The ER was in full chaos by the time Aria was halfway through stitching up her third patient from the school bus crash.
The entire floor felt too loud — too many voices, too many crying parents, too many frightened kids with blood on their uniforms and shock in their eyes. Nurses moved quickly between beds, surgeons barked orders over one another, and every monitor seemed to beep at a different rhythm. It was one of those days where the hospital felt less like a building and more like a living thing — frantic, overworked, and demanding.
Aria tied off the final stitch on a teenage boy's forehead and offered him a small smile.
"There," she said gently. "You're done. Try not to make a habit of getting hit in the face by flying glass."
The boy gave her a shaky laugh, and Aria stepped back just as her pager went off.
She frowned, pulling it from the pocket of her scrub top.
Meredith.
Of course.
Aria stripped off her gloves and crossed the corridor toward the exam bay where Meredith stood with Alex. Both of them looked tense, though in very different ways. Meredith looked wound too tight. Alex looked annoyed on someone else's behalf.
"What's the matter?" Aria asked, glancing between them.
Meredith crossed her arms. "Thatcher is here."
The name alone made something in Aria's stomach sink.
"And I need you to deal with him," Meredith added.
Alex turned to Meredith immediately. "I paged you, not Aria."
Aria looked at him briefly, then back at Meredith.
Meredith didn't seem guilty. She barely even seemed apologetic. Just tired. Like she'd seen a mess and pushed it in Aria's direction because Aria was the one most likely to clean it up.
Aria gave a humourless little huff and rolled her eyes.
"Don't worry about it, Alex," she said, already turning away. "It's just me cleaning up another one of their messes."
She didn't wait for either of them to answer.
⸻
She found Thatcher near the nurses' station, swaying slightly where he stood, his shirt rumpled, his hair a mess, his hands scraped raw and flecked with dried blood.
He looked older every time she saw him.
Not just in the ordinary way people aged, but in the sadder way — like life had hollowed him out and left the shell behind.
The second he saw her, his whole face changed.
"Ariana."
The name made her stop for half a second.
Nobody here called her Ariana.
Nobody except the people tied to a version of her life she didn't know what to do with.
A few nurses nearby glanced over at the sound of it, and Aria straightened automatically, slipping into that polished, professional calm she wore whenever things felt too personal.
She stepped in front of him and gently took one of his hands, looking over the split skin on his knuckles.
"What happened?" she asked quietly.
Thatcher stared at her like he was seeing something precious and breakable. "I'm sorry," he said immediately. "I really, really am."
Aria reached for gauze and antiseptic without looking up at him.
YOU ARE READING
Shooting Stars
Fanfiction"But he's Evil Spawn." "Don't you think I know that. I didn't wake up one day and suddenly decide I was going to be in love with Alex Karev." Being the daughter of a world renowned surgeon was never destined to be easy. The first born of the Grey tw...
