Code Blue

1

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Grey's Anatomy characters, setting and or plot.  
I only own the characters (like Celia, Sam and even Toby), settings, or plot that I have created.
This work is also exclusively posted on wattpad- if seen anywhere else notify me immediately.  Thank you and I really hope you enjoy my work!

The air exudes a strong scent of perspiration, cheap alcohol, and broken hearts.  The smell doesn't take me by any amount of surprise.  In fact, after being on the road with a small band hopping from one bar to the next, I can barely notice the scent at all.

"Hello." Cooed a voice from behind me.  It carries a small English accent.  I jump a little and face the voice.

The man had just finished packing his broken down guitar in the back of the bands van.  But now he carries a beer in each hand.  A bit of liquid from the right bottle splatters and hits a hole on the knee of his black skinny jeans.

I graciously accept the drink.  "Sam," I sigh in a resigned fashion, "thank you."

He tilts half of his lips into a small smirk while tossing a fistful of curls back off his features.  Only one person could pull off his dark mass of curls, and it is Sam himself.  He even has a bit shaved off near his ear.  If anyone else tried to duplicate it, I'm afraid they would look like a skunk.  In all honesty, I have grown mighty weary of Sam. After our relationship had turned romantic it made me uneasy.  Of course, it was nothing serious - just hookups at best.  Sam is quick tempered and suave.  It was a trait of his to seemingly charm the intellect out of anyone.

"Celia?" He calls out the vowels in my name for several beats, "you're daydreaming."

I shake my head quickly.  It's been a terrible habit lately.  I focus on the familiar soreness of my throat.  Every time I perform I finish with the same scratchiness.

"Cheer up, we are back home.  No more gigs for awhile, promise."  Sam extends a pinkie finger.

"I'm very cheerful." My mouth sets itself into a grim line.  Obviously, I'm not.  Instead of celebrating with the rest of the band, like every other night, I'm looking forward to a hot bath.  Or throwing glass against the wall.  Maybe both.
Chucking glass at a brick wall seemed better than any accented boy.

Yet, it is my last gig for awhile.

**

The air seems darker than usual.  Or maybe that's the alcohol messing with my head.  Sam's arm draped around my shoulder feels incredibly heavy and his feet stumbling against the pavement is going to make me fall.

"We're almost," Sam paused for awhile like he lost his train of thought, "are we almost there?"

I pause and so does the sound of my black boots smacking against the ground.  "Yes." I finally decide.

"Good good good." Sam lets out a loud drunken laugh. The sound of it hurts my ears.  I feel his hand slowly move down to my ass but I can't form the words to tell him to stop.

Suddenly the apartment complexes are pulsing with bright beats of color.  I move away from Sam and shield my eyes.

"The houses, they're dancing!" Sam shouts with glee.  He moves his gangly body around in wild twists and grabs my hand.  I reluctantly spin, my blonde hair moves with my dancing body.

The night is pierced by a sharp sound that causes us both to grab at our ears.

"Wow," Sam comments, "your apartment does not have a good taste in music."

"Sam." I hold up my hand and close my eyes.  Working through my alcohol induced haze I squeeze my eyes.  I've heard this noise so many times before.  Why can't I name it?

Yet, when I remember the noise my mouth turns bitter and my mind suddenly sobers.

The house is alight with blue and red, and the music is the sound of sirens.