On Call | Grey's Anatomy // Book 3 // COMPLETED

69 | GSW

Surgeons are often evaluated on speed and efficiency. But that doesn't mean faster is always better. You jump the gun, you risk making a wrong diagnosis. We don't always have the time to think before we act. And that's what gets us in trouble.

All I knew was that it was sometime in the early morning. After Owen and I's argument the night before, despite being exhausted, I headed straight back to the hospital to bury myself in work. It might be a bit sad to say, but working was the only way I knew how to deal with my problems. I knew all too well what happened when I let myself sit and think too hard about something...I usually overthought it and made the wrong choice. So there I was, rushing around the E.R. tending to whoever and whatever came through that door.

"I'm sorry. I'm confused." I overheard April say as I passed the E.R. desk. "Your son is here?"

"Yes!" two women shouted at the same time. "Yes! We think so. Hers. Or mine. They said there was a shooting."

Having my interest now peaked as to what in the hell April was dealing with, I stopped in my tracks and turned back around to join the conversation. "Who said that?" April asked.

"The police." the woman with brown hair and a pink sweater answered. "When they called, we were-we were at work, and-and our sons are at home with the sitter."

The other woman, who had red hair and was wearing a black sweater, nodded in agreement to the woman beside her. "The last names are Green and Cole. Can you just look it up?"

Picking up a tablet from the desk beside her, April punched in the two last names she was given. I peeked over her shoulder to see if anything came up, but the screen was blank. "I'm sorry. I don't see any record here for either of those names." April informed the two extremely worried mothers.

"I'm here." Alex announced as he entered the E.R. "I got paged. Gunshot kid? They said the ambulance was coming here."

"Wait, 'gunshot kid.'" the brunette spun around. "Is that our kid?"

Following closely behind Alex, Owen rushed into the E.R. as well. He paused for a moment when he saw me, but it was only for a few seconds before he snapped out of it and got right back to work. "Karev, let's move," Owen announced as he adamantly avoided making eye-contact with me. "We have an incoming GSW. Victim's eight years old."

"Oh, my God!" the red-headed woman screeched. "Our sons are both eight years old. Which one is it? Which one of our sons has been shot?"

Owen's face flushed with confusion as the moms stormed him and began berating him with question after question. "Ma'am, we'll know more soon. But right now-" Owen started.

"Right now, we just need you to have a seat, and we'll get back to you when we know something." Alex took over as he slipped on a yellow trauma gown.

After seeing the worry on the mothers' faces and the concerned look on Alex's when he entered the E.R., I decided that they could probably use an extra hand. However, upon slipping on a yellow gown for myself and making my way out to the ambulance bay, I realized that I wasn't the only one who had thought that. Before me stood Alex, Owen, Amelia, Jo, Riggs, Maggie, Webber, April, Bailey, Penny, and Jackson.

Every single one of them had the same look on their faces as the ambulance sirens grew louder and louder in the distance; the same look that we always had when there was a risk of losing a child. A mixture of anger, worry, doubt, sadness, confusion, and a sliver of hope that if we did our jobs correctly, there would be one more child returning to their family that day.

"Guys, I appreciate that you want to help, but all I need right now are Hunt, Wilson, and maybe cardio and neuro. So, the rest of you can go." Alex said when he noticed how many people had gathered around, but despite his words, no one moved an inch.