Turn My Grief To Grace

"squeeze my hand"

Jo Wilson and Meredith Grey

Trigger warnings- self harm.

Major hurt/comfort to try and fill the void that your mom left. Don't hurt youself, just let Meredith comfort you instead. You don't have to hurt yourself to be deserving of comfort and love and praise.

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Meredith Grey

'Stop doing that! You're awake!" I chastise.

Dr Wilson has a funny habit I've noticed. Whenever she's distressed, zoned out or anxious, I catch the resident pinching her arms- and hard. Not a quick pinch to bring herself back to reality, she's grabbing portions of her flesh and twisting and pulling until the skin is red and bruised. She's far from gentle with herself.

"Jo!" I try again, placing my hand over the younger woman's and trying to get her to release her grip. She resists somewhat, and I can't bat her hand away as easily as I thought. I peel each finger from her arm, watching the skin turn from white to hot red as blood pulses back into the depressed area.

I usher us over to the edge of the corridor once I have her hand, so we're not blocking the walkway.

"Don't do that. You'll hurt yourself." I frown.

"Almost like that's the point." Jo mumbles. She thinks I haven't heard her, but I have. I hear everything.

I catch Jo pinching herself again a few days later. I'm teaching her resident class, and while she's very good at looking like she's paying attention, the grip her hand has on her other forearm tells me otherwise. Jo is sat at the front bench, her peers behind her, so her body blocks her actions from being visible to anyone else.

"Wilson." I call harshly, when I can't stand it any longer. The class look up, but I pinch my eyebrows and soon enough they get back to work identifying artery's. I frown and shake my head at Jo. I think she get's the message when her grip releases. Calling her name seems to have been enough to get her out of her head and back to the cadaver in front of her.

The next time is during a staff meeting. Bailey has the attending's and certain residents gathered, briefing us on a new protocol for paediatric triage. The resident I have my eye on is at the back of the room, so distracted she may as well not have been there. Her eyes are awash with a nothingness. It's kind of creepy. I long to know where she's gone mentally. I stare at her for a few minutes, wondering if our pupils will meet and I can shake her out of whatever funk she's in with a tight gaze. Instead of calling her out publicly on her pinching for a third time, I slide between two other residents and crouch down next to Jo. Bailey, who is leading the meeting gives me a look, but I signal for her to keep talking. She nods.

"Are you okay?" I whisper in Jo's ear with a tenderness I would usually shy from. She looks down, nodding. Instead of making a big deal, I pull the nearest empty chair up to the resident. Dr Edwards turns around at the noise of the chair scraping.

"Excuse me, you should be listening." I scowl, putting on my best medusa stare. I thought that would at least illicit a giggle from Jo, but it doesn't. Perhaps she still sees me as the stone cold attending.

I sit next to Jo, cross my legs and lean into her. I face the front, as if I have my total attention on Bailey, but pull the hand that is abusing Jo's skin away and hold it tightly in my lap.

"Squeeze my hand if you need to, but don't hurt yourself." I whisper before turning my attention back to the meeting properly.

Jo's grip is strong, but she doesn't necessarily squeeze my hand. She's stiff, scared to move. The second Bailey dismisses the meeting she pulls away and joins Edwards as if nothing happened. Just as she's about to exit the meeting room, Jo turns to look at me with the most desperate look I've ever seen. Her mouth drops open slightly and I can see the whimper rise from her vocal chords.