Between Dr. Meredith Grey and Dr. Alex Karev as romantic.
A chilly Seattle breeze whisked through the corridors of Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital, carrying with it the scent of change. It was a mundane Thursday, as far as the hospital staff was concerned. Traumas rolled in; pages beeped incessantly. Yet, for Dr. Meredith Grey, the air felt charged, laden with a premonition she couldn’t shake off, as she moved through her rounds with practiced ease.
Herding a group of eager residents, Meredith's voice was confident, clipped with the distilled knowledge that came from years at the top of her field. "When trauma comes in, remember, it's not just about being fast. It's about being right," she instructed, her eyes scanning the sea of fresh faces looking for the spark of comprehension, the same spark her own eyes had held years ago.
The charged atmosphere that Meredith sensed finally materialized into a concrete form as the hospital grapevine began to buzz. News that Dr. Alex Karev was returning had spread like wildfire, stoking old embers that many felt had long gone cold.
Meredith paused mid-step. Alex. The name was a slap of memories.- The emotions associated with her old friend, her person, hit her in a wave. How could he simply stroll back into this hospital after all this time, after leaving without as much as a goodbye?
Nurses whispered along the nurses' station, tossing glances towards Meredith. They wondered if she’d heard, speculated on her reaction, remembering a time when Alex Karev’s name was synonymous with Meredith Grey's—partners in crime, confidants, the tight-knit axis on which the early years of their residency spun.
"Dr. Grey, you okay?" one of the younger residents dared to ask, chewing on her bottom lip nervously, hyper-aware of the silent storm brewing in her mentor.
With a brisk nod, Meredith snapped back to the present, "Fine. Let’s move on to Mrs. Cheng’s post-op. Her vitals are bordering on tachycardia, possible sign of a PE. We're going to need to order a CT, stat."
The day trudged on, a series of cases each demanding her full attention—yet her thoughts flickered, unbidden, to Alex. They hadn't spoken since he left for Kansas, but the hospital halls seemed to echo with his laughter, reverberate with the bickering and the inside jokes they shared.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the linoleum floors, the unexpected happened. A hospital-wide blackout. The steady hum of machinery gave way to the dull throb of emergency lights. The residents buzzed with nervous excitement, doctors barked orders, and nurses scrambled for flashlights.
Then, amidst the orchestrated chaos, fate played its card. As Meredith darted into a crowded elevator, a familiar figure slipped in beside her—a beat too late to register before the doors snapped shut, and darkness enveloped them both.
"Mer?" came the hesitant, all too recognizable voice from the shadowed corner as the elevator jerked to a halt, stuck between floors.
Her heart, which she thought had been vaccinated against surprise, skipped a beat. Here in this standstill metal box, suspended in space and time, was him—Alex Karev, back from the dead, back from Kansas.
"Alex," she breathed, her voice a mixture of incredulity and restrained emotion, as memories danced in the dark, waiting, just as she was, for the lights to turn back on.