Chapter 35: 35. A Light in the Dark
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.
"Hey, this is Dr. George O'Malley. If you're a patient, I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Just leave a message, thanks." His voice was so cheerful, young, nothing like what he probably would've experienced when a bus ran him over. When a bus killed him. When he died.
Tom kissed her hair, pressing closer as Emily turned to bury her face in his shoulder. Tears stung her eyes and she grabbed for something desperately, holding on for dear life because George couldn't be dead. He couldn't be dead. "What happened?" Tom whispered faintly and she sighed.
Her breath hitched. Raising her head, she looked directly into Tom's eyes. "George died." He didn't question who or how. The brunet simply held his best friend closer as Emily felt her heart shatter into pieces.
.
"Tell me what happened," Emily whispered, dark into the night. Mark was quiet, unwilling to cause her pain. "Tell me what happened."
"Em…"
"Mark. If you love me, you'll tell me," she gritted through her teeth and Mark sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I just need to know. I need to know because he was my best friend. He was my friend, before you. And I know he always had Izzie, but I knew him. And he had me. I just need to know what killed my friend."
"He came into the E.R, with massive facial burns and scarring, and I was charged with saving the left forearm, damaged by avulsion, and as long as he didn't get acidotic or hypothermic, I thought I had a good chance. The nerves weren't severed, I just had to reconnect the vessels. He had a skull fracture, an open-book pelvic fracture, and an epidural bleed amongst his crush injuries."
"Okay, and then what?"
"Shepherd fixed the epidural bleed, Torres placed an internal fixator, Big Grey and Hunt worked on the internal injuries. He was taken to the I.C.U." He sighed over the line and she placed her knuckles in her mouth, biting down and trying to stop the tears that escaped her eyes and left to flood her pillow. She lay on the edge of the bed, the blankets near her legs as she stayed on the phone, trying to sleep but knowing she couldn't.
"His post-op CT showed a rebleed. He was taken back to the O.R. His brain was swelling, he bled into his brain stem. He coded, he couldn't be brought back. Derek did everything he could but his I.C.P rose too high, he was brain dead. He donated his organs. Em, I-"
"Goodnight, Mark." She ended the call, acid crawling up her mouth as she began to sob into her pillow. She screamed, a banshee-like wail tearing its way through her mouth and her door opened. Noah didn't ask, merely slipped onto her bed and held her. She fought against him. Everything felt hot and stuffy and she couldn't breathe.
She needed to breathe and she didn't know how to in a world without George O'Malley.
Day Three
Tom pulled her aside the track. Emily, out of breath and sweaty, ripped her arm from his grip.
"I can't, Tom, okay?" she snapped and was about to run another few laps but he held on harder. "What?"
"Our shift starts in an hour, Em," he told her softly and her scowl lessened. He was only looking out for her. "I just thought you should know."
"Yeah," she murmured, "Thanks." He kissed her sweaty brow before pulling back. "Just, go ahead. I'll catch up." With a reluctant squeeze on her shoulder, he went back inside the gym to get his stuff. Bringing out her phone, she saw the missed calls from everyone in Seattle, numerous texts she didn't have the heart to open. The only email she had forced herself to click was the one that was titled George's Funeral, a personal one written by Meredith. For a few moments before, she had just contemplated whether she should open it or not before deciding that she should. It wouldn't do justice for George, nothing ever would, but at least she would have a chance to just say goodbye.
Goodbye.
The last moments they had together was about the army. She should've told him no, he shouldn't join, but how could she deny his dreams? His last words: See you around. Those were the last words she'd ever hear from him. Her last words: Save lives out there. She wished he didn't take her words so literally. She wished she had more time. She wished…
He wasn't dead. Until she saw his body, he wasn't dead. He was still alive, and smiling, and happy, because he was George and George didn't die. George couldn't die.
She finally began to walk back towards the gym, throat burning and muscles aching. If only their last few moments weren't promises of seeing eachother again. Then, maybe it wouldn't feel like the world was raining down on her.
Day Seven
She was wearing the black pants and jacket. After so much pushing, Theresa persuaded her to wear the her clothes. In the end, Emily was thankful. She had nothing else to wear. Emily arrived with Mark, arm looped in his. He complimented her on her choice of clothes and how the necklace he gave her stood out. She thanked him. The conversation died after that.
He went to stand near the Chief, she stood near the back with Meredith. There were interns there too, all red-eyed. Former interns, she corrected in her head as a redhead woman kept trying to stifle her sobs. Glaring at her, she leaned in beside Meredith. The blonde looked at her and half-smiled but it fitted terribly on her face. "That's the girl George saved."
In an instant, Emily hated her. "She needs to shut up."
The priest continued on, spouting things she didn't really care for nor try to understand. Izzie broke away from their chain and without a moment of hesitation, the rest followed after her. There they found her, sitting on some old man's grave, laughing.
"You're laughing?"
"She's laughing."
"George - George is dead. He's dead. They're about to put him in the ground and the priest is doing classic rock lyrics and that girl, that redhead is crying harder than his mother, and she never even met him. It's just…"
"You are far more twisted than I realized."
"And you got married on a post-it!" Izzie exclaimed, pointing to Meredith who broke out into a laugh. Alex followed suit and Emily snorted, trying to contain her smile.
"I got married on a post-it. I did."
"You guys got married for real." Emily snickered at that, feeling annoyingly light. Something about this felt so liberating and wrong but she couldn't help herself.
"And I got cancer! What?"
"And you moved to Boston!" Cristina announced to Emily causing them to laugh even harder.
"Dude, O'Malley got hit by a bus!" Her insides ached from laughing so hard as she held onto Meredith for support. But then, realization hit them as they realized what Alex said. Their laughs faded as the redhead walked past, causing another short-lived burst of laughter but it faded even quicker and Emily held Meredith's hand, squeezing it. The two women looked at each other, hazel meeting blue.
"We're twisted," Izzie sighed after a long round of silence. "We're so messed up."
Emily couldn't help but agree.
.
Her eyes were bloodshot but at least she was done crying. She was done being sad and crying all the time. She just felt tired.
Heading inside the resident's room, she paused at the doorway when she saw Meredith sit beside Lexie. The brunette was crying, sobbing into her sister's shoulder and Meredith wrapped her in a hug. Emily looked to her shoes before turning around. Heading to the lobby, she held her purse in her hand as she walked in a daze.
"Hey, hey, hey." Someone took her by the arms and she looked up, blinking. "How are you feeling? Wanna go home?"
"No." She tried to pull away but he was insistent. "Mark."
"Have you eaten?"
"No."
"Can you eat?" Her hazel eyes met his, murky against clear. He nearly started at how dull she appeared. "Do you want to eat?" Her face crumpled and though she didn't cry, he brought her into his arms. Every part of her cracked and it was like he was the glue holding her together as his hands rubbed down her arms and onto her back. She squeezed his waist tightly and he frowned. "Have you been working out?"
"Mark-"
"No, seriously. You feel harder," he murmured and she pulled her face away, looking vaguely insulted before breaking out into a shaky laugh. Smiling, he brought her towards him again, hugging her until she felt like she could stay in one piece on her own.
Day Ten
"I heard that you lost someone recently," Harper commented as he removed the liver lobe. Emily sighed, suctioning the blood before beginning to stitch it closed. "Is there anything I can do-"
"No, not really." She gave him a look that silenced all conversation. "I don't need anything right now."
"Dr. Moore,"
"Dr. Avery," Emily returned, voice flat. "I am fine. You don't need to worry, I am still able to work." She sighed. Harper Avery gave her a doubtful glance, placing the liver in ice and letting the nurse cover it with a towel and transferring it to the next O.R. "I just need to work. It's how I cope."
"Dr. Moore, you may close before joining me in O.R. two," the general surgeon announced and she nodded, extending her hand for the suture.
"Thank you, Dr. Avery. 5-0 vicryl, please."
Day Fifteen
Although Emily was a doctor, she wasn't all too familiar with the tiles of a bathroom. As a kid, she never really got sick and the worst, if she ever did, was just a cold. Noah knew that. So when he woke up to the sound of loud retching and the bathroom light on, the natural instinct was to get up and investigate. Theresa made a groaning sound when he moved too sharply but otherwise stayed asleep. He tiptoed past the room his sons were sleeping in and reached Emily's room. As expected, the door was open with only a lamp on. There was also a pair of men's pants and he raised an eyebrow. Opening the bathroom door, he blinked at the bright lights.
"God fucking dammit," his sister groaned, head resting against the cold wall. Once his eyes adjusted, he found Tom sitting next to her, holding her hair back. He looked up at the attending sheepishly as Emily wiped her mouth with a towel. He was wearing boxers and a white tee.
"What the fuck?" Noah asked bluntly. Emily lunged forward again, hands clutching onto the rim of the toilet as she threw up again. "You guys just went to the gym, right?" he added warily as Tom nodded, stroking his sister's back. Noah nearly smiled at the gesture.
"Yeah, I think she just pushed herself too far," the brunet assured and Emily collapsed against him, thoroughly exhausted. The passed-out brunette was light as Tom wiped her mouth before using a different towel to wipe away the sweat. Picking her up, he stopped beside Noah. "I think George's death is hitting her harder than she let on." Noah bit his lip. He liked George. It was two years ago, Thanksgiving, when he spotted the dorky brunet. It was such a waste for him to be gone.
"Go. If you don't go to work tomorrow, I'll excuse it."
"Thank you, sir."
"It's Noah, now."
"Sorry," the brunet apologized before making his way across the hall. Noah sighed, picking up the dirty towels and flushing the toilet. If his sister was going to work herself to death, then he'd be there to pick up the mess.
Day Twenty
"Em, you should really go home. You look…" Matthew urged as Emily rubbed the dark circles around her eyes. Letting the bathroom door close behind her, she began walking down the hallway. Her friend kept pace with her as she sighed. She just had a forty-eight hour shift plus a surprise trauma to add another eight hours. Her throat burned from the taste of acid that she forced herself to swallow.
"I'm fine," she mumbled. "I'll just crash in an on-call room."
"Go home."
"Matthew-"
"Em, go," he said firmly, "For your sake. You look sick to your stomach."
"I feel sick to my stomach. It's been going on for a few days," she muttered as he helped her walk to the resident's lounge. Her arm wrapped around his shoulders, she managed to get there before sliding onto the bench with an exhausted sigh.
"Do you want me to call anyone? Dr. Moore? Tom?" She yawned, checking the time. It was almost tomorrow. Tom was probably in the N.I.C.U for her brother who was sleeping after a whole day of surgery.
"If you can get Tom," the brunette mumbled, hand to her temple as she wracked her brain to find out why she was so nauseous. Matthew nodded, green eyes kind as he took out his phone to text Tom.
"Come on," he whispered and he sat beside his brunette friend, looking at her pallor. "Is it just nausea?"
"No." She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. Her chest felt hot and stuffy and everything she use to love to eat felt gross in her mouth. She told him so and he managed to stifle a chuckle. "What?" she complained as he used his foot to nudge a receptacle closer to her feet just in case. Good timing too because she swung down and barfed into it.
"You just might be sick."
"I don't get sick," she snorted as his pager blared. It caused her head to pulse painfully and he quickly silenced it.
"You are. Now, stay here until Tom gets here."
"No need to wait. What's wrong, Em?" Matthew stood, only to be replaced by Tom's slightly smaller form. "Oh, more vomit."
"Probably because I swallowed it all during surgery," she growled and he chuckled. "Goddamn, I've never felt worse in my whole life. Except for that ambulance crash, that was awful."
"Ambulance… crash?"
"Another time. Ugh." She buried the heels of her hands into her eyes, hair a mess around her.
"Maybe you should relax on the running," he tried to suggest softly and she groaned, "'cause it's taking its toll."
"I know. Anyway-" She tried to smile but her mouth was numb and he snorted at her attempt- "I needa drive home."
"Can do. I'll be right back and you'd better be changed by then." Nodding numbly, she reached forward for her shirt.
Day Twenty Two
"Have a nice day, okay? Don't strain yourself," Theresa warned as she gathered her things. "Will, get your shoes on."
"Okay." The four-year old pouted and grabbed his Velcro shoes and plopped down. Ollie was still at the kitchen finishing up his breakfast. They were off to preschool and daycare. "Soup's in the fridge, you just have to heat it up."
"Thanks, Theresa," she mumbled and wrapped the hot pack closer to her chest. It was her second day staying home and her stomach hadn't settled for a single moment. Now, her chest ached and although she ached to do something, anything, she knew she couldn't. All she could do was watch TV, surf the internet and die internally. Everyone else was on shift and her sister-in-law was now going to work. Her phone beside her, she just watched the characters on the TV dully.
"There's a pregnancy test in the bathroom." Emily looked up sharply, glaring at the older woman. "Don't give me that face. I've been through it twice and I know the signs. And Em," she sighed, "just try."
"There are false negatives and positives. There's no way."
"Your boobs are sore, you're basically a walking sauna and you can't keep anything down." The green-eyed woman moved to crouch in front of her. "I know you think this is grief, or you overworking yourself, but I don't. It's just a suggestion, okay? Get well soon." Leaning forward, the older kissed the younger on the forehead before standing up.
"Thanks,"
"Anytime." The brunette disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared with her son as she fumbled with her keys. "I'll call you at lunch, alright?"
"Yeah, okay."
Day Twenty Three
She never got around using it until now. Yesterday, she basically camped on the couch and managed to only haul herself out of her cocoon for the bathroom and to eat. Now that she was feeling better, she managed to walk between her bedroom and the kitchen. She even managed a few stretches before her body screamed for her to stop. Deciding to tend to her bladder, she got to the bathroom, pulled down her garments and boom. There it was, staring right back at her.
At first, she didn't believe it. Then she remembered the date. It was supposed to be today. God, Theresa was right. The spotting in her pants just confirmed it. So she yanked open the cabinet door, grabbed the stupid little plastic stick and peed on it. Wrapping it in toilet paper, she dried off any excess… liquid and washed her hands.
Going to her room, she fetched her phone and then came back to the bathroom, pulling down the toilet cover to sit on it. Calling Theresa, she waited until her sister picked up.
"This is Dr. Theresa Moore's Office. How many I help you?" a young voice asked and Emily frowned.
"Can you forward me to Dr. Moore? Tell her it's Emily."
"Of course. She's with a patient right now but if it's emergent I could-"
"No, no. Just tell her to call me back. Thanks." Hanging up, she looked at the clock. One more minute to go. What would she do first? Completely believe that it was real? Maybe she'd take a blood test. Then what? Would she tell anyone? Meredith… or Tom… or George. Yes, she'd definitely tell George. Opening her phone, she opened her contacts and scrolled down before her thumb paused over his name.
Right.
He was dead. Dead. God fucking damn it, how could she forget?
Pressing her forehead into the heel of her hand, she sighed softly and cursed the tears stinging her eyes. Letting a few tears slip past her cheeks, she wiped them away with a sigh and a groan.
Taking a deep breath, she looked down at the time. A minute had passed. Reaching forward towards the countertop connected to the sink, she gingerly took the white test. Looking at the little screen, she let her arm fall limp beside her.
When Theresa came home that night, the first thing Emily did was engulf her in a hug and ask for a blood test to confirm a pregnancy.
Day Twenty Four
Emily walked up to Tom, a slight smile on her face. He was talking to Ella but the blonde looked at her over her boyfriend's shoulder. Pressing her index finger to her lips, she continued sneaking up to her best friend. Grinning, Ella hid a smile behind her fist as she jumped on Tom.
"Ah!" he screamed and his hands wrapped around her thighs that clutched his waist tightly in an attempt to force him to carry her. "Who are you?"
"Guess," she whispered in his ear as Ella nearly collapsed in laughter. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he dropped her to the ground. Landing soundly, she burst into laughter. This was the lightest she's felt in weeks. "Hey,"
"Not funny," he panted and she sighed. Fun's over. "What's up?"
"I want to talk to you about…" Her voice lowered. "Operation Beach." Ella quirked an eyebrow at them and scrunched up her nose at their whispers.
"I'm still here-"
"We know, darling." Tom pecked her on the mouth to satisfy the blonde. "But we have secret drug dealings to work out so I seriously need you to leave if you don't want to be considered an accomplice." Ella gave an exaggerated sigh and glanced at them skeptically.
"Fine. I have a cookie craniotomy to get to anyway." She huffed and kissed him one more time before leaving. Tugging him towards the on-call room, Emily shoved him in first before entering and locking the door. Pacing back and forth, she tried to gather her thoughts before looking up.
"What is it?" He turned back to her again and for a moment, her heart seemed to miss a beat. With his messy hair, it reminded her of George and the friendly light in his brown eyes was too similar. Her breath caught in her throat and tears sprung into her eyes. Breathening shortening until she was borderline hyperventilating. "Hey, you okay? Hey, hey, hey," he murmured and engulfed her in a hug.
"George died." Her breath hitched and she buried her face in his shoulder. "I found out I was pregnant yesterday and the first thing I wanted to do was tell George. I wanted to tell George that I was having a baby but instead I remembered he was dead." He kissed her hair, stroking her back as they sat on a bed. Hugging her tightly, he just kissed her cheek and didn't say anything. Her shoulders shook as he pulled back. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, he managed a smile.
"Wait a minute, you're pregnant?"
Day Thirty
"You shouldn't be doing this much exercise, Em," Tom said as he placed the weight back in its place. "You know that right?" The gym was empty except for them as she got off the bench press.
"But I want your proposal to be perfect," she complained.
"Shut up and help me write my speech," he snorted, sitting on the bench and taking a swig of water. His shirt was drenched in sweat as he took out a notepad from her bag and a pen. Brushing the paper with his left hand, he readjusted his grip. He sighed as he began to write. Pen smudged on the knuckle of his pinkie and she chuckled. Sitting beside him, she peered at the crossed out words and jagged letters.
"You'll be fine," she soothed and he groaned.
"I just want it to be almost perfect. Not perfect. But close to that. Just close enough. Just enough to show her that I love her more than anything," he murmured, crossing out another start and flipping to a new page. Emily sighed, "Help me!"
"Okay, okay." She laughed and sat cross-legged as he thought out loud. "Ella… Ella Morgan, you are…"
"Everything. Tell her she's everything," Emily said as she fished her phone out of her bag. Ringing up Mark, she lay down on the bench as he continued scribbling. When it went to her boyfriend's voicemail, she sighed and let her hands drop.
Day Thirty Four
"Hey, Noah," she greeted and the peds surgeon turned around. He was halfway through his shift when she approached him in the N.I.C.U. Emily had just finished hers and was off to the beach to help Tom set up. "Can we talk?" she added with a whisper. She was just beginning her fifth week and she knew Theresa was having a hard time keeping the secret around her husband.
"Uh, sure." He closed the chart and put it back in his place before following his sister. "What's wrong?"
"Why do you think something's wrong?" she asked and he shrugged.
"Because of… George," he said it tentatively and she nodded. "I just want to help y'know, but you don't make it easy."
"Sorry," she apologized, "But I'm better. I swear, I am. That's why I'm about to tell you something deeply personal. And I know it's true because Theresa ran a blood test so it's pretty much confirmed that I'm pregnant." She fiddled with her fingers when there was a silence on the other end. Then, she was suddenly thrown over his shoulder and she yelped. Realizing the sound she made, she clamped a hand over her mouth as Noah twirled around.
"What?" he exclaimed and she managed to stifle her laughs. "Did you tell Mark yet?"
"No, not yet," she admitted truthfully as he set her back down. "I can't quite catch him and I don't think it's something I should say over the voicemail."
"Damn, me over the dad. I feel flattered." He grinned and she smacked him. "Seriously."
"Whatever. I've got to go, okay?" She didn't wait for an answer before speeding down the hallway. Noah shook his head disbelievingly and returned to his work.
His little sister, a mom. Unbelievable.
Day Thirty Seven
She wore a peach colored, loose-fit tank top and white shorts. According to Google, the sunset would be in about fifteen minutes. So she picked up Ella and drove to the beach. "Can I take off the blindfold?"
"No!"
"Why?"
"Just no," she said and continued driving. Finally, she parked and helped Ella out of the car with a quick, "Watch your head."
"This is borderline kidnapping."
"It was consensual."
"Give me my phone."
"No." The sand slipped between her toes as she walked down the beach. The sun was just starting to sink as she led the blonde towards the trail of candles. "Okay, stop right here. Ready?"
"No." The answer was clipped and impatient. "Seriously, why the hell is there sand in my new runners…." the woman trailed off as Emily removed the blindfold. "What is this?"
"Follow the light," she whispered before dashing back to her car. Glancing back quickly, she realized Ella was doing as she asked. Opening her trunk, she grabbed the guitar before sprinting to the jut that held speakers. Only fifteen seconds. She only had fifteen seconds to reach the spot. Now she was glad she worked out so much more because when she sat down on her spot with five seconds to spare, she didn't feel the slightest bit winded. Plugging the guitar in, she tuned it softly as Tom gave her the thumbs up.
There Ella was, the sunset casting them in gold as she adjusting the mic stand in front of her. "What is this?" She heard Tom's girlfriend ask.
She took it as their queue as Tom began speaking. Clearing her throat softly, she began strumming the first few chords of In My Veins. Singing the first verse, she felt her heart stop at how perfect this all was. The light was dying when he got down on one knee and pulled out a ring. Heat seared her blood, travelling through her entire body when she stopped, hands clasped over her mouth. She had completely forgot what she was doing and she beamed as the sun dipped below the water.
Then they kissed and he swung her around in a hug. That could only mean one thing.
They did it. But even more than that, they had made perfection.
Day Forty
Picking up her phone again, she sighed as it went to voicemail. "Mark, call me back. I really need to talk to you." Ending it again, she rested a hand on her abdomen and imagined it swollen with their kid. Sighing, she called again.
A/N: Edited - October 16, 2018
Next: A building collapse takes one of Mass Gen's own.
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