Chapter Thirty-Three

"Did you know that there was a new attending starting today?" I asked Callie as I joined her at the nurse's station in the emergency room.

"Huh?" She glanced up from the chart she'd been looking at, seeming to have been distracted.

"A new attending?" I repeated for her.

"Right, Yang." She gave a small nod. "I thought she wasn't coming back until tomorrow?"

"Back?" I questioned, a brow raised.

"Uh, yeah. She used to work here." She told me, though she didn't seem to be paying much attention to our conversation. "Did her internship and residency here. She moved to Minnesota after everything with the plane crash. Got tired of everything that was going on around here."

"Is something wrong?" I raised a brow at her. "You seem out of it."

"It's just Arizona. She's refusing to leave the apartment until she's perfect with her prosthetic." She let out a low breath, her frustration clear. "I don't want to be pushy, but at the same time I just want her to get back to her life. Everyone else is, or at least trying to, but she's still shut up in that apartment trying to perfect how she walks."

"Just give her time, she's still trying to accept everything." I told here.

"Dr. Howards?" I turned around to find Wilson standing in front of me, vomit covering her scrub top and a frustrated look on her face.

"What is it Wilson?" I asked her.

"There's a man in bed three, Santa Claus. He's been vomiting repeatedly and has been in here multiple times over the past few weeks." She informed me, her jaw locked. "He swears that he isn't drunk, that he just wants help."

"Okay, run a blood test to confirm that he isn't drunk. While waiting on that give him fluids and check for a fever. Lastly, don't call him Santa Claus, he's a person, not some made up fairytale." I instructed her. She nodded and began to head away, but I stopped her again. "And Wilson, change your shirt."

I watched as she hurried off towards the elevators, heading towards the locker rooms to change. Once she was out of sight I turned back to Callie.

"You do realize that Santa's likely a druggie or a drunk?" She commented.

"Yes, but his name isn't Santa." I said. "Now, don't we have a meeting to get to?"

〰〰〰

The conference room was tense as we all sat around the table. I was seated between Derek and Callie with Meredith across from me and another woman that I didn't know next to her. This woman looked to be a few years older than me with dark curly hair and hardened dark brown eyes. Though no one had introduced us I knew this had to be Cristina Yang. She sat leaned back in her chair, trying to avoid the obvious fact that Hunt was watching her from where he stood by the door.

Everything about this setting seemed to scream with tension. Between the lawyers and the way Hunt refused to take his attention off of Yang, as if he were expecting her to say something or to break down at any moment. As if it were expected for all of us to break down any second, to fill the quiet room to cries and screams of pain and outrage.

"Dr. Hunt, I guess you won't be necessary as proxy any more." The hospital's lawyer finally spoke up, clearly trying to get this meeting started.

"Uh, uh, I'm here more out of support for my staff." Hunt didn't move an inch from his place next to the door.

"Yeah, I don't mind if he stays." Yang said as everyone nodded in agreement, myself included.

"Today, uh, we ... we'd like to get some statements about, uh, continued physical, but ... but also mental or emotional difficulties you might have suffered since the crash." The lawyer told all of us.

"What if we don't have any?" Yang asked.

"Well, um, w-why don't we talk?" The lawyer suggested. "We'll see what comes up. Almost anything can be helpful to monetize your injuries."

"How do we do that?" Meredith questioned her this time.

"We use a formula. It's, uh ... Your medical bills plus pain and suffering equal to three times your medical bills plus flat-rate hard-tissue injuries, plus loss of income, plus lost earning capacity, plus any other foreseeable harms, for each of you." The lawyer explained to all of us. "So we're talking about a sizeable award. Far more substantial than the settlement they offered you."

"Where's all the money come from?" Derek asked.

"Well, we're looking at the possibilities now. Uh, the charter company, uh, aircraft manufacturer, parts manufacturers, the pilot, of course. The ground crew at Sea-Tac, um..." She listed of the possibilities.

"Jerry?" Meredith interrupted her, a frown filling her face.

"Did you say Jerry?" The lawyer glanced up from her papers.

"Who's Jerry?" I asked, confused.

"The pilot. He was up there with us. He broke his back. He's paralyzed now." Derek informed me. "You're gonna go after him?"

"Well, if we find he was negligent, shouldn't we?" The lawyer shrugged, as if it were the dumbest question he could ask.

"You know, I'm sorry. I can't help. Um, I've got no residual injuries, and I've gotta go run someone's service for them, so, you know, good luck." Yang shook her head as she got up to her feet.

"Folks, listen, you have a special bond. You've been through something horrible and survived it together. But as far as the pilot is concerned, you need to stop thinking of him as one of you and start thinking of him as one of them." The lawyer looked around at all of us, trying to drill the fact into our heads.

"This is ridiculous." Derek muttered as he got up from his seat. Everyone else followed his lead and I watched as they all exited the conference room, one by one. I stayed in my seat though, my hands in my lap.

"Was there something else you wished to add Miss Howards?" The lawyer looked over at me expectantly.

"It's Dr. Howards." I corrected her. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead." She nodded for me to continue.

"Have you ever lost a sister? Spouse? Best friend?" I asked her, but before she could answer I quickly continued. "Have you ever lost someone that meant the world to you? Had to grieve for them? Find yourself wishing that you could have saved them, brought them back from the dead? Prayed to God in hopes that you could trade places with them so they could live the longer life that they deserved, even if it was only by a day?"

"No." She answered flatly.

"Have you ever been in a plane crash?" I continued to question her. "Have you ever been stranded in the woods for days on end, wondering if anyone was looking for you or if you'd even live? Have you ever found yourself in so much pain that you actually wished yourself dead?"