According to Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, when we're dying or have suffered a catastrophic loss, we all move through five distinct stages of grief. We go into denial because the loss is so unthinkable we can't imagine it's true. We become angry with everyone, angry with survivors, angry with ourselves. Then we bargain. We beg. We plead. We offer everything we have, we offer our souls in exchange for just one more day. When the bargaining has failed and the anger is too hard to maintain, we fall into depression, despair, until finally we have to accept that we've done everything we can. We let go. We let go and move into acceptance.
-Meredith Grey
Day One
Something wilted in her when Alex called her just a day after she left Seattle. She was just lounging on the couch with her nephews, the picture of a perfect aunt. Tom was making them a snack as they planned out the next few days. They'd scout the beach, build up their strength to haul all the equipment they needed for the proposal. They had a basic plan, one that screeched to a halt when she heard the three words she never thought she'd hear so soon.
"Em, O'Malley died."
Her heart stopped for a split second as Ollie squirmed in her arms, begging for attention that wasn't there. Her throat tightened and her vocals failed her as she felt numb. Everything around her, the bright colors, the atmosphere, became muted and grey.
Ollie didn't know better. He frowned at his aunt's expression, tugging uselessly at her top to no avail. She ignored him blankly as there was a silence on the other end.
"Hey, monsters," Tom greeted but it was muffled as Emily's grip on her phone loosened. Ollie scrambled off his aunt and joined his brother as they crowded around the freshly sliced fruits.
"What?" she whispered hoarsely and Alex sounded just as broken as her but for a completely different reason. One she didn't want to find out about because it was surely about Izzie. "What the hell did you just say?" By now, Tom looked at her in concern and sat beside her, rubbing her arm. Tears beaded in her eyes and she took a shaky breath.
"George is dead. Em, I'm sorry." She felt her lip tremble and she looked heavenward at the ceiling, wondering how it happened. Closing her eyes and tilting her head down so the kids wouldn't see her face, she turned slightly to Tom.
"I'm going to my room," she whispered, standing up and wiping at her eyes. Jabbing a thumb behind her towards the hallway, she didn't hear his response. Entering her room, she slammed it with a close and flopped on the bed. "Alex?" He made a sound, a hoarse, throaty one that sounded like he had been crying too.
"Mer's going to update - I don't even-" He cut himself off as there was a loud smack on the microphone and Mer's higher voice came to her ears.
"He pushed a girl out of the way. She didn't see it coming," Meredith explained softly, and Emily hugged her pillow. "We're performing the transplant now."
"And he's dead," she whispered flatly. Tendrils of rage wrapped around her throat, causing her voice to falter. She wanted to scream, to rip the bedposts, to feel the pain that would stem from her knuckles if she just punched the wall now but she refrained because it would surely scare her brother's kids.
"He's dead," Meredith affirmed and Emily hung up, letting her arm fall limp against the bed. After a while, Tom came in, the light streaming into her dark bedroom. He didn't say anything, only hugged her close as she leaned into his warmth. There were no tears, just him rubbing her back as she clutched onto his shirt.
"It'll be okay," he murmured but somehow she didn't believe that. Detaching herself from him, she picked up her phone again. Scrolling through her contacts, she found George's contact. The picture was of him and her after the wedding. They had been sitting next to each other at the reception when a photographer came up to them and just took a shot. They were turned towards each other, mouths open in a frozen laugh. His hand rested on her arm that was leaning against the back of the chair he sat on. She remembered vaguely what they were talking about. Something about how she would ask her brother to refer him for Mass Gen, and he thanked her before breaking out into laughs. Calling his cell, it went straight to voicemail after two rings.
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Rain
قصص الهواةEmily knew all the little tidbits that made him so obviously Mark Sloan. She knew he was allergic to coconuts, had chicken pox when he was six, and how he held his scalpel. She was his best friend and that was that. She didn't think he was the love...
