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❛ 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 . . . ❜ 002.death becomes him SEASON 5, EPISODE 15
━━━━━━━━━━━
It was a weird feeling, Beth found, to walk into a building and know, immediately, that she wasn't wanted.
Seattle Grace Hospital was unassuming at first glance, but she knew that it would be –– every inch of her knew that she didn't belong here and that this hospital, in some way, would ruin her. No matter what happened in the next few weeks, Beth knew she was leaving this place with a casket–– the only question was, would it be holding her brother or her dignity?
(A tiny, brutalised part of her almost didn't know which option was worse.)
Stepping over the threshold of the building, she felt a cold flush wind its way through her bones, up her and spine and through her neck. It was the coldest she'd felt in years, and, if she paused to think about it long enough, it almost felt like a breeze coming straight off the Hudson––
No, she thought to herself and she distracted herself by looking over the building's interior, No, we're not doing this, you sick... dumb bitch––
It was a lot of glass, that's all that Beth forced herself to think about as she walked into the reception. A lot of glass like a microscope or a magnifying glass, enough space for her to lay out the last five years of her life and tear it apart. Pick apart at it, dismantle it, with the careful precision of a scalpel––
Oh fuck, Beth sighed, looking up at the sign in the foyer, Oh fucking fuck––
Admittedly, she'd had made no plans, no firm game plan about how she was going to tackle this city. Her approach to this trip had been left to the imagination: Drop everything and run through an airport with a bag full of mismatched socks. Make conversation with a dry, slightly boring man on a plane and order shitty coffee off of a plane cart––
Yeah, that was love.
The suitcase trundled along behind her like a ghostly reminder that Beth was, for all intents and purposes, homeless and broke in Seattle. (And sleepless too, for the record, but she'd never quite been the likeable, Meg Ryan type.) In fact, she impatiently waited for ten minutes to talk to a tired-looking receptionist, all while trying not to feel overwhelmed by the thought that it'd been nearly three years since she'd stood in a hospital.
She'd become so accustomed to small spaces, whether they were thrown together in the tattered remains of an earthquake epicentre or across the site of a devastating mass crime. This felt like a lot; a lot of change and a lot of pressure to keep her shit together.
