Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The house feels the same. Maybe she’s not sure if it is. It’s not a memory thing. It’s a heart thing. And she hasn’t seen this house in over 20 years so the actual details might be lost.

 Warmth clings to the air, she can smell grilled meat and sea salt drifting in from a coast she can’t see. The sun stretching across a Miami backyard. The walls are painted in colors that never age, yellows and pale greens. It feels lived-in, full of love and sacrifice and family.

Monica sits at the patio table. Her fingers brush against the chipped wood. It’s weathered, like it’s belonged to her whole life. 

And then she hears them.

“Mi niña”

Her grandmother’s voice is the sound of comfort itself. It’s gentle and caring and full of affection. The woman steps out, apron tied, and hair pulled back the same way Monica remembers. Then she opens her arms. Monica doesn’t even hesitate, she folds into her embrace.

And there he is too. Her grandpa. 

With him it’s harder. He smiles wide, but she can’t recall many real moments with him. He’d left too soon. But somehow, here, she knows him. She just knows.

“I didn’t think…” Monica swallows. The lump in her throat makes it hard to finish. “I didn’t think I’d see you”

Her grandpa pats the chair beside him. “Sit, mija. We have time”

The family cat weaves between her ankles before she can even sit down, purring so loud it nearly drowns out her thoughts. “Oh my god!” she gasps, scooping him up. “Nico?” She says as she buries her face into his fur, his tail flicking lazily like he never left. “I thought- I thought I lost you forever”

“You never lose the ones you love” her grandma says softly, settling across from her with a plate in her hands. “They just wait for you”

Monica kisses the top of Nico’s head and sets him on her lap. Her grandpa pours lemonade into a glass, sliding it over to her. It’s cold and refreshing and perfect for this weather.

She loves good weather… not like in-

“You did it, you know?” he says and his voice sounds full of pride “You said you would, and you did”

Monica blinks. “Did what?”

“You said you were going to be a pediatrician since you were five” he chuckles. “Putting your dolls on boxes, wrapping them in blankets, listening to their hearts with your toy stethoscope. Always so serious. You didn’t play, you practiced”

Her grandma nods, laughter spilling into the air. “You used to yell at us if we touched the dolls. They were sick and needed rest after surgery”

Monica covers her face with her hands, but she’s smiling “Oh my god, I did not”

“You did” grandpa insists, grinning. “And now… look at you. You save children. You made your dream real” His eyes crinkle as he leans closer. “We are so proud of you”

Her chest aches in a way that feels too big, too full, too much to hold. She blinks hard, staring down at the lemonade glass. The condensation runs cool against her fingertips, but it doesn’t feel…totally real.

The thought slips in.

Is this it?

Her breath stalls. She knows, deep down, what this place must be. The warmth. The familiarity. The way the air itself feels like love almost made tangible. 

Am I already gone?

But before she can settle into the weight of it, her grandma cuts in, leaning forward. “Tell us about Seattle”

Grandpa chimes in with a curious lift of his brow. “Sí, sí. How is it there?”

Monica exhales “It’s… good,” she says slowly and a little uncertain. Not because she doesn’t feel like she likes it it just feels… unfinished “Different from Florida. Different from Pennsylvania too… and Texas” She tilts her head. “It hasn’t been long, but… I’ve found people”

Her voice dips on that last word. People. That’s not exactly what she means. She stares past her grandparents, past the grill and the bright stretch of grass, toward the wooden door at the back fence. She doesn’t know why it matters. She just knows it does. Her stomach twists with anticipation, as if she’s waiting for someone to step through it.

Grandma follows her gaze. “Esperas a alguien?”

“I don’t know” Monica admits, chewing on her bottom lip. “It feels like I am”

Nico shifts in her lap, curling tighter, his purr rumbling through her.

Grandpa nudges her hand until she looks at him again. “Whoever it is” he says gently, “they must matter”

Monica doesn’t answer. She just keeps staring at the door. And her heart thuds harder than it should in this peaceful place.

Grandma sets down a plate of grilled chicken and rice. The smell feels so familiar. “Come, mija, eat”

Then grandpa speaks again “Tell us, How is life? Are you happy?”

Monica stares at the plate, then at Nico curled in her lap.

Am I happy?

She thinks of Seattle. The hospital halls, the long hours, the nerves of being new, of proving herself. But then… another image pushes through: blue eyes, steady and warm, like the ocean on a calm day. Her chest aches.

“I…” she starts and feels her throat tighten “Yeah. I think I am. Or I was getting there”

Grandpa studies her “Getting there is enough. Not everything has to be already done”

She nods, but her mind tugs again.

She needs more time.

The image of Amelia Shepherd flickers in her thoughts. And Monica worries.

Is she okay? What happened?  

She tries to think about what she remembers, but the air here dulls the edges and softens the panic. This place won’t allow her to spiral. Still, her heart fights against it. 

I need to talk to her.

Her fingers stroke absently through Nico’s fur, grounding herself “My marriage didn’t work out” she says suddenly, as if she owes them the confession.

Her grandma offers her a sad smile “We know, mi amor.”

“We are sorry” the man adds.

Monica just shrugs“It’s okay. I don’t think it was meant to survive”

It doesn’t feel painful anymore. 

She lifts her eyes and focuses on the door again. And then she’s thinking about impossibly blue, warm eyes. It feels magnetic, alive. She wants to say her name out loud, but she doesn’t. She just sits there.

“Is everything okay?” grandma asks, leaning forward.

“Yeah” Monica swallows. “Yeah?” The word feels like a question more than an answer.

“Como está tu mamá?” Grandpa asks gently.

“She’s good. She’s… she’s incredible. She worries too much, but she always has. She just wants the best for me” The ache sharpens. Because if she’s here… “I hope she knows how much I love her”

“She does” her grandma insists as she takes Monica’s hand “She loves you more than anything”

“People love you, mija. More than you know. They don’t want you to go. Even if we want you here, they want you there”

Monica’s breath shudders. “I miss you. I miss this. Sometimes I still miss Florida. And I miss the sun, the air, everything. And here it feels… easy. Nothing hurts” She presses her palm to her chest. “Not like it does there”

Grandma tilts her head. “Things hurt back there?”

Monica’s gaze drifts to the door again. Her lips curve into a ghost of a smile, but her eyes sting. “They do. I know my body hurts. I just can’t feel it here”

Nico bumps his head against her arm, purring louder, as if trying to anchor her.

“Everything okay?” her grandpa asks once more, searching her face.

Monica’s voice breaks “I just love you both so much. You were the best parts of my childhood. I’ll always carry you”

Grandma leans close, kissing her temple. “We love you, too. Always. We will always think of you, wherever you are”

Nico hops down, padding toward the back door. He glances over his shoulder and flicks his tail, like he’s urging her to follow.

Monica stands. Her legs feel steady, though her heart does not. She steps toward the door. Each inch closer, the pull grows stronger and her chest tightens like a fist is pressing down on it. Repeatedly.

She grips the handle, draws a breath, and opens it.

Pain sears sharp and sudden. It’s some kind of pressure, and it’s a little overwhelming. She turns back, desperate to see them one more time, or maybe to seek that feeling…

But the door is gone.

The patio, the warmth, the sun. Everything is gone.

The dimly lit corridors stretch forever. It’s hard to recognize it at first because it’s so empty and… different. Each step echoes trhough the hallways. Monica blinks hard, trying to place herself.

And then she does. 

She knows this place. 

Grey Sloan.

Her hospital. But not exactly. The walls look… older, different and… beige. The furniture is also older and everything is so confusing. Corners blur into more corners, hallway after hallway twisting into a labyrinth. She turns, then turns again, but there’s nothing. No patients. No staff. No sound except her own pulse thrumming in her ears.

She calls to the only person she can think of.

“Amelia?”

But Monica only hears her own echo.

“Shepherd?” she repeats, louder this time, like maybe she’ll answer if she keeps it formal? Her chest tightens. “Where are you? Where am I?”

Monica walks faster, and then goes upstairs. She finds the neuro floor. She… she just needs to see her. If she’s here she needs to find her. There’s a reason Monica’s here, right?

But she only finds more empty hallways.

Her heart pounds harder. 

Is this the ending? Is this… the place after?

The panic slips under her ribs now. Raised in a Catholic home, she’d spent Sundays memorizing hymns and listening to priests talk about heaven, purgatory and hell. But none of it…none of this…makes sense. A hospital? Beige hallways and dead ends? 

She’s never been religious, not beyond the rituals her family clung to. But still. This can’t be in any Bible. Or any religious text she’s ever heard of.

Her hand presses to the wall. It feels solid. It feels real. The tile beneath her bare feet is cold. Too cold.

Is there even something after this?

           “Monica, No!!” The voice echoes loudly in the hallway. Monica recognizes it instantly.

She freezes.

“Amelia?” Then she yells, desperate now. The name tears out of her chest like a prayer “Shepherd! Please-”

“Hey.”

A new voice comes from behind her.

She spins so fast she nearly slips. Her heart stutters in her chest.

A man stands in the hallway, maybe ten feet away. He seems to carry himself too easily, too calmly. He’s handsome. Blue eyes. Great hair, combed just slightly. 

His face is…it’s almost too familiar.

He’s wearing navy scrubs beneath a white coat. And the name catches her eye.

Shepherd.

Her stomach lurches. “You… it can’t be”

“Hey” he says again, this time softer. And then he slowly steps closer. 

Monica stares. She’s frozen.

He stops just short of her, as if he doesn’t want to startle her more than she already is.

“Hi. I’m sorry. It’s okay. I’m Derek. Derek Shepherd” he says gently.

Chapter Text

“I’m Derek Shepherd”

Monica’s breath stutters. The name lands with a jolt. “Shepherd…” she repeats. “Amelia’s brother” It comes out half-statement, half-breathless disbelief “H- How?” Then she looks away, almost muttering to herself quickly“What is happening?”

He nods once, still approaching her as if she was a skittish patient. “It’s okay…”

Monica takes a step back “This- this makes no sense” She tries to recall the floor plans. Nothing matches, everything looks older than it should and corners keep multiplying like mirrors…“What is this place?”

“This is Seattle Grace Mercy West” he says. “You know it as Grey Sloan. But I was always fond of the way it was before”

Her expression doesn’t change.

“This is just… a place. It’s a moment. Something… between” He’s not saying it like a doctor. He’s saying it like a person who knows.

Then… her voice echoes again.

            “Why are you stopping? Winston!! Do something!”

Monica’s throat tightens. It’s coming from somewhere. Here. She needs to find her. She needs to go to her.

She starts walking again. She doesn’t hav time for this.

“Shepherd!!” she calls again, louder and desperate. She just ignores the man and keeps walking. Faster. Searching. Calling for the one who isn’t here. “Amelia!” The echo sounds down the corridor “Are you here? Where are you? Amelia!”

Derek follows “So this it. You’ve been looking for her”

“Why are you following me?” Monica replies, sounding a little angrier than she intended. “Can you help, at least?”

Then she stops in her tracks. But the sound persist. Amelia’s voice. Pleading for something. Monica speaks again “She… Amelia…” The name almost makes Monica feel pain again “Where is she? Is she safe? Did the blast-“ The thought pitches toward panic now; the air here blunts it, but she pushes anyway, fighting the softness like swimming against a current. She wants to feel this “I need to find her. But I’m lost here!”

Derek studies her like he’s reading vitals only he can see. “You’re not lost,” he says. “You’re choosing”

She almost laughs at that one “It doesn’t feel like a choice”

“Most choices don’t, when pain’s in the mix” He simply shrugs and then he smiles.

Now Monica focuses on him “Do you know me?”

He huffs a small smile “A little. By description”

Monica’s voice comes out softer “What did she say?”

He narrows his eyes for a second “That you’re stubborn, brilliant, really good at getting under her skin. She… she cares” he tilts his head “She didn’t actually say that. But I know my sister”

A breath leaves Monica like someone punched the air from her lungs. 

Blue, warm eyes. The way she listens. The way she steadies me without touching me.  

“She’s okay?” Monica’s voice breaks a little as she speaks “Tell me she’s okay”

“Define okay” he replies “She’s breathing. She’s… loud when she’s scared. And right now she’s really loud. I don’t like seeing her in pain. She’s had enough of that for a lifetime” He pauses, then he adds “I don’t mean… physical pain”

Monica’s fingers curl. The faint echo persist. It sounds broken and desperate. 

“I can’t-” Monica looks at her own hands “I can’t feel my body. Not like- I know it hurts, but it doesn’t hurt here”

“That’s the point of here” Derek says. “It’s the place where it stops hurting long enough for you to hear yourself”

Monica closes her eyes. She only hears her. Her eyes open again “Why you?” she asks. “Why are you the one who shows up here?… for me”

Derek’s smile crooks “Like I said. I like to keep an eye on Amy. I will never stop taking care of her. I think I could have done a better job when I was… you know. And I thought you’d listen to me”

Monica flinches. Because sure. Whatever. She can accept she’s in some kind of limbo with Amelia’s brother. Now how does she get out? This is crazy, and she feels like she’s running out of time. Is there even a way out of here? “I’m scared” she admits.

“Me too” he says ad then he tips his chin toward the corridor behind him. “There’s a door at the end of this. You won’t see it until you walk. That’s how these things work”

Her feet don’t move. “Okay. If I open it… am I gone gone?”

He considers. “If you open it, you’ll know which way you’re going”

She’s angry again “That’s not an answer!”

“It’s the only honest one”

“Can you stop talking in riddles! This is… important!”

She stares at him. He looks so much like her. Now it’s so clear.

“People love you” he simply says, like he’s picking up the thread her grandparents laid down. “A lot of people. They don’t want you to go. Even when the ones who came before would give anything to keep you here”

Monica’s eyes start to burn and hr voice betrays her a little “I miss them” she whispers “I miss Florida. The sun. The way it’s easy there. Nothing hurts” She swallows hard “Why would I leave a place where nothing hurts?”

“Because love isn’t where the hurt stops” Derek steps closer “It’s where the hurt means something”

She looks past him. The corridor seems to deepen, like someone pulled the perspective taut. The air changes. 

Blue, warm eyes. 

      “You can’t just let her die! Winston!” Amelia’s voice echoes louder.

Monica’s mouth trembles “Is there something after… it? If I don’t make it-”

“There’s always something after” Derek says. He moves to stand next to Monica, now both staring at the corridor.

“Can you stop being so cryptic? Maybe that’s your job being a ghost or whatever, but I- I can’t mess this up and I’m kinda starting to spiral here”

He just chuckles and Monica speaks again, looking offended “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. It’s just… you two are not that different” 

Monica sighs “Tell me she’s not alone”

“She isn’t” he answers immediately. “She’s with you, even now”

“That doesn’t help” Monica exhales “Okay”

He nods toward the hall. “Walk”

Her legs feel like they belong to someone else, a different body, but Monica moves. Derek walks with her, but starts lagging behind. The hum overhead threads into something almost rhythmic…

Machines beeping, a flat line.

And she can’t tell if it’s a memory or real…

“You’ll talk to her?” Monica asks without looking back. “If I- if I don’t-”

“I already do” Derek says “She listens in all the impossible places”

Monica’s lips twitch. The corridor narrows. The air tastes like lemon cleaner.

“There” Derek says.

She sees it now: a door that wasn’t there until it is, at the end of the hallway.

Monica stops with her palm against it. The surface is warm. She looks back. Derek stands in the middle distance with his hands in his coat pockets. The same warm, blue eyes.

“Tell her-” Monica’s voice breaks. She clears it. “Tell her I was looking for her. The whole time”

He tips his head. “She knows”

Monica nods. The pain climbs. Not sharp, but insistent. She drags in a breath, closes her eyes and turns the handle…

Amelia is thrashing in Winston’s arms, clawing at him to let her go. Her voice is shredded from screaming Monica’s name, from begging him to keep going. And suddenly she feels like that little girl that lost her father, the woman that lost friends and loved ones, and her brother… always begging that is not true, hoping that there’s something she can do.

“Let me- damn it, let me try!” she kicks against his hold, nails digging into his arm fiercely.

Winston’s voice is low and steady, and it makes her want to break his jaw. “It’s been twenty minutes, Amelia. I’ve done everything. She’s gone. I’m so sorry”

“No. NO. I’ve brought people back after longer than this! You don’t stop- you don’t stop until she’s back!” Her throat is raw, her chest caving in. Her body knows it, Winston knows it, but her mind refuses. “She’s not gone. Not Monica! Winston, no!” Her voice fully breaks.

The world is falling apart around her. It makes no sense. Last night Monica was alive. Busted and bruised after the OR floor explosion, but very much alive. Amelia sat by her bed in the ICU and watched the monitors for a few hours. She traced every breath with her eyes just to make sure. Broken bones, yes, some bruises and burns… but she was fine. Fine. Amelia begged her to stay and fight. She begged her not to leave her. And Monica didn’t promise anything, but she held on.

And it felt like it was enough.

Because Amelia realized it then, when the night had stretched too long and the ICU lights made Monica look too pale. She realized… Monica isn’t just someone she cares about, she’s… more. She means too much. Too much to lose. Even after Amelia tried to ignore it and moved on. Seeing her like this made everything so clear. She can’t become another person that is taken from her. Not when Amelia hasn’t even had the chance-

And now this… A page at dawn, a flatline when she arrived. Winston pressing his hands into Monica’s chest like he was the only one allowed to fight for her. And then just… stopping. Giving up. As if Monica is just another patient,  as if she’s not her person.

Amelia can’t let that happen. She won’t.

She tears herself free, hands shaking as she pulls on a blue gown. Her chest feels like it’s splitting in two but her voice comes out steady. “Move. If you’re done, then I’ll do it myself. I’ll bring her back. I swear to God, I will”

And then…

A sound. A gasp rattling against the breathing tube.

Amelia freezes and her whole body trembles as Monica’s chest rises on its own. Winston stares, slack-jawed, before finally letting her go.

Amelia’s already there, leaning close as the room explodes into motion. Nurses pour in and Winston starts barking orders. But Amelia can only hear Monica’s ragged breaths. She sees her eyes cracking open, unfocused and desperate.

“I’m here” Amelia whispers, hands cradling her hair. She steadies her as she fights against the tube. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe, Monica. You’re alive”

She extubates her with careful, expert hands, guiding her through each breath, rubbing her shoulders as Monica coughs and shudders. And when the haze finally starts to lift, when her breathing evens out, her eyes lock on Amelia’s, and don’t let go.

Everything else in the room fades.

It’s hard to even process if this is real after there’s such a fog in her mind. But those eyes are real. They are everything Monica needs right now that she feels so scared. She holds Amelia’s hand with all the strength she can gather in her weak, tired body. They are giving her things for the pain and it just dulls her even more.

But she holds on. 

She squeezes Amelia’s hand. And she is pretty sure she’s able to say her name before everything fades again.

It’s a few hours later when Monica wakes up again. It takes her a second to actually focus. She’s thinking about beige walls and backyards in Miami and all of it seems like a weird dream now. 

Is this even real?

But then Amelia is next to her. She quickly rushes to her side and starts saying soothing words and Monica meets her eyes. Those are real. And they are everything Monica needs right now that she feels… scared.

And then she feels pain. Her ribs, her whole left side. Her throat… 

“Hey… take it easy” Amelia says and it feels grounding. Like something Monica can hold on to.

“Amelia…” Is the first thing that Monica manages to say and her voice sounds hoarse.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like something exploded or something” Monica jokes and Amelia smiles.

“The tank… it wasn’t empty. Some of the gas went into the ventilation and a spark produced a explosion in the whole OR floor”

“Are you okay?” Monica sounds and looks concerned. She reaches for Amelia’s hand.

Amelia looks at her for a second “You’re the one in a hospital bed and you’re worried about me being okay?”

“I saw you. In the OR. With Jenna” Monica pauses and catches her breath “She had the- She could have… you could have…” She struggles to talk and her voice breaks a little.

Amelia leans down a bit and squeezes her hand “Hey. I’m okay. It’s okay”

“That wasn’t okay. What she did to you. And her daughter… and everybody” Monica swallows. Then she meets Amelia’s gaze. Her brown eyes looking more intense than Amelia’s ever seen them “I wanted to see you. After what she did… but we had so many delayed surgeries… I- I should have gone to see you”

Monica’s voice keeps breaking and now her eyes look a little glossy, so Amelia keeps reassuring her “Don’t worry about that”

“No. Amy-”

Amelia ignores hearing that name. She keeps talking “Don’t worry about anything. I’m just glad you’re okay. You- you really scared me” she doesn’t even think. She moves her hand to stroke Monica’s hair “I couldn't- I have lost so many people, I can't lose you too” then she cups Monica’s face.

And then Amelia freezes, because… well they have never been touchy like this and Monica is just her friend… like they are barely friends, and maybe what she’s saying and what she’s doing is too much. 

But just before Amelia is about to pull away, Monica moves her head and leans into the touch.

“I’m not going to leave you" Monica replies.

Which sounds... loaded. It certainly feels like more than what a friend would say. But everything is just so clear now. She's not sure if what she saw was real or a weird dream, and a lot of it is really blurry now.... but she came back with one clear realization. 

She's not willing to waste one second after almost dying. After being there, somewhere… not here... whatever that was. It doesn't really matter. The only thing that matters is that she- 

"I- I don't want to leave you. I want- I want a chance" She confesses... and maybe it's the pain meds making her bolder and speak without thinking about the consequences but it doesn't make it any less true. 

Amelia's mouth opens a little, but she's speechless for a few seconds.

“What are you-“

Monica doesn’t let her finish “Amelia, I almost died I- I think I was not here. I was somewhere. It was- It was scary.” She exhales and closes her eyes. The images from there are still blurry, but the scary feeling remains. “And I know what I want. I know that I'm hurt and we probably need to talk... like have a real talk but I- I know. I hope... you want…” 

Amelia bites her lip subtly, trying to contain a smile. She strokes Monica’s hair again. 

Monica keeps trying to just put it into words. God. She doesn’t even know how to. She’s not done this in a long time “Maybe… dinner?”

“I think you have a long road ahead before you can think about dinner”

“That’s not an answer”

That makes Amelia chuckle. But then she leans down and places a soft kiss to Monica’s cheek. Their eyes meet after.

Monica is smiling “That’s not an answer either, but I liked that”

“Dinner, huh? Like a- like a date?” Amelia’s voice sounds a little high pitched.

Monica tries to sound nonchalant, but fails miserably “Yeah. A… nice place, you and me…”

“That… would be nice”

Now what?

Monica swallows “Good. Great”

“Good” Amelia replies, blushing slightly. Then something else pops back into her mind “Did you- did you just call me Amy a minute ago?” She tries to ask casually.

Monica blinks “Uh…”

Amelia just shrugs “It’s just… only my brother Derek called me that”

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that. It’s just-“ Amelia shakes her head. Then she takes Monica’s hand again “You almost died today. And then you came back. You can call me anything you want” 

“I can call you my date” Monica tries to tease to make Amelia smile again, and she succeeds. 

“Okay. I think you need to rest for now”

“Oh, I will. And I’ll count the days to get out of this bed”

Amelia hesitates, torn between leaving and staying, between what she should do and what she wants. In the end, she squeezes Monica’s hand one last time, lingering there as she smiles softly “And I’ll be counting with you”

When she pulls back, Monica’s eyes are half-closed, but a smile is still curving her mouth.

Amelia says goodbye and leaves the room, and Monica relaxes again. The fear starts to dissipate. She’s found what she was looking for. She’s found her way back to something that feels as good and peaceful as the breeze in Florida. Eyes that feel just as warm. 

And it's everything Monica was looking for, for a long time.