And Then There Was You...

Chapter 13: And You Were There...

3rd Person POV:

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Grace stirred in bed, nestled in Connor's arms, while Milo snored softly at their feet. It was one of those rare, peaceful mornings where neither of them had to rush to the hospital, and they planned to savor every moment.

Grace smiled as she felt Connor's lips press a gentle kiss on her shoulder. She turned her head to meet his gaze, finding those familiar blue eyes filled with warmth and love.

"Morning," she murmured, her voice still husky from sleep.

"Morning," Connor replied, his hand trailing lazily along her side. "How are you feeling?"

"Better now," she said, shifting closer to him. "I'm glad we have today off. I've missed just being with you."

Connor chuckled softly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Me too. We've both been running on fumes lately. It's good to just... be."

Grace nodded, her heart swelling with affection for the man beside her. The past few months had been a whirlwind—Lucas going into rehab, their relentless schedules at Med—but moments like this, where it was just the two of them, made everything worth it.

They spent the next hour wrapped in each other's embrace, sharing tender kisses and quiet laughter. The world outside could wait; this was their time.

But as fate would have it, peace was fleeting.

The shrill sound of their pagers broke the tranquility, pulling them back to reality. Grace sighed heavily as she reached for her pager, her heart sinking as she read the message.

"Emergency at Med," she said, her voice tinged with regret. "We have to go."

Connor frowned, glancing at his own pager. "Looks like we're needed. Let's go."

Within minutes, they were dressed and out the door, Milo barking in protest as they left. The drive to the hospital was filled with a sense of urgency, their minds already racing through potential scenarios. But nothing could have prepared them for what awaited at Med.

When they arrived, Sharon Goodwin met them in the ED, her expression grave.

"A baby John Doe was found by Chicago PD in a duffle bag," Sharon explained as she led them to the trauma bay. "He's severely hypothermic, almost frozen to the bone, and has a critical heart condition. We need both of you to operate immediately."

Grace's heart clenched at the thought of an innocent baby left to die in such horrific conditions. She exchanged a quick, determined look with Connor. "We're on it."

The operation was long and grueling, every second a battle to save the baby's life. The hours ticked by as they worked together, seamlessly communicating, their focus unyielding. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they managed to stabilize the baby boy.

Exhausted but relieved, Grace and Connor left the OR and headed to the PICU, where the baby had been transferred. Grace couldn't take her eyes off the tiny, fragile form lying in the crib, his small chest rising and falling with each breath. The baby's cries echoed in the room, filled with pain and fear, as the machines around him beeped rhythmically.

Grace pulled up a chair beside the crib, reaching through the bars to gently hold the baby's tiny hand. "Shh, it's okay, sweetheart," she whispered soothingly. "You're safe now."

Connor entered the room a few minutes later, his gaze softening as he watched Grace with the baby. He walked over to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "How's he doing?"