𝙄.
EVER SINCE NEW YORK.
──────
SEATTLE, 2009
FLYING FROM INDONESIA to Seattle was a whole lot more complicated than I would've guessed.
I'd done Boston to the island of Sumatra before, but that had been in a army helicopter with someone holding my hand the whole time. I'd even suffered through a long, painful flight between Quebec and Paris a few summers ago, but that seemed to be nothing compared to this.
This referring to four flights all in the succession of a few days, all laden with the tension of what was to come and what I'd left before. I'd spent four whole flights suffering in lonely silence, jaw locked and fists bunched. Flight one had been Sumatra, the island I'd been working on for the past few months, to Manila in the Philippines, a brief stop there, and then a connecting flight onto Vancouver. I'd opted for a layover before a short flight over the border, down into the Seattle airport, but that had barely helped- I'd spent the night in the hotel wracked with stress, my head spinning and my fingers twitching.
It was only when the home stretch was in sight, when the air hostesses' did their final strut down the length of the cabin, that I allowed my fists to unfurl.
I hated flying. I hated it. I wasn't exactly sure what it was about the whole affair, but something had my heavily medicated anxiety jumping at my throat the moment I felt the rumble of the jets through my body. To the contrary of my fears, I hadn't actually ever had a bad experience on an airplane, they'd all been generally pleasant, with the air hostesses taking extra caution with my visible discomfort. Back in the day, I'd been slipped the odd glass of free wine but that was no longer an option-
"Would you like any beverages?"
Ah, those words.
My mouth was suddenly dry. Swallowing was like deepthroating a handful of sand or taking a drink after a long eventful night.
I found myself hearing her even above the Dubassy that I was pounding into my brain as a bid to drown out bad thoughts; I meekly pulled out an ear bud and eyed her pristine, glossy smile. Before that, I'd been holding an intense staring match with the person's head in front of me- a balding man who was stockpiling all the complementary goods he'd been offered- but now my eyes dropped from her slightly exhausted, strained expression, her smart uniform (neck-tie and all) and the cart behind her.
I hesitated.
I must've looked stoic on the outside, but inside, there was a full war. Sigmun Freud's wet-dream. My ID and Superego were having a full WWE brawl with every blink I took. The silence was suddenly uncomfortably as my fingers dropped to my purse. My common sense attempted to sway my hand away from the bills I'd converted back in Vancouver, but my need to distract myself from my impending doom was stronger.
Order a soft drink, said my brain.
"Can I have a glass of wine, please? Red, if possible." said my mouth.
Fuck.
The airhostess produced a little plastic cup full of wine in exchange for a few bills, a cup that reminded me of not-quite-red-solo-cups but high school parties all the same. She barely even grimaced at the thought of serving me, an abnormally sweaty, thirty-eight year old woman with alcohol at- I checked the clock on my phone fleetingly- 10:56am.
Great, I thought to myself as I gave into my pressing stress and anxieties, lifting the cup of wine to my lips, not only am I going to relapse back into alcoholism but I'm also going to look like an alcoholic, too.
To be fair, I must've looked like I'd needed it.
I was sure that the make-up free face that was peering around looked like something made up by Stephen King; I had a funny patch of rosacea on my hairline that looked awkwardly and uncannily like Texas and without concealer, my eyebags looked horribly protruded and witchy.
To make it worse, the shower in my budget hotel room hadn't been working so I'd resorted to spraying an obnoxious amount of perfume over my body in duty-free. I'd had no time to dress properly and had even less time to tame the unruly mop of hair that seemed to frizz the moment I felt any degree of stress.
To be honest, I could have gotten ready on the plane. But, that was something a smart person would do and I was not particularly smart when it came to travelling. In that case, I would have ditched the forty-five-minute flight and caught a bus over the border, like a normal human being.
"Vacation starting early, huh?"
I raised an eyebrow, my head turning the direction of an amused voice that perked up on the aisle opposite me. In such a little plane, his voice barely needed to be audible for me to hear it-- I met the eyes of a dark-haired man, a pair of eyes that appeared very entertained.
My last 48 hours had been riddled with partial silence; my last conversation had been with Charlie, the guy who had practically burnt the rubber off of his truck, powering his way through traffic to help me make my flight.
Since then, I'd only exchanged, "Thank you"s and "No thank you"s and a couple of variations between, excusing the airplane staff that seemed to feed off of my discomfort in speaking.
But here was a man, a stranger, looking over at me and smiling. I took a mouthful of wine, my stomach boiling with regret but also nostalgia as I drank for what must have been the first time in half a decade.
"Hardly a vacation." My reply was clipped.
My fists curled back up as the cabin crew retreated back into the positions that I'd become familiar with throughout my three other flights. The man seemed oblivious to my discomfort and was quick to reply.
"You look as though you need it... if you don't mind me saying-- you either hate flying or didn't like Vancouver."
"Ah, you've caught me." I smiled wryly, looking away and back down at the small plastic cup. Looking at it made my skin frizzle, like I was under a heat lamp. "But, in my defence... I didn't really see much of Vancouver, I was over-night in the airport hotel; I came in late last night on a connecting flight-"
"Hey, me too." He leant forwards in his chair, interest piquing. "I came in from Manila-" I nodded rather mechanically. He looked overjoyed. "That's really cool, I don't remember seeing you on the last flight- I mean it was a big plane but-"
"I'm not really a social flier," I laughed uneasily despite myself and gripped the armrests tightly. His eyes dropped to my tense hands and his eyebrow raised.
"You really don't like flying, do you?"
I shrugged instead of answering his question.
I'd really never liked flying, but I always ended up forcing myself to do it. There was no sob story behind it, no past of tragedies- I just always put it to biological preparedness in some form. It didn't matter whether I was on some large and bulky transatlantic flight (something I'd done a few times by now) or a pretty secure military plane, or even a forty-five-minute flight from Vancouver to Seattle-- each time I would sweat bricks and want nothing more than to place my little manicured toes on the ground.
"There's something about being suspended in the air in a little tin can that really does wonders for my blood pressure." Sarcasm was thick; he laughed.
"What's the worst thing that can happen?"
Oh, let me think.
We could spontaneously drop out of the sky. I could end up a kebab on a skewer made out of deformed metal and end up bleeding to the death in the middle of nowhere. Or, I could even be a lone survivor and force myself to delve into my long-abandoned surgical knowledge and attempt to single-handedly save the lives of 90 other passengers.
I opted with a weak smile.
He seemed to like moving conversations on quickly. "It's okay, I'm just pulling your leg-- my girlfriend is exactly the same, she hates flying and refuses to even get on one of these things. So, I commend you for giving yourself a pep talk."
"Thanks."
"In fact, I almost missed the plane back in Manila. You see, I fly over here a lot and I'm not very punctual. I left with her screaming at me telling me that maybe it wasn't even worth my time-" He paused, his eyes flickering back to mine as I watched him, a slight shadow in the back of my eyes. An uneasy and guilty smile stretching across his face. "I'm sorry, I talk a lot-"
"It's okay." He didn't look too persuaded; I let out a breath. "I'm a psychiatrist so, really, don't worry- I'm used to hearing all different personal stories all the time. Not a day goes by when someone isn't talking off my ear." Then I thought about how I'd left Sumatra. "I had to get my boyfriend to panic drive me to the airport as well- I'm terrible at this--"
"You're a doctor?"
He appeared surprised and again, I gave him a strained smile.
I didn't feel like one sometimes, but I still was that dumbass that was qualified in psychiatry. I'd been told many times that I didn't look like a doctor.
Although, in my defence, that had been during my dark ages when those comments had been delivered to a very drunk and high Beth who hadn't been able to tell who was even speaking to her. This guy, however, didn't mean it an obnoxious way. He said it in a delighted way that had me uneasy.
Did this guy have a kink for doctors or something-
"You don't work at Seattle Grace, by any chance, do you?"
Seattle Grace. That name caused my stomach to twist. There was something about his tone and the way he smiled at me widely, apprehensively, that made me think that was what he was coming to Seattle for.
"No, I haven't worked in hospitals for a long time." Not for a decade, to be exact. Working in mental health centres in Boston hadn't rivalled anything to a busy residency in a top New York teaching hospital. "I do relief work, mostly. I've just finished doing trauma consultancy on that big earthquake in Indonesia-"
"Oh yeah, the one a few years ago." He recounted sadly. "I saw that on the TV. It must've been awful-" Licking his lips awkwardly, he took a moment before he leant over, stretching out a hand and offering it to me shortly. "I'm Henry, by the way."
"Beth." I introduced shortly, quipped with a polite smile.
***
─── It rained a lot in Seattle, apparently.
It was coming downwards in torrents, making my skin bristle in irritation alongside the curbed chill that came hand in hand with the awful weather.
It left me stood on the side of the road, my face stormier than the clouds above. I was gripping my suitcase with one hand, and holding my rip-off handbag with the other, standing there, brooding over the meaning of life as I sheltered underneath the small relief the airport roof offered.
Sighing tiredly, I glanced back down at my phone, wondering where the hell my ride was.
Addie had been full of apologies.
She'd told me that she couldn't come and pick me up from the airport so she'd sent someone to come get me. Again, the driving and the ability to follow directions had fallen short with me. So now here I was, waiting for some stranger to come and pick me up and take me to my brother's death bed.
And they were fifteen minutes late.
I'd thought that with the half an hour that it took me to idle my way through security and stock up on trashy magazines, that I would've been able to waltz out of the airport and slip into a private car like some sort of celebrity. But no, apparently that was something that my imagination liked to exhaust me over.
Instead of gracing a car seat, I was stuck outside waiting in a heavy rainfall that made me feel like I'd fallen out of the plane half way between Manila and Vancouver.
I was too consumed by my brooding to notice a car as it pulled up in front of me. My eyebrows drew downwards as I watched an unfamiliar woman lean over and peer through the passenger window at me.
Her eyes scanned over the store-bought poncho I'd thrown over myself and the gentle shake of my hands as I gripped my bags so tightly that they turned white.
"Are you Elizabeth?"
The woman had rolled down the window, looking at me intently as I teetered towards her, feeling wet and irritable. She was probably around my age, her light brown hair spilling across the front of her as she watched me nod numbly.
I'd somewhat lost the ability to speak, feeling so downtrodden and lost in such a big city that I'd reverted to staring at the woman unsurely as a slight recognition passed across her face.
"Uh- I'm Lexie." The woman said hastily, pushing her dark hair behind her ear quickly as she opened the door for me.
I didn't say anything immediately, just sighed heavily as I crossed from a dark and damp storm to the warm and dry interior of her car.
"Dr. Shepherd sent me to come and get you. He said that you need to come to the hospital, right?"
Lexie was small, mousy and she was stuttering, as if she was afraid that I was going to suddenly step in and correct her on something. After I'd thrown my light suitcase over into the back seat, I eyed her, slightly tousled by the way her foot clipped down onto the acceleration rather sharply. It seemed as though she was in a rush, which led me to look downwards and noticing how she was in a obvious doctor's coat.
I just rolled my eyes.
"Derek sent you?" My voice was clearer than I'd expected and it rang out between us loudly. Lexie nodded quickly and I couldn't help but contain my nod of understanding that might've been noticeably bitter.
Of course, Derek would organise everything.
And by the look of it, he'd roped in a medical Intern too.
My brother, Archie, was always talking about how Interns were the ones who were laden with all of the scut no one else wanted to do. He used to make them do his laundry and pick up his favourite sub from the cafe, do all his dirty work and occasionally even take messages for him from his family when he was busy in surgery or something wild and advantageous.
Kissing my teeth chastely, I could only smile at the fact that somehow I fell under the label of doing scut, and I somewhat doubted that that had been Derek's idea.
"Dr. Shepherd said that the patient with the worms in his brain is your brother," Lexie said softly, casually, attempting to make some sort of conversation. I hummed quietly, recounting the way Addie had sent me an email, telling me about Archie and his condition. Apparently, it was life-threatening now, which was exactly when Addison had decided it was a great time to message me. "That must be horrible, I'm sorry."
"I haven't seen Archer for five years," I replied flippantly, turning to watch the city pass by. "I didn't even know he was ill."
Seattle was different to other cities that I'd been in; Boston had been all about architecture, big skyscrapers and symmetry, London had all been about small streets and a mash of old and new buildings, all of the places in Indonesia had been hot and packed with people.
But Seattle was just large and rainy, with heavily streaming traffic and the large stream of angry cars through the slight streets. It was charming, in a way.
Yet it was going to take a while to get used to the rain. An adjustment between the 85°F sunshine and white clouds of Indonesia to the blustery and cold storm outside was one that needed to be approached cautiously.
"Oh." Lexie sounded stumped as if she hadn't quite expected that answer. She glanced at me as she turned down a noticeably empty road. "Well- Well Dr. Shepherd is an amazing doctor and he's in very good hands. I don't know much about the case, but I know that he and the chief are working very hard to make sure that your brother has the best chances of recovery."
I seldom managed a smile. "Thanks."
Archer had been too proud to ask for any medical attention, most probably. I knew my big brother and he must've been dragged by Addie to this hospital, to be consulted by his ex-brother-in-law of all things. One thing that I'd learnt about Archie is that neurosurgeons like him didn't like being told what to do, or maybe that was just a big brother thing.
Either way, Addie had demanded the best for Archie and managed to force him into a hospital on the other side of the country just to get Derek to check out some worms in his head.
I wasn't a surgeon anymore and even I knew that sounded bad.
"So, you're the unlucky person who has been dumped with Derek's unwanted duties, huh?" I asked, taking my turn to rouse some sort of conversation. Lexie shrugged, causing me to chuckle. "I think there's something about neurosurgeons, they just have these egos-"
"Dr. Shepherd is a great doctor." Lexie pined obediently. "I'm not his servant, I'm just one of the Interns- I do what I can to help."
I looked over at her, amused. "Including picking up his ex-wife's little sister from the airport?" Lexie seemed to sigh inwardly.
"Including picking up Doctor Montgomery's sister from the airport," Lexie repeated, nodding her head lightly in agreement. She let out a small chuckle as we seemed to pull into another heavy stream of traffic. My eyebrows rose. It seemed as though Seattle traffic was somewhat more bipolar than my Mother, which was impressive. "Which is no problem, by the way. It's nice to do the little things in the way."
I'm scut, I thought to myself grimly. I'm totally scut.
"Addie must've buttered Derek up," I muttered to myself. I knew that Derek hadn't had the best reaction to Addie's affair; he'd almost rivalled mine. Yet not even his dramatic exit could've beat my fleeing onto a plane up to Canada. Turning to Lexie, I watched as the Intern seemed to hastily glance at the clock. "Have you heard about my sister?"
Lexie looked over at me, seemingly alarmed by my question. "I haven't met her, but my half-sister, Meredith, talks about her sometimes-"
The car jolted into a free space in the traffic and zoomed towards a large building at the end of the road, one which I guessed correctly was the hospital.
"Meredith's uh," She scrambled with her words, "Derek's girlfriend- I guess. It's slightly complicated."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Well," I said, drawing out a long breath as Lexie finally pulled the car to a stop in front of what seemed to be the main entrance or at least some sort of plaza which split a walkway between the car park. "It's nice to know that us Montgomery's are a popular topic."
"You are at the moment," Lexie replied sadly, her doe-eyes watching me as she encouraged me to get out of the car and go face whatever state Archie was in. I glanced at her as I opened the door.
"Yeah, brain worm guy and the ex-Shepherd, or what I like to call her, Satan." I hopped out of the car as I realized how crazy this all sounded. "I've got it-- and now me."
The Montgomery family was just as twisted and weird as it got.
My brother was a neurosurgeon with an ego that rivalled the size of Russia and my sister was a neonatal surgeon who had a panache for sleeping with your boyfriend behind your back, and just to top it off I was a certified crisis-management specialist who had anger issues and the remnants of drug addiction. So yes, we were your average family of doctors, if there was ever such a thing.
My suitcase trundled along behind me as Lexie pulled away, going to search for a space in the parking lot. I was still dressed in the oversized poncho, still grimacing at the rain and still feeling extremely disgusted at the way my hair stuck to my face as I walked towards the hospital.
Everything within a five hundred mile radius must've been soaked according to the massive cloud that seemed to follow me around above me. Everything definitely included my hair, which had been reduced to a sodden mop and my trainers, which squelched with every footstep.
It rained in Seattle and I didn't like that very much.
Heat seeped through the doors of the hospital, offering me a friendly sort of solitude which made me yawn, almost like a reflex. I lingered on the doorway, sighing as the heat blew across my body before I realised that it was probably sensible to keep walking.
Seattle Grace Hospital was more modern than I'd expected; it had glass windows framing every free space, designed to let in more light- which was seemingly stupid seeing as it was just dark and depressing outside.
It was also much busier than I'd expected, after becoming accustomed to the small hospitals dotted around Sumatra; it was busier than a relief area, almost, with patients lining the waiting room seats and doctors straying across the room aimlessly.
I had to wait a good ten minutes to talk to a tired-looking man at the desk. Leaning forwards, I asked for directions to the surgical ward, only to be hastily pointed in the direction of a set of lifts at the back of the room.
Giving him a slight nod, I ambled around, grimacing at the wet set of footprints I left in my wake.
I suppose that I didn't find it funny until I turned around and noticed the yellow 'Caution: Wet Floor' sign they'd quickly propped up in the middle of the path I'd left through the reception area.
I was about to press the button for the elevator, when I was suddenly startled by a voice calling out my name. Frowning, I turned towards the entrance, watching a familiar face rush towards me with a grin on his face: "Bethy!"
"Sam?"
I recognised, bewildered as the tall, black man approached me. He had that crooked grin on his face that reminded me of the days I'd spent with Addie and Derek in New York and then I was also reminded of how well he and Mark had gotten on.
A pretty slow smile dawn across my face. "What are you doing here?"
He hadn't changed a bit.
Sam Bennett stood beside me, looking barely fazed by the rain and with his lips twitching at my confused expression. He had a suit jacket thrown over a crinkled shirt, both splattered by the rain. It was him who reached out and pressed the arrow to ascend in the lift, all while smiling down at me.
"I heard that Archer was in a bad shape." He stated flippantly before he suddenly turned grave. "So I caught a flight from LAX and here I am..."
Sam trailed off as the lift appeared, opening and spilling out a handful of Nurses and Doctors. He stepped back, allowing me to go first before he followed me in and punched the button for the surgical floor.
"Yeah, it's looking like it's going to be a pretty shit day, huh-"
"He's going to be fine." Sam insisted, raising his head to look up at the floor count above the door. He had a habit of doing that, that was something that I'd learnt from the days that Addie, Derek and Sam had attended Columbia. Sometimes he couldn't quite look people in the eye. "Addie's brought him to Derek for a reason Beth, I'm sure there's some sort of method to her madness."
I scoffed lightly. "You wanna bet on that?"
Sam shot me a look, making me let out a long breath.
"Look- I trust Derek with my life, but Addie-" I swallowed a clot at the bottom of my throat. "I don't think I'd be able to trust her again." This made Sam smile sadly and I knew that he was reminiscing about how easy it had all been in New York.
"Addie told us that she hasn't seen you since that night with Mark-"
"Yeah." My voice was much quieter than I would've liked and my eyes were suddenly stuck on the floor. I chewed on the inside of my cheek as Sam lightly put a hand on my shoulder.
"It's going to be awkward, isn't it?" Now to that, I couldn't help but laugh.
"You're damn right it is."
When the doors opened, we were suddenly spilt out into a rushed environment, where doctors were weaving in and out of other doctors, mingled with nurses and patients and visitors. Sam and I paused for a moment, almost getting thrown aside as a handful of doctor's swarmed past into the lifts.
Exchanging a look, we both swallowed thickly, before deciding that maybe this would be an interesting trip.
I'd forgotten how electric the atmosphere in a hospital was. In Indonesia, I'd worked in small clinics, not in large buildings filled with surgeons and electricity and working water. I was so caught up in the sudden change of everything that Sam almost had to drag me over to the desk in the centre of the surgery reception to talk to a rather grumpy looking Nurse who sat on the end of the desk.
"We're here to see- Uh, Montgomery, Archer," Sam said curtly to the Nurse. "I'm a friend."
I stood beside him silently, watching as he leant against the top, his suit jacket still damp from the downpour outside. I was seemingly looking like a yellow balloon in my large poncho, still ghosting about behind him as Sam found Archie's room information.
I was about to chip in and inform the Nurse that I was Archie's sister, when a doctor approached us, her hands clutching a file. She was about half my height and had a curious expression on her face, her eyes stuck on Sam as he waited patiently for the details.
I elbowed Sam shortly, causing him to glance around before eventually, he noticed the doctor as she introduced herself.
"I'm Doctor Miranda Bailey." She said, offering her hand to Sam. He smiled down at her charmingly. I shot him a short look, but that was shaken off by the two of them as Sam shook her hand. Her eyes wandered to me and I smiled faintly in greeting, still slightly overwhelmed by the mass amount of people in this place. "I'm a friend of Addison's."
Miranda Bailey was small and looked well-disciplined and hoarse as she looked up expectantly at Sam. Her hair was short, dark and cropped around her face, her intent eyes straying between the two of us as she waited for us to introduce herself.
But when neither of us said anything, she just frowned.
"So which ones are you two?"
I mirrored her expression. "Sorry?"
"Archer is Addison's brother, Archer's girlfriend is Addison's best friend, who used to be married to Derek's best friend, who Derek hasn't spoken to since the divorce." "And by the look of you, you must be the estranged sister?"
I just gave her a strained smile.
Sam and I looked at each other, slightly impressed and intrigued by how she seemed to summarise everything that was problematic about the friendship group we had. But then I frowned.
Did Bailey say used to be married to?
What happened to Naomi and Sam?
"Well- that would also be me too." Sam finished awkwardly, just as the Nurse glanced up from his computer and turned to relay Archer's room details. I thanked him curtly just as Sam scratched the back of his neck. "The Ex-husband- Dr. Samuel Bennett."
Bailey peered at him, then at me, before she sighed. "Sorry." Was all she could manage as she passed the Nurse behind us a chart from a patient. "Well, I didn't think that the ex-husband would show up at his ex-wife's boyfriend's bedside."
I felt my head tilt, my eyes sliding to look at Sam questioningly. As if he could sense my confusion, Sam patted my arm, a clear universal sign that he'd explain later.
"I didn't think you'd turn up either," Bailey said, jolting me out of my thoughts. I met her gaze head-on as she smoothed out the front of her doctor's coat and dark Attending's scrubs. "From what Addison had told me you don't like either of your siblings's that much to catch a plane to be at Archer's bedside-"
My jaw slackened.
Addie had made me sound like a bitch. Wonderful.
Before I could reply, Sam decided to jump to the rescue.
"Right. Don't worry about it." He let out a nervous laugh as I scowled at the floor subtly. "Uh- even I don't know why I'm here."
Bailey studied me shortly, before the Nurse handed her a second chart, causing her to make a move as if she wanted to leave. But she paused, all the same, watching as I took a deep breath and turned to go drag Sam off in Archer's direction.
"Yeah," Bailey said simply, eyes combing over the pair of us almost suspiciously. Then she cracked. "Third floor, Room 3240." Sam smiled at her faintly.
"Thank you." He said before he insisted on taking my suitcase from me. I rolled my eyes at him and glanced one last time at Bailey, the doctor who'd seemingly confirmed my suspicions.
Addie had obviously talked a lot about me and when it came to Addison Montgomery, she never had anything good to say about me at all.
"Uh- Dr. Bennett-" Sam stopped as Bailey called out his name. I couldn't help but shake my head slowly as Sam turned to smile warmly at the small but determined doctor.
"Please, call me Sam."
I didn't catch a look of Dr Bailey's face, but I knew that she must've been blushing by the smug smirk on Sam's face. If the exaggerated sigh that fell from my lips as we turned away wasn't enough, I knew that the disgusted look on my face was enough to tell him how I felt about my first few moments at Seattle Grace.
Sam glanced at me, amused, as we stood side by side once again in the elevator; but this time we weren't alone, medical interns were herded inside like sheep, just leading to the dampening of my mood.
"You're such a disaster," I muttered to Sam as we pressed the button for the third floor. He just chuckled. "You owe me an explanation for those divorce papers, you know. How I couldn't of known about this surpasses me-"
"There's nothing to explain." Sam said, suddenly losing the charismatic smile he had on his face. The sudden intensity within the elevator was enough to bristle the interns that stood around us, also to provoke a frown to break out across my lips. "You know what it's like- with you and Mark-"
"Yeah but Naomi didn't have an affair with your sister, did she?"
Sam looked away. "Beth, you what it's like just to grow apart. Huh?" I bit down on my lip. "And hey- you leave Corinne out of this." I smiled weakly at his attempted to lighten up the tension.
"Samuel Bennett," I rolled my eyes. He mirrored the gesture. "I swear one day I'll kick your ass."
***
─── "Holy crap." He muttered to himself as I awkwardly hesitated in the door frame of Room 3240. "Holy crap."
His eyes fixed on me and he blinked a few times as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. In a way, I did the same; my heart twisted and I found myself horrified.
Over the last few days, I'd given myself many different pep talks.
A whole section had been dedicated to coming face to face with Addison and the second section had been dedicated to Archer Montgomery, my big brother- and the dumbass that had decided to do something as recklessly stupid as put himself on death door.
But, for some reason, throughout these internal monologues, I hadn't prepared myself for a sight as grave as the one that met me.
Archer didn't look good. He was pale and sickly, with a waterfall of wires falling from his weak-looking frame. His face looked gaunt, shadowy and he looked as though he was constantly on the verge of falling asleep- I hoped to god that was the drugs and not literally death's door. His eyes were slightly unfocused, although I wasn't sure whether it was, again, from the pain medication or from suspended disbelief.
They'd zeroed in on me from the moment I'd appeared, noticeably Sam-less and meek in the doorway.
But then Archer, or Archie as I'd called him since I'd been able to speak, started talking.
"I must be high as a kite."
His mumbles were audible and caused my lips to twitch. I took a few strides into the room and glanced about- the room was empty, as the nurse of the ward had guaranteed. That granted me with relief- no matter how many pep talks I'd gone through, I definitely hadn't prepared myself to face both Addison and Archer at the same time.
"Hey, Addison!" He called out suddenly, almost making me jump out of my skin.
It wasn't the sort of behaviour that I knew from my brother so I tilted my head to the side, my eyes narrowing. Maybe he was high? Not that I could really judge him, I could barely speak from my position, even if he was high on prescribed medication.
"You really need to get Derek to cut down on this pain medication, I think I'm hallucinating Elizabeth-"
I just had to interrupt. "Fuck, you're really high, aren't you?"
He blinked. "Holy crap."
I chuckled, rolling my eyes. "Look, I didn't take five hundred different planes just for you to think I'm some bad acid trip, brother."
Once I reached the bottom of his bed (and smirked down at him with all of the Montgomery sass I had in me), Archer's worm-eaten brain seemed to fully kick back into gear.
He let out a delighted smile, a long, wide beautiful sight that had me grinning back. I edged my way towards him and before I could say another word, Archer was reaching for me, pulling me into a hug that was stronger than I'd expected for a dying man.
"Beth, you're really here." His surprise caused a falter in my smile, but he couldn't see. Instead, I was faced with all of the machinery behind him, all of the electronics and contraptions that reminded me of the sci-fy movies that we used to watch as children. "I've missed you."
"Don't tell me you've gone soft in your old age, Archie." I mused over his shoulder, chuckling as he released me. He just shook his head fondly, clasping my hand within his as I took a few steps back, giving him a final once over. "But yeah, it's been a while for sure, I've missed you too."
Despite Archer being one of the only people that I'd stayed in touch with (the other had been Amelia Shepherd, Derek's younger sister, but she had a reputation of being terrible at responding to texts), nothing rivalled face-to-face communication.
It was so lovely to be able to hug my big brother after such a long time of separation; four years was a long time and I could tell from the way that Archie seemed reluctant to let my hand go, that he had felt it very strongly.
I pressed my hand to his cheek; fuck, I truly hadn't expected him to look so ill.
Between Addie's short message (which had truly been a cryptic riddle to read and a curt contender for a 100 words or less competition) and the intern's absent ramblings in the car, I hadn't been able to gauge the severity of his condition; I'd known it was dangerous but who wouldn't-- the phrase "worms in the brain" wasn't exactly a pleasant picture to imagine.
Addison hadn't been particularly detailed in her description of his diagnosis and I'd known that it was likely something that she didn't want to just tell me over a 100-word email.
I also had a lingering suspicion that Addison would want to talk to me about other things too, but I didn't want my first conversation with my estranged sister, after four tense and silent years, to be about resuscitation techniques for my brother.
"You've changed so much." My brother said suddenly, causing my eyebrows to bunch and a nervous smile to catch at the corner of my mouth. I found a seat behind me and pulled it forwards, still not breaking the contact between us.
"In what way?"
"You just look.. Happy." Well, I definitely didn't feel it. "Well, not happy- but you know what I mean- you look like you. Like fresh-out-of-high-school-you-" He paused for a second and then smiled once again. "I'm happy you're in good shape."
"I would say the same for you, Arch..." I trailed off and gave him a guilty smile. My older brother scoffed almost incredulously but gave me the fond chuckle all the same. "But- yeah, honestly I'm in a good place at the moment. I'm happy with what I'm doing, for the most part-- and I've.. I've done a lot of shit to get her that has seemingly paid off-- I still need to pay you back for everything you know.. The flight to Canada... everything-"
He lifted a hand and seemed to wave almost dismissively. "By the way it's looking I won't be alive for you to do that."
I froze in my seat, mouth open in mid impulse to interject. But his words took me off-guard. There was a beat and then Archer seemed to understand that his humour had (for once) flown straight over my head.
"Relax, Elizabeth, I'm joking."
I restrained the urge to shove his shoulder as my body started working once again.
"Asswipe. I'm the only one that can joke about you kicking the bucket, old man. I'm the comedic relief around here, you need to shut the hell up otherwise I'm out of a job." He finally let go of my hand and held his up in what seemed to be some form of surrender. "And if you call me that stupid name again I'm going back to Indonesia and blocking your phone number quicker than you can even whisper my stupid middle name too."
"I've missed you."
There was genuine affection in his eyes that I'd both missed and craved since my departure from New York.
Despite the sarcasm in his voice, it was clear to me that Archer dearly valued our conversation. In a moment of sudden cold sweat, I wondered whether he was holding onto every second of our conversation because he thought he truly was going to die.
"I've missed you too," was my very soft, almost breathy, reply.
If he died I sure as hell was going to kick his ass.
"You're so adult-like and uptight, it's weird." He continued, looking over me briefly. "Are you wearing a poncho?"
"Yeah, I thought I'd go for a different fashion look, you should try it sometime--"
Archer raised his arms, gesturing to his hospital gown. "I'm afraid I'm a little bit too restricted at the moment." I tried to keep a straight, stern exterior, but it cracked in the form of a sneaky smile playing at the corners of my lips. I shook my head, my eyes rolling incessantly.
But then his tone changed, drastically.
"I didn't think you'd come to see me." He admitted, causing me to look down, sadness filtering through me.
I grasped his hand tightly, wondering how I'd gotten that shitty of a sister that my big brother (who I loved so intensely and cherished dearly) had doubted my ability to get off my ass and come be at his possible death bed.
"Well, first of all, Addison seemed pretty insistent and, although she's not in my good books, I guess the little sister in me shat bricks-" Archer chuckled briefly and squeezed my hand; I stared down at his pale fingers, distracted by how much hope I had from the fact that he could use his muscles well. "But also, I remembered how you selflessly left your private clinic back home and moved back to Manhattan for me following my suspension..."
I paused, I didn't really like to think about those few months. It'd been in amongst everything going to shit. I'd just been suspended from my job, my relationship (if I could even call it that) was in shreds and Addison was being extremely hard on me about all of my mental issues and assorted addictions that I'd developed.
But then Archer had arrived, like a godsend, he'd picked me off the floor, dusted me down and embraced me-- all before helping me into a rehabilitation program in Arizona.
He'd stuck around for a good amount of time, he'd been at my side through thick and thin. Honestly, I'd be damned before I let my sister get in the way of me returning the favour.
I let out a long breath. "It's the least I can do, Arch."
Archer smiled fondly, his face crinkling and eyes slightly glassy, as if he, too had taken a trip down a dark and twisty memory lane. We both shared a quick, intimate moment of heartfelt appreciation. I'd always admired my brother and his ability to be selfless for his siblings; he'd have probably taken a bullet for me if I'd asked him to.
Admittedly, I'd slacked in my sisterly duties, too preoccupied with my own redemption to really ask Archie how he was and how life was back in the states. And here I was to try and do my best to make up for it and even though I may have only had a small window of time, I was determined to do my best.
"You're going soft on me, Beth." He teased, breaking the tension with his glittering eyes. I quickly wiped at the corner of my eye with my plastic sleeve and snorted, trying to hide the little tear that had not-so-discreetly been shed. "Don't feel like you owe me anything."
"I don't." Maybe that was a partial lie. I felt indebted to my brother because he'd supported me when not even Derek or Amelia had wanted to. Even when I myself, had been close to death because of my own recklessness. "I just don't want you to get lonely, or bored- god forbid Addison starts talking about work and bore you to death."
"I'm lucky to have so many people come to see me-"
"Yeah, Sam's here too, he turned up the same time as me. He's on a witch hunt to find Derek-"
"I'm so proud of you for pushing aside your bad blood with Addison for me-"
"Well, it hasn't exactly been pushed aside- I'm more of a resent and remember sort of girl personally, rather than forgive and forget-"
"And Naomi's here, Derek, Addison, now you, it's all like the good 'ole days when-"
Archer faltered. This time, he didn't need me to talk over him. He just stopped, as if he had a moment of realisation. His eyes skirted away from mine and he seemed deep in thought. I paused, my head tilting to the side and my brow furrowing.
In my head, I was stressed, trying to search for signs of some sort of stroke, some sort of medical reason why my brother suddenly looked so distressed.
But then, Archer spoke.
"You don't know, do you?"
I was lost. His eyes sluggishly met mine and all that I saw was a look of disdain, disappointment as if there was something that had been left unspoken. My bewildered look was enough of a response and Archer let out a long breath, shaking his head as if he was taken aback by something that had been happened.
"Addie didn't tell you." The statement was said mostly to himself. He sounded exhausted all of a sudden and all of my previous old man jokes and gags were nothing compared to how much he seemed to age in the pregnant pause that followed.
I felt my stomach twist in apprehension. That taboo glass of wine that I'd consumed on the plane was doing nothing to calm my nerves. My stress, of which had been momentarily camouflaged in my subconscious, suddenly shot up into the front-of-centre of my mind, a large shape of dancing red flags and sirens.
Archie must've caught the way my lips dipped and my eyes grew weary as he finally said what was on the front of his mind.
"She was unfair to you. She should've told you--"
"Arch, what is going on?" I was cautious, I was wary.
My worst-case scenario at the moment was that Archer's death had been already guaranteed and that Addison had withheld telling me the terminal diagnosis. That she'd somehow sacrificed the pain and shock so I didn't feel so panicked about spending 48hrs travelling to a fruitless destination.
Somehow, in my fucked up, chemically imbalanced, drug-altered and frazzled brain, the real situation levelled worse.
"Mark's here." My jaw slackened and I could tell that I wore my heart on my sleeve. Archer's face twisted in pure misery and he held onto me tight as if scared that I would fall away from him. "He works here now, and Addison knew- but she didn't tell you."
To say my head was a mess was an understatement.
I was bombarded with thoughts, images and sentences that were incoherent and messy. Memories resurfaced that boiled my blood or caused the little submerged box of negativity at the back of my brain to strain at its lock.
A dizzy spell of shock and confusion ricocheted through me and I found myself fixated on one thought that stood out within the chaos, like a beacon in my mind.
I didn't give myself a fucking pep talk for this.
My answer was a smile, bright and fake- just like the grin on the lips of the air hostess on the early morning flight from Vancouver, beautifully pained and equally strained. Meanwhile, my verbal response was less cinematic.
"Oh," the syllables fell numbly as my fingers crawled out of Archer's grasp. "That's inconvenient."
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ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED OCTOBER 2020