Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters, ideas and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: Celia Chávez – Melanie Iglesias.

Kane Greene – Warren Christie.

Chapter 26:

Somehow, and Celia does not know how, but as the ringing silence stretched in the OR, silence brought upon purely by the emotion of shock, shock of what she had done, Celia Chávez accepted her fate and had come to terms with the inevitable path laid out before her.

In hospitals they say you know. You know when you're going to die.

How, do you ask? How can she be so calm, holding a bomb with her bare hand that could detonate at any minute, with a fraction of a movement, just a mild twitch of a finger? How'd Celia Chávez regain composure in the midst of a situation that seemed impossible? Simple. For starters, Celia was a realist and had accepted the fact that the likelihood of her clawing her way out of this impossible predicament she had landed herself into, was very low, practically nonexistent. Another reason? It was either her or Meredith, and Celia chose accordingly, out of love and sisterly protection.

Some doctors say it's a look patients get in their eyes. Some say there's a scent. The smell of death… Something.

They say that everybody has a guilty pleasure – and Celia was no exception. All her life, Celia looked up to her father, and wished to follow in his footsteps regarding a profession in the medical field, and by the age of thirteen, she was adamant that one day, she'd be the best surgeon in history. One for the books. A surgeon that, even decades after taking her last breath, and decomposing underground, she'd be a notable figure, one spoken of in reverent tones, and one regarded as a venerable role model. But despite her goals and her dreams, whilst in Dartmouth, Celia took an elective irrelevant to medicine, her guilty pleasure: Mythology.

Celia had always been fascinated with the body of myths belonging to a plethora of cultures, and after tragedy struck her more times than she could count, Celia Chávez – unlike other girls her age who preferred to engross themselves in fiction tales that bled of romance where the girl always got the handsome guy and lived happily ever after in an idyllic house with a white picket fence, a golden retriever and two point five kids, driving them to soccer practices and ballet recitals in a minivan… you know, the usual – would escape her problems by delving deep into the many clusterfucks of mythology.

One such spellbinding myth that fascinated her was the Fates, the Moirai. Three sisters; incarnations of destiny and life. You see, the Moirai were austere deities, old and emaciated in appearance but nevertheless tremendously powerful beings. Clotho spun the thread of life, Lachesis fashioned lives and measured each individual's thread of life, and lastly, the inevitable sister, the inescapable one, Atropos; she who chose how someone died by cutting the thread of life with her ominous shears.

The point?

In the ringing silence, Celia's brain deliriously conjured the Moirai, standing beside the bloody handprint Hannah left imprinted on the wall, three identical milky-white eyes affixed onto her frame, the middle one holding a large shear that glinted sinisterly under the fluorescent lighting, a ball of yarn, her thread of life, dangerously held in the balance of life and death.

There's just some kind of sixth sense. When the great beyond is heading for you. You feel it coming.

"What did you do? What did you do, Celia? What did you do?"

She blinked and the mirage faded away.

Whatever it is, it's creepy.

"What did you do? What did you do? Oh god! What did you do?"

Because if you know. What do you do?

"Cristina," Celia's calm voice, anomalous to the certain circumstance, rang over Meredith's panicked mantra. "Do me a favor and calm Mer down, please."

Forget about the fact you're scared out of your mind.

That shut Meredith up and she joined Cristina, Burke and Dylan as they stared at her, four dissimilar orbs reflecting identical emotions of disbelief.

"Calm down?" Meredith suddenly shrieked. Her eyes were manic and her expression contorted into fury. "How did you expect me to react, Celia? What… what possessed you to do that?!" she demanded, eyes burning with fire.

Dylan nodded in agreement. Usually, when a bomb was about to detonate, natural human reaction, the human instinct to survive genetically hardwired into every living organisms' brain, was to head for cover and pray for the best. Not jump headfirst into danger.

Emotionless chocolate orbs softened as they collided with the furious green glare of her twisted sister's. There was a crack in her stoic countenance, though a stern quality flashed in her eyes as she responded to Meredith's furious inquiry, "It was you or me, Mer. I saw you. I've always been able to get a perfect read on you." Celia's visage sharpened, glaring at her in disapproval, "The moment Hannah pulled her hand out, I saw you. You edged closer and your hand automatically reached forward. I made a decision, and I don't regret it. It was either you or me. And I chose myself."

Shock surmounted and Meredith sucked in a sharp intake of breath, the Latina barely recognizable due to the amount of tears welling in her eyes. "Oh, Celia," she cried, and if Celia weren't mistaken, Meredith was staring at her mournfully, as though she were already planning her funeral.

If you knew this was your last day on Earth, how would you want to spend it?

**GA**

The door swung open, which prompted an exasperated sigh to escape Derek's lips. He was under a lot of pressure and had no time for interruptions. Three-quarter of his surgical team fled the vicinity, including his interns, the leader of the bomb squad kept hounding him to leave the OR floor, and Bailey's husband's life was literally in his hands. Suffice to say, Richard jinxed Seattle Grace the second he started to complain about the 'quiet board'.

"Dr. Shepherd?"

Surprise flittered on the neurosurgeon's features, for he had been preparing himself for Round Two with the bomb squad. "Dr. Burke," he acknowledged him, his calculating orbs never once detaching from his patient.

"How's it going?"

Despite his previous irritation with Burke for insisting on the formality between them, calling him Dr. Shepherd while he addressed Addison by her name and for the blatant show of favoritism he bestowed upon Celia, relief consumed him. Unlike the bomb squad, Preston Burke was a surgeon first, and he more than anybody, knew the importance of saving lives, and therefore Burke wouldn't press for Derek to abandon his patient and save his own skin. "He's got a second bleed under the skull base. If I do what the textbooks say, he could lose the power of speech, herniate through the first craniotomy and die."

Burke made a humming noise, processing the onslaught of grave information, "What's your other option?"

He chuckled dryly. "Well if I do what I wanna do… he could lose the power of speech, herniate through the first craniotomy and die," he repeated, the light at the end of the tunnel becoming dimmer by the minute.

"Well good luck with that," Burke dismally supplied.

Derek's gratitude was accompanied by another dry chuckle and he turned to look at Burke from over his shoulder, "Is there something you want?" finally reaching the crux behind Burke's visit.

The dark-skinned Attending evaluated his fellow Attending with a solemn gaze. "You know it was really stupid of you not to evacuate?" he said, almost conversationally, like they were simply discussing the weather in Seattle as opposed to an unstable and heavily unreliable bomb nesting in a patient's body cavity that could go off at any moment, without warning.

Derek nodded then jutted his chin forward, "You too."

"Yeah I know," Burke sighed, crossing his arms together. His mind traveled to his OR, his thoughts despondent as he recalled the dangerous situation one of his favorite interns was currently in. His brave yet stupid intern. Thankfully, Derek's next words shook him from the morbid images his brain conjured, "We should consider a change in profession."

A half-smile formed on Burke's face, lightly agreeing with Derek. Sighing wearily, Derek looked back at his patient, "Gotta say I don't wanna be the guy that kills Bailey's husband."

Burke tilted his head in a gesture of agreement, "Well I don't want to be the guy that kills us all." While he spoke with a straight face, inwardly he was grimacing, as all their lives were no longer in his hands, but a certain frigid and impassive Latina's that he knew for certain meant a great deal to the neurosurgeon before him, despite his litany of denials. In fact, Burke was astounded the Chief had yet to hear about the barrage of rumors regarding his goddaughter and his married friend, and ascertain for himself whether they were true or false. Too lost in his indecision, his hesitation seemed to have captured reason for concern out of Derek.

"Something else you wanted to tell me?"

Should he? Dark brown connected with a pair of concerned overly bright blue eyes. Shaking his head, Burke plastered on a tight-lipped smile, "No. Nothing."

"You sure? Look like you have something you want to get off your chest," Derek observed keenly. Not wanting to be the cause of distracting Derek from Bailey's husband by being the bearer of bad news, and wanting to escape the uncomfortable situation he had walked into, Burke simply nodded, "Dr. Shepherd."

As he turned to leave, Derek let out a sad sigh and responded in kind, "Dr. Burke."

He was left once again with the silence of the OR and his deteriorating patient, but this time, when the door slammed shut, Derek felt as though Burke had left behind a feeling of foreboding, one that didn't bode well for him.

**GA**

As Dylan slowly strapped a flak jacket onto Celia from behind, she remained ramrod straight, hand on the live ammunition unmoving, and her face impassive. Meredith and Cristina also wore jackets of their own that Dylan distributed, and while the latter kept herself busy by squeezing the ambu bag to provide Mr. Carlson with the necessary oxygen, the former focused her solemn unblinking gaze on the Latina, as though she were committing to memory every aspect of her features before she spontaneously combusted into pink mist, unnerving Celia with the intensity of her stare.

"You realize how stupid that was," Dylan's breath fanned the nape of her neck as he strapped the last buckle and pulled away from her, leaving Celia with a confused tingling sensation. However, the only emotion vivid of the Latina's face was irritation once Cristina snappishly vocalized her agreement, "It was Celia. Incredibly stupid!"

Celia rolled her eyes, "Tell me how you really feel." Met with two deadpanned glares and Meredith's unblinking, unnerving stare, the impassive intern huffed, a strand of hair blowing away from her face in the process, "Look! Let's just get one thing straight here, okay? I know, believe me, I know I did a stupid move, and I'd like nothing more than to wrench my hand out and walk away, but then we'll all blow up. So, how about we keep the snarky commentary to ourselves while I've got my hand wrapped around a freaking bomb. Agreed?" Dylan and Cristina silently acquiesced by turning away and appeased, Celia glared daggers at her twisted sister, "And can you stop with the staring! You're freaking me out."

"Ugh, seriously?" Cristina scoffed, eyes unusually round in disbelief. "Mer's staring is freaking you out and not the fact that you've got your hand on a bomb?!"

Dylan shook his head, wondering what he had gotten himself into, "You really need to sort out your priorities, lady."

The Latina's eyes were practically spitting fire at them, "Since when did you two jump aboard the same train?!" Dylan grimaced and Cristina adopted a look of disgust, but before they could verbally argue, Meredith's voice permeated the air, her voice nothing but a chilling whisper, "I told you… I had a feeling."

Almost simultaneously, Dylan asked, "What's that?" and Cristina blurted out in curiosity, "Feeling? What feeling?"

Celia's eyes drifted shut, all impassiveness bleeding out to portray an expression of unmitigated pain.

The house was quiet. Too quiet.

Auntie Soph had been emotionally incapable of providing for the Reception and mingling with the funeral-goers, accepting their condolences and observing their tears. And neither was Celia.

It was so unlike her mother to lean a compassionate shoulder to cry on and willingly take a leave of absence from the hospital as she was too focused on her surgical career, but then again, Ellis Grey and Sophie Chávez were two peas in a pod, and Meredith always suspected that they cared more for each other than they did their own daughters.

Ignoring her mother's hushed voice and Auntie Soph's hysterical wails of grief from the living room, nine-year-old Meredith climbed the stairs and padded down the hallway until she stopped by her best friend's room, biting her lower lip as her hand hovered over the doorknob, afraid to reveal what laid behind the closed door.

The room was dark, the only source of light that blanketed the room was the broken bedside lamp that appeared to have been hurled across the room, the light bulb flickering feebly and providing the room with an ominous on and off glow. In fact, adjusting her eyes to the dark, Meredith noted that the room was an absolute mess; objects, broken and whole, scattered on the floor, shards of glass littered everywhere and even a few doll heads had been decapitated from their bodies and tossed unceremoniously.

A tiny lump could be seen buried under the blankets, and Meredith's heart bled out at the sound of her best friend's agonizing sobs and pitiful whimpers. Slowly, tiptoeing around the glass, Meredith joined Celia under the blanket and simply held her close and stroked her hair like Uncle Tony used to do for her during her mother's many absences. That familiar action had Celia bawling even louder, but she didn't pull away, instead, scooching closer, seeking out the desperately needed affection.

"I'm sorry, CeCe," Meredith finally whispered after a couple of hours, tears constantly leaking down her face.

Celia lifted her puffy and bloodshot eyes to meet the red-rimmed gaze and in a small, broken voice, said, "It's not your fault."

After a beat of silence, Meredith asked, her voice trembling slightly, "Is there something wrong with me?"

Glad for the distraction, Celia sniffed, "Why would you say that?"

"I told you I had a feeling. That, that something bad will happen," her voice wobbled, "and-and something did…"

Celia had nothing to say to that.

"Nothing," Celia and Meredith muttered in unison, effectively ending the dreary subject, but Meredith made sure to shoot Cristina an 'I'll tell you later' look, appeasing the Korean intern. That however, abruptly morphed into indignation when Burke joined them, his stance screaming authority and his eyes burning with intensity, "Time for you to go."

Horrified at the implication, Cristina stood her ground and stubbornly glared at her boyfriend, "No, I'm staying."

Dark brown orbs flickered toward Meredith, "You too."

"No way. I'm not leaving Celia!" Meredith adamantly defied him, not caring about superiority or the level of hierarchy in Seattle Grace when her sister's life was hanging in the balance.

With a loud sigh, Burke pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger before leveling the two stubborn interns with an authoritative gaze, "There's nothing more you can do here. We've got it covered." When their feet remained rooted to their respective spots, he snapped, having had enough, "This is not another cool surgery. This ammo can go off at any time and kill everyone in this room. Do you get that? You cannot be in here."

While both Meredith and Cristina were affronted at the insinuation, Cristina beat the blonde to the punch, her gaze burning into Burke's, "Do you think this is about surgery-"

More adamant than ever, Burke interjected, and although his voice was a whisper, the others heard him loud and clear, "Cristina, I cannot do this with you in here! I cannot think!" While left unsaid, Cristina understood him, loud and clear: Burke wouldn't be able to concentrate with Cristina in danger.

Taking advantage of her friend's speechless state, Meredith indignantly cut in, carelessly stepping on a few toes in the process, "That's all fine and dandy. Since Cristina's presence affects you, she can leave, but I'm stayin-"

"No you're not," Celia briskly interjected. Meredith whipped around to glare at the Latina in a mixture of affront, betrayal and hurt. Sharing a look of understanding with Burke, Celia squarely met Meredith's incensed gaze, "You need to leave, Mer. I need to concentrate. Everybody in this room is in jeopardy, and my hand's the only thing preventing disaster. I'd feel a lot better, and I'd be able to concentrate without having to worry about you. Please, for my sake, go. Both of you," her gaze flickered to meet Cristina's frightened eyes. "Stay with Alex. Make yourselves useful, just please, stay as far away from this OR as possible. Please."

The room was encompassed with a sort of deadly silence. Dylan, who had been avidly observing the surgeons argue with each other, was now staring at the Latina in slight awe and respect; Burke looked over Christina's head to Celia with a grateful smile, his eyes shining with relief; Meredith and Cristina however, hesitated, their expressions uncertain, terrified that leaving would mean saying goodbye forever.

While the blonde-haired, green-eyed intern stubbornly held Celia's stare, Cristina slumped in defeat, recognizing the stubborn determination on the Latina's face and knowing that arguing would be useless and counterproductive. With a grudging nod, Cristina turned to Burke, black eyes captivating him due to the amount of emotion that lingered there, raw emotion he rarely ever saw on his emotionless girlfriend. "You know in the movies how there's always the heroes and then there's the other guy?" she hissed, ensuring nobody but Burke could hear her. "You know the guy sees danger and runs in the opposite direction?"

"Yes," Burke slowly drawled, staring incomprehensibly at the Korean. Solemnly, Cristina pleaded, "Be the other guy." Not waiting for the appropriate response, Cristina curtly nodded her head and strode toward the door. Pausing, she briefly held Celia's gaze, almost as if she were telepathically transmitting her concerns, before she addressed Meredith, "Mer, you coming?"

Sending a diminutive smile that could be translated as 'message received' to her person, Celia's dark orbs traveled across the room until they connected with a pair of tearful striking green. Steeling herself, a loud sigh emanated from Meredith's lips, "Don't get any stupid ideas in your head, you hear me? Don't-, don't be heroic. Be selfless for once, CeCe. Because I swear, I swear-" she choked out, heavy sobs intermingling with her words, "if you die on me, I'll find a way to bring you back just so I can kill you myself, got it?"

Chuckling, Celia, her eyes annoyingly dry that belied the slight quivering of her lower lip, said, "Love you too, Mer. Now go on, shoo."

And with that peculiar yet heartwarming parting, Meredith and Cristina turned their backs on the inauspicious predicament, departed the ominous OR, and stepped into the eerily vacant and silent hallway.

They loitered by the elevator, Cristina's hand hovering anxiously by the button, her fingertip lightly brushing it, when all of a sudden, as though a marionette's string had been snipped, her hand abruptly dropped and she turned to face Meredith, her resolute expression mirroring her own. Not bothering to exchange a single word, in unison, the two interns abandoned the elevator, disobeyed orders, and took large strides down the hallway, advancing OR 2.

Flak jackets discarded and effectively scrubbed in, the two interns entered the OR. Almost immediately, Derek, who had been operating on Tucker, looked up, taken aback by the sight before him. "This area has been evacuated Dr. Yang, Dr. Grey," he sharply pointed out.

"And somehow you're still here," typical Cristina with her smartass comments, most especially when addressing Derek Shepherd. He inclined his head and wisely retorted, "I have to be here. You don't."

"Yes we do," Meredith shot back firmly, her gaze unwavering, striking green eyes portraying a stubborn streak. Utilizing an austere tone to get them to comply ended up a fruitless endeavor on his part as Meredith and Cristina each grabbed a gown and put them on. "We do," Meredith adamantly insisted.

Cristina approached the patient, and for once, when she looked at Derek, not even a sliver of hostility could be detected, "Besides, I guess you need a little company." Her gaze perused the nearly empty OR room as though to further prove her point. Sighing in resignation, the neurosurgeon nodded and continued operating. "How's he doing?" she inquired.

"He's hanging in there," Derek promptly supplied. After a brief pause, he inquired in afterthought, "How's the paramedic Hannah doing?"

Confused, Meredith looked up from Tucker and frowned, "Hannah?"

"The girl with the bomb," Derek absentmindedly elucidated.

Striking green and onyx collided, 'he doesn't know!' simultaneously reverberating in their heads. They expected Burke must have told him or any member of the bomb squad that occasionally loitered throughout the halls of the OR Floor. A vindictive part residing in Meredith wanted to spill the beans and watch as the guilt gnawed on McDouche, allowing him to shoulder the blame at having been the person responsible for placing Celia's life in jeopardy… but then again, Meredith didn't want to risk the life of Bailey's husband because her vindictiveness distracted him. Cristina, on the other hand, believed Celia was no longer any of his business – he lied to her, pushed her away, nearly succeeded in breaking down her carefully crafted walls and then prompted nasty rumors about her; he called her a whore, wrongly yet blatantly accused her of selling her body for surgeries, and volleyed her with many other unforgivable words because she was starting to move on with McStudly.

Realizing that they were taking too long to provide him with an answer to a simple inquiry, he briefly tore his gaze from his patient and looked up, catching the sudden exchange between the interns. Meredith sported a wide-eyed expression while Cristina donned a grimace. "Yang, Grey? How's Hannah?"

He successfully jolted Cristina out of her reverie, yanking her gaze from Meredith's to meet his suspicious blues, "Oh, uh, she's hanging in there too."

"Really?" Derek expectantly stared between the two interns, identifying their expressions and the way they both hesitated to be similar to Burke's disposition.

A painful smile graced Meredith's features, "Yes. Everything's just fine." Her smile was probably meant to provide comfort, but in reality, Meredith dismally failed; Derek's suspicions escalated and he knew for certain that something had gone horribly amiss in Seattle Grace, something – going by Burke, Yang and Grey's demeanor toward his inquiries – that was purposely being kept from him for some particularly confounding reason.

Emitting a skeptical sound from his throat, Derek allowed his intense gaze to linger a while longer on the two highly uncomfortable interns, watching as they squirmed under the intensity of his gaze before turning his full concentration on Tucker; the two nearly inaudible sighs of relief not going unheard by him.

**GA**

He was incapable of sitting still any longer. While Izzie and George were more than fine with sitting on the floor against the lockers, upon hitting the hour mark, Alex began burning a hole in the ground as he paced in dizzying circles in an attempt to soothe the chaotic thoughts churning in his head and abolish the many worst case scenarios his suddenly overactive imagination seemed to be conjuring.

"I feel colors are brighter. Does anyone feel like colors are brighter?" George inanely blathered to fill in the gloomy silence inhabiting the locker room. He slammed the back of his head against the locker and promptly winced. "My head hurts," he whined.

Alex's jaw clenched and his knuckles whitened, but thankfully, before he could explode on George, the silence commenced once more.

Only to be broken not even five minutes later by George, who apparently decided that the heavy tension in the room could be mellowed out by more inane drivel. "Yeah, definitely brighter. And I feel like my sense of smell is better, maybe it's adrenaline." He whipped his head from Alex to Izzie, Bambi-like eyes wide with awe, "You think it's an adrenaline thing-"

Before Alex could snap, Izzie beat him to the punch, her tone borderline hysterical, "Shut up! God, George, just shut. up! Nobody cares if the blue is bluer or if you have super smelling powers! Meredith could die. Any minute she could just… die. Actually stop living… Dead… Corpse-" she drew her words out in an excruciatingly slow motion before she abruptly burst into hysterical giggles. Waving her hands overhead, her voice went up several decibels, "I'm sorry. Sorry. God, I have really inappropriate reactions to this kind of stress. I'm sorry." She gathered her composure and let out a long breath, "Hold on. Mmm."

Alex gaped at Izzie in a mixture of shocked confusion, but again, before he could get a word in, George spoke up, "You think… should we like, do something? Call Meredith's family?" In response, Izzie started giggling again, prompting George to provide a retort to his unanswered question, his tone desolate, "We are Meredith's family. I mean, well, Celia mostly, but she's here somewhere. We should tell her, let her know-"

Finally, Alex had arrived at the end of his patience and he totally blew a gasket, "Would you two please, SHUT UP!"

Bewildered, George's mouth snapped shut with an audible click and Izzie's inappropriate bout of laughter died in her throat, both of them blinking up at Alex in shock.

"What the hell are you two on about?" Alex furiously spat out, attempting and failing to recover his calm façade. "Meredith's perfectly fine-"

Izzie scowled, interrupting him, "You're being insensitive!"

Eyebrows arched in disbelief, Alex hissed, the blissful state that mind-blowing sex with Izzie evoked, dying out like a lit match in the middle of a tornado, "I'm not the insensitive one here. For your information, Shepherd kicked Celia off his service! He switched interns with Burke. Meredith's fine, she's with Cristina. Celia's the one you should be worrying about!"

"What?" Izzie whispered, shocked at the recent discovery, and George didn't look any better. Despite their differences with the Latina and the fact that she totally freaked them out and at times, terrified them to death, she was their friend, their roommate, their fellow intern, and despite her many flaws and her cold demeanor, and her blatantly rude remarks mostly aimed at them, Celia had heart and they knew she cared about their wellbeing irregardless of the hateful and uncaring front she portrayed to them. Bottom line, they were as equally concerned for her as they were about Meredith just a minute ago.

Shaking his head, Alex stormed toward the door.

"Hey! Where are you going?" George managed to weakly call after his retreating back.

"To get in touch with Celia's family," he angrily retorted, not sparing them a backward glance as he left their vicinity, the door to the locker room forcefully closing behind him.

Ascending two flights of stairs, one destination in mind: the Chief's office, he promptly froze in his tracks upon hearing the voice of the very person he had been searching the halls for.

"Calm down?!" Alex warily approached the nurses' station where he could clearly see a very distressed Chief Webber, who looked like he was breathing fire down at Addison. "I have an evacuated OR. A bomb in a body cavity. A missing paramedic! An intern, my GODDAUGHTER, with her hand on the explosive! Two world class surgeons in harm's way! A man on a table who might bleed out at any moment unless we move the bomb from his chest! And my favorite resident in labor who you're now telling me refuses to push! Really, calm down? You really want to say to me calm down?" he concluded his ranter with a terrifying growl.

Putting her hands up in a pacifying motion, Addison sarcastically said, "Ok don't calm down!"

Hearing movement behind him, Alex turned to see George and Izzie had, in fact, followed him from the locker room. Not wanting to waste any more time, Alex stepped up and bravely interrupted the Chief and the Attending. "Sir, uh, Chief?"

Addison, George and Izzie stared wide-eyed at Alex for the interruption and basically, his sheer exhibition of bravado in the face of an apoplectic Chief of Surgery. However, shock quickly morphed into confusion when Richard Webber whipped around, ready to blow off some more steam at the interloper, only to let out a relieved sigh at the sight of Alex. The intern in question wasn't faring any better, though he managed to mask his shock more effortlessly than the other three that surrounded the Chief.

"Karev, just the intern I was hoping to run into," Richard sighed, wearily dragging a hand down his face.

"You were?" Alex, Addison, George and Izzie echoed, forgetting themselves for a moment.

Snapping back to attention, Alex quickly spoke up, "Uh, Chief, I was hoping I could get in touch with Celia's family. Keep them informed…" he trailed off suggestively, suddenly uncertain on whether or not he was overstepping his boundaries. But Richard continued to surprise them, "Good. Good. I've been meaning to page you to contact them for me. You're one of Celia's closest friends in this hospital." He then proceeded to fish out his cellphone from his coat pocket and handed it over, "Call her stepfather. Noah's number three on speed dial. Let him know what's happening and then keep him well-informed. Hourly updates. Understood?"

Alex rapidly nodded his head and accepted the Chief's cellphone, "Got it, sir."

"Good," he sighed. "That's one load off my mind. And Karev," Alex paused and turned around to stare inquiringly at the Chief. "Thank you."

Half an hour later, Alex groaned into the palm of his hands, the Chief's cellphone sitting on the ground beside him. Suffice to say, the conversation with Noah Chamberlain had been intense, and it only got worse as Celia's mother began screeching down the phone like a raving lunatic. Twenty minutes of listening to Mrs. Chamberlain rant her head off, Ian saved him from an intensifying migraine, making him promise to keep him updated while he himself promised to keep Celia's she-devil of a mother away from the phones.

Somebody suddenly towered over him, and looking up, Alex mentally groaned. "Dr. Greene, uh-"

Kane put up his hand, halting him from saying another word, his expression grave and the anger lingering in his grayish-blue eyes honestly terrifying him more than the Chief's current disposition had. "Spare me the niceties, Karev. Right now, at this moment, I'm not a resident and you're not an intern. I'm not your boss. We're just two guys with a mutual friend in common."

Alex thickly swallowed the lump from his throat, realizing where Kane Greene was going.

"Why, tell me why is Celia the one with her hand on a fucking bomb, when she's supposed to have been in Shepherd's service?" he snarled, looking quite ferocious at the moment. Alex scratched the top of his head, expression nervous. "Don't bother lying to me," Kane warned him.

Sighing in resignation, Alex picked up the Chief's cellphone and pocketed it before he scrambled to his feet to squarely meet the resident's harsh gaze. "Look, I don't know how close you've gotten with Celia these past few days, but Shepherd and her, they've got a… sort of complicated history-"

"I know all about the short time they spent together, Karev. Celia already cleared the air," Kane sighed in irritation. "Skip to the important part."

"Fine. You want to know?" and Alex's hotheaded demeanor reared its ugly head as he spat out the part Kane was most anxious to hear, "He flipped out after seeing you two in the on-call room. The guy went completely ballistic, and after… certain uncalled for words were traded-" Alex spat the words out as though they were a curse, prompting Kane's eyes to flash angrily, "he kicked her off his service. He traded with Burke, Meredith for Celia."

Kane took a step forward, eyes fixated on Alex, "What did he say?"

Alex shook his head, "I can't. Look, it's personal. Unless Celia wants you to know-"

For the umpteenth time since cornering Alex, Kane interrupted him, "I may not be an Attending yet, but I can and I will make your life hell in this hospital if you don't tell me. You can tell Celia I threatened it out of you later. Now. Tell. Me!"

Scowling furiously, Alex glared daggers at the resident and grudgingly, he proceeded to impart a detailed recapitulation of Derek's harsh and wrongful accusations.

**GA**

Ignoring the nameless bomb squad member who had taken over for Cristina and was currently squeezing the ambu bag, Celia dropped her emotionless mask and allowed herself to meet Burke's curious gaze – shrewd, dark orbs that had been fixated on her for the better half of an hour. She arched an eyebrow at him and waited.

Chuckling softly, Burke straightened up in the chair he had been lazily lounging on. "You intrigue me, Dr. Chávez. Like a puzzle. Can't get it out my head until I've solved it," he admitted.

"Huh." The Latina mulled his words over for a second before she granted him with a ghost of a smile, her lips softly twitching upward, "I can honestly say that I've never heard that one before." Burke simply smiled and resumed staring. Celia sighed and blew the stubborn mahogany lock from her face, "Go ahead. Ask whatever it is you want to ask. It's not like I can go anywhere, nor do I have anything better to do."

"That front you put on. That mask. You are cold, impassive, incapable of showing an ounce of positive emotions. Around here, you've been granted the unflattering moniker of Cruella de Vil. Excluding Cristina, Grey and Karev, you act callously with everyone else. And yet," Burke leaned forward and propped his chin on his interlaced fingers, "and yet you are compassionate, selfless, brave, you have good intentions… your compassion with the patients is astounding, many times I have witnessed the positive effects you've had on them. They favor your presence while the workers in this hospital run the other way whenever you're nearby. You're a very loud and blunt woman, unafraid to speak the truth, honest to the core, and stubborn, unwilling to allow yourself to get intimidated by your superiors. And that isn't even the tip of the iceberg. Every day, I find myself discovering more flattering and unflattering qualities about you."

The Latina deftly concealed her surprise behind a mask of indifference, only allowing an eyebrow to rise in response, "I didn't hear a question in all of that."

Burke smirked, "That's because there wasn't one. Merely an observation." Silence descended upon them once more. "All right, I've got a question for you," he finally spoke up, shrewd gaze holding her in place. "Why hasn't Richard found out about you and Shepherd? It's not exactly a secret around here."

Celia stiffened and her gaze narrowed, her frustration only growing when Burke appeared unaffected by her glare. Sighing, she rolled her eyes at him, "When it comes to me, he makes it a point not to believe rumors. I don't exactly have a good reputation when it comes to… others. All my life, people made it a habit to whisper words of deceit behind my back, so… I guess, since I never confided in him, he didn't have a reason to believe the rumor mill."

He regarded her with contemplative eyes, a flicker of surprise passing through them when instead of staying silent, Celia chose to instigate conversation. "So, I've got to ask… is this the strangest thing that's ever happened in your OR?" sincere curiosity and a hint of amusement could be detected in her voice, despite the impassiveness of her chocolate orbs. Burke's lips twitched and he inclined his head in affirmative, "I'd have to say that it is."

"Good, because I'm very competitive," Celia disclosed, her tight-lipped smile becoming warmer.

A wide smile graced Burke's face and in a matter-of-fact tone, said, "All the best surgeons are."

Before further conversation could ensue, the door softly slid shut and Dylan stepped in, and while his stoic expression could give the Latina a run for her money, she easily distinguished the apprehension burning in his dark eyes, especially when they focused on her for a mere nanosecond before colliding with Burke's inquiring gaze. Wordlessly, Burke stood and joined Dylan by the doorway and the two partook in a heated hushed conversation interspersed with two pairs of dark eyes occasionally landing on her.

Celia scowled at their behavior, recognizing its familiarity as it was a technique widely used by most surgeons, including her, when the imparting of bad news was on the horizon. Just as the Latina had had enough with the treatment, both Dylan and Burke glanced at her and promptly returned to their whispered conversation.

"Stop it!" she hissed, chocolate browns blazing at their direction. Their incomprehensible murmurings halted and they turned to meet her furious gaze. "I'm not a patient. Neither am I some delicate flower or a porcelain doll." At Dylan's bemused stare, she harshly elucidated, "The two of you are looking at me the way we look at patients. Like I'm going to freak out at any minute. So newsflash, I'm not even in the vicinity of freaking out, so whatever's bothering you just tell me straight out. I can assure you that I won't be ripping my hand out and running for my life. So spit it out!"

Dylan, a novice to such intense and frankly eccentric interactions with the Latina, gaped at her, shocked into silence at her attitude and eerie blasé regarding a life and death situation that was currently, leaning more and more closer to death. Luckily however, Burke had long gotten used to Celia Chávez, her short temper and her sharp tongue, and stepped forward until he stood directly in front of her, regarding her solemnly. "The main oxygen line runs directly under this room," was all he provided her with, but that was all the information Celia needed to comprehend how totally screwed they – she! – were.

Chocolate eyes that, by principle, should be soft and warm, had the ability of paralyzing somebody under the receiving end of their stare as the moment Celia processed Burke's seemingly simple statement, her eyes resembled an air of eeriness and there was an unsettling coldness emanating from them. Other than the small tick of her jaw, the Latina's expression remained fathomless, almost emotionless. Dylan couldn't comprehend how Burke stood at ease opposite to her, not the least bit unnerved by her stony expression and icy stare, but then the intern spoke up, her voice too calm for his liking, but nevertheless, managed to snap Dylan from his private musing.

"Okay," Celia briskly nodded, eerie gaze flickering between Burke and Dylan. "So… the bomb that happens to be in my hand just so happens to be under the oxygen line. Meaning, if my finger so much as twitches then the bomb won't just blow us into bits but the entire hospital could blow up. No pressure," she humorlessly snorted; Dylan's dark orbs widened a fraction when Burke smiled wryly in response. Celia closed her eyes, the ringing silence in the room not really an aiding factor at the moment, but nevertheless, she inhaled and exhaled deeply five more times before allowing her expressionless eyes to snap open and intensely meet Dylan's unblinking stare, "Tell me you have a plan."

Dylan was uncertain on whether he should take the unnerving intern's confidence in his ability to have a solution to their dilemma as a compliment, or disconcerted at her complete lack of fear and emotion regarding the bleak circumstances she was literally in the middle of. Instead, he settled for professional apathy, "We have to move. Now. Because frankly, I don't want to spend another minute in this room."

Celia nodded, her emotionless state now laced with a hint of skepticism, "Move? Right. Like I said before…I can't even wiggle a finger because we can't risk shifting the ammo, and now you're telling me we have to roll out the entire gurney?"

"It's our safest option," Dylan firmly disclosed, his decision unwavering. Burke sighed, finally nodding in agreement, "So we move. Not a problem. We can do this." He glanced over at Celia, "You handling this, Chávez?"

Mentally, she screamed 'like I have a choice!', but externally, she solemnly agreed, "I'm handling this.''

So going to die…

**GA**

Alex and Izzie stood in the doorway of the patient room the Chief currently inhabited – as a patient. Too stressed over recent events and stubbornly refusing to calm down, he suffered an anxiety attack. Now usually, the patient would be strongly recommended to remain in bed, but unfortunately, Richard Webber was no ordinary patient, and no sooner had the doctor assigned to him commented on his EKG being normal and then left the room, did Richard immediately spring out of bed.

"Sir!" a bewildered Izzie cried out, hands shooting forward as though to forcibly pin the Chief back in bed, "You should really wait until we got the blood work back."

"I'm not listening, Stevens," Richard snapped, standing on both feet and preparing to leave.

Scowling over at her pigheaded husband, Adele abruptly shot up from the chair she had been comfortably sitting on and shoved Richard back onto the bed. "You can talk to me, Dr. Stevens while Dr. Karev here," she pinpointed a nervous Alex with a pointed stare, "can update Noah on the latest incident."

"Adele!" Richard ground out. "We don't need to disturb Noah with anything minor-"

"MINOR!" she shrieked, whirling around to glare at him fiercely, a finger wagging to and fro in disappointment. "You and I have contrasting opinions on what falls under the category of minor! Dr. Karev will be on his way to update Noah, now!" she testily snapped; Alex, taking the hint, scampered off with the Chief's cellphone in hand, leaving Izzie by her lonesome to be fixated by Adele's intimidating stare. "Well?" she probed, standing hip-shot and sticking a hand on her waist.

Unsure about directly disobeying orders – and from the CHIEF – Izzie apprehensively glanced at the couple. But in the end, the loud clearing of Adele's throat coupled with her warning glare prompted Izzie into action, "Um… okay. Your husband should really wait until we get the blood work back for confirmation-"

"Okay! Out!" Richard barked out, throwing an extended arm toward the direction of the door. Imitating Alex, Izzie scurried off in his footsteps, more than glad to escape the couple's formidable presence. No more interns around to attempt to waylay him, Richard moved to stand again, "I'm getting up."

Adele stood in his way, expression fierce, "You're going to have to body check me to do so."

"Adele, there is a bomb!" he complained, eyes wide. She nodded curtly, "I heard. And Celia's in the middle of it. But working yourself up about it won't do you, me or her any good." She tucked him back in bed and shot him a comforting smile. "You have to have faith. Everything will work out in the end." She somehow succeeded to mask her own concern regarding Celia's situation by tackling one problem at a time, and Richard needed all the comfort she could offer.

Resigned and feeling caged, Richard grumpily acquiesced to Adele's demands and didn't bother getting up again, realizing it'd only be a fruitless attempt and a complete waste of his energy.

**GA**

Emulating the movement of a turtle, Dylan and two members of his squad began the arduous task of moving the gurney away from oxygen line and toward the other OR. Celia on the other hand, used all her willpower to keep her already numb hand completely still over the ammo.

"You're doing great," Dylan whispered, dark orbs meeting hers intently.

Celia nodded and swallowed back her fears; she needed a distraction. "Let's go over this again."

Acquiescing, Dylan calmly repeated the plan for the third time since its inauguration, "The device is shaped like a rocket. About 8 inches long. We're going to have everything ready. Dr. Burke's team is going to be in place. My team is going to be in place. And I'm going to ask you to take the hand that you have in Mr. Carlson, wrap it around the device-"

"And pull it out while keeping it level," Celia took over, her voice cracking and finally giving Dylan the rare opportunity to see past her disturbingly impassive demeanor.

She had been quiet and impassive the whole time, almost uncaring and certainly emotionless… frighteningly unafraid. Admittedly, Dylan had been worried that she was either in some kind of shock or most concerning, that he was dealing with a sociopath that would probably get bored and abruptly, without warning, pull her hand out for the fun of it. Now he understood that she was simply very strong-willed, brave, and in his personal opinion, one of a kind, perhaps even one in a million…

At that moment, Celia dropped her mask and laid herself bare to him, allowing him to unearth her imperfections and her genuine state of distress. Her previous flinty stare now held a certain desperation, her chocolate eyes no longer cold but warm and brimming with torment; her face, that looked as though it had been carved out of stone, shone with a desire to lean on somebody else and let them take care of her for a change. Celia's excuse? Probable chance was that she would end up dying on this OR Floor, and Dylan would be the last person she'd ever see or interact with.

"Tell me something," he prompted, drowning in her dark pools of fear and admiring her delicate beauty. Celia cocked her head, looking up at him through dark, thick lashes in confusion. "I'm distracting you, Celia. Tell me something. Anything."

Already confounded over the fact that not only did he have the unique ability to make her feel naked but that she had willingly abandoned her mask for him, she was even more bemused at the alien warmth that infiltrated her veins upon hearing the sound of her name and how easily it rolled off his tongue, his gruffly modulated voice making her name sound even more exotic.

Licking her lips as she pondered over her next words, she deliberately evaded his heated gaze, which unknown to her, had followed the sensual movement of her tongue with hooded eyes. "Seventeen years ago, Meredith had a feeling," she confided in a hush, the warmth of his body seeping through her scrubs and the flak jacket as he took a step closer in order to properly hear her. "It was so… innocuous, you know? Those words coming from a nine-year-old… just four commonly used words; nothing ominous about them. It was my birthday and my Dad took me with him to his practice and… I was helpless to do anything-" her voice cracked but she determinedly pushed on, anguished eyes drowning in the dark pools gazing intensely at her. "He died in front of me. I couldn't do anything to help him. He just… dropped. No warning. Nothing. And today? Meredith said those exact words again and my hand's on a freaking live and unreliable ammo… I think that- that this time, I'm gonna be the one to die-"

"You're not dying today," Dylan brusquely interjected. He had finally come to realize that he wasn't just in awe of the feisty Latina, or respected her for her act of selfless bravery. No… Dylan was interested in her, her cold and warm persona capturing his attention and ensnaring him into her addicting web. Dylan was falling for her… deeply!

Celia blinked, taken aback by the conviction of his words, but nonetheless, mildly chided him, "You can't know that-"

Interrupting her yet again, Dylan emphatically refuted the Latina, "You're not going to die. Not today. Not under my watch. I won't let you. I promise."

And Celia didn't know why, but she wholeheartedly believed him…

She trusted her life in his hands.

Too absorbed in their touching interaction and the alien feelings stirring inside them, they hadn't realized the amount of distance they managed to cover in their excruciatingly slow pace until two figures materialized in front of them, both of whom looked very familiar–

"Meredith? Cristina?" Celia glowered over at them, quickly recovering from her initial shock at seeing them. Infuriated at both, the interruption of their private moment and the risk their sudden presence presented, Dylan snarled, "Stop. Stop right where you are!"

Every single individual, as well as the gurney, automatically froze in the hallway upon his command.

"What are you doing?" Cristina inquired, not at all bothered by Dylan's intimidating glare. Dodging her inquiry, he harshly snapped, "I thought Burke told you to leave. I distinctly remember him telling you to leave!"

Cristina glared in response, concern briefly flickering in her features upon noticing Burke was mysteriously absent, "Where is he?"

"Prepping the OR," Dylan snapped. Cristina's witty retort was accompanied by a smug expression, "Then he'll never know, will he."

Celia huffed angrily, cutting into their debate, "Screw that! I told you to leave. I explicitly recall telling you to stay as far away as possible! Does this look far to you? What the hell!"

Meredith scoffed, not at all affected by the Latina's hostile reception – after all, if the situation were reversed, she'd probably act similarly. "Come on, CeCe. The fact that you honestly believed I'd abandon you is laughable. You wouldn't if I were standing in your place. Now answer the question. Why are you moving the gurney?" she snapped sternly. Dylan arched an eyebrow at the blonde, impressed and astounded at the sheer loyalty portrayed.

With an air of resignation, Celia grudgingly acquiesced, "Turns out, the OR is directly above the oxygen line, ergo to avoid blowing up the entire hospital, we have to move."

"Enough chitchatting!" Dylan yelled, effectively obliterating Meredith or Cristina's following retort. He pointed over to the adjacent hallway, "You two stay over there. You stay over there!" A fond smile blessed the Latina's features, her eyes twinkling over at an incensed Dylan, and simultaneously, as her twisted friends reluctantly obliged to Dylan's snappish demand, Cristina whispered in Meredith's ear, "Is it just me, or does he remind you of Celia."

Looking over at the aforementioned two, striking green eyes widened in awed disbelief as she observed the genuinely fond expression coloring her best friend's face and the sparkle of life enter her eyes as she held the leader of the bomb squad's gaze. "Oh. My. God!" Meredith gasped, low enough for only the Korean to hear, who bewilderly fixated her gaze on Celia. "Celia is totally into him! She's, she's letting her guard down. Look!" she subtly jutted her chin at them, ensuring that Cristina followed her gaze, "Their both completely smitten!"

Cristina scoffed, though there was a soft quality in her tone, "Nothing like a life or death situation to throw caution into the wind… Or holding a bomb in your bare hand to open up to somebody," she added in afterthought, conflicted with the current predicament. It wasn't exactly the best time to begin forming attachments.

"You guys, tell me something," Celia called out to them, lips twitching in a furtive smile as she spared an amused Dylan a side-glance.

"He told me he loved me," Cristina suddenly blurted out, needing to purge. "Last night. He thought I was sleeping but I heard him say it."

In unison, Celia and Meredith intoned, "Burke loves you."

Cristina nodded before shooting Dylan, who was staring at her with an arched brow, the stink-eye, "Mind your own business."

Celia rolled her eyes, "You're going to say it back, rig-"

"Of course not," Cristina interrupted, staring at the Latina in vehement disbelief. "He didn't say it to me. He said to the sleeping me. Reciprocity is not required. Besides he might blow up," she unnecessarily reminded them.

Meredith deadpanned, "Excellent point."

Before Celia could rebuke the Korean, the front wheels of the gurney collided into something hard, effectively halting its movements. The silence reeked with tension and Celia, for a brief instant, heard an irritating ringing in her ear. All eyes homed in on the metal bar across the floor, and in a voice of forced calm, Dylan, his hand brushing against the wrist attached to the hand over the bomb, said, "All right everybody. Let's keep placing one foot in front of the other. Nice and slow. Alright Celia, we're almost there."

The zing of electricity from where he had touched her motivated her, calming her nerves and filling her with a large dosage of confidence. "Okay. I got this," she breathed out, sending a heavily concerned Dylan a comforting smile, before she looked over at Meredith, the color completely drained from her already ivory complexion, "You had to say those words this morning."

Eyes welling with unshed tears, Meredith made an attempt at a weak chuckle, her grip on an equally pale Cristina's, tightening. "I told you."

**GA**

Dismissed now that Celia had arrived at her destination, prepared to withdraw the live ammo from Mr. Carlson at any moment, Meredith and Cristina were left with no other option but to return to OR 2, where Derek was blissfully unaware of the cataclysmic event taking place just an OR away.

Trying to keep a lid on their tears and instill a professionally detached front, the two interns strode inside, refastened their gowns and approached the neurosurgeon. Sparing them a fleeting glance, he casually inquired, "How's it going out there?"

Meredith, not trusting herself to articulate a response without breaking down into hysterics, shot Cristina a meaningful look, delegating the task to her. Briskly, Cristina offered a vague, "Everything's fine."

"How's the girl with the bomb?" he probed.

Cristina's expression crumbled and, thankful that Derek's concentration remained fixated on Tucker, fluidly evaded his inquiry with one of her own, "How's he doing?"

"He's almost there," Derek sighed. He then addressed the scrub nurse, "Suction. Irrigate. That's great." His voice sounded lighter and his posture less tense. He continued operating on Tucker until he suddenly realized that neither Yang nor Grey supplied him with an answer – apparently, it happened to be the day's trend. "You didn't answer my question, Yang. Grey."

The blonde burned a hole into the ground while the Korean intern looked up sharply, "Sir?"

Irritated, Derek initiated eye contact, his blue-blue gaze boring into her onyx eyes, "How is the girl with the bomb?" Cristina stared back at him, conflicted. Slowly, a frown materialized on his visage, suddenly realizing that Yang's face was an unhealthy shade of white and her usually stoic demeanor was absent. "Well?" he demanded.

"She's-"

"It's Celia!" Meredith tearfully blurted out, cutting into Cristina's attempt of deception.

At hypersonic speed, Derek whipped around to stare at Meredith, comprehension settling in, now knowing the reason behind the shady behavior Burke, Yang and Grey had been emitting all day, specifically whenever he inquired for an update of the paramedic and the bomb.

"Meredith!" Cristina hissed, rebuking her.

But Derek didn't have a chance to rage over the amount of lies and evasion he had been spoon-fed all day. He didn't have a chance to fret over the Latina, or succumb to guilt. He wasn't even allowed a moment to inquire over Celia's wellbeing. Because at that moment, the heart monitor connected to Tucker flat-lined, requiring all hands on deck and no opportunities for stray thoughts.

"Damn it we're losing him," Derek snapped, quickly ordering the scrub nurse to push one of epi.

Snapped out of her depression, Meredith professionally yelled, "Thready pulse!"

"Epi in!"

When nothing happened, Derek beckoned for Meredith and Cristina to congregate around him. "We're gonna roll him on three. Okay let me know when everybody's ready… Let's go! We gotta go. Come on! Let's go!"

Cristina began performing manual CPR and things continued to look bleak for Tucker. Eventually, Cristina stopped CPR as Meredith adamantly squeezed the ambu bag. The ominous flat-lining noise echoed in the room and panicked, Derek ripped off all the surgical equipment he had on and pushed everyone out of the way, starting CPR himself.

He didn't know if he was letting out all of his frustrations, his guilt, his rage, his jealousy at himself on the performance of CPR. All Derek knew was he couldn't lose this patient. He couldn't think about Celia, her delicate and skilled hands holding a live bomb all day, or that her life on the line… his jealousy that put her there. All the hurtful and hateful words he so callously spat at her reverberating in his head, fusing with the flat-line of the heart monitor. The look of utter anguish he was on the receiving end of after he was done accusing her, and lastly, her final words to him…

"I wish I never accepted that drink."

"That night. At Joe's. The first night we met. I wish I never accepted the drink you sent me. I wish that, that the first time we met was when I approached you regarding Katie Bryce. I wish we never had sex, and I wish I could change the past. Stop your wife from cheating on you, and stop you from ever coming to Seattle. I wish I never knew you."

Tears unknowingly blurred his vision, expression despondent, and with one grief-stricken yell that reverberated in the OR, Derek slowly backed away and brought down his raised fist against Tucker's chest with all the energy his enraged and guilt-ridden state could muster, emitting a loud thump.

Beep… Beep… Beep…

The heart monitor rejoiced as it came to life, Tucker's heart rate rising up signaling that he had escaped death's clutches.

**GA**

Derek.

And with that thought, that name that suddenly echoed like an unwanted mantra in the recess of her mind, Celia's self-hatred massively grew.

"I'm going to extend the wound. When I cut, the bleeding is going to intensify. If we're going to save Mr. Carlson you have to pull the ammo out immediately," Burke revealed, his voice bringing her back to the present as Dylan's quickly followed with an urgent reminder, "But remember, remove it while keeping it as level as possible. Nice and easy. No quick movements. Level."

Sucking in a deep breath, Celia nodded and voiced out her agreement, watching the cut Burke created with the scalpel.

"I'm good. She can go," Burke announced.

Moment of truth.

Dylan couldn't mask the palpable worry from his voice, his professional apathy failing him as, for the first time in his entire career he had fallen in love on the job, "All right now Celia. Wrap your hand around the nose cone… Celia?"

The mirage had returned.

Chocolate eyes were staring at a point somewhere over Burke's shoulder, focused on an empty space in the air; the Moirai had appeared to her again, but Celia's gaze connected with the milky-white eyes of the emaciated wizened woman in between her sisters. Atropos, holding a ball of yarn with one hand, and the other a large shear that glinted ominously, and in an excruciatingly slow motion, it snipped a thread. …The thread of life.

Burke called out her name, "Chávez?"

Derek… Derek… Derek…

"Celia?"

The familiar gruff voice, the caress of her name on his tongue, it caused both, the mirage and Derek to fade away, and blinking, Dylan's face swam into view, his brow furrowed in concern and his dark gaze locked to hers like magnets. And suddenly, Celia realized that Dylan had the potential to be that someone who could save her from her fatal attraction to the neurosurgeon, who could, in time, abolish the love of the most detrimental kind that she felt towards Derek, who could heal her from her haunted past. Dylan was a man who had the possibility of being her anchor, her savior.

Blinking into focus, Celia cleared her throat and stared between Burke and Dylan, her voice quivering and her eyes shining with acceptance. She lifted her free hand and pulled down her scrubs mask, "Meredith should rent out my room. Maybe give it to Alex. I don't want it to be kept as some sort of shrine to me," she squarely met Burke's shocked stare.

"No!" Dylan emphatically interjected, fear gripping his heart as the meaning behind her words dawned on him. "You hear me-"

"You should make sure-" Celia calmly spoke over him, turning to meet Dylan's frantic eyes for a moment before looking back at Burke, "make sure that Meredith doesn't fall in the deep end. I need you and Cristina to help her, help her move on. Take care of Cristina for me, and Mer and Alex and tell them that they're some of the most important people in my life. Tell George and Izzie that I-, that I don't hate them; I never did. And tell my mother that I forgive her. Tell my family that I love them so much." She sucked in a sharp breath and ignored Dylan as he continuously shook his head, grateful that Burke at least, was taking her seriously.

Tell Derek that you're in love with him… that he managed to awaken your soul and open your heart and allow your mind to ponder over the possibility of being loved and cherished and taken care of… Tell Derek that you're haunted by the what-could-have-been's and the if-only's… Tell Derek that loving him was like coming out of a dream, that the short time you spent with him was the happiest you've been in years… Tell Derek that the love you feel for him is real and magical… Tell Derek that-

"And one last thing," Celia inhaled deeply, her lips parted and her dark orbs solemn. "There's a cardboard box hidden in the back of my closet in my room. I need you to tell Meredith that under no circumstances can anyone open it and that I need her to burn it."

Burke inclined his head in agreement.

"Look at me, Celia." Celia acquiesced, unable to conceal her fear in front of Dylan. "Nobody's dying today," he passionately informed her, his previous promise ringing in her ears. "You can do this. It'll be over in a second. You can do this," he softly reassured her, eyes blazing with a gentle passion and… was that love?

Celia nodded, her gaze drifting to her hand. "I can do this," she repeated. Celia shoved her fear deep down into the darkest recesses of her being and padlocked the door, and slowly, keeping her hand level, successfully pulled the bomb out. Then, she carefully deposited the bomb into Dylan's outstretched hands and finally let go.

Dylan smiled at her and whispered, "You did good." before he promptly moved away from the operating table, allowing Burke to start operating on Mr. Carlson.

It was as Dylan disappeared out the door did Celia recognize that something had been off with his parting smile… that the look in his eyes resembled the one Meredith had given her before, a look that implied he was committing her face to memory because—

"No!" she whispered to herself before rushing out the door and after Dylan, ice filling her veins and her heart pounding painfully against her ribcage as the realization settled in. She rounded the corner and her gaze connected with Dylan's back.

Like in the movies, it happened in slow motion…

Just as Dylan was a few steps away from another member of his squad who stood before him, ready to receive the bomb, it detonated. The explosion was loud and deafening, her ears ringing painfully with its echo; the force so strong that her entire form flung backward and she landed on her back with a loud thud.

The sound of the gunfire reverberated in her ears and echoed in the confined space.

She flinched at the deafening noise and the explosive crack in the air.

"DADDY!"

She blinked a couple of times to clear her vision and then, she simply stared in disbelief.

Celia didn't care about the debris, the blood and the flesh that caked her entire form. She barely spared a second glance at the destroyed hallway, the scrub rooms and the windows. She couldn't feel her own wounds inflicted by the blast. All Celia cared about, was the fact that Dylan had vanished into thin air, nowhere to be seen, not even a limb or a pinky finger. Just flecks of flesh and blood…

That's what the bomb squad calls you when you blow up… Pink mist.

Overwhelmed with grief, dark spots infiltrated her vision and she gladly welcomed the darkness of oblivion.

**GA**

"Alright people! They're coming up," Richard announced as nearly the entire staff of Seattle Grace crowded by the elevators, awaiting the survivors to step out.

Adele had grabbed her husband's hand in a tight grip, concerned for her niece. Alex, Izzie and George were congregated nearby, waiting on tenterhooks.

Finally, the doors slid open, revealing Derek and Burke. Exchanging meaningful looks, Burke smiled, "Derek." acknowledging his name and therefore, admitting that they were friends now after the horrifying episode they lived through. Derek's face split into a small grin, "Preston."

The two world class surgeons stepped out and approached the throng, but Derek had eyes for only one person and frantically scanned through the sea of people, his heart clenching painfully upon realizing that she wasn't there…

"Where is she?" Derek anxiously shouted, eyes slightly manic as he walked over to Richard.

The Chief half-heartedly glowered at him, "You had to be a cowboy."

But Derek's concentration was elsewhere, and he frantically repeated, "Where, where is she?"

There was a slight sparkle in Richard's eyes in response to Derek's anxiousness and unadulterated desperation, inwardly ecstatic that his dearest friends were beginning to patch up their broken marriage. He gestured over to Addison, who promptly launched into Derek's arms and his smile threatened to split his face in half. That was until Adele voiced a peculiar observation that had his smile dim and his confusion escalate.

Adele, intimately recognizing the expression a husband wears when their heart pumped for another woman, leaned close and whispered into her husband's ear, "That is not the 'she' he was asking for."

Richard, eyes wide, scrutinized Derek's face, bleakly realizing that Adele was correct.

Addison was happy all right. Positively thrilled as she clutched her husband in a tight embrace, her face shining with relief and the aftershock of her panicked state throughout the hellish day, but Derek? Derek had yet to lose the expression of manic desperation, his eyes wildly scouring the vicinity for somebody that was not his wife.

**GA**

"There's someone at the door for you," Izzie softly addressed Celia, who had been unresponsive in Meredith's embrace on the couch in front of the fireplace ever since she returned from the hospital four hours ago.

After having fainted, Celia was awakened by the sensation of cold water colliding against her skin. Although they felt like lead, the Latina managed to open her eyelids and saw that Meredith, Cristina and Izzie had carried her into the shower and were diligently removing all the blood, flesh and debris that coated her like a second skin. Once she was somewhat decent, Richard and Adele showered her with hugs and affection before they promptly sent her home with Meredith under strict orders to rest.

Celia had been in a state of shock ever since, not bothering to expel any words and definitely not any tears. What she did do, however, was burst into hysterical laughter like a deranged pyscho, exclaiming that she escaped a freaking bomb with a tiny scratch on her forehead and a bruised back, while Dylan – sweet, brave Dylan – ended up becoming pink mist. Half an hour later, she allowed Meredith to spoon her and Celia returned to her silent state, mourning Dylan in silence.

She dragged her feet to the front door which had been left ajar by Izzie and while her face remained morose and impassive, her eyes fractionally widened in surprise at her unexpected visitor.

She stared at him expectantly, not bothering to fill in the silence that enveloped them.

Derek on the other hand, his face lit up with relief and he expelled a loud breath, a soft smile materializing on his devastatingly handsome face, "You almost died today."

Celia inclined her head in agreement, and in a raspy, barely audible voice, murmured, "I know."

He looked pained for a moment and parted his lips, ready to take back all the hurtful things he said, ready to confess something to her, anything, but instead, he turned his back, stepped outside and whispered, "I'm glad you didn't die today."

The door closed softly behind him and Celia trudged back into Meredith's warm embrace.

If this was your last day on Earth, how would you wanna spend it?

A/N: This was a long chapter! Whew!

I've been waiting for this chapter ever since I began writing this story, and I am so thrilled with it! I hope you like it as well… This Chapter is very important to future chapters, just FYI.

Dylan, Dylan, Dylan… I honestly adored him and hated the fact that he died. I know it might seem odd and very OOC of Celia to get attached to him and see him in a romantic light, but hey, death does crazy things to people, it makes people come out of their shell. Celia thought she was gonna die so I think that's a perfectly good reason to discard her mask, don't you think?

Don't worry, we haven't seen the last of Dylan… ;) but I gotta admit… I am totally pissed at the direction my story was going for a short moment 'cause I could really imagine Celia and Dylan together… Oh well.

The flashbacks shed light to a part of Celia's past… it will be stressed upon in details later as the story progresses. && About the whole Moirai concept: like in canon, Meredith's mind conjured Derek, Celia's conjured the Fates… so yeah, they don't really exist, just a hallucination. Hope you liked the twist from canon. =)

Next chapter: We will be tackling SO many issues… there will be a confrontation between: 1) Richard and Celia – about damn time! 2) Celia and Derek – finally! 3) Derek and Kane – and that's gonna be very interesting.

Also, next chapter, there might be an introduction to a special OC of mine… ;)

Question: What should I do about Denny Duquette? Should I have him live or die? The poll… starts… NOW!

R&R.