- 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐃 -
❝ can you stop with the compliments? ❞
❝ never. ❞
❝ maybe dreams are meant to just stay as that, dreams. ❞
❝ not all dreams come true, but maybe that's what makes them special. ❞
. . .
𝗔 𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬 𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘...
.THE TRUTH COMES OUT [PART ONE]. — season four - episode nine —
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SLEEPING AT THE HOSPITAL was something Marcela had gotten more than used to in her time as an intern and resident at Seattle Grace. In one of her late-night shifts, she found a small hiding spot in a supply closet near an on-call room where she would usually hide freshly cleaned bedsheets, blankets, and sleeping masks. Instead of making the experience of sleeping at the hospital weird — being surrounded by illness and all that — she made it feel like a resort escape.
Despite her thorough preparation and excellent memory, she always forgot that she was blind.
"Alex?" Marcela whispered, squinting at each person who passed her by with light blue scrubs. She stood, like a lost puppy, in front of the Nurse's Station by the lobby — staring intensely at each person who left the elevator.
Since Nick Hanscomb's surgery, Marcela left feeling happy — happy from a successful surgery, happy that she had stuffed herself with cookies beforehand and still had some leftovers, and happy that she was able to teach her interns again — knowing she was finally doing the job she felt she unintentionally neglected.
Then, she remembered... Timothy.
All too quickly, her joy left — dread and guilt quickly replaced it. With Alex still at Meredith's, Mark well on his way home, and no Callie in sight; she decided it wasn't a bad call to simply fall asleep at the hospital, knowing her boyfriend didn't have work the next day.
Although she was thankful for that — slightly aware that there was a possibility he could still show up, as he usually did — she knew that time without seeing him gave her more time to prepare what she was going to do with Alex's help. This meant time was ticking — and it wasn't necessarily too convenient for her at the moment since she had left her glasses at his house, along with her contacts.
Marcela's focus on the elevator prevented her from using any of her other senses. If she had used them, it might've allowed her to hear Mark's footsteps approaching her, him standing next to her, or prepared her for when he spoke. "What're we staring at—?"
"Ahh!" Marcela shouted, bringing a hand to her chest as she turned around.
It was Mark, who hadn't expected to scare the living crap out of Marcela — nor did he mean to make her scream as loudly as she did, or bring the eyes of patients and doctors alike to them.
"What the hell, Mark?" She sighed, trying to calm her racing heart before repeatedly slapping his arms. "Don't sneak up on people like that!"
"Ow—!" He lightly grabbed her wrists, preventing her from attacking him more. "Hey, I'm sorry! I thought you heard me."
"Well, I didn't."
As he released his hold on her wrists, he examined her face with his eyes. He lightly leaned down for a closer inspection, noticing something was off. "Are you okay?"
