Archive of Our Own ^beta

Richard Webber was having a bad day.

A ferry had crashed, causing all manner of injuries and casualties which slammed his hospital. His clinic was flooded with worried families, he had no news to assure them, and it had only been going downhill from there. He took great joy in the fact that he had somehow successfully managed to coach Izzie Stevens through burr holes in the field, via a textbook and a plastic surgeon (admittedly, he could have found shadow shepherd lurking somewhere in the hospital, but Mark Sloan had apparently been his only option at the time). But logic prevailed after the adrenaline wore off, and he soon realised that probably wasn’t his smartest move.

His hospital had descended into chaos. Beds lined the halls, interns were doing complex medical procedures they had only ever seen performed (See Burr Holes as above), Addison had a pregnant Jane Doe in critical condition.

Richard didn’t think it could get much worse. This had to be the brunt of it. He couldn’t handle much else.

A clatter sounded behind him. He thought nothing of it, but the yelling of nurses soon caught his attention. He sighed briefly when he spotted it, quickly rushing in to evaluate.

It seemed that the fates were determined to shit on him today.

“I’m telling you; it doesn’t make any sense. Physically she’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with her.” Shadow-Shepherd frowned, dabbing his brow.

“Fine?” Richard sneered, gesturing to Addison, lying down in the hospital bed. (It was a miracle they had even found one for her, given how crowded the hospital was today. He supposed that was the benefit to giving your nurses Christmas Bonuses out of your own 30-million-dollar-rich pocket). “Does she look fine to you? She can barely breathe!” He hissed. The fact alone that Addison was being complacent and following orders to sit down and try to relax tipped him off to something being deeply wrong with his former student. (That and the struggling to breathe, of course).

“I don’t know what to tell you Richard.” Shadow-Shepherd gulped, soon realising his mistake. “I’ll… I’ll run some more tests, Doctor Webber. Chief. Sir.” The man bumbled, quickly running off to find something to pull out of his own ass that could explain Addison’s shortness of breath, passing out in the middle of the pit, and her complaints of feeling frozen.

“Doctor.” Richard spoke sternly, his hands on his hips. (He couldn’t remember Shadow-Shepherds real name without Patricia there to remind him. The man was so spineless, however, that he doubted the doctor would take issue if he were to use his moniker, anyway). “The chart?”

“Right. Yes. Of course.” The doctor stumbled, practically tripping over his own feet to hand the chief the file.

Richard sighed, studying the numbers carefully. It really didn’t make sense. Addison claimed she felt like she was turning to ice, yet her temperature was completely normal. It didn’t stop the woman’s teeth from chattering, or her desperate need to be buried under a thousand blankets. They had given her plenty of O2 and fluids, and yet she was struggling to even breathe. He worried that the woman was somehow starving herself of oxygen. If she kept this up, they’d have to sedate her just to make sure her breathing could return to normal.

He looked up from the chart, rubbing his eyes as he stared at Addison’s shivering body. It didn’t make any sense. A cough sounded next to him, startling him a little out of his thinking.

“What are you still doing here?” He barked, not even able to find it in himself to smile at the way that shadow-shepherd startled and ran off.

Richard had been wrong before. He thought he was having a bad day. A ferry had crashed, his hospital was practically out of beds, his interns were off performing procedures way above their level, and now one of his attendings had collapsed with a mysterious illness that Shadow Shepherd was clearly underprepared for.

He had his people looking for the real Shepherd, sure that even with their divorce Derek would be willing to help. (The man did love a good mystery, after all.)

But surely this was it. This was the pinnacle of the crap-pile god had decided to bestow oh-so-lovingly upon him today. There was nothing, short of another code black, that could make this day any worse.

Then Derek rode into the hospital on a gurney, that carried a familiar blonde.

He really should stop jinxing it.

At least Derek had Addison to focus on instead of Meredith. Addison, he could deal with. Meredith would break the man in two.

Richard knew the two weren’t together anymore (he didn’t need to turn George into a spy to figure that one out, their relationship status may as well be on a tannoy system given how loud the nurses loved to gossip). But he also knew from personal experience with the Grey women how deeply you could still love them, even after you grew apart.

He wished that he himself could focus on Addison instead of Meredith. Perhaps that would hurt less. They were all struggling to think clearly, to figure out just how to save Meredith, too struck on the fact that it was their Meredith, the girl who had hung around the hospital since she could say double-bypass.

It took hours. It took Cristina practically yelling at them. It took blood and sweat and many tears.

But when the monitor finally sounded and Meredith’s heart was finally beating on its own, Richard thought that he could do this. He could do this entire day over again just to feel this overwhelming, sweeping relief.

As soon as he felt comfortable leaving Meredith, he raced upstairs to see if any progress had been made on Addison. He was thinking that it must be an aneurysm. (He had proven just hours before that he wasn’t the go-to man for neuro, though, so he went to find Derek to check.)

When he finally found him, his head in his hands, Richard assumed the worst. This day had been cruel to him, stepping on him at every turn, and he wasn’t entirely sure if God was done having his sick and sadistic fun yet.

“Derek?” His voice cracked. He didn’t care.

“She’s fine.” Derek spat, his eyes glistening with tears.

Richard wanted to smack him up the head for being so dramatic. He knew that it was very likely that if Bailey was in his place, she already would have. “Then what’s wrong?” He asked instead.

“She couldn’t breathe. She was cold. She blacked out. After hours, and nearly crashing for an inexplicable reason, she’s completely fine. Sore, but otherwise fine.” Derek muttered, not making much sense.

“This is a good thing, right? I mean obviously we’ll have to do a full work up.” He rambled. He couldn’t understand what had Derek so upset. (Unless of course he had mis-read the situation grossly and Derek was actually glum that Addison had survived.)

“I don’t know.” Derek muttered. Richard tried not to let his shock show on his face. “How’s Meredith?” Derek asked, as though he was bored. As though he was asking Richard about his weekend.

“She’s fine. She’ll need some time off to recover, and a full work up but she’s alive.” Richard smiled as he delivered the good news. Both of his people were fine. They were okay. This day had tried to wreck him, but they had fought back, and it was beginning to look as though things were on the mend.

Derek sighed, running a hand through his somehow still impeccably coiffed hair (I mean really, after the day he’d suffered?) “Amora Synesthesia.” He muttered.

Richard scoffed. He had used the scientific name, but most scientists chose not to believe in that kind of rubbish (most of the good ones, anyway). “Soulmates? What has that got to do with anyth-“

Oh.  

They say make plans, God laughs.

It seemed as though God was absolutely pissing himself.

It made sense, he supposed. There was a certain intricacy in the way those two women aligned. Scorned by the same man, turning to one another for a friend, turning into something more.

Richard didn’t like to meddle. That was something he often left to the interns (and usually ended up regretting). But just this once, he allowed himself the simple pleasure of intervention.

He was having a bad day. There was a ferry crash, beds were as much as a hot commodity as actual surgeries, an attending collapsed, and one of his own interns had drowned. (He had brought her back to life though. Like God.)

That was his excuse. They were low on beds. They had to double up.

His bad day soon became very much worth it, as he watched unseen as Meredith’s eyes slowly opened, laying next to Addison. He knew it then, that Derek’s theory was true. And that perhaps, not all those quack scientists who believed in soulmates were complete fools, after all. The smile the two women shared said it all.

Today had been a good day, after all.