[CW: assault, trauma, mild panic attack]
- 08:29 -
TIMOTHY WALKED UP TO Mark, who had just stepped in through the hospital's entrance. The latter held a coffee in his hand while his other was in the pocket of his leather jacket.
"Sloan, how's Nor?" the resident queried.
"What do you mean, 'How's Nor'?" Mark cocked a brow the resident's question, "Didn't she come in early today?"
"Huh? I heard from Shepherd that she called in sick," Timothy returned the same confused look to the attending. They stared at each other for a long while before the younger man spoke up again, "You sure she came in early?"
"Yeah, I remember her telling me that Nelson has a craniotomy this morning," Mark informed. He recalled her excited face when she got to scrub in on a morning surgery, and he was still stirring in bed when she kissed him goodbye. "Her car's in the parking lot as well."
"Oh, well then, okay, er..." Timothy furrowed his brows, "Guess I misheard from Shepherd, then."
Yet when the resident walked away, Mark saw Nelson with another resident, Nina Lee, heading towards the elevator. He frowned at the sight of them, and a whispering voice was growing inside him.
He was about to look for Derek to inquire him, but he got a page to the ER. Hence, he decided to text Norah instead.
❦ ❦ ❦
- 11:41 -
"DEREK!"
"Yeah?" the neurosurgeon turned around to see a distressed-looking Mark speeding up to him.
"Norah... called in sick?" the latter asked, his tone uncertain. He had just gotten out of surgery and noticed that his messages had not been replied, nor seen by her. He was starting to get worried.
"Yes, she did, this morning," Derek confirmed, raising a questioning brow at the other man, "I thought you two live together? Something happened?"
"No...? I don't know, um... I don't think so, but... I remember her telling me..." Mark shook his head, "Never mind-I think I'm just overreacting."
Derek narrowed his eyes in concern. "Alright... Do tell me if you, um, find her?" he stated, "I'm sure she's just fine, Mark." He gave his best friend a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Sorry, I have a head trauma coming in. I need to go."
Derek wondered about the whereabouts of Norah because he strongly remembered her calling in sick. He allowed her to take the day off since she had barely missed any shifts since her intern year, except for the necessary leaves for her injuries back then.
He pushed the bubble of concern in his chest away when the paramedics unloaded the patient from the ambulance. "What do we have?"
As the paramedic informed him about the patient's status, Derek's eyes widened when he saw the man's face.
Gruesome was the word he would use to describe the man's state. He could see the obvious skull fractures, and the man's pupil was blown.
"Damn it, get an OR ready for me, right now!"
There was no right reason that the man only got bashed in on his head, so Derek searched for other injuries. He found none, to his surprise, other than some scratch marks on the man's arm. He frowned when he saw some black spots on the man's hand-five words smudged on his palm:
DO NOT LET HIM DIE
What caused a chill to run down his back was not what the words read-it was the handwriting he recognised from most of the charts of his cases. The previous concern seemed to have magnified.
Derek lifted his head briefly to Mark, who was typing away on his phone, then to another attending-resident pair who had just passed through. "Hunt, I need Lawrence for a minute," he requested, and Timothy walked over to the chief curiously.
"Look at this," Derek gestured for the resident to look at the man's palm. When he saw Timothy's eyes staring back at him with no questions escaping his mouth, he knew that his assumption was correct.
Timothy immediately walked up to the man's face, frowning at sight. "Dr Shepherd, what colour were his eyes?" he asked in a shaky voice.
"A very pale green."
"Fucking hell," Timothy muttered under his breath as he ran a hand through his hair; Derek raised a brow at the resident. "You must not let him die, Derek," the resident stated, his voice firmer this time with an anxious tone to his words.
"I don't plan to," the attending assured before asking, "Who is this guy?"
Timothy shook his head with a short bitter laugh mixed with a grimaced expression. "New York."
❦ ❦ ❦
- 13:42 -
MARK CHECKED HIS PHONE for what felt like the hundredth time that day. His messages remained unread, and the last few ones were undelivered; he knew she was somewhere, but he did not know where.
"Tim!" he called out to the resident who was rushing away. Timothy walked over to him, his brows furrowed and his look unsettled.
"I uh..." he debated within himself. He could see from the attending's face that he was worried beyond his sane self, but even if he wanted to, he could not tell. "I don't know where she is."
The lie hit him straight in the gut.
Mark took a deep breath and exhaled. "Where could she possibly-" He was interrupted by the resident's phone ringing.
Timothy fished out his phone from his pocket and saw the unsaved number, and he could only think of one thing, one person. He forced himself to remain a neutral expression while he picked up the call, avoiding the hopeful look on the attending's face.
"Hello?"
"Tim?"
Thank god, he wanted to sigh out, but he could not, not yet. "Are you outside already?" Mark furrowed his brows at the resident's words.
It's working. Code language-'Where are you?'
"I-I'm at Seattle Police Station, a-and I uh... need you to g-get me out."
Timothy pretended to check on his watch. "But our appointment is in an hour. Can you wait a bit?" I can be there in an hour. Are you fine with that?
"Okay, okay... um, okay. I uh... yeah. Okay."
He did not like the way his sister was stammering. "How long would you take?" Are you hurt anywhere?
"No, no, I'm fine... I think. Uh, l-listen, how is..."
"Uh, kitchen sink... the right one." He's alive.
"Okay... that's good... yeah, good. I-I need... I need to hang up now. Please, hurry up. Please."
The phone hung up on the other side before Timothy could speak another word. He turned to the attending who was staring back at him; the shine in his eyes replaced with gloominess.
"Sorry, man, that was the plumber," he stated, "My apartment is clogged."
Mark nodded tiredly, and the resident turned around to head off. "Tim," he spoke again, "If you know where she is, please tell me, alright? Please."
Timothy nodded with a pang of guilt hitting him right in his chest.
❦ ❦ ❦
- 14:37 -
NORAH COULD NOT SIT still, at all. She had been snapping her fingers continuously, the sole rhythm that she could get to try to calm herself down, along with her pacing.
The male officer had yelled at her to sit down and shut up long ago, and she jumped upon his voice.
Now, she was staring at the rusted bars, sitting on the cold metal bench while her body shivered. She bounced her legs up and down anxiously, and her hands clasped in between her knees. Her grip was strong, and her veins were popping at the back of her hands.
She had no idea how long she had been sitting there, how long she had been clenching her jaw, how long she felt like her head was going to blow up from within.
Her sense of time was long gone as she drowned in her thoughts. She was sweating, cold, and fidgeting in every possible way she could think of.
The other people who were locked in the same space as her had kept a distance from her, but she did not blame them. She would do the same if she were them.
But she was not them; thus, she blamed herself.
When she heard the jingling keys approaching, her head immediately snapped up. The officer pushed a key through the keyhole and unlocked the cell.
"Ms Lawrence."
Her name finally got called upon, but she felt no relief. She picked herself up from the cold bench and staggered down the dark corridor, where Timothy was already waiting for her at the other end.
The first thing he did was lunge himself towards her, wrapping his arms around her protectively.
"You're fucking freezing," he frowned when she released herself from the hug. Timothy pulled out the black leather jacket from the large Ziploc bag they gave when she stepped into the station. But she shook her head furiously.
"N-No, I don't-no," she refused wildly, her eyes fixed on the jacket. Her brother merely nodded and took off his cotton one and passed it to her.
When they got in the car, Timothy turned the heater up high. Norah managed to stop shivering while her body warmed up.
"I can't believe you didn't tell me that bastard was harassing you again," he scoffed lightly in disbelief, "Was that why you changed your number?"
"Y-Yeah..."
"He was still in surgery when I left the hospital," he informed in a cranky voice, "Shepherd's operating on him."
"Did he-"
"Yes, he saw the message. And he recognised your handwriting, too," he assured, and she nodded in silence. "Are you gonna tell me what the fuck happened? Why you were missing the entire morning?"
There was a long pause where she was picking on her skin; her head was overflowing and empty at the same time. "I can't. Y-You know I can't," she finally muttered. "Not when I might be facing... charges."
He raised a brow at her, "What did I get you out for?"
"Speeding."
"Oh."
"Who... Who else...?"
"Mark doesn't know," he replied, "and I feel awful for lying to him. But I know I can't tell him. Not me, at least. Here, pull on this, not your hands."
He passed her an old t-shirt from the back of the car, in which she gripped it tightly in oppose to screaming her lungs out at that second.
"I can't tell him," she mumbled quietly.
He sighed, "You should know that he's worried mad."
She shook her head with a gulp. "I can't... H-How can I tell him?" she let out a dry laugh. "I thought I was free from that life when I came to Seattle."
He did a left turn at the crossroad spoke again, his voice dull, "You can't run away again. You just... can't."
"I don't want to," she confessed, the t-shirt in her hand crumpled tight, "I like Seattle. But if he starts to haunt me again... I-I will."
Timothy pulled up at the parking lot of the hospital. He turned off the engine and passed the car keys to Norah. "I'll head in first... Will you be alright?"
She nodded and placed the keys into her pocket, feeling her phone, which she took out and switched on. "I'll be in a minute."
Timothy got out of the car, and she scrolled through the many messages bombarded in her phone.
From: Mark <3
[08:30] Where are you?
[08:30] Derek said you called in sick but your car is here
[08:31] Text me back
From: Baby bro
[08:35] Shep said u called in sick
[09:07] Call me bck, im serious
[10:00] U're starting to worry me sis
[10:02] Call be bck ASAP
[10:02] Me*
[ 2 missed calls from: Mark <3 ]
From: Mark <3
[11:28] Are you in the hospital?
[11:28] I asked around and nobody saw you today
[11:28] Call me back, please
[ 1 missed call from: Mark <3 ]
[11:43] Derek just confirmed that you called in sick. Where are you?
[ 3 missed calls from: Mark <3 ]
From: Alex Karev
[11:50] Dude, your guy's freaking out in the ER
[11:50] Just pick up his damn calls
[ 1 missed call from: Baby bro ]
From: Baby bro
[11:57] If by any chance u're seeing this, J is in surgery & he's alive for now
[11:58] Stay safe
From: Lexie Grey
[12:03] Tim mentioned about you
[12:03] Are you safe?
From: Meredith Grey
[12:19] Hi, we're worried. Where are you?
From: Cardio junkie
[12:25] Mer forced me to text you
[12:25] R U alive?
[12:28] Cafeteria is serving ur fav sandwich tdy
[12:29] I hope that you are ok, text us back when you see this
[12:30] Tht was Mer btw
From: Mark <3
[12:50] Laurie, where are you?
From: Kirian Rook
[13:09] are you ok?
From: Mark <3
[13:43] Tim is on the phone, is he talking to you?
[13:45] Never mind, it was the plumber
[ 1 missed call from: Mark <3 ]
[14:06] Please call me back
From: Callie Torres
[14:14] Call him back because he's freaking out really bad
From: Mark <3
[14:53] You know I love you, right?
Her guilt was eating her alive.
To: Baby bro
tell me when he's out of surgery [15:03]
From: Baby bro
[15:07] He's out
[15:07] Not awake, seems ok
[15:07] Patient room 2523
❦ ❦ ❦
- 15:12 -
NORAH WALKED INTO THE hospital with her hands tugged into the pockets of Timothy's jacket. A few nurses greeted her, and she returned them with a smile-a fake one.
She took the stairs because the elevator was packed. Well, not really, but she felt claustrophobic just by the look of the four narrow walls. The steel-plated walls were not helping, either.
She went up to the second floor and straight to the Neuro Wing of the hospital. Outside Room 2523 stood Timothy and Derek, the latter perked up upon her arrival.
"What happened?" the neurosurgeon asked, but she ignored his question.
"Will he wake up?" Norah asked instead.
"He should, when he gets off the anesthetic," Derek replied as he handed the charts away at the nurses' station. "Who is he?"
"Jeffrey Hanson," she answered numbly. "He's the reason why I fled here in the first place."
His eyes narrowed as he looked back into the room before shaking his head with a compassionate look to the resident. "I know I am the chief now," he spoke, "But I'm asking as your friend: Is your medical career in danger?"
"I-It could be," she admitted with her hand rubbing the back of her neck, "if he-"
"Laurie?" Mark's voice rang through the halls, and Norah's eyes widened. "Oh, thank god you're okay," he exhaled and immediately engulfed her into a tight hug.
She clenched down on her teeth; the hands that remained inside her pockets held in tight fists. She felt her entire body stiffen, and she could tell that he sensed it, too.
"Where were you?" he asked, his eyes pouring with relief, but hers filled with terror instead.
"I uh, I..." she blinked a few times, "I-I can't... Can't tell you, Mark."
He narrowed his eyes at her, then to Derek and Timothy, who were standing behind her. "Are you... in shock?" he questioned, lowering his eyes back to the brunette.
Am I? I really have no idea. All I can think of right now is your hand gripping on my arm-too tightly.
Mark frowned when she went silent; it was as though her mouth was not obeying her head that was trying to speak up. Then again, her head was spinning with too many things that she could not even try to decrease its speed.
"Er... Maybe we can get something to eat?" Timothy interjected, and Derek nodded in agreement. Norah felt her nails digging into her palms, and the pain was a relief.
"Yeah, well... okay," Mark agreed and wrapped his arms around her-she jumped slightly, causing him to pull his hand back instantly, a confused but concerned look setting on his face.
"You're... jumpy," he pointed out when she dropped her head with a deep breath. "The last time you were like this was when you were having the flashbacks..."
She shook her head in an attempt to play it off, but he knew her better than she thought he did.
"Norah, what's going on?"
She stared at the blue eyes nearly glistening. She could see all the concern, distress, and unease behind those pair of eyes. But she could say nothing; even if she wanted to, not a sound came out from her mouth.
It was as though everything verbal got disconnected with her brain, but she could sense the words she wanted to say was floating in front of her head:
I'm so sorry.
❦ ❦ ❦
- 23:52 -
NORAH SAT ON THE BED next to Mark, who had fallen asleep a while ago. The lamp by the nightstand was on, and she was half-heartedly reading an article.
Despite all the things going on in her head, reading seemed to be the only thing that abled her mind to focus on one task, keeping her from going insane.
The ticking clock sat right next to her, its rhythmic ticks and tocks hypnotising her mind.
She wanted to sleep, she really wanted to, but she did not dare to. It was just like what Mark had mentioned; the last time she was like this, she was having flashbacks from the gunshot.
The voice in her head made her fear that if she fell asleep, she would get flashbacks of New York. That was one thing that she knew she could not handle at that moment.
She twirled the loose strand of thread on the cuff of the old college hoodie she was wearing, the soft thread circling into a little ball under her finger and thumb.
Tick... tock... tick... tock...
She needed to sleep, but she couldn't.
Her pager went off on the nightstand, and she picked it up immediately. When she climbed out of bed, Mark, who lay next to her, grabbed her arm, trying to pull her back to bed.
She winced at his touch, but he did not notice.
"Where are you going?" he asked in a sleepy voice.
"Hospital," she replied, trying her best not to tug her hand away from him.
"What time is it?"
She checked her phone hastily before answering, "Midnight."
He turned in his sleep and finally let go of her hand. "Don't leave me like this morning, okay?" his voice was soft, but she heard a shaken tone behind it.
"Okay."
Hospital. Midnight. Okay-those were the three words that she had spoken since they went back to their apartment.
❦ ❦ ❦
- 00:21 -
NORAH WALKED INTO the Neuro Wing, where Derek was already waiting for her inside Jeffrey's room. The man was not much older than her, but he had a look that made him... mature, but to her, it was horrifying.
"Ah, Honorah, my girl!" Jeffrey greeted, and Norah grimaced at the sound of his voice. She did not reply as she stopped at the doorframe; Derek sent a glare at the man in the bed. "Aw, why so silent? Do I really look that bad? I mean, it is your work of art, doll."
"Shut your mouth, Hanson," Derek snapped at him, but he merely laughed back.
"Dr Shepherd here is a bossy one, isn't he?" he chuckled, and the attending looked like he could pummel him. "Hey, I saw your little gift for me," he gestured to the faint ink on his palm, "Now, what are you waiting for, doll? Come on in!"
Derek raised a brow at Norah when she stepped into the room reluctantly. "Why the fuck are you here?" she
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