they had practically been pulled out of surgery to appear.
She put it back where it was and saw the next one; oh, how she loved it!
“You know, this is the best one,” she said as she adjusted it and wiped a bit of dust off the medal.
“Here we go again,” Monica teased.
“What's wrong with it? You were the first one who pointed out it was a possibility.” She turned and gave her a small kiss on the cheek.
“I plead guilty.” And she turned to give her a small kiss on the lips and added, “Though I think I also said you’d appear in history books; well, let me correct that—medical books.”
“They haven't told us we're included yet, but who knows, it could be soon, and I'm not giving up on appearing in the history ones,” she declared proudly.
“Presumida (Arrogant),” her beloved said in Spanish, poking her in the ribs with her shoulder; she had been able to speak Spanish perfectly for quite a while now.
That photo summarized all her work: years of research, long struggles, and it reminded her of her brother. He had erased his work, but they had done it. Along with Meredith, they had managed to detect Alzheimer’s before its earliest stage thanks to the gut microbiome and developed an affordable, easily accessible test that allowed it to be fought with existing antibiotics. That had earned them the Nobel Prize in Medicine a year ago. In the photo were her and Mer, with their medals, looking proud.
Since the discovery, she had taken a break from research; now it was more her sister’s thing, who was still searching for a cure for when the disease had already developed. It wasn't that she didn't believe in her—it was just difficult—but she had long ago understood which battles to fight and that was one she preferred to avoid. Her life had changed five years ago with something she still couldn't quite explain, and since she achieved her purpose, she had focused on loving her son, her wife, and her sisters with all her strength. She still accepted impossible cases with caution, but she was very selective now; experience told her it was for the best.
Monica brought her back to reality. “Definitely the next one is the best.” She focused on the frame she was referring to and could only roll her eyes.
“I still don't know how you pulled it off,” she noted indignantly with her arms crossed.
“I have my methods,” she said; she could feel her shrugging.
“I don't know why I didn't ask for a divorce that day! You ended the Shepherd legacy!” she exclaimed, still indignant.
“Get over it, it was a year ago,” she said jokingly and added, “Anyway, our little Scout can still be the next world-renowned Dr. Shepherd, Neurosurgeon.”
She huffed indignantly. It was true, but there was one more possibility. “But there's Link…”
Before she could continue, Monica interrupted her, “Over my dead body is he an Orthopedic Surgeon.”
That made her burst into a loud laugh; she shook her head while looking at the photo. She had taken it. It was Millin and Lucas’s first day in the pediatric surgery specialty. Monica was in the middle, proud of her two pupils; they had just come out of their first surgery as residents of the specialty. And it had been wonderful; she had shed a couple of tears from where she observed the surgery. It was pure happiness. She was proud of Millin. Monica supervised them as Chief of Pediatric Surgery, and there was also Lucas; her dear nephew had sought his own path and she was truly proud, although she had sworn never to admit it.
Monica still kept the design on her surgical cap that she and Scout had given her so many years ago. For Lucas’s gift that day, she had also given him his own Star Wars-inspired design, and Monica had taken care of Millin, who had inherited some giraffes from her along with other things she knew her protégé liked.
She stopped thinking about that when her eyes landed on the last image.
“I take back everything I said, that is the best photo,” she noted, looking at it with a huge smile.
“I totally agree with you,” Monica said, spinning her around.
They stood face to face; a single look and they both leaned in, conscious of what they wanted. The space between them vanished in that instant, joining their lips in a beautiful and warm kiss. They both pulled apart and, as usual, repeated the same words in unison: “I love you.”
She smiled at that and looked back at the photo—the last one on her fireplace. Lucas had taken it the day they moved into that house, a few months after the wedding. In it were both of them, carrying Scout who was smiling at the camera next to a chubby Grandpaw; in the background, you could see their new home, a two-story house spacious enough for their family, to receive visitors, and with the ideal space for Scout and the cat to connect with nature.
That photo meant everything to her; it was the best way to represent everything she loved and what she would fight for. It was her home, her past, present, and future. It was the only thing she needed to be happy. She had achieved what she had thought impossible: having a child, finding her soulmate, and forming what she had lacked for so long—her own family, a home full of love, respect, support, and happiness.
“I think they must be wondering about us,” Monica noted.
She nodded, and they walked out together toward the yard entrance.
“I was looking for you!” Scout shouted as he ran toward them. Her wife bent down and with great strength lifted the now nine-year-old Scout. She wrapped her arms around Monica’s back, pinched one of his cheeks, and asked, “What's up, champ?”
“I just wanted to tell you that…” he made a dramatic pause and continued, “Las Amo (I Love them).”
They both smiled, and Scout kissed Monica’s cheek first and then hers.
“Los amo, (I Love them).” Monica said in her Spanish.
She smiled and quickly returned the kisses—a quick one on Monica’s lips and another on Scout’s forehead.
“I love both of you,” she announced when she finished, earning a smile from her beloved and her little one.
She rested her head on Monica’s shoulder and let her gaze drift toward what was in front of her. The most important people in her life were gathered in her backyard, enjoying themselves, smiling, and having a wonderful time. The smile on her face grew wider and wider. Her brother would be proud of her; little Amy had done it. After all the battles she had faced, she had made it.
She had understood that when an opportunity presents itself, you must fight for it. She understood that well. If you must love, you love with everything; if she had to help others, she would give it her all to achieve it. Life was about that—facing moments full of anguish, fighting to get out of them, and giving everything to be the best version of yourself, not regretting it, and being happy in the process. Success isn't measured by what others have to say; everyone knows when that moment arrives because you can feel it in every fiber of your being.
And she felt it; she was a successful person. She loved and was loved, and that is all you need to be happy.