Chapter Text
The emergency department had settled into that strange, humming lull that only came after midnight.
Not quiet.
Never quiet.
Just… contained.
Monitors chimed softly.
A trauma room door swung open and closed.
Rain streaked the tall ambulance bay windows, turning the Seattle skyline into watercolor.
Dr. Audrey Shepherd stood at the central desk, chart in hand, reading without really seeing.
“Vitals are stable,” an intern said beside her. “CT is clean.”
Audrey nodded once, gentle.
“Good. Let’s keep her overnight for observation.”
The intern hurried off, relieved.
They always looked relieved when she approved a plan.
Audrey set the chart down and reached for her coffee.
Cold.
Of course.
She sighed softly, pushing it aside just as her phone buzzed in the pocket of her white coat.
She almost ignored it.
Something — instinct, maybe — made her answer.
“Dr. Shepherd.”
A beat of silence.
Then a familiar voice, low and steady.
“Audrey.”
She straightened slightly.
Not alarmed. Just… attentive.
“Baran,” she said softly. “Hi.”
Another pause. Not awkward — weighted.
“Are you working?”
Audrey glanced out across the ER.
Monitors. Nurses. Controlled chaos.
“Yes,” she said. “But I can step away. Give me a second.”
She slipped into the nearest empty exam room and shut the door behind her. The noise of the ER dulled instantly.
“Okay,” she said. “What’s going on?”
On the other end, Baran exhaled — the kind of breath someone takes when they’ve been holding things together too long.
“I’m calling from Pittsburgh.”
Audrey leaned lightly against the counter.
“All right.”
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t… necessary.”
That got her attention.
Audrey’s voice softened, but stayed steady.
“What do you need?”
Another small silence.
Then, carefully:
“Would you ever consider leaving Seattle for a few weeks?”
Audrey absorbed that.
She could hear background noise on Baran’s end — distant monitors, overhead announcements, a busy department running hot.
“Is this about staffing?” Audrey asked gently. “Or about you?”
Baran let out a quiet, humorless breath.
“Both.”
That told her everything.
Audrey closed her eyes briefly, thinking.
Of Meredith.
Of Amelia.
Of the kids.
Of the apartment that would sit empty.
When she spoke again, her voice was calm. Decided.
“How long?”
“A few weeks,” Baran said. “Maybe a month. Until things settle. Until…” She didn’t finish.
Audrey nodded to herself.
“Okay.”
A pause on the line.
“…okay?” Baran repeated.
Audrey opened her eyes.
“I’ll need to arrange coverage and tell Meredith I’m abandoning her,” she said lightly. “But yes. I can come.”
Silence. Then unmistakable relief.
“Thank you.”
Audrey smiled faintly, though no one could see it.
“You don’t have to thank me,” she said. “You wouldn’t have called unless it mattered.”
Outside the exam room, a trauma alert suddenly rang overhead.
She straightened automatically, hand already reaching for the door.
“When do you need me?” she asked.
“Next week.”
Audrey opened the door, stepping back into the controlled chaos of Grey Sloan.
She didn’t hesitate.
“I’ll catch a flight next Sunday after shift,” she said. “Text me the details.”
“Safe travels, Audrey.”
“You too, Baran.”
They hung up.
Audrey stood there for just a second — absorbing the shift, the decision already settling into place.
Then she moved.
Back into the trauma bay.
Back into motion.
Already preparing to leave Seattle behind for a while.
The elevator ride upstairs was quiet.
Too quiet.
Audrey stood alone inside it, one hand loosely wrapped around a paper chart she wasn’t actually reading. The soft hum of the elevator cables filled the space, a low mechanical drone that gave her just enough time to think.
Or overthink.
Pittsburgh.
A few weeks. Maybe a month.
She hadn’t left Seattle for anything but conferences in years. Not since…
Well.
Not since Derek.
The elevator dinged softly and the doors slid open onto the administrative floor.
Meredith Grey’s office sat at the far end of the hall, glass walls lit from within. Audrey could already see her through the door — seated behind the desk, reading something on her tablet, glasses low on her nose. A half-empty mug of coffee sat nearby, forgotten.
Audrey knocked lightly against the frame.
Meredith looked up immediately.
There was always something a little surreal about looking at her — Derek’s eyes looking back, sharper now, older. Wiser. Tired in the same places.
“Audrey,” Meredith said, pushing her glasses up and leaning back slightly. “You’re still here. I thought your shift ended an hour ago.”
“It did.” Audrey stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “Do you have a minute?”
Meredith’s brows lifted almost imperceptibly.
Audrey rarely asked for time. She usually just… sat. Or hovered. Or poured herself a drink from the small cabinet Meredith pretended not to keep stocked.
“Yeah,” Meredith said slowly. “Of course. What’s up?”
Audrey remained standing for a moment, then moved to the chair across from the desk and sat. She smoothed a hand over the front of her navy scrubs — a small, grounding gesture.
Meredith watched her carefully now.
Reading. Always reading.
“Is everyone okay?” Meredith asked. “Amelia didn’t call me crying, so I assume no one’s dead.”
A faint smile tugged at Audrey’s mouth.
“No one’s dead.”
“Good. That narrows it down.”
A small beat of quiet settled between them. Familiar. Not uncomfortable — just honest.
Audrey folded her hands loosely in her lap.
“I got a call tonight,” she said.
Meredith tilted her head slightly.
“From?”
“Baran. Al-Hashimi.”
Recognition flickered immediately. Meredith had met her once or twice — conferences, brief visits. Enough to know she mattered to Audrey.
Something in Meredith’s posture shifted, attention sharpening.
“Okay,” she said carefully.
“She’s in Pittsburgh,” Audrey continued. “She asked if I’d consider coming out for a few weeks. Temporary. They’re… stretched. She needs another attending she trusts.”
Meredith was very still now, eyes steady on Audrey’s face.
“And you said yes,” she said.
It wasn’t a question.
Audrey nodded once.
“I told her I’d need to arrange coverage first. But yes.”
Silence filled the office — not shocked, not dramatic. Just thoughtful.
Meredith leaned back slowly in her chair, studying her.
“For how long?”
“A few weeks,” Audrey said. “Maybe a month. Depending on how things go.”
Another quiet beat.
Then Meredith nodded once, almost to herself.
“Okay.”
Audrey exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
“You’re… okay with that?”
Meredith gave her a look — gentle, slightly incredulous.
“Audrey. You’re allowed to leave Seattle,” she said softly. “This isn’t a hostage situation.”
A faint, dry laugh escaped Audrey.
“I know. It just—” She paused, searching for words. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone anywhere that wasn’t… necessary.”
Meredith understood that immediately. Of course she did.
Seattle had become more than work for both of them. It was where Derek had lived. Where he’d died. Where pieces of him still lingered in hallways and ORs and quiet corners.
Leaving always carried weight.
Meredith reached for her coffee mug, then remembered it was empty and set it back down.
“When would you go?” she asked.
“Next Sunday, after shift. If I can get my schedule covered.”
Meredith nodded slowly, already mentally rearranging rosters. “I’ll talk to Bailey in the morning. We’ll make it work.”
A small pause.
Then, more softly:
“You want to go.”
Not a question. A recognition.
Audrey considered that.
“I want to help her,” she said. “And… I think it might be good for me to be somewhere new for a little while.”
Meredith’s gaze softened.
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I get that.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Meredith stood, moving around the desk. She leaned lightly against the edge, arms folding loosely.
“Zola’s going to be personally offended you didn’t say goodbye first,” she said. “You know that, right?”
Audrey smiled — a real one this time. “I’ll come by tomorrow morning. Bring bribery. Probably pastries.”
“Good. She’ll forgive you if there’s chocolate involved.”
Another small silence settled — comfortable, familiar.
Meredith reached out then, resting her hand briefly over Audrey’s where it lay on her knee. A simple, grounding touch.
“Be careful out there,” she said quietly. “Call if you need anything. Or if you just… want to complain about a different hospital for a while.”
Audrey covered Meredith’s hand lightly with her own, squeezing once.
“I will.”
She stood then, smoothing her scrub top again out of habit.
At the door, she paused and looked back.
“Meredith?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
Meredith gave a small, knowing half-smile.
“Bring me back something from Pittsburgh,” she said. “Preferably not emotional trauma.”
Audrey huffed a soft laugh.
“No promises.”
Audrey’s apartment was quiet in that intentional, curated way that came from years of living alone.
A low lamp glowed near the couch. A half-packed suitcase lay open on the bed down the short hallway, a few neatly folded sets of scrubs already inside. Her passport sat on the kitchen counter beside a small stack of hospital paperwork and a boarding pass confirmation glowing on her phone screen.
Rain tapped softly against the tall windows overlooking the city.
Audrey stood at the kitchen island, methodically wrapping a ceramic mug in a dish towel before placing it into her carry-on. She wasn’t taking much. She never did.
The knock at her door came sharp and sudden.
She stilled.
No one dropped by unannounced.
Not at this hour.
Another knock. More impatient this time.
Audrey crossed the apartment and opened the door.
Amelia Shepherd stood in the hallway, damp curls frizzed from the rain, leather jacket half-zipped and eyes already searching Audrey’s face like she expected to find something terrible there.
“Audrey.”
“Hi, Amelia.”
They stared at each other for a beat.
Then Amelia stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, shaking rain from her sleeves as she moved past her into the apartment.
“Meredith told me,” she said immediately, turning to face her. “You’re leaving. Tomorrow.”
Audrey closed the door gently.
“I was going to call you.”
“Mmm.” Amelia crossed her arms, pacing once across the living room before turning back. “You didn’t.”
Audrey didn’t take the bait. She leaned lightly against the back of the couch, calm.
“I just finished my shift. Then I went to Meredith. Then I came home to pack.”
Amelia looked toward the open suitcase visible down the hall.
“You’re actually doing this,” she said quietly.
“Yes.”
A beat of silence stretched between them, thick with things neither of them said right away.
Amelia dragged a hand through her hair, restless energy radiating off her in waves.
“For how long?” she asked.
“A few weeks. Maybe a month.”
“A month,” Amelia repeated, like testing the shape of it. “Across the country. At some hospital you’ve never worked at. For a friend I’ve met… twice.”
“Baran is a very good physician,” Audrey said gently. “And she wouldn’t have asked if she didn’t need help.”
“That’s not what this is about.”
Amelia’s voice sharpened slightly — not angry yet, but close. Emotional.
Audrey held her gaze, patient.
“No,” she agreed softly. “It’s not.”
Amelia exhaled hard and started pacing again, unable to stay still.
“This is you running,” she said. “You do this. You get… restless or sad or whatever and suddenly you’re volunteering for disaster zones or conferences or temporary assignments—”
“I’m not running,” Audrey said quietly.
Amelia stopped.
The calm certainty in Audrey’s voice cut through the room more effectively than any raised tone could have.
Rain tapped steadily against the windows.
Audrey stepped away from the couch and moved a little closer, though she kept a respectful distance.
“I’m going because someone I care about asked for help,” she said. “And because I can give it.”
Amelia’s eyes searched her face — intense, almost desperate.
“And because staying here feels too still sometimes,” Amelia said softly. “Right?”
Audrey didn’t answer immediately.
She didn’t need to.
That was answer enough.
Amelia swallowed, jaw tightening.
“Seattle is still… ours,” she said. “You don’t have to leave it to— I don’t know — prove something. Or fix something. Or—”
“This isn’t about Derek,” Audrey said gently.
The name settled between them anyway.
Amelia’s eyes flickered.
“Everything’s about Derek,” she muttered.
Audrey stepped closer then, reaching out and resting a hand lightly on Amelia’s arm — grounding, steady.
“Amelia.”
Her tone softened further.
“I’m not leaving Seattle,” she said. “I’m taking a temporary assignment to help a friend. That’s all. I’ll be back before you even have time to miss me.”
Amelia let out a small, shaky laugh that held no humor.
“I already miss you,” she admitted.
That cracked something open — just a little.
Audrey’s expression warmed, eyes softening. She squeezed Amelia’s arm once before letting go.
“You are a brilliant neurosurgeon,” she said. “You run an entire department. You have three children who think you hung the moon and a sister-in-law who would burn this hospital down if you vanished.”
Amelia huffed a quiet breath, blinking fast.
“You’ll be fine without me for a few weeks.”
Amelia looked at her for a long moment.
“I just… don’t like when the people I love scatter,” she said. “It makes the world feel less stable.”
Audrey understood that too well.
She reached out again, this time pulling Amelia into a gentle hug.
Amelia went without resistance, pressing her forehead briefly against Audrey’s shoulder. They stood like that for a few seconds — not dramatic, just close. Familiar.
“You can call me whenever you want,” Audrey murmured. “Day or night. I mean that.”
Amelia nodded against her.
“Fine,” she muttered after a moment. “But I’m going to complain the entire time you’re gone.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
They pulled apart slowly.
Amelia wiped under her eyes quickly, regaining her usual restless composure. She glanced toward the half-packed suitcase again, then back to Audrey.
“Pittsburgh, huh,” she said. “You and your mysterious trauma-surgeon friend.”
Audrey smiled faintly.
“Just a few weeks. And you’ve met Baran, back in New York. So I don’t even want to hear it.”
Amelia sighed, defeated but not entirely unhappy.
“Okay,” she said. “Then I’m staying for a glass of wine and helping you pack. Because if you try to leave this apartment without at least three impractical coats, Meredith will blame me.”
Audrey laughed softly — a warm, genuine sound that filled the apartment.
“That seems fair.”
She moved toward the kitchen, reaching for two glasses.