Archive of Our Own ^beta

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What happens when the mind loses control? When the brain does not function properly, and your life is out of control. The brain alters our bodies; our thoughts are distorted, our emotions are unregulated, and our behaviors are altered. One of the most perplexing and exhausting phenomena as a human being is living and surviving with these changes. The toll that it physically, mentally, and emotionally takes on the individuals as well as friends and family, often too much to bear.

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The view in Seattle was always beautiful, but today something was different. It was like calmness was in the air. The blue and orange were mixed in a way that you couldn’t describe the beauty of it.

I breathed in the Seattle scent of the fall air. The cloud slowly drifts in the sky, the trees swaying at the gentle breeze.

Where was I? This place felt familiar.

I felt safe, protected, like I was home.

My eyes roamed around, looking for clues as to where I was.

Carefully walking to the edge of the ledge, looking down. On the ground lay a body.

The figure looked vaguely familiar until the realization hit me with a sudden force.

That was me. There I was.

Arms and legs stretched out, splayed out on the ground.

As though I were a marionette that was meticulously dropped. Head bathing in a pool of blood, my Seattle fire department shirt was ensanguined with it. My eyes were barely open, glazed over. Blood dripping from the corner as if tear streaks.

Was it really… over? Was I really…dead?

My thought was interrupted.

The sound of silence in a big city would soon wane to the worst sound I've ever heard.

A loud, horrifying, piercing scream.

MAYAAAAAA!!!!!

6 feet away from me, on her hands and knees.

Carina.

She slowly starts crawling toward my body. With each movement, her body shakes with tears. With fear.

She stops just 1 foot shy of me. Her hand reaches out to touch me but stops. It shakes with so much force.

She looks down at something, and that’s when I notice it.

The blood that once pooled around my head is now being soaked up by her pants.

Her eyes look back up, unfocused. Her hand pulled away from me as if she’d just been burned.

No! No. Bambina…NOOOOOO!!!! She mumbles under her breath

This was just a dream, right?

This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening.

Why was she here? Why was this happening?  

She was supposed to be with the clouds.

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The scream tore from my throat, raw and agonizing, a sound I didn't know my body could produce. Maya. My Maya. One moment, she was a blur of movement, a fleeting shadow against the impossible blue of the sky. Next, she was a broken doll, splayed on the cold concrete below.

My knees hit the ground, scraping painfully, but I didn't feel it. All I could feel was the icy tendrils of terror coiling around my heart, squeezing until it felt like it would burst. I began to crawl, hands shaking, dragging myself across the rough pavement, towards her. Towards the pool of crimson blossoming around her head, staining the familiar grey of her uniform shirt.

"No! No. Bambina… NOOOOOO!!!!" The words were a strangled sob, barely audible, lost in the ringing silence that had swallowed the city. My hand reached out, trembling, hovering an inch from her lifeless fingers. I saw the blood, thick and dark, soaking into my jeans, and recoiled as if burned. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real. Not after everything. Not after how hard we'd fought, how much we'd struggled, only for it to end like this.

Then, the sirens. Distant at first, a wail of impending doom, growing louder, closer, until they shrieked to a halt right beside me. A flash of red and yellow. Station 19. They were here. They were too late.

"Carina! Oh my God, Carina!" Andy's voice, usually so steady, was laced with pure horror. She was the first one to reach me, her face pale, eyes wide and disbelieving as she took in the scene. She dropped to her knees beside me, her hands hovering, unsure whether to comfort me or rush to Maya. A flicker of raw, shared pain passed between us, a silent acknowledgment of the storm Maya had been weathering.

"Bishop! Bishop!" Ben was already there, his medical bag hitting the ground with a thud. His hands, usually so gentle, were moving with frantic precision, checking for a pulse, assessing the damage. "Trauma alert! Fall from height, multiple fractures, severe head trauma, and possible internal bleeding! Get me a C-collar, now! Gibson, get the aid car ready! Jack, get on the radio to Grey Sloan, tell them we're bringing in Maya Bishop, critical condition, fall from height, possible jump! "

Jack, Travis – they were all there, a blur of familiar faces, their expressions etched with shock and disbelief. There was horror, yes, but also a complex mix of guilt and a terrible, dawning understanding. Travis looked like he was going to vomit, his eyes fixed on Maya, then on me, a silent plea for it all to be a nightmare, perhaps remembering their own recent clashes.

"She... she fell," I choked out, my voice raw, barely a whisper. "From the roof. She... she jumped." The words tasted like ash, like a confession of my deepest failure. The fight. The distance. All the things I'd tried to say, tried to do, that she'd pushed away. All the times I'd seen her withdraw, and felt powerless.

Andy gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Maya... jumped?" Her eyes met mine, filled with a shared, agonizing understanding of the dark place Maya had been in. A silent question hung between us: Did we see it coming? Could we have done more?

"Carina, we need you to move," Ben said, his voice firm but gentle, trying to pull me away from Maya's side. "We need space to work."

"No!" I shrieked, clutching at the ground, my nails digging into the concrete. "No! I won't leave her! She's my wife! You have to save her! Please, Ben, you have to save my bambina!" My eyes were locked on Maya, willing her to stir, to breathe, to give me any sign that this wasn't the end. Her face was so still, so peaceful, yet so horrifyingly wrong. My brilliant, stubborn, broken Maya. The woman who had pushed everyone away, but who I still loved with every fiber of my being.

Vic was suddenly there, her face tear-streaked, pulling me gently but firmly away from the immediate vicinity. "Carina, come on. Let them work. We'll stay right here." Her voice was a broken whisper, but her grip was steady, a lifeline in the chaos.

I resisted, thrashing, my eyes tearing away from Maya, only to see the horror on their faces – the faces of her family, her team. The people she had led, had fought alongside, had protected. And now... now she was lying there, broken, because of a battle they hadn't even known she was fighting. Or perhaps they had. Perhaps they'd seen the cracks too, the way she'd been pushing everyone away, including me. The arguments, the distance, the coldness she'd shown. It had affected them too.

"Her brain... it lost control," I mumbled, the words of my own research, my own specialty, twisting into a cruel irony. "She... she was with the clouds. She was supposed to be safe with the clouds." My mind was a tangled mess of disbelief and agonizing reality. The blue and orange sky, so beautiful moments ago, now felt like a mocking backdrop to the worst day of my life.

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"Trauma alert! Fall from height, multiple fractures, severe head trauma, and possible internal bleeding! Get me a C-collar, now! Travis, get the aid car ready! Jack, get on the radio to Grey Sloan, tell them we're bringing in a female in critical condition, fall from significant height, possible jump!" Ben's voice, usually calm under pressure, was sharper, laced with an urgency that cut through the ringing in my ears.

Jack was already fumbling for his radio, his face a mask of sickened disbelief as he barked out the grim details to dispatch. "Station 19 to Grey Sloan, requesting immediate trauma bay for a Code Red, incoming. Patient is adult female, fall from a two story building. Multiple fractures suspected, severe head trauma, possible internal bleeding, and... possible……………jump. ETA five minutes." His voice hitched slightly on "possible jump," a raw edge of personal horror.

Travis, his face ashen, was already at the aid car, yanking open the back doors, the interior lights flooding the scene. He grabbed the backboard and a C-collar, moving with a practiced efficiency that belied the terror in his eyes.

"Carina, I need you to step back," Ben repeated, his hands already on Maya's head, stabilizing her neck. "Andy, help me with this C-collar. Vic, keep Carina back, please."

Andy, her own eyes wide with shock, moved without a word, her movements precise as she helped Ben secure the rigid collar around Maya's neck. Her gaze flickered to me, a silent plea for understanding, for cooperation.

"No! No, I need to be with her!" I screamed, my voice hoarse, fighting against Vic's gentle but firm grip. Vic's own face was streaked with tears, but her jaw was set. She knew, as a first responder, that their priority was Maya's life, even if it meant tearing me away.

"Carina, Ben knows what he's doing. You're a doctor, you know this!" Vic pleaded, pulling me further back, her arm wrapped around my waist, holding me tight as my body thrashed.

Ben, ignoring my cries, continued his rapid assessment. "Okay, on my count, we're going to log-roll her onto the board. Andy, you take the head. Jack, Travis, get her torso and legs. On three. One, two, three!"

With a synchronized, practiced movement, they carefully rolled Maya onto the rigid backboard. A collective gasp escaped the team as the full extent of her injuries became more apparent – the unnatural angle of a limb, the bruising already blossoming across her torso. My own breath hitched, a strangled sob caught in my throat. Every fiber of my being screamed to rush forward, to touch her, to fix her. But I was frozen, trapped by Vic, by the horror, by my own helplessness.

"Easy, easy," Ben murmured, his voice a low command, as they slid the board into the aid car. Jack climbed in, immediately beginning to secure her and start IVs, his face grim.

"I'm going with her!" I declared, my voice finding a sudden, fierce strength, shaking off Vic's grip. "I'm her wife, and I'm a doctor. I'm going!"

Ben looked up, his eyes meeting mine, a flicker of understanding passing between us. He knew I wouldn't be stopped. "Alright, Carina. Get in. Jack, you're driving. "

I scrambled into the back of the aid car, my eyes immediately locking onto Maya. She was strapped to the backboard, her face pale and still, a stark contrast to the chaos erupting around us. I quickly positioned myself beside her, opposite Ben, my medical instincts kicking in even as my heart shattered.

"Her pulse is thready," I murmured, my voice surprisingly steady, my fingers already at her wrist, feeling for the faint beat. My other hand instinctively reached for her hair, pushing the blood-matted strands away from her forehead, a gentle, familiar touch even in this nightmare. "She's losing too much blood."

Ben didn’t hesitate, already moving with practiced precision. “Let’s get a pressure bag on that IV—now! We need to get to Grey Sloan, fast!”

The doors swung shut with a heavy thud, sealing us inside, away from the world. The sirens, which had been a constant, piercing wail, now intensified, a desperate, mournful cry as the aid car lurched forward. Its red and yellow lights flashed, painting streaks of emergency across the darkening sky, a stark contrast to the beautiful, peaceful clouds Maya had spoken of.

Through the small window, I saw the rest of the team standing motionless, a silent, horrified vigil. Andy, Vic, Travis– their faces mirrored my own despair, but they were left behind, waiting. My wife was beside me, fighting for her life, and all I could do was offer what medical support I could, hold her hand, and pray.

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The wail of the siren was a desperate, rising shriek that swallowed all other sound. Inside, the world narrowed to the confines of the ambulance, the fluorescent lights harsh against Maya's still, pale face. Every bump in the road was a fresh jolt to my already frayed nerves, a reminder of the precious, fragile life lying on the gurney.

Ben worked with a focused intensity, his movements precise and efficient, a stark contrast to the chaos outside and the terror churning inside me. He was cutting away Maya's uniform, revealing the full, horrifying extent of the impact. The vibrant red of her shirt, once soaked, now looked dull against the alarming paleness of her skin, which, as I noted earlier, was indeed turning almost translucent. Bruises, dark and angry, were already blooming across her chest and limbs, grotesque flowers on her porcelain skin.

"Her breathing is shallow, Carina," Ben murmured, his voice tight as he placed a stethoscope to her chest, listening intently. "I'm hearing diminished breath sounds on the left. Possible pneumothorax or hemothorax. We need to get her to a surgeon, now." He bellowed, his voice cutting through the siren's shriek, aimed directly at the partition. "JACK! UPDATE GREY SLOAN! TELL THEM HER VITALS ARE DETERIORATING! WE NEED A TRAUMA TEAM READY FOR A POSSIBLE THORACOTOMY ON ARRIVAL!"

My fingers never left Maya's wrist, the thready pulse a faint, fluttering bird beneath my touch. My other hand moved to her cheek, tracing the curve of her jaw, then her temple, avoiding the matted blood.

"Maya? Bambina, can you hear me?" My voice was a desperate whisper, trying to cut through the siren's scream, trying to reach her. "It's me. We're going to Grey Sloan. Ben is here. He's taking care of you. Just... just stay with me, my love."

I leaned closer, my ear near her mouth, straining to hear any sound, any sigh, any flicker of life. There was nothing but the shallow, ragged breaths. I could feel the cold radiating from her skin, a terrifying chill that seeped into my own hand.

"They're waiting for us, Maya," I continued, talking to her, to the unresponsive woman who was both my world and a stranger in this moment of profound unconsciousness. "Miranda will be there. Teddy. Everyone. Just hold on. You're so strong, Maya. You're the strongest person I know. Remember the Olympics? Remember how you fought? You can fight this, too. You have to fight this."

Ben was now carefully palpating her ribs, his brow furrowed. "Multiple rib fractures, Carina. I'm worried about flail chest." He glanced at me, a silent question in his eyes, knowing I understood the gravity.

"I know," I choked out, my voice finally cracking. The medical terminology, usually a comfort, now felt like a cruel, detached language describing the destruction of my wife. "Just... keep her breathing, Ben. Please."

The aid car swerved, then straightened, the siren a relentless cry. Through the small window, the city lights blurred into streaks, a frantic race against time. I squeezed Maya's hand, willing my strength, my love, my very life into her.

"I need you, Maya," I whispered, tears finally blurring my vision. "I know we've been... difficult. But I need you. You promised me forever. You promised me a family. Please, Maya. Don't leave me. Not like this. Not with the clouds. Ti amo, mia campionessa. Non lasciarmi. Ti prego. "