S7 EP6

THE CAMERA ZOOMED IN into three surgeons in light blue scrubs gathering by the nurses' station with wide smiles on their faces. One of the residents had just placed down the phone at the station and gave the other two high-fives.

DR HONORAH LAWRENCE

Surgical Resident

DR NINA LEE

Surgical Resident

DR KIRIAN ROOK

Surgical Resident

"We had contacted Zachary that there are arms available for him!" Norah shared excitedly, "They'll be here in less than an hour."

"We will be witnessing a medical history here," Nina added as she put her pen back into the pocket of her white coat.

Kirian rounded the nurses' station before pointing at the camera. "And you will be here to witness it all," he grinned before walking away, the view of the camera followed him until he took a right turn down the hall.

Dr Rook is one of the staff who was shot, taking the bullet that was aiming for Dr Lawrence. Dr Lawrence and Dr Lee had been there for the immediate care of Dr Rook and Dr Thompson. Dr Thompson was one of the eleven deceased staff.

The camera cut to the three residents sitting loosely next to each other in a conference room where they were being interviewed.

"Well, um... why had I taken the bullet for Dr Lawrence? I wouldn't phrase it that way because that would sound heroic. I don't feel heroic, more... idiotic, to be honest... but I don't regret my decision," Kirian stated as he scratched his head.

"I'd call his actions brave... but idiotic, yes, very," Norah chuckled lightly next to him. "Not that I'm saying I'd like to be shot, because I had been shot before but... that's not relevant today. Uh..."

Nina interjected when Norah trailed off in loss of words. "I was in the supply closet when I heard a loud gunshot outside... the doorknob rattled but I didn't open it, not immediately, at least... because I was afraid that it was the gunman," she shared, "But when I did open it, it was Jace-Dr Thompson, who was... yeah."

"The uh... shooting, affected us-affected everyone-in different ways, and I lost someone who meant um, very, very much to me that day... who died right next to me," Kirian muttered, "So, that's... that's something, I suppose..."

❦

THE CAMERA ZOOMED OUT when the elevator doors opened, inside stood Timothy who jumped slightly when he saw the large camera filming him and the microphone that was dangling above it.

DR TIMOTHY LAWRENCE

Surgical Resident

"*Bleep bleep*, please don't *bleep* do that," he panted as he walked out of the elevator. The camera crew followed him as he made his way down the hall.

Dr Lawrence was shot in an elevator after witnessing Dr Adamson being killed in front of him.

The camera cut to Timothy sitting alone in a conference room, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

"Being shot was one thing, but being shot while not knowing whether you'll be found before you bleed out? That's, um, that messes with your head," he admitted to the camera while avoiding direct gaze with it. "A-and it was me and my girlfriend's one-year anniversary that day... well, ex... Just-not the best *bleep* date idea, you know?"

He lifted his eyes to one of the camera crew members who was gesturing something to him. "Oh, *bleep*, I can't say-alright, sorry. Anyways," he sighed and shifted in his seat, "it changed me in ways, big and small... Like, now I prefer stairs over elevators, and uh... loud sounds sometimes startle me, too. But I'm coping... We all are."

"Hm? How do I feel about my sister standing in front of the *bleep* gunman? Sorry again, by the way, um..." he frowned and shrugged, "Stupid. Just... stupid, really. But she kinda did it to save me, so... I thank her, too, I guess...?"

The camera cut back to the other conference room where Norah was having a solo interview.

"Right, I did stand in front of a gunman, didn't I?" she chuckled nervously, "I just did... The gunman was about to shoot Dr Grey, and I just... I made a choice... And all choices have consequences, so... I stood in front of the gunman, and I'm just lucky that I'm able to sit here in front of this camera today and answer your bloody questions."

❦

NORAH STOPPED HER spinning on the chair when she noticed the camera rolling.

"A tattoo?" April scoffed lightly as the camera zoomed in on her and Lexie at the nurses' station. "It's just so unfair that something like this could ruin everything."

DR LEXIE GREY

Surgical Resident

DR APRIL KEPNER

Surgical Resident

Lexie made a few brief eye contacts with the camera before lowering her eyes back to her chart. "The patient could reject the arms emotionally," Norah sighed, "That wouldn't be good."

Jackson walked up to them with a granola bar in his hand. "Hi. Is it true?" he asked, "Are you guys scrubbing in on the-" he stopped momentarily when he noticed the cameras around them, "-double-arm transplant?"

DR JACKSON AVERY
Surgical Resident

Jackson was smiling at the cameras as he postured himself, straightening his back and making eye contact with the camera. The three other residents stared at him weirdly when they fell into an awkward silence.

"What's wrong with you?" Lexie questioned him.

"N-Nothing," he attempted to act it out, "What's wrong with you?"

"Avery, Avery..." Norah sighed while trying to suppress a laugh. She got up from her seat and rounded the station, giving him a sharp clap on the back while smirking at him knowingly. "Poser."

❦

THE FOOTAGE OF LEXIE arguing with the security personnel at the entrance of the hospital was played. The two men held her ID card while they discussed whether or not to let her through, ignoring the frustrated explanation by the resident.

Eventually, she got fed up and made a run through the scanners, triggering the alarms along the way.

A series of montages were played, one of them being Timothy knocking over a tray in the ER as he jumped at the blaring noise. His mouth was moving, most likely mumbling a string of swears and curses while the long beep of censoring sound was played.

The camera cut to the view inside OR 2, where the donor's arms were being attached to the recipient's by a group or attendings. Surrounding them were a crowd of residents from all years, most holding phones and cameras while some held a notepad to scribble down information.

"So we're about nine hours in," April informed the camera, "Uh, Dr Torres has finished attaching the donor arm bones to the recipient with titanium plates and screws, and now they are beginning to attach the tendons."

The camera panned towards the surgical field before zooming out to the residents who were capturing the once-in-a-lifetime moment in medical history with their devices. It then zoomed in to Derek who was checking on the nerves, then to Norah who stood behind him, imitating his actions in mid-air with a focused look under her mask.

"Arm's moving," Derek announced and the patient's arm gave a spasm. The people in the OR let out excited squeals as more camera shutters could be heard from the residents.

A round of applause rang throughout the OR when the arm started pinking up, which meant that there was blood flow in the first arm. The attendings exhaled in relief while proud smiles formed under their masks, moving on to the second arm.

❦

THE CAMERA ZOOMED IN into Mark as he picked up his coffee from the coffee cart.

DR MARK SLOAN

Chief of Plastic Surgery

"What was the worst part about the shooting?" he repeated his given question while he walked down the catwalk. "It could be the uncertainty, that you have no idea where the people you lo-where the people you care about are.

"Like this man here," he clapped his hand on Timothy's shoulder as he walked past the resident; the latter gave him a confused look before walking away, quickening his pace when he noticed the camera filming him.

"He was a tough save," Mark continued and the camera panned back to him, "I'm glad that he's alive, though... glad that he survived."

He stopped abruptly at his steps, causing the camera to have a large view of his back before backing away.

"But the worst part? It's the aftermath," he answered surely, "It's when people try to cope with the trauma they've dealt with. That's the toughest part, because after the shooting... you're a whole different person. It's like getting to know someone who you know very well, but who's also a stranger at the same time. That's just... complicated."

❦

4 WEEKS LATER

NORAH HAD JUST EXITED the OR after scrubbing in with a shunt placement alongside Derek.

The resident fought back the urge to roll her eyes when she saw a crew member heading towards her. She took off her surgical cap and cracked her neck, just as she was given the notice for yet another solo interview.

The camera zoomed in into her sitting alone in the conference room, and zoomed out before the picture came into focus. One of the crew members gave her the sign that the camera had started filming and she repositioned herself in her seat.

"How do I feel about the whole incident? Feel would be a wide range to cover, but uh..." she lifted her eyes from the loose thread she was fiddling on and stared straight into the camera. "I think I speak behalf of the whole hospital when I say this: it shouldn't have happened. The eleven lives shouldn't have been lost."

She rubbed her palms under the table while she continued, "All of them deserved to live. I mean, they were just having their regular day at work, and a bloke with a gun decided to shoot down a hospital for revenge," she shook her head unamusingly.

The pictures and recollections of that day started to cloud back into her mind while she tapped her feet quietly. "You know, we see lives lost every day. And uh, eleven lives isn't that uncommon in a hospital, but... eleven lives taken by cold-blooded murder? That's bloody mad," she exhaled heavily.

"And then the... Outside, everything was just..."

The pool of blood under her knees, smeared on her hand, soaking her scrubs as the blot of red grew larger-it was as though she could feel the liquid on her skin again, its warmness coating her cold and shivering hands.

"I-I'm sorry. I uh... I can't-"

Dr Lawrence ended her interview and declined a follow-up interview.

❦ ❦ ❦

NORAH LAID ON THE bed in the on-call room, staring blankly at the ceiling. Her watch and pager were left on the desk next to the bed and she had specifically requested the nurses to not page her unless someone was tripping over their deathbed, or shot.

Of course, they did not find the joke amusing.

She was avoiding the camera crew who had gotten keen on digging into the staff's lives.

Lying in the quiet room, she allowed herself to dive into her thoughts; the one that was cut short the previous day after zoning out in front of the camera. Declining a follow-up interview was possibly one of the best decisions she had made her entire life.

She remembered when the body bags were being wheeled out of the hospital, the large crowd of pedestrians taking interest in the entire situation that happened; many gasped in shock, but neither truly knew how they felt.

She remembered the weeping faces of Mr and Mrs Thompson when they stepped out of the morgue, the two younger kids were baffled as to why their parents were crying.

She remembered the soulless bodies lying on the floor in the hospital, a trail of blood behind them, indicating that they had tried to move, tried to get help, tried to save themselves-but trying had brought them no hopeful outcome.

How many of them died thinking about the people they love? How sorry were they to leave them even though it was never their fault? How many parents had expected their child to be home for dinner but only received notice that they would be planning their funeral?

How many of them held onto the last inch of hope until they were ultimately met with despair?

Her questions were never answered.

But on top of all of that, the thing that haunted her at night was the two whole minutes when she had to act that she was dead. Closing her eyes at night often reminded her about that moment, hence the difficulty for her to stay asleep.

The door to the on-call room opened suddenly and she jolted upwards from being startled. She let out a shaky breath of slight relief as her head dropped back onto the pillow, her heart pounded violently in her chest.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry," Mark spoke, his voice laced with worry, "Are you okay?"

"Am I ever okay?" Norah sighed and shook her head, "Do you want the bed? I can-"

"No, no, it's fine," he insisted, closing the door behind him, "I'm just hiding from the, um, camera crew, or whatever they're called."

He walked over to the desk and she listened as the chair scraped against the floor gently before he sat on it. She continued staring at the ceiling, taking in the quietness in the room, once again.

Silence, except the breathing sounds from both of them.

She hated the silence.

―

"Trust that there are people in this world that will stay by your side... and open up to them."

―

"Mark?"

"Yeah?"

She hesitated for a moment, gathering her words before asking, "How long can you spare?"

"As long as you need," he replied straight away, without the slightest pause.

Silence, again; she did not know how to open up, she did not know where to start. Hence, she landed with the option of getting straight to the point.

"I can't sleep at night because I'm terrified to fall asleep. It's like... I could see the bodies on the same floors we walk on," she voiced out the thoughts plaguing her, "I barely get enough rest every day, it's a loop and I'm tired of it. I'm mentally drained but I just... can't sleep.

"My eyes are stinging and I can't even move... but my body refuses to let me sleep because I don't-I can't feel safe to even give myself a rest. It's maddening, you know?" she let out a weak chuckle, turning her head to him, "Do you... Do you get it this bad as well?"

He stared back at her and shook his head slightly, his eyebrows knitted together in a frown. It hurt him seeing her at that state, it hurt him more knowing that he was not by her side the times before that she was in that state.

After a short moment of internal debate, he lifted himself from the chair grabbed a blanket from one of the cupboards.

"What are you..." she propped herself up on her elbows when he sat partially on the bed. His hand reached the back of her head gently, wanting to lower her head back down, yet at the moment of contact, it was the spark that screwed her mind. "Mark, don't-you hate me."

He blinked at her as she averted her gaze from him, slowly sinking back into the pillow. It took him a moment before he realised that she was not asleep during his conversation days ago.

"I'm not gonna deny that I did... for a while," he admitted, "But do you really believe that I can hate you forever?"

"I would if I were you."

"Luckily for us, you're not me," he exhaled and shook his head faintly, "Can I lie down here?"

She nodded softly before moving inwards on the bed, feeling the pillow dip next to her. The pace of his breathing was one that she memorised as he lifted her arm and placed it over his waist, feeling her falteringly tightening her arm over his body.

"Rest your eyes," he mumbled to her, "You're safe here, okay?"

Hell, she needed this more than she missed it.

To feel the warmth of both their bodies against each other as they moulded into one. There were zero protests from her; their legs tangled into the familiar places while she rested her forehead on his chest.

She felt safe again. She felt safe to finally open up.

"I-I could feel him breathing on my face when... when he was checking whether I died," she confessed, "He was just right there in front of my face, checking whether I was still alive. A-And the worst part..."

That was the two minutes that haunted her almost every night now. She had never told anyone about it, except for her therapist whom she only mentioned it briefly to after six sessions or so.

"Go on. I'm right here."

"The worst part was that I had to stay still, absolutely still, to convince him I was... dead," her voice was close to breaking now, "I think... the reason I didn't move was that I acknowledged that I was gonna die, there and then. I-I accepted my death."

His heart ached at her words and he shifted himself closer to her, gently rubbing her back. She let out a dry chuckle at his chest that he felt dampness on.

"Everything was red-the floor, my clothes, my hands-everything. I was shaking... and all I could think of was..." there was the briefest pause between her words, her face buried in his chest, "...was how much I needed to be in your arms. "

The unspoken words were finally voiced out; a wave of relief surfaced her, but a flush of repentance immersed him.

He shut his eyes and swallowed down the tightness in his throat as he felt her hand clutching the back of his scrub top. "I'm here now, aren't I?"

For the past months, his mind flooded with thoughts and concerns, but one thing that never changed was the dread of losing her.

"I'll be right here when you wake up-I'll always be here," he reassured, pulling the blanket up to her shoulder, "So, close your eyes, okay? You won't be alone. I promise."

She nodded at his chest while he hugged her tight, fearing that she would slip out of his hold once again. She let out a heavy exhale as she lifted her head to him. "I never wanted to hurt you, you know?"

He sighed and placed a kiss on her forehead. "It hurt because it's love, real love. It still is," he whispered back, "And you are worth the pain, alright? Stop thinking that you're not. Please promise me you'll remember that?"

A firm nod was returned along with a soft but sincere voice, "Promise."

The smile on his face melted her from within.

It did not take her long before she fell asleep to the beating of his heart.