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The trauma bay of Grey Sloan Memorial buzzed with the quiet energy of a hospital never fully asleep. Outside, Teddy Altman was slumped onto a bench adjacent to the ambulance bay, her scrubs stained with the remnants of a shift that had included three collapsed lungs and an intern who’d nearly killed a patient with an epi-lidocaine mix-up. She pressed her palms to her knees, grounding herself in the cool night air.
“Hey Altman. You look like you’ve been wrestling bears.”
Teddy didn’t need to turn to know it was Cass Beckman’s voice—low, amused, edged with the kind of confidence that came from years of trauma surgery. Cass slid onto the bench beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed.
She wore her trauma-surgeon smirk like armor, her leather jacket at odds with Teddy’s rumpled scrubs.
Teddy squinted up at her. “Did you follow me out here just to roast me, or…?”
“Roast you? Please. I’m here to because you looked like you could use a friend.”
Cass Beckman’s voice cut through the fog, equal parts smooth and sardonic. Teddy didn’t turn, but she felt the bench shift as Cass moved beside her, close enough that the warmth of her arm seeped through Teddy’s sleeve. A silver flask appeared in her peripheral vision, glinting under the parking lot lights.
“Coffee and baileys? Its my patented liquid therapy,” Cass said, her tone lighter than the offer implied.
Teddy hesitated, then took it. The burn hit her throat like a struck match, sharp and clarifying.
“You always this reckless?”
The redhead shrugged, “I’m meeting a friend at Joe’s actually. David’s elbow-deep in a CABG and our babysitter agreed to stay overnight.”
Teddy nodded, “Owen has the night off tonight so he took the kids home. Thats when disaster struck actually. I thought I might actually murder an intern today.”
“Ahh interns.. Toddlers with lab coats more like. Well I’m glad you didn’t murder anyone.” Cass mused beside her.
Teddy snorted, “They are like children. But I helped choose them for the program so that makes them my children. Thats why its so disappointing when they do something stupid.”
The current interns had each had a rocky start, and while they certainly weren’t the fresh faced green doctors they once were, they still produced headaches for her constantly.
“Well, you know the saying with the apple and the tree,” Cass quipped playfully, sipping from her flask as Teddy glared at her incredulously.
She used her arm closest to Cass to slap her shoulder.
“Hey! I’m the chief of surgery! I’m three-time board certified surgeon!”
Cass snickered beside her, “I was just teasing you Teds,” she said lightly.
Teds. A nickname. Teddy’s gut swirled with a cocktail of different emotions. Unwilling to address those emotions the blonde instead stood abruptly, the bench screeching. “I should go. I need to shower the smell of surgery off of me.”
Cass didn’t move, her grin lazy. “Sure thing. Go wash off the shift. You know where to find me.”
---
Joe’s Bar
An hour later, Teddy found herself at Joe’s, neon signs casting a hazy glow over the crowd. Winston had caught her lingering in the parking lot, offering a tired smile and a nod toward the bar. “First round’s on me. You saved my ass with that aortic dissection today.”
She followed him numbly, but her attention snagged the moment they stepped inside. Cass was at the bar, leaning into Amelia Shepherd’s space, her laugh sharp and bright over the clink of glasses. Teddy’s jaw tightened, suddenly feeling out of place.
They found a booth and each slid into one side. True to his word, Winston bought them both a beer.
Teddy followed him with her eyes but soon but her attention snagged on Cass’s hand brushing Amelia’s arm—a casual touch that felt anything but.
Winston cleared his throat as he returned. “So, uh… maybe don’t invite Amelia over? Things are… weird.”
“Weird how?” Teddy asked, ignoring that she’d already heard plenty enough about it from Amelia herself. She loooooved to rant during surgery.
“Long story.”
Winston began to ramble about a new study on minimally invasive mitral valve repairs, gesturing with his beer as Teddy nodded absently. Her eyes kept darting back to the bar, where Cass had slung an arm around Amelia’s shoulders.
“—so the mortality rate drops by 18% when—” Winston paused, following her gaze. “You… know her? Cass Beckman?”
Teddy snapped back. “Hmm? Oh. Yeah. She’s a trauma surgeon over at Seattle Pres.”
Winston frowned. “David’s her husband right? The cardio guy who keeps ‘borrowing’ my residents for his research projects?” He lowered his voice. “I’ve seen him go in the on-call room with some nurses. I was worried about his wife but now she’s here cozying up to Shepherd? What kind of marriage is that?”
Teddy shrugged. “Maybe they’re doing that new open thing. I know David’s a good surgeon, I hired him myself. And when they’re together they certainly look in love. Freedom looks kind of nice, right?”
Winston raised an eyebrow. “You and Owen having problems?”
She snorted. “We’re always having problems. But we’ll survive.”
“Suit yourself.” He raised his hands in surrender. “But as a divorcee? My advice is free. And terrible.”
Teddy chuckled, half-genuine, and stood. “Next round’s on me.”
Teddy approached the bar, smiling politely at the familiar bartender. While he wasn’t Joe, it reminded Teddy just exactly how long she’d lived in Seattle.
The ghosts of her old friends hummed around her. But time had passed and those friends had all moved on.
Cass spotted her immediately, like a fly to a trap. “Altman! You made it!” Before Teddy could react, Cass yanked her into a one-armed hug, whiskey warm on her breath. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.” she stage whispered into her ear.
Teddy stiffened, taking a large step away. “I’m here with a friend.”
“Who? Just my friend Winston but-“
“Winston!” Cass waved at him, undeterred.
Winston shot Teddy a panicked look but trudged over, muttering about divorces as Amelia groaned, “No one wants to talk CRISPR at a bar, Beckman.”
Five minutes of forced small talk later, Winston fled the scene citing an early morning. Teddy gulped her beer, stranded now with just Cass and Amelia, who were debating whether tequila or vodka was the better disinfectant.
“You two must know each other well,” Cass said, gesturing between Teddy and Amelia. “You’ve both worked here, what, a decade?”
Teddy and Amelia burst out laughing in unison.
“Try survived a decade,” Amelia said. “I can confidently say we’ve both almost died at Grey-Sloan.”
“You died?” Cass gaped, delighted. “Tell me everything.”
“Later.” Amelia turned to Teddy, softer. “How’s Leo? Scout’s obsessed with his new dinosaur pajamas.”
Teddy’s tension eased. “He’s good. Drawing rainbows on everything. Including his bedroom wall.”
“Parenting win,” Amelia said, raising her glass.
The conversation spiraled—Cass ranting about daycare germs at Grey-Sloan getting her children sick, Amelia admitting Scout had named their cat “Dr. McFluffy”—until Teddy glanced at her phone. 1 AM. Owen’s last text glared: Lasagna’s in the fridge.
“Speaking of the kids, I should go,” she said abruptly.
Cass stood, steady despite the tequila. “Walk you out?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re always fine,” Cass said, too perceptive. “But I want to.”
So she did.
---
“Altman. You’re not driving, are you?”
Cass leaned against the doorframe, her silhouette sharp against the bar’s neon glow.
“I’m fine,” Teddy said, too quickly.
“Uh-huh.” Cass strolled closer, hands in her pockets. “You’re swaying.”
“I’m tired.”
“Sure.” Cass plucked the phone from her hand and ordered the Uber herself. “Five minutes. I’ll wait.”
Teddy huffed but didn’t argue. They stood in silence, shoulders brushing as a breeze swept through the parking lot.
“You and Amelia seemed… close,” Teddy said, aiming for casual and missing by a mile.
Cass smirked. “Jealous, Altman?”
“Please. I’m glad you’re making friends with my staff. It’ll make it easier to poach you for Grey Sloan.”
“Pssh! In your dreams Altman.”
You have no idea, Teddy thought. The admission startled her, heat rising to her cheeks. She shifted closer, drawn like a magnet, until Cass’s leather jacket brushed her arm.
“You cold?” Cass murmured.
Before Teddy could answer, Cass slid an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into the warmth of her side. Teddy’s breath hitched—this is a mistake, this is a mistake—but she leaned in, her cheek grazing Cass’s collarbone.
The Uber’s headlights rounded the corner.
Cass turned, her lips inches from Teddy’s ear. “Better get going, Chief.”
In an instant Teddy kissed her.
It wasn’t gentle. It was alcohol and recklessness, Cass’s hands gripping her waist as Teddy fisted her jacket, the world narrowing to the heat of her mouth, the hitch in Cass’s breath. The Uber honked.
Cass pulled back first, laughing against her lips. “Your ride’s here.”
Teddy kissed her again, harder, until Cass groaned and broke away. “Teddy.”
The Uber honked again.
“Okay that was the last time,” Teddy muttered, breathlessly climbing into the car.
“We’ll see.” Cass replied, a toothy grin breaking across her features.
As the car pulled away, Teddy watched her shrink in the rearview mirror—Cass Beckman, hands in pockets, smiling like she’d won the game.