Chapter Text
Lucas runs out of frame. Amelia knows she should go too, but she stands next to Dylan’s bed a moment longer. Her father’s apologetic eyes break something in her. She’s a parent, too. She can’t dare to imagine what he’s going through. And what Dylan will be going through when she wakes up. If she does. There’s still no definite answer to that.
Amelia excuses herself. She stood there for too long. She’s walking to the nurse’s station when she feels it. Everyone does. It’s subtle. And a rumble. And then- pagers start going off, the phone lines are burning from calls.
And Amelia freezes. The next second, looking around, she’s already caught in the middle of nurses and doctors walking up and down, mumbling about something happening at the hospital.
It’s grim. Everyone’s face is filled with worry.
The buzzing in her pocket snaps Amelia out of it.
A 911 from… Beltran.
Why is Beltran paging her?
She rushes to the nurse’s station.
“Who’s scheduled for surgery right now?”
The nurse checks, “Dr. Link… Dr. Bailey… and-“
Please, don’t say it. Please, don’t say her name.
“Dr. Beltran, and-“
As she runs to the staircase, Amelia dials Beltran. No answer.
Not a good sign.
She tries Lucas, who goes straight to voicemail.
An even worse sign.
If somebody asked her how she got to the OR floor, Amelia wouldn’t be able to tell. She has no idea which turns she took, which halls she crossed. All she could think about was getting there as quickly as possible.
The air is stiff. The lights are flickering here and there. The smoke is finding its way out of one of the ORs.
“Lucas!”
He appears leaving the nearest OR, carrying somebody in his arms.
Light scrubs.
Amelia recognizes Millin.
“Dr. Beltran… She’s still inside. She has trouble breathing.”
The scrub room seems untouched, but the OR is in rumbles. The automatic doors are half-open and not working properly.
She doesn’t notice her at first. Only whatever was left of the wall separating this OR from the one next door. Its pieces are all over the floor.
When Amelia looks to her left, she sees the operating table pushed against the cabinet. And then her eyes lower.
She’s right there. Sitting with her back against the wall under the scrub room’s window. Monica. She’s been there this whole time. With a hand grabbing her chest, trying to calm herself down, she seems paralyzed.
Without any further hesitation, Amelia finally gets to her. “Beltran. Hey,” she places a hand on her shoulder.
A failed attempt at getting out a sound gets Monica’s panic through the roof. She looks at Amelia as if she’s about to take her last breath.
“No. Don’t. Stop.” Amelia places her hand atop Monica’s.
Monica’s other hand makes a swift move up to her ear. Her eyes close in agony. That’s when it hits Amelia. With a gentle rub of her shoulder, Amelia gets Monica to reopen her eyes.
“You need to take it off,” she says, motioning at her gown, but Monica doesn’t seem to be grasping any of it.
And so, once she kneels down, Amelia moves closer, and when Monica leans forward, she reaches behind her back to untie the gown. She does the same with her scrub cap. Once completely off, for a second it seems like Monica’s relaxed a bit, but when the next breath she takes is even more shallow, her eyes grow in panic, her hand firmly grasping her own knee.
To grab her attention, Amelia waves a hand in front of her. “Hey, hey. Look at me,” she motions at herself to get Monica to understand. “You need to do diaphragmatic breath- ugh, you can’t hear me. Shit. Okay,” Amelia raises her left hand and slowly lowers it in the direction of Monica’s stomach. “Inhale into your diaphragm, until you feel my hand.”
A piece of debris falls somewhere behind Amelia. Monica freezes, while her restless eyes keep scanning the room.
“Beltran, look at me,” Amelia takes Monica’s hand and that’s the first time their eyes lock. And Amelia sees it. The fear. Monica’s petrified.
“Eyes on me, okay?”
Monica squeezes her hand.
“Please, breathe.” Amelia slowly starts inhaling, and finally Monica catches up.
Amelia moves her hand a little more to the right of Monica’s abdomen and for the first time, she feels her ribs brush against her palm through the fabric of her scrubs. “That’s it. Deep breaths.”
Her heart’s palpitations concern Amelia, but she knows once her breathing is under control, her heart will calm down too.
“You’re doing great.”
Monica loosens the grip on her hand a little, but doesn’t let go. Neither does she let her eyes wander off. There’s something about them that Amelia finds intriguing. Something she can’t quite name. They’ve never held eye contact for this long, so she’s never noticed. And now that she has, she can’t help but want to figure it out.
A few more minutes pass and Monica seems to have calmed down, her breathing has gotten easier.
In that, an unexpected voice speaks Amelia’s name.
It’s Warren.
“Dr. Shepherd?” He pauses, seems like he’s looking for the right words.
Shivers run down her back. She knows that look. It’s always the same, whoever wears it. She hates that look.
“It’s,” Warren hesitates, “it’s Link. He’s-“
A squeeze of her hand has Amelia looking back at Monica, who whispers her to go. And there it is again. That thing in Monica’s eyes. Amelia wonders, will she ever see it again? Will there be an opportunity for her to look for that thing in Monica’s eyes ever again? And is she ready for what she finds if she goes looking?