TRIGGER WARNINGS:
gun violence; suicidal ideation; miscarriage; "sanctuary" and "death and all his friends" related triggers. there's descriptions of gun violence & trauma. this is a heavy chapter, so if anyone thinks of anything else i should add here, please let me know.
✦
"Well, fancy meeting you here." Briar chuckles, grinning at Jackson, who only just beat her to the coffee cart.
"At our place of employment? It's a modern miracle." He plays along, and then jerks his head forward. "Go ahead and order, it's my treat for today."
"Whatever has you so happy needs to continue happening." Briar says before stepping up next to Jackson and ordering, the two of them moving aside to wait for them to be made right after. "Who's service are you on today?"
"Altman's. You?"
"Hunt's. I'm hoping he'll let me run the pit again today. It's happened a few times and it gives me such a thrill, I need that today. I'm dragging."
"You could always ask him." Jackson points out, making Briar's eyes widen as she frantically shakes her head.
"Oh no, not with Owen. You have to let him decide. It's a total man thing." She complains, grinning when Jackson lets out an offended noise.
"Ouch."
"Shush, you know I'm right. Anyway, thank you for the coffee. I'll see you later?"
"Knowing us, we'll both be at the vending machines at the same time." He agrees with a laugh, waving at her as they split up. Briar is grinning to herself as she enters the crowded E.R., only to gasp a minute later when she bumps into someone, falling straight to the floor.
"Sinclair, you alright?" She hears Owen call, waving him away as her cheeks flush bright red. Thankfully, there doesn't seem to be much damage done to her scrubs, aside from a few spots on her pants. The real damage was done to the floor, and she smiles apologetically as Tyler moves to clean it up.
"Thanks, man. Remind me to buy you one later." She tells him, before turning to the man she bumped into, who looks aggravated. A quick scan shows that he's an older gentleman, his dark hair balding, wearing a longer brown coat over a white button-up. It's not buttoned fully, revealing his black undershirt.
"I'm so sorry, sir, are you okay? Did you get burned at all?" She asks in a rush, scanning him for any injuries and not seeing any. He's a few inches taller than her, and she fell straight to the floor, so he seems to have stayed clear of the splash zone. Still, better safe than sorry, especially while Derek is already dealing with a lawsuit from a grieving widower.
Something inside of her freezes when he turns his eyes on her. They're icy blue, something so cold in them that it stops her in her place, making her want to rush away from him as quickly as possible. It's only years of experience inside of hospitals that keeps her feet planted to the floor, waiting for an answer.
"Not this time." He says, and Briar blinks, trying to make sense of that answer. He didn't get burned this time? "Do you know where I can find the Chief of Surgery?"
"Dr. Shepherd?" She asks slowly, clearing her throat when his gaze remains locked onto her. He's more than likely in his office, but she doesn't feel comfortable giving away that information. She doesn't know this guy. If he has an appointment with Derek, he can come down and lead him to his office. "I'm sorry, I don't. If you stay right here, I'll try and get some–"
In a curtained off section across the room, someone starts coding, and Briar instinctively rushes that way. "Stay there, I'll be back!" She shouts over her shoulder, jumping into the fray as soon as she can with Dr. Barlowe updating her on the patient in the background.
When she's able to step away about ten minutes later, the man is nowhere to be seen.
✦
Briar is pretty sure something in her dies the second time she knocks into someone, fear lodging itself into her diaphragm and choking her. They're on lockdown, and she shouldn't be moving, but something inside of her broke when she heard the gunshots and realized that she doesn't know where her people are–doesn't know where Alex is.
Crying makes her open her eyes, relief flooding through her at the sight of Dr. Barlowe. She's alive. She's alive and . . . covered in blood.
"Are you hurt?" Briar whispers, frantically patting her down while the girl shakes underneath her hands. None of the blood appears to be hers, but Briar doesn't completely trust her vision right now. "Dr. Barlowe? Are you hurt? Marissa?"
"N–no." She whispers, her eyes remaining shut. Shock, some distant part of Briar recognizes, diagnosing even during a crisis. "No. V–Vivian. He–he shot Vivi."
"Is she alive?" Briar asks, fighting past the lump in her throat. Vivian is so kind. This can't be happening. Not here, not now. "Is all of this blood hers?"
"She–She bled so much," Marissa sobs out, and Briar pulls her in for a hug, not paying attention to the transfer of blood to her scrubs. "He sh–shot her in the head."
This is a nightmare. Briar finds herself feeling completely lost, looking around the abandoned hallway. The most critical patients were taken to the O.R. before lockdown; the people who came in for lacerations and other minor concerns must've been evacuated quickly. Briar really regrets her inconveniently timed bathroom break now, because not knowing the status of anyone except for Marissa is stressing her out.
"I need to go find Alex." She breathes out, making Marissa tense up even further in her arms at the thought of moving. "We need to hide you. Um. Okay, this is what we're going to do. We are going to get you on a bed and cover you up as if you're dead. You're not going to move. If you hear anyone coming, I need you to stop breathing and play dead. Okay?"
"I–I can't." Marissa breathes out. Briar blinks away tears at how scared she sounds. She seems so young.
"You can. You have to." She tells her, being brutally honest, and then pulls her along into a room. "Come on, get up here. We're going to make this quick."
"I'm scared." She whispers back, and Briar can't resist taking a moment to tuck some of her hair behind her ears. She hopes that it gives her a small amount of comfort, since it's really all she can do at the moment.
"I am too." She whispers, although she's more scared for all the people she's come to love and respect. It's such a long list, and she doesn't know where any of them are, or what their conditions are. They could be dead. Alex could be dead, and she doesn't know what she would do in that case. "Th–this is terrifying, but Marissa, I need you to trust me. Do you trust me?"
When she slowly nods her head, Briar gives her a smile, hoping it isn't as weak as she feels.
"Okay, t–that's good. I'm going to cover you up now. And I–I'll come back for you, okay? I'll come back. But I don't want you to move, or speak, or breathe for anyone else that comes in here. Okay? Um, we should have a code word . . ."
"Oblique." Marissa murmurs, startling a laugh out of Briar at the memory of their first meeting. She quickly slaps a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening, and the two of them freeze for a long moment before Briar grabs the sheet and pulls it over the intern she's become so attached to.
"Oblique. Memorize it." She whispers, keeping one eye on the closed door, hating that she doesn't know what's on the other side. "Alright. See you on the other side, Dr. Barlowe."
She only makes it halfway down the hallway.
✦
"I almost shot you this morning." The man she bumped into this morning informs her. His voice is cold and calculating. He's got both of his hands shoved in his coat pockets, while Briar stands in front of him and tries to remember how to breathe.
It's an involuntary process, but one Briar is currently incapable of.
"I really thought about it," he continues, speaking casually now. As if they are the best of friends, and he's telling her the mundane details about his day. When Briar exhales, it feels as if it's being ripped out of her chest.
"Y–You did?" Briar questions softly, not sure he can even hear her. The hall is so quiet, aside from the noises coming from all the machines nearby. Briar's never considered how loud electricity can be until now. Briar wonders if it would be a bad thing if he didn't hear her; she doesn't know what to do in this situation. She thinks she's supposed to talk him down. She thinks it might be too late for that.
"I did. But I chose to leave behind some bullets this morning, and I worried I wouldn't have enough if I shot you too." He admits to her, calm as can be, and Briar doesn't know what kind of sound leaves her at that, but she hopes she never has cause to make it again. She sounds like a wild animal. It's fitting.
'Shot you too.' Too. That implies that he shot someone before she bumped into him this morning–someone in the hospital? Someone outside the hospital? How many lives has he ruined already today?
"You told me you would help me find the Chief." He reminds her. Briar's blood runs cold again. She forgot about that. She forgot he was looking for Derek–is looking for Derek. "There's someone else I need your help finding, if you don't mind."
If you don't mind, Briar repeats to herself, feeling hysterical. Can you help me find more of your friends to kill, pretty please?
"W-Who?" She asks hoarsely, still not sure who he is or what he wants. Why is he doing this? Who wakes up in the morning and decides to shoot up a hospital?
"Dr. Lexie Grey."
It's a wonder that Briar doesn't pass out on the spot.
"You know her, then." He states, likely realizing from the way her face whitens even further, and anger floods through Briar.
"I do." She says curtly, fighting against the urge to glare at him. She really doesn't want him to pull his hands from his pocket, not when she knows he's hiding a gun. "What do you want with her?"
Well, the answer to that is pretty obvious. Briar just doesn't understand why he would want to hurt Lexie.
"She killed my wife."
Oh, fuck. Briar looks him over again, realizing who this is. She's never met Gary Clark: she wasn't on his case, and she never met his wife. No, the doctors involved with her death were April Kepner, Lexie Grey, Derek Shepherd, and Richard Webber.
You know Derek and Lexie are still alive, she thinks to herself, trying to slow her racing heart. You know that, at least. Kepner . . . maybe she had today off? You haven't seen Webber today. They could all be alive.
"I'm sorry for your loss." She says as softly as she can, channeling her best sympathetic smile. She thinks about the oath she took in order to become a doctor, the one that Webber recited during lecture day. She takes a deep breath, thinking about Lexie, how she's the closest thing to a little sister that Briar has ever had–the only little sister she's ever been able to bond with.
She has to protect her.
"I'm the one you want to hurt, not Lexie Grey." She says, her voice starting off soft. She clears her throat, forces herself to speak louder. She doesn't want to die whispering. "Lexie is a student: she's my student." Not anymore, but what's a little white lie when facing down death? "Everything she's learned, every successful surgery, every failure: they fall on me. It's all on me."
For a long moment, Briar thinks it won't work. He just stands there, staring at her, while she grows more desperate. She doesn't want to get shot, doesn't want to die, but there's no world where she can forgive herself for Lexie's death. The longer he spends focused on her, the more likely it is that this nightmare will end for everyone else: they can have time to hide, or escape lockdown, or get the police in here. She just needs to keep his focus. She needs to keep him away from Lexie. One job: she can handle that.
"She's my intern." Briar tells him. Again, it's a lie, although not one she regrets. "It–it was my job to teach her how to save lives. I failed. So you–you're mad at me."
His jaw ticks.
"Your wife is dead because of me." She says firmly, not wavering even when he pulls his hand out of his pocket and she finds herself staring down the barrel of his gun.
"I wasn't wrong earlier." He informs her, and she blinks rapidly, confused about what he's saying. She can't look away from the gun. It's so small. How does something that small ruin so many lives?
"Mr. Clark?"
"I can't spare the bullets. I've already used too many of them."
"M–Mr. Clark, I–"
When he takes a few steps closer, her entire body locks up. She's done a lot of research on the question of fight or flight: during a life-or-death scenario, do you fight to protect yourself, or do you run from the scene? She's always considered herself a fighter. She never considered that her body would shut down.
When the gun comes down on her head, she's standing perfectly still.
✦
Getting pistol-whipped is nothing like in the movies.
For one, Briar doesn't pass out. She does fall to the floor, and she almost thinks she is going to pass out–getting smacked in the face with a gun hurts in a way she's never experienced before. It's not even necessarily pain that's getting to her, but how loud everything becomes afterwards. The sound of his footsteps walking away from her makes her grit her teeth, the movement somehow hurting her head more, and she does nothing but stare at a wall for a few long minutes.
Lexie, you better fucking love me, Briar thinks to herself as she slowly reaches up to feel how badly her face is bleeding. One touch to her nose has her crying out, instantly dropping her hands to her sides again as she fights back the urge to throw up. She has to swallow the bile in her mouth, grimacing at the taste, but knowing that throwing up would be agonizing right now. The crackling sound when she touched it does confirm her theory about a nasal bone fracture, which isn't amazing but . . . she thought he was going to kill her, so she can take this pain.
If she wasn't already having issues with her breathing due to anxiety, she is now. She does her best to breathe through her mouth, although her chest keeps heaving and causing her breath to hitch. Part of her wants to go into a hospital room and examine herself, see what she's working with, but when she slowly pulls herself to her feet, she finds herself looking to where she heard his footsteps recede.
He's looking for Lexie. Is Briar really going to let some nose bleed stop her from protecting her friend?
✦
Briar might have a concussion.
There's definitely something wrong with her. Her vision keeps swimming, and she finds herself stopping to throw up twice–she remembered correctly, the process of vomiting with a broken nose truly is excruciating. It doesn't help her pain levels that the hospital is so loud–what's with the constant ringing?
Lexie. She reminds herself, slowly pulling away from the wall she's leaning against. She needs to find Lexie. Lexie's patient, Gary Clark, is here. He needs . . . what does he need? Surgery. Lexie does surgery.
Right. Lexie is in surgery, then? That's . . . there's a special place for that. Briar has been there before. She just has to find the room. That shouldn't be that hard.
✦
"Briar? What are you–we're in lockdown! Why are you mov–are you okay!?"
Briar blinks rapidly, barely processing the hands holding her arms. There's only two hands holding her, but it doesn't make sense, because there are two people in front of her. Both with darker skin, pretty green eyes, and the slightest bit of facial hair.
"Briar? Hey, come on, talk to me. Where's all this blood coming from!?"
Briar does nothing but stare while two hands–no, wait, four hands, woah–pat her down, pulling her shirt up and then sighing in relief. He goes back to holding her arms, and Briar squints down, trying to figure out how many hands he has. She always thought Jackson only had two, but maybe she's just really bad at counting.
"Okay, come on, we can't be out here. Are you injured anywhere other than your face?"
"When–" Briar says slowly, and then has to stop when the world tilts around her. It's a good thing he's holding her. He's really strong. That's nice.
"When did yougeta twin?" She asks, frowning when he just looks confused. He shouldn't be confused. Briar's the one who didn't know he had a brother.
"What? Bri, you're slurring . . . come on, let's–"
She stumbles when he goes to lead her into the room, making him turn back and wrap an arm around her waist. He's talking to himself the whole time, and Briar frowns when she looks up and doesn't see the brother. Where'd he go?
"Wh–where'd he go?" She asks Jackson, who is frowning at her as he props her up on the counter.
"Where'd who go?"
"I don't–I don't know hisname." She tells him, before narrowing her eyes at him. "I th–thought we were friends. Why don't I know his name?"
"We are friends. I'm pretty sure you have a concussion. And your nose is definitely fractured, so just let me get some supplies from BokHee. Don't move okay?"
"Bokhee." Briar repeats, before giggling. "I love BokHee. I'm gonna come wi–"
"Nope. Stay right there." Jackson points at her sternly, only making her laugh more, before it falters when her nose starts hurting again. By the time he comes back with supplies, she's sobered up, the pain reminding her of what happened.
"We–We're on lockdown, aren't we?" She asks him, grimacing at the nasally sound to her voice. He nods, looking sad, and she sighs. She was kind of wishing she'd dreamt that up. "Have you been down here the whole time? Is–is anyone else d–down here?"
"Hunt and Altman left with our patient to go to the I.C.U." He replies. Briar nods slowly, trying to process everything despite the pounding headache. "What happened to you? Did you fall or–?"
"He said he didn't pack enough bullets." Briar says slowly, focusing on enunciating the words properly so that she doesn't have to think about how cold his eyes were. Jackson tenses in front of her, pausing from where he'd started cleaning the blood from around her nose. "He pistol whipped me. I, uh, I got off easy."
"That's not–" He starts, his voice tight, but they both freeze when they hear a noise from the hallway. His voice switches to a whisper as he slowly places down the alcohol wipes in his hand, both of their eyes wide. They're both terrified, but Briar watches as he takes a deep breath and nods to himself. "I'm–I'm going to check that out. Stay here."
"Jackson, no." Briar protests as quietly as she can before setting her feet down and following him to the door. He tries to stop her, but can't do anything without making more noise than they should be. Briar holds her breath as he pulls the door open, yelling echoing out from the hall and making Briar's eyes squeeze shut in pain.
By the time she's opened them, Jackson is in the hallway. Briar slowly follows him, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and desperately hoping that if she falls she falls backward instead of forward. Her face really can't handle anymore damage to it.
"Altman's not down here." Jackson is explaining to Cristina and Kepner, both of whom look terrified. Cristina has blood on the left side of her scrubs.
"Go get Hunt then."
"They left." Jackson tells them firmly, making Cristina panic.
"They left?" She repeats, scrubbing her hands over her face for a moment in disbelief. "Okay, you know what? Someone just shot Derek. He's got a G.S.W. to the chest and he needs surgery right now. Tell me there's an attending on this floor."
Briar, Jackson, and Cristina all stare at each other, coming to the same realization. Derek needs surgery, and while they aren't attendings, they are the only one's available to do it. Briar nods to herself, taking a minute to breathe through the pain she's in. This is nothing compared to what Derek's going through, and he's her brother.
"April, in the O.R. behind me, there are two O.R. nurses and an anesthesiologist. Get 'em." He orders, making the girl look confused. "Tell 'em to set up for a cardiac procedure."
"What–what–why?" April stutters. "If we don't have a surgeon, what are we gonna do?"
"We have a surgeon." Jackson says, looking straight at Cristina.
"Who's gonna operate on Dr. Shepherd?" April questions with a scoff, still not understanding what's going on.
"I am." Cristina explains slowly, making April's eyes widen even further.
✦
"I really don't think you should be in here." Jackson tries again to convince her to not help with the surgery. April looks between them with clear anxiety, but Briar ignores her. Her complete focus is on Derek.
"And I said that I will be anyway." Briar says bluntly. "I was in shock. I'm not anymore. I've operated through worse pain than a broken nose, so shut up and help me finish prepping him."
Briar takes a minute to stand next to Derek's head, looking at him closely. He's so pale. They've only got one shot at this, and Briar feels the responsibility of his life weighing down on her shoulders. Cristina is going to be the main surgeon working on him, but Briar can't stop thinking of everything she did wrong today. She should've kept Clark distracted: she could've pretended to lead him to Derek and bought them more time. She doesn't see how that would've ended with anything other than her being shot, but maybe then he wouldn't have had enough bullets like he feared he wouldn't.
She's not responsible for his insane idea to shoot up a hospital, but she feels responsible for Derek being hurt.
"April, go tell Cristina we're ready." She says softly, knowing that the other doctor needs to be told what to do in this situation. Briar can do that.
"Are you sure–?"
"Jackson, I know you're worried, but please stop. I'm okay. If for even a second I feel anything but okay, I will step back. But it's–it's Derek." After everything he's done for her, she can't walk away when it's him on the table. She'd rather die.
✦
"Can you feel anything? Can you see where the blood's coming from?" Jackson asks Cristina, both of them assisting her.
"Not yet. Damn it. You know what? I can't see anything. Get me some suction." Briar jumps to it, a gurgling sound filling the room. She wants Jackson to keep his hands free incase he has to help Cristina with something more important. "No, no, no, no, no. It's right by the aorta."
"You can do this." Jackson says, Briar reaffirming that. If anyone can pull this off, it's Cristina Yang.
"I know that! I just wanted it to be easy, not the hardest freaking repair in the history of the world." Cristina snaps back.
"I mean, Derek would probably be loving this right now." Briar muses. That man loves a complicated surgery.
"I don't know what to do." Cristina admits, looking up at them.
"Report what you know." Briar suggests. Cristina is like her: when things get too personal, they need to fall back on the basic information.
"There's massive bleeding in the lungs. There is a bullet lodged right next to the aorta and a huge hematoma." She tells them, before Briar sees her eyes go distant. "Would Teddy use a graft or clamp and sew?"
"I think she'd–" Jackson starts to answer, getting interrupted by Cristina.
"Pig or cow?" She asks herself, eyes closed as she rolls her shoulders. Briar just watches her, smiling slightly behind her mask. This is a horrible experience, but she has to admit that there's something magical about watching Cristina in her element.
"What?" Jackson asks, confused. Briar just shakes her head at him, wincing in pain at the movement a minute later.
"She's not actually asking us." She whispers, turning back to Cristina, who is breathing loudly as she thinks to herself.
"Pig or cow, Cristina?" She asks herself, her eyes flying open about half a minute later. "Clamp and sew. Definitely clamp and sew. Give me a clamp."
"Badass." Jackson compliments her before the three of them settle in for a long operation.
✦
"I really should've shot you."
Briar takes a deep breath, trying not to flinch at the feel of the gun pressed to her head. She doesn't move, nor does she look at Jackson or Cristina. She can hear Cristina crying, but she's still working on Derek. That's what matters.
"Why didn't you?" She asks slowly, needing to take her time in order to make the words intelligible. She's surprised when her voice doesn't shake or break. She isn't anywhere near as scared as she was the last time she was facing down this gun. Maybe it helps that she isn't actually facing it. Maybe something inside of her is broken, and that's why she isn't terrified right now.
"Excuse me?" Gary Clark questions her. He sounds annoyed. Briar imagines that it would be frustrating to shoot someone and then find him being operated on, but she isn't worried about his feelings.
"You've now had three opportunities to kill me." Briar tells him, ignoring the way Cristina hisses her name and the sharp inhale from Jackson. She's starting to feel angry now. "Three. And you clearly aren't mentally stable–you wanted to kill me over spilled coffee. Who does that? So–so why didn't you kill me?"
"Step away from him or I will kill you." He tells her, and she scoffs.
"Yeah? Have enough bullets for that?" She snaps back, anger flaring up even more. She knows she shouldn't be antagonizing him, but . . . but Derek could die because of him. Derek could die; she doesn't know who else he's shot. Any number of people she cares about could be wounded or dead. And all because he's using his grief as an excuse to cause harm to people?
"Should I shoot one of them instead?" He asks her, swinging the gun to point at Jackson, and then at Cristina. It doesn't move from her, and Briar feels her eyes watering at the fear on her friend's face.
"No." She blurts out, her voice shaking around the word. She stares at the gun through blurry vision, horror filling her as she realizes that there's blood on the barrel, near the rear sight. Her blood.
"Stop fixing him." He orders Cristina, who has started crying. "Stop!"
A moment later, the gun swings around to face Owen, who has just walked through the doors. Owen's hands fly up instantly, one of them holding his face mask.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Just calm down! Calm down." He urges Clark. "Tell me what the problem is."
Cristina sobs at his voice, saying his name, even as she continues working.
"I'm here." Owen says gently, and Briar flinches when the gun swings back to Cristina.
"Hey, whoa, hold on. Talk to me." Owen shouts, taking quick steps forward while Clark isn't facing him.
"Stop fixing him." He orders again, ignoring the way Cristina sobs. "Let him die. Let him lie there and die! Do you want me to shoot you!? Stop fixing him!"
"No." Cristina chokes out after a few moments of the only noises being her labored breathing and crying.
"Cristina–" Owen tries, but Cristina talks over him.
"No. Jackson–clamp the hilum so you can get control of the hemorrhage so I can get better visualization." She orders, her voice thick from her tears and fear. Briar sees BokHee move to grab an instrument, Briar quickly shaking her head and stopping her. The last thing she wants is for BokHee to be in more danger than she already is, so she moves over to grab it. She does her best to ignore the gun that follows her every move.
"Stop moving!" Clark orders her, his arm shaking enough to petrify Briar. All it's going to take is one accidental squeeze of the trigger. "Don't you dare!"
Briar grabs the clamp and passes it quickly to Jackson when Owen steps forward to distract Clark. It's only slightly easier to breathe with the gun not pointed at her.
"You step back." He orders Owen, who looks one second away from jumping into action. He's the only one in the room with military experience, so Briar can't imagine how much he's holding back right now. "You . . . stay back."
"Owen, I can't stop. I have to keep going." Cristina explains through her tears, getting back to work when Jackson is finished clamping.
"I know. I know. Just keep going. Keep going." Owen reassures her, but her words brought Clark's focus back to her. Briar winces at the way he digs the gun into the side of Cristina's head.
"You stop or I will shoot you in the head." He warns her, making Owen shout at him now.
"Hey! Hey! That is the woman that I love." He declares, slowly inching closer to them. "You shoot her, you touch her, and I will kill you!"
The gun is back on Owen.
"I said stay back." Clark reminds him, his tone cold even as his hand–and therefore the gun–shakes. "I shoot you, then I shoot the girls, and then I shoot Shepherd. Is that what you want?"
Well. At least Jackson wouldn't get shot in that scenario, Briar thinks, fighting back the urge to laugh. She's confident that he really will shoot her, or one of the others, if she gives into the delirium she's fighting at the moment.
"I didn't come here for this. My wife is dead." Clark tells them. Briar frowns, understanding that grief can change people, but wondering how all of this pain and suffering can come from one moment. "He's responsible."
Actually, cancer's responsible. It's no-one's fault. Briar doesn't try to argue with him about it, knowing that it'll be fruitless. He needs someone to blame, someone to pin this on, and he's chosen Derek and Lexie. They can't change that. All they can do is try their best to keep Derek alive.
"I came here for justice–an eye for an eye." He declares, and Briar braces herself, knowing that he's going to start acting. He's gone too long without shooting any of them, despite them standing in the way of what he wants. "The only person I want in this room is Shepherd."
Briar doesn't think that's true. The guy is clearly still holding a grudge over the coffee spill from this morning, which is ridiculous since Briar didn't hurt him in any way.
"Now back off!" He shouts, before turning to Cristina once again. "And you step away from that table."
"Please." Cristina begs, her voice no higher than a whisper.
"Shoot me." Meredith declares, stepping into the room, and Briar feels her knees wobble. "You want justice, right? Your wife died. I know what happened. Derek told me the story. Lexie Grey is the one who pulled the plug on your wife. She's my sister. Dr. Webber . . . He was your wife's doctor. I'm the closest thing he has to a daughter. And the man on the table . . . I'm his wife."
She speaks clearly despite the tears streaming down her cheeks. Despite feeling frozen in shock–Meredith was supposed to stay in the other room, she's supposed to be safe–she can't help but feel proud of her for always being so strong.
"If you want to hurt them the way that you hurt, shoot me. I'm your eye for an eye."
"Meredith." Cristina whispers again, and Briar's heart hurts for her. She doesn't know what she would do if Alex was standing in front of a shooter, begging for him to shoot him. Meredith is Cristina's Alex, and she can do nothing but watch.
Clark slowly pulls the gun from Cristina, turning it to face Meredith instead. His hand is still shaking, though nowhere near as badly as it was just moments ago. There's nothing other than hatred on his face as he steps toward Meredith, who only looks resigned despite the tear tracks on her face.
"Meredith." Cristina repeats herself, all of them watching as Clark takes another step toward Meredith.
"You tell Derek that I love him and that I'm sorry." Meredith tells Cristina, still not looking away from Clark.
"Meredith." Cristina says her best friend's name again, pleading, her voice breaking. "Wait, wait, wait, wait. Wait, wait. She's–she's pregnant. You wouldn't shoot a woman who's pregnant? Please." Cristina begs.
Briar's eyes widen–either that's true, and this just got even more heartbreaking, or Cristina is making that up, in which case Briar is impressed by her ability to think on her feet.
Clark looks conflicted, and Owen takes the opportunity to make his move.
Cristina, Meredith, and Briar all scream when a shot rings out and Owen falls to the floor. Briar feels a wave of nausea hit her, the pain in her head racketing at the increased volume, but she swallows down the bile and manages to remain upright.
"No, no, no!" Cristina sobs, turning to face her boyfriend while Jackson works quickly.
"Raise your–raise your hands!" Jackson orders them, making Briar frown as she does what she's told, despite not understanding why they would stop now. "Trust me, raise your hands."
When Cristina does nothing but pant and stare, clearly in shock, Jackson's voice rises. "He's gonna shoot again! Raise your hands!"
Cristina does as he says right as Clark starts to turn towards them. "I'm stopping! I'm stopping, I'm stopping!"
Meredith protests, all of them looking at the monitor when Cristina gestures to it. "See? See? I stopped." She begs.
"Listen to me!" Jackson commands, grabbing all of their attention, including Clark's. "In a few seconds, his heart is gonna pump all the blood into his chest and stop beating." Oh, Derek.
"You'll see it on the monitor. Just wait. Wait for it."
Meredith is hyperventilating. It's taking all of the survival instincts in Briar to stay where she is instead of going to comfort her friend.
"Watch the monitor and wait for it." Jackson orders over the sound of Meredith sobbing.
"Please don't stop." She pleads, the sound cutting straight through Briar.
"Shut up!" Jackson shouts at her, making her cry harder, still begging for them to save her husband.
The tone of the monitor makes Briar shut her eyes for a moment. When she opens them, it's because of Meredith, who is sobbing harder than Briar has ever seen.
"See? It's over." Cristina breathes out. "It's over. He's dead. It's over"
The relief that crosses Clark's face is sickening. Meredith falls to her knees, her head in her hands as she lets out heartbreaking cries, but he doesn't spare her more than a glance as he leaves the room. Instantly, Jackson grabs the wire's that he unplugged from Derek, putting them back where they belong. Briar lets out a broken noise, realizing what he did. Briar never would've thought to do that, but he just saved all of them.
She sucks in a relieved breath when the monitors reconnect to him, showing a pulse. She leaves the two of them and the nurses to work on Derek while she goes to check on Owen.
"Is Owen dead?" She hears Cristina ask just as she feels a pulse. "Is Owen dead?"
"I have a pulse!" She yells out, before turning to Meredith. "Mer, I need your help. Please."
Meredith doesn't move, making Cristina start ordering her around while Briar starts to sit Owen up. They need to move him out of this O.R. She just hopes that Clark is far gone from this section of the hospital by the time they get him out there.
"Take Owen to the O.R. across the way, and take that bullet out of him. And–and get April to help you!" She orders. Briar only then remembers that April was supposed to be watching Meredith.
"Cristina–" Meredith starts shakily.
"I can't talk right now. I'm trying to save your guy. Now please go and try and save mine!" Cristina exclaims, her voice breaking on the word please.
"Mer, get April, we need help moving him." Briar commands, not trusting the two of them to do it alone in their state.
When they get him there, he wakes up and starts fighting them. Briar helps for a minute before another wave of nausea hits her, making her double over. She waves away everyone's questions, before turning around and throwing up into the corner. She gags after, using her sleeve to wipe her mouth, and tries to ignore the pounding of her head before she ends up vomiting again.
"How–How's Owen?" She asks the other two, swallowing harshly. If anything is good about her screwed up nose, it's that she can't smell at the moment.
"He's gonna be fine. It's through and through." Meredith says, making Owen try to get up again. Briar ignores their fighting, remaining bent over as she rides the wave of pain. She's thankful that it waited until she was out of that O.R., even if she's not sure how she got that lucky.
It's not until Meredith cries out in pain that Briar looks up, blinking away spots in her vision.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Um, I'm okay." Meredith says, fooling no one.
"Are you sure? Oh, my God. Did you get shot?" April cries out.
"No, I didn't get shot, okay? I'm–I'm o–I'm okay."
"But you could be in shock and not know it." April panics, her eyes wide as she looks Meredith over. Briar pants from her corner, really wishing she could be more useful in this moment. "Here–let me feel you for–"
"I'm–" Meredith starts, and then stops to breathe through her pain. "I'm okay."
"But there's blood spreading down your thighs." April states, and Briar shuts her eyes as she remembers Cristina's words from a few minutes ago. So she wasn't lying about Meredith being pregnant.
"I'm . . . I'm having a miscarriage." Meredith states, and then moves to Owen, who is staring at her with worry. "We need a stapler. We need lidocaine, morphine, and an irrigation tray. Come on. Are you gonna help me or not? Let's go."
Briar rushes to help her, ignoring her own pain again. If Meredith can work through a miscarriage, she can work through a concussion.
✦
Briar feels like she can't breathe again.
There are people scattered everywhere outside–doctors, patients, cops, firefighters, bystanders, concerned relatives. Everywhere she looks, she sees people crying, comforting each other, hugging a survivor.
She can't find Alex.
She can't find Alex, and she's terrified. If something happened to him–if he's dead–she won't survive it. She doesn't want to survive without him. He is the single most important person in her life, which is why she's out here, instead of back in Derek's O.R. with the others. She loves Derek, and she desperately hopes that he survives, but Alex is her priority.
"Sinclair." She hears behind her, turning to see a paramedic that she knows decently well. She rushes forward, before her entire body locks up when she sees the look in her eyes. No, no, no. Not Alex. Please not Alex.
"Just tell me." She chokes out, seeing the way she opens and closes her mouth, clearly at a loss for words. Briar can't handle the suspension.
"Karev got shot. I'm so sorry."
It's really not a surprise that this is what finally makes Briar lose her grip on consciousness.
✦
authors note:
fun fact: my original idea for this fic, before i started developing briar more, was for briar to die during the shooting. i actually wrote a version of that when i wrote this, and i kind of (really) love it. i'm a huge fan of angst, so it was fun to do. unfortunately, i love briar too much for that, so in this version she just gets pistol-whipped.
there will be a lot of talk about the trauma of the shooting!! from both sides!! no offense but i hate it when people make it seem like jackson would be fine afterwards— he was put in a very traumatic, high stress situation, which he helped save them from with that genius pulling the wires trick AND then he found out two of his friends died. that's one of the reasons i love the documentary style episode, because it shows how the trauma effected him.
briar is physically and mentally fucked. she is not in a good mindset at all. she's a very unreliable narrator, especially considering the whole fractured nose/bad concussion situation that she's just ignoring (there will be consequences to that . . . wait, who said that?)
imagine how angry she would've been with clark if she knew he'd shot alex!! no but obviously it's never a good idea to antagonize someone with a weapon but briar is very fucked up. she worries more about the people she cares about than herself, hence the "ooh i'll take a bullet for lexie who isn't even here" situation. the therapist is gonna have a field day with her!
andddd we're at season 7!!! finally!!! i'm so excited. trauma bonding time!
i'm dying to know what people think, even if it's criticism, so please comment <3