Asystole ✷ Mark Sloan

𝟬𝟮𝟭 good mourning

𝙓𝙓𝙄.
GOOD MOURNING

──────

GEORGE'S TIME OF death was seven forty-five pm.

***

The woman was stood outside the front of the hospital, watching as the traffic passed by; I'd noticed her from the restroom window three floors up, and had paused for a second, watching as she seemed to clutch her arms to her chest tightly. 

The distance didn't cover the fact that she seemed to be in intense pain, for a second, I thought that she was one of the surgical patients and that her pain was purely physical. But then, I recognised her haircut from the way it blew on the wind, and I took in a deep breath, flushed the toilet basin beside me and shrugged on my coat.

It was windy in Seattle, there was a bite in the air that hadn't been there this morning. At eight thirty pm, I could feel the humidity in the air, even inside. I averted prying eyes and kept my head down; people were crying, I'd shed a few tears just out of pure bewilderment and shock—but the woman outside was emotionally falling apart. 

I descended stairs quickly and almost masterfully, only pausing to open doors for sniffing surgical staff that was too bleary-eyed to recognise me. In passing, I swore that I caught the eye of a distraught looking Callie, but I didn't linger too long. I must have covered three floors in a matter of minutes.

Outside, the hospital seemed calm, despite the chaos in the air. I shoved open the same doors that I'd entered this place through and clutched onto my collar tightly as the wind swirled and stormed about my small frame. My body flushed with the cold air, but I felt it wash away the leftover tears that spotted my red cheeks. 

Tightly, I swallowed and pushed forwards, not slowing down until she just paces away from me.

"Amanda?"

I had to raise my voice slightly to attract her attention. 

The weather wasn't exactly silent and her whole body seemed to emit a loud, broken sniffing and crying, the sort of reaction you'd expect from a child who'd just lost everything but didn't quite understand why or how. I felt my heart twist, almost as painfully as the way she turned around and looked over at me, slow and hesitant like a timid animal.

Her whole face was swollen, eyes red and bloodshot, torrents of water lashed down her cheeks and her lips seemed unable to stop quaking. Her whole body shook, both from the chill of the wind and the emotions that were rampaging her weak body. 

She seemed unable to hold my gaze; her eyes sloppily spun around my earnest and struggling supportive expression. Amanda appeared completely out of it—and it broke my heart.

"Amanda, I know what you're going through... I..."

Working in Indonesia, this had been the job. Comforting people who had faced great losses, working alongside people who had gone through terrible and catastrophic things. These victims, they'd lost houses, family members, faced the loss of limbs, faced the loss of everything they'd ever known—

But then, Amanda had lost someone who had saved her life and someone she'd fallen in love within a second without even really knowing who they were. 

It wasn't a textbook case at all.