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It… it’s not true.
It can’t be.
Because yesterday morning, Monica was fine. They checked on Dylan together. She was fine. She was alive.
She only had a couple of minor surgeries lined up and was supposed to be on call until the end of her shift. It’s not possible. This can’t-
This can’t be happening again.
Not another person that she…
No. No. Monica was fine. They exchanged a few words, teased each other about coffee, and then went their separate ways before… before everything.
And Amelia didn’t even think- she wasn’t thinking that Monica could be in danger, that she could be trapped, that- how did nobody say anything? How-
“How did this happen?” Amelia says, her voice low and shaky.
Winston swallows, looking down. “I told you, she was tr-”
“No. No! Why was she trapped? Why didn’t anyone say anything? I listened to the reports, the injuries, all of it. Why was- HOW DID THIS HAPPEN!”
“I- I don’t know. Millin was with her. They were doing a procedure… she was crushed under-”
“Shut up” Amelia blurts, shaking her head. She looks down, biting hard against the tremor in her lip. She’s still fighting the tears. But she can’t. She can’t breathe. She needs to not be here.
She bolts out of the room. Walks past him.
She doesn’t register if people try to talk to her. Doesn’t care that they can see her like this. Raw, and broken. She only knows she needs to find Teddy.
And she does… she finds her in the ER, sorting through triage lists.
“Ame- What happened? Link?”
“No. Teddy… Monica. What happened to Monica?”
Teddy stills. Presses her lips together. “Oh. The first responders arrived too late. They found Millin and a nurse. They were able to save the pati-”
“Why are you talking like that?” Amelia asks, voice splintering.
Teddy frowns.
“Like Monica didn’t matter!” Amelia’s voice cracks. “Like she was just- just furniture in that OR! She was… Monica!”
“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were close…”
“Well, we were! Why did nobody help? Why wasn’t she in the reports? Why weren’t they looking?”
Teddy tries to touch her arm, but Amelia swats her away.
“Amelia” Teddy says softly, “they were. There were a lot of people unaccounted for. They were trying to open the OR doors, but they were blocked. The fire was in the way”
“Where is she?”
“What?”
“Beltran. Where is she?”
Teddy frowns, confused. “She’s down at the morgue. We already contacted her family.”
Amelia doesn’t say another word. She just turns around and walks away.
“Amelia… I don’t think you should…” Teddy calls after her, but Amelia’s already gone.
Again, she doesn’t register much as she walks, just that she’s moving. Down halls, through doors, past faces that blur into nothing.
And then she’s there.
The morgue is quiet. Cold. The hum of the refrigeration units fills the silence like a pulse that doesn’t belong to anyone.
The mortician looks up, startled. “Dr. Shepherd?” he says, uncertain, he’s never seen her down here.
“Where is Dr. Beltran?” Amelia asks, her voice sharp, too sharp.
He blinks. “I’m sorry…do you need something…”
“I need you to tell me where Dr. Beltran is. And then I need you to leave.”
“Dr. Shepherd, I…”
“JUST DO IT!”
The man flinches then nods and moves toward the wall of stainless-steel drawers. He checks a clipboard, his expression tight with pity, and then slides one out.
Amelia’s breath stops. Just stops.
It’s real.
It’s true.
Her knees nearly give out as she stumbles forward. The mortician mumbles something…something kind, something useless, but she barely hears it.
“Leave” she says. Her voice breaks. “Please. Just… leave.”
He hesitates, but then nods and walks out, closing the door behind him.
And then all hell breaks loose inside her.
Amelia crumbles. The sound that escapes her chest isn’t quite human, it’s a choked, shaking sob that won’t stop once it starts. She presses a hand to her mouth, trying to hold it in, but it’s too much. She can’t.
Then both hands cover her face, tears spilling between her fingers as the reality hits again and again.
Monica is gone.
Why? Why now? Why when they didn’t even get the chance?
Why would she leave too? Why her?
Why when Amelia had finally allowed herself to believe she wasn’t alone anymore?
Even if Monica never loved her that way, she mattered. She made life bearable. She made the long nights less cruel. She made Amelia laugh when she forgot how.
When she needed someone the most, Monica was there.
And now she’s not.
Amelia’s breath trembles as she reaches out, fingers shaking, trying to touch her, but she stops short. She can’t. She just can’t.
Her hand falls to her mouth again, and she just cries.
Until finally… she leans forward, and pulls Monica close.
She hugs her. Holds onto her cold, lifeless body like it could somehow make her stay.
Her skin is cold. Her weight is still.
Monica is gone.
Her brown eyes, her big smile, her voice. God, her voice. The way she could make everything feel better.
Amelia presses her forehead to Monica’s shoulder and breaks all over again.
She stays there, holding Monica’s body, her tears soaking through the white sheet that covers her chest. Her voice trembles when it finally comes out. It’s raw and it’s completely broken.
“Why did you leave me…” she whispers. “Why does everyone leave?”
The words catch in her throat, but she forces them out. “Why you? Why now? This isn’t fair… you didn’t deserve this.” Her voice rises, cracks, collapses again. “You were supposed to be okay. You were fine.”
She shakes her head against Monica’s shoulder. “You should be here, Beltran. You should be here yelling at residents, drinking that terrible coffee… not, not this.”
Her sobs grow smaller, sharper. “I’m sorry,” she chokes. “I’m so sorry, Monica. I… this is my fault, and you… you didn’t deserve to pay for what I did” Her voice breaks into silence. “I’m so sorry.”
And then… something strange. Something soft.
For a heartbeat, she almost hears it… Monica’s voice, just the way she remembers it…
Don’t worry, Shepherd.
It’s fine, Shepherd. It’s not your fault.
It’s gonna be okay. I know what to do.
Amelia freezes. Her breath catches. She lifts her head slightly, eyes darting around the room as if she might find her there, standing by the table, smiling that calm, knowing smile.
But there’s no one. There’s only silence.
It’s not real.
She’ll never hear that voice again.
The thought knocks the air out of her. Her chest tightens until she can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but feel.
And so she does the only thing left.
She pulls Monica closer, wraps her arms around her, and whispers, “Thank you”
For being there. For staying when no one else did. For making everything less lonely.
She holds her tight, like she should have before. Her forehead pressed to Monica’s, her tears still falling.
It’s goodbye.
A few minutes later, Amelia’s still just… aimless.
Her legs move without thought, her body on autopilot, like if she keeps walking, she won’t have to feel the weight in her chest. But she does. With every step, it only gets heavier, because every step is one more that takes her farther from Monica. One more step away from the last time she’ll ever see her.
By the time she reaches the main corridor, she can barely breathe. Her vision’s blurry, her throat burns, and she needs… she needs somewhere to hide. Somewhere quiet, somewhere no one will see her fall apart again.
The first door she finds is the attendings lounge.
She slips inside and closes the door behind her, pressing her back to it, eyes shut.
But it doesn’t help.
It makes it worse.
Because Monica’s things are still there.
Her coat, hanging on the hook by the lockers. Her coffee mug, half-forgotten on the counter, all her things…
Amelia stares at it all, frozen. It’s like walking into a memory that hasn’t realized the person it belongs to is gone.
She takes a few steps forward, and her knees threaten to buckle. She reaches out, her hand trembling as she touches the sleeve of Monica’s coat. It’s soft. Still warm from the air vent nearby. It even smells faintly like her.
Her eyes fill again.
This… this is all that’s left. These small, ordinary pieces of her, sitting here, waiting to be collected and put away.
Like she was nothing more than a name on a list.
Like Monica Beltran was just another blip in the long, cursed history of losses this hospital has seen.
Amelia can’t stand it.
She sits down, head in her hands, trying to breathe through the shaking. But before she can even gather herself, there’s a knock on the door.
She flinches.
Attendings don’t knock. Not here.
She wipes at her eyes quickly, smearing the mascara she forgot she was wearing, and straightens up.
It’s useless. Anyone could tell she’s been crying.
The door opens slowly, and a small, tentative face peeks in.
“Dr. Shepherd?”
It’s Millin.
Her voice is soft, careful, threaded with guilt. She looks younger than she ever has before.
“Millin…” Amelia says, standing up.
“I’m so sorry, Dr. Shepherd,” Millin blurts out, stepping inside. “I saw you walk in here and I- I just wanted to say that I’m so sorry. I really tried. I tried to-”
Amelia walks closer and puts a hand on her shoulder. Her voice steadies, barely. “I know, Millin. I know you did”
Millin nods, her chin trembling. “It should’ve never happened. Dr. Beltran didn’t deserve this. She was…” She exhales shakily. “She was good. She was good to me. And she was good to her patients.”
Amelia’s eyes glisten again. “I know,” she says softly. “She was good to me too.”
And for a moment, they just stand there, two people wrecked by the same loss, surrounded by the faint, living traces of the woman they both cared about.
Millin shifts from one foot to the other, still standing close to the door, her eyes rimmed red. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “I know she was your friend… I thought you might want to know…”
Amelia looks up, her breath shaky. “Know what?”
Millin swallows. “She… she was awake.”
Amelia freezes.
“She had a crushed pelvis,” Millin continues, voice trembling. “But she was conscious. And we had a patient, Parker. He was bleeding out. She guided me through his surgery, even though she couldn’t move. She… she made sure I saved him. Until her last moment.”
Amelia just nods. She can’t find words. If she speaks, she’ll break. So she doesn’t.
“She was tired,” Millin goes on, her voice catching. “And she was in pain, I could tell. But she didn’t care. I know she didn’t tell me what… what she was feeling, just so I could save Parker. She… she saved us both.” Millin’s breath hitches, her hands trembling. “And I couldn’t save her. I’m so sorry, Dr. Shepherd.”
Amelia steps closer, puts a gentle hand on her arm. Her throat is tight. “This isn’t your fault, Millin,” she says softly, because she knows… she knows it’s her own fault. “Thank you for telling me.”
Millin nods, sniffling, wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her scrubs. “One more thing,” she says, her voice so small it almost disappears. “I- I did try to perform chest comrpressions. She was… she was fading, and she said something before she…” Millin swallows. “She said… ‘Tell Shepherd: yes.’”
Amelia blinks. Her mouth opens a little.
It takes Amelia a second. A long, slow second.
And then it clicks.
She’s standing right here. The exact same spot. And Millin is standing where Monica was… that night… the same night Amelia asked…
Yes.
Amelia looks down, her breath breaking into sobs that she can’t hold back anymore. Her knees give slightly, and Millin moves forward instinctively, wrapping her arms around her.
They cry together. For what was lost. For what could have been.
They’re the only two who seem to feel it, really feel it. The only two who carry the ache of Monica Beltran like a shadow in their chest.
Eventually, Millin pulls back, wiping her face. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Dr. Shepherd.”
Amelia nods faintly. “Thanks, Millin. Thanks for… this.”
Millin gives a small, sad smile.
Then the door opens again, startling her.
It’s Meredith.
She takes one look at the room, the mess of tears, the wreck of Amelia, and she understands everything without asking.
“Do you want to go home?” she asks gently.
Amelia nods, her voice gone.
Millin gives them both a nod before leaving, then disappears without another word.
Amelia turns back to the closet, to Monica’s things. Her hand reaches out and takes the coat, the one that still smells like her.
Meredith watches as Amelia takes a coat that doesn’t belong to her.
“Let’s go,” Amelia says.
Meredith doesn’t argue. She just nods and follows Amelia out, closing the door behind them.