WARNING: Story contains some potentially graphic character deaths. I don't recommend reading this if you're sensitive about the current pandemic or are triggered by anything to do with it.

Thank you to all the real-life essential workers!

So, here's the obligatory epidemic fanfiction. It's pretty AU, from the beginning of Season 2 onwards, and timeline wise is occurring around the time of Season 6 or 7. Most major events in the seasons in-between should have stayed the same, except for these: Denny lives and ends up with Izzie (who doesn't get cancer), George doesn't die or join the army, Addison doesn't abort Mark's baby or move to LA, and Meredith and Derek marry and have kids earlier. Hope you all enjoy!

CHAPTER ONE: MEET 'N' GREET

A doctor, a priest, and a college student walk into a bar.

It may not sound like they've got a lot in common, but at the very least, they've all had a bad day.

The doctor sits down first, ordering a shot and slamming it down rapidly.

"Eesh," the college student remarks, sitting down next to her. "Tough night?"

"You can say that again," the doctor sighs. "Another one, please, Joe!"

"Oh." The college student takes a sip of her cocktail. Her eyes are drawn to the hospital ID around the doctor's neck. "Did one of your patients die?"

This is probably around the time when the two women first catch the priest's attention.

The doctor blinks. "Er, no. Well, yes, at some point, but that's not- I'm upset 'cause I asked my girlfriend to marry me and she- she didn't want to." Remembering the night's events brings tears to the doctor's eyes again, and she chokes down her next shot.

"And it's not even like we'd never talked about marriage before, y'know?" The doctor continues wetly. "I thought we'd agreed it was the next best step for us! God, I'm- I'm sorry, I don't cry usually, I never cry, but…"

"Oh, honey." The college student places a hand on the doctor's shoulder. "I know just how you feel."

The doctor sniffs. "You do?" There's a hopeful tone to her voice.

"Yeah! It's almost, like, uncanny. Today, me and my best friend Jessica were supposed to go out together, but then she told me she had food poisoning and couldn't go. Except when I went on Instagram like, just now, I saw pictures of Jessica out clubbing with Chelsea and Allie."

"Jessica sounds like a bitch."

"Thanks." The college student takes a deep, meditative breath, and fans herself with a napkin, possibly in an attempt to dry the tears gathering in her eyes before they have the chance to smear her mascara. "But I'm not gonna let her bother on me."

The doctor nods approvingly. "Good for you!"

"We're going on Spring Break tomorrow. I'm not about to start some drama and ruin the best week of my life."

"Oh, where are you going?" The doctor welcomes the distraction, the memories of her own college days, tries to recreate that youthful enthusiasm.

"Miami." The college student beams. "I can't wait to hit the beach and get some sun, what with all the rain that's been in Seattle lately."

"No way! I grew up in Florida – you'll love it!"

"Cool! Have you got any recommendations for places to go?"

"There's this one restaurant that you absolutely have to visit, they've got amazing seafood. I took Arizona there and-"

The name slips out of her lips completely by accident, and it makes her freeze. She's not used to it bringing her so much pain.

The doctor bursts into tears again.

"Aw, no, don't cry!" The college student dabs at the doctor's face with the napkin that she has been playing with during their conversation. "It's okay, it's okay."

"It's not okay!"

A hand settling on her shoulder startles the doctor. She looks up, and meets the priest's eyes.

"I couldn't help but overhear," he says gently. "And I thought I might be of comfort."

"Nothing could comfort me right now." The doctor swipes at the tears on her face with the back of her arm. "Except maybe tequila. And ice-cream."

"We can get you tequila!" The college student is bright as she calls, "Excuse me! Excuse me! Can we get some tequila, please!"

The priest sits down on the doctor's other side. "I know it may feel like that right now, and it may feel like that for a while. I baptised a baby boy at the hospital today who probably isn't going to survive the night. Sometimes it feels as if life just keeps kicking those of us who are down." Being a priest isn't exactly a job that's designed to be easy. "But you have to remember, everything happens for a reason."

The doctor leans forward. She's not exactly a massive fan of the 'everything happens for a reason' spiel, given she's seen a lot of good people die and a lot of bad people live, but she grew up religious and speaking to a priest does offer some sort of comfort.

"Maybe you're meant to marry someone else, later on. Maybe you're meant to marry this woman, but later. Maybe you're meant for something greater than marriage. Whatever you're meant for, there's still plenty of joy in your future."

The doctor shrugs, not quite willing to admit that this is helping. "I guess."

"Here you go!" The college student stumbles back into her seat, spilling pretzels from a small bowl she stole off another table. "It's not ice-cream, but it's somethin'." She grabs a fistful, and shoves them into the doctor's mouth. The doctor has little choice but to accept the offering.

"Thanks," she says, somewhat muffled by the mouthful of food. She's not exactly feeling fantastic right now, but she's not crying anymore, which is something.

"Are priests allowed to drink?" The college student asks, teetering dangerously on her barstool.

"In moderation."

The college student nods. "Ah. I thought bars might just be a good place to collect sinners. I am twenty-one, by the way."

"Of course." A smile dances across the priest's lips. He takes a pretzel.

The three of them talk for a while, before gradually splitting off. The doctor has to sleep off her drinks before her next shift at work. The priest has a sermon to prepare. The college student has a cute guy she plans on spending the night with.

The bar is The Emerald City Bar. The college student is Lindsey Price. The priest is Father Thomas. The doctor is Callie Torres. And by the end of the night, they will all be infected.

It's been two days when Arizona finally manages to corner Callie by the nurse's station. Two days since Arizona refused her proposal, and two days since Callie left before she could explain. She's been staying at Cristina's, but Cristina won't let Arizona into her apartment, toting some newfound sense of loyalty – the two of them aren't even that close!

"We need to talk," Arizona declares.

"Do we?" Callie's looking down at her clipboard, refusing to meet Arizona's eyes. Arizona can tell she's only pretending to check her notes, because her eyes aren't moving.

"Yes, we do, actually." Arizona tosses a glance around their surroundings, and notices that Nurse Debbie is too close for comfort. "In private?"

"I think we've talked enough."

"I got to say one word. I wouldn't really call that talking."

"You got to say two, actually. 'Cause you said, 'I can't' instead of just, 'no.' Which is a lie, by the way, because you can. But you won't. 'Cause we don't love each other like that, apparently."

"It's not that I won't-" Arizona attempts to explain, frantically, before Callie can continue, but she's interrupted once more when her girlfriend finally looks up.

Callie looks terrible. Her face is all flushed and there are bags under her eyes.

"I don't have time for this. Somebody's paging me."

It's a lie – Arizona hasn't heard the familiar buzzing, and Callie hasn't so much as glanced at her pager. But she lets her go.

If Callie wants to be immature about this, then fine. Arizona will just have to wait until she calms down.

She huffs, sending a glare towards Nurse Debbie. If Callie just listened…

"Tough morning?" Alex asks, walking over with some patient files.

"It was tough two days ago. Now I don't even know what to call it."

Alex winces sympathetically. "She's pissed about you going to Africa?"

"I wish. She never even let me tell her about Africa."

"What? What are you fighting about, then?"

"She proposed."

"She proposed!"

Arizona shushes him. "I don't need the whole hospital talking about it!"

"But- I don't get it. I thought you two were all in love and all that." He pulls a face, like so much as saying the word 'love' triggers his commitment issue reflexes.

"We are." Hurt flashes across Arizona's face. "Or at least, I thought we were. If she loved me, she'd let me explain."

Alex shrugs. "It's pretty humiliating bring rejected like that."

"I was only looking out for her. Long-distance relationships are hard – I don't want us getting engaged before I leave, before she even knows I'm leaving, in case things get rough and it doesn't work out."

"You need coffee and a donut," Alex decides. "And then you need to forget about Callie. She'll talk to you when she's ready."

"Really, you'll get me coffee and a donut?" Alex has changed over the years, but not that much.

"Montgomery's treat," Alex explains, with a grin. "I'm off to get her morning vanilla latte, like the great pet monkey I am."

"Go on then." Arizona rolls her eyes, turning back around to focus on some patient's notes.

Small, sticky hands wrap around Meredith's legs. "Don't go, Mommy!"

Meredith throws an apologetic look at the daycare worker, who's been dealing with this for way too long. She squats down, carefully peeling her son's hands off her legs. She keeps hold of them, so she can look Matthew in the eyes without him pulling away.

"Matty, Mommy has to go work. I have to go help the sick people."

Matthew squirms, scrunching up his round, little face. "But you have to help me!"

If Meredith was her mother and Matthew was Meredith, this would not be happening right now. Ellis would have scolded Meredith for being selfish twenty-seven minutes ago, and left her wailing in the daycare worker's arms.

But, Meredith reminds herself, she is not her mother. It has been her mantra for the past five years, since Matthew was a small blob of cells drifting about inside her. I am not my mother, I am not my mother.

And if she wants to be a good mother, she needs to be patient. He's only going through a clingy phase – the more supportive she is now, the shorter this will last in the long term.

"What do you need help with?" She asks.

Matthew pouts. "My shoes need to be tied tighter."

"Okay," Meredith agrees, and obediently reties the glow in the dark, Ben-10 sneakers. "Done. Can Mommy go now?"

"I need a hug, too."

Meredith hesitates. This could be a trap. Once he's attached, he might not let go.

"Come here, then." Warily, she opens her arms out, and he runs into her embrace, squeezing his arms around her neck. Although he's making her late and she should be in a hurry, Meredith can't help but relax a little, breathing in the smell of Johnson's baby shampoo and play-dough.

It's hard to imagine that one day, he'll be big and won't want to hug her like this anymore.

Finally, they part. "Are we good now?" Meredith asks, shuffling back slightly in case Matthew flings himself at her again.

Matthew hums, looking around the room. It's clear he's running out of ideas to procrastinate her departure.

"I need you to help me build a Lego tower!" He grabs her hand, tugging.

"Matthew, I could help you build a Lego tower," the daycare worker offers, stepping forward.

"Mommy does it better!"

"Matty, I'm really sorry, but Mommy doesn't have the time to build a Lego tower. I can give you another hug if you want, but I need to go." Meredith tries to sound firm, as if she has any authority here.

It's a good thing her interns can't see her right now.

Tears begin to well up in wide, green eyes. Matthew sits down, crossing his arms against his chest. Meredith, sensing a budding tantrum, places a hand on her forehead, hoping in vain that it may help hide her identity. Not again.

"Hello!"

The arrival of another person on the scene distracts Matthew. "Oh, hello!" He says brightly, as if he wasn't about to start wailing at a volume that could break glass ten seconds ago.

"Are you going to work, Aunt Mer?" Dashiell Sloan asks.

"Yes, I am," Meredith says, in a tone so merry that even a four year old must be able to tell it's fake. "I was just saying bye to Matty. He's going to be building a Lego tower today, aren't you, baby?"

"Mommy said she'd help," Matthew adds.

"Actually, I can't. I have to go help my patients."

"I'll build a tower with you!" Dash offers immediately. Mentally, Meredith cheers. If she plays her cards right, this might work out.

"Yeah, don't you wanna build a tower with Dash?" She asks Matthew enthusiastically.

Matthew furrows his brow, deep in thought. Meredith can practically see the cogs in his brain turning, weighing up the advantages and disadvantages of agreeing.

"We could build lots of towers and make it like a town," Dash adds. "Like New York!" He went there with his parents over Christmas, and now has a small obsession.

"Okay!" Matthew decides, jumping up and grabbing Dash's hand.

Side by side, there's a comic difference between the two children's heights. Although they managed to be born in the same school year by a hair (Dash was born shortly after the hospital's prom, while Matthew was conceived during) and thus will be starting kindergarten together soon, Dash is almost a head taller.

"Bye, love you!" Meredith calls after her son, but it seems that after all that fuss, he's forgotten she exists, because he runs off with his friend and doesn't look back.

"It's amazing how quickly their moods change," the daycare worker comments, smiling. "Have a nice day, Dr. Shepherd."

"Thanks. You too!"

Meredith leaves before Matthew can change his mind again, heading off for rounds.

"Alright," Cristina announces as she joins her friends, who are sat on a gurney. "Let's play a game. Whose life sucks the most right now?"

She's met with dull looks and silence. Alex yawns.

Izzie takes a bite of her candy bar. "My life's pretty awesome right now. Denny and I are thinking of trying for baby."

"You are?" George lifts his head, smiling. "That's great! I put dibs on godfather!"

"No, nope," Cristina shuts them down. "I don't care. Stop with the baby talk. No more bright and shiny. You'll be disqualified from the game."

Izzie rolls her eyes.

"I have a date with one of the paediatrics nurses tonight," Alex offers.

"How is that a bad thing?" There's a note of jealousy in George's voice.

"'Cause after tonight, she's gonna be ruined for other men."

George snorts. Cristina raises her eyebrows.

Izzie takes another bite of her candy bar. "You wish."

"You're just jealous."

"I'm jealous." George sighs. "This dry spell is killing me."

"Is it really a dry spell if you weren't getting any to begin with?"

"Hey!"

"It's me," Cristina interrupts, flinging herself dramatically in-between Izzie and George, somehow managing to hit both in the process. "My life sucks the most right now."

"And here I was thinking you invented this game because you had an interest in our private lives."

"Callie's going through all of the stages of grief and you know, I'm a good friend. I dealt with Meredith and McDreamy. I get it. But she's so annoying."

"Oh, yeah, that." Alex shifts on the gurney, which is really too crowded now that Cristina's there, and George groans as Alex's knee sticks into his kidney. "Arizona's pissed."

"Arizona's pissed? Callie's the one whose proposal got rejected."

"Yeah, well, if Callie had stuck around to listen to Arizona-"

"Oh, shut up!" Izzie interrupts. "I don't want to listen to your second hand relationship problems."

Cristina huffs. "I just want my apartment back."

"Nobody's making you share it."

"I can't just kick her out. What if she cries again?"

"Really, that's your only problem with kicking her out?"

"Hey guys," Meredith greets her friends. "What's up?"

"The sky," Alex snarks.

"Very clever." Izzie shoves him.

Meredith frowns. The pit is pretty empty. There are a few people getting stitches, an elderly woman with a broken arm, but none of the usual bustle, or sirens, or ambulances crashing through hospital walls. She half-expects a tumbleweed to drift across the floor.

You could almost say it's…

"Don't say it," Cristina says. "Don't you dare."

"I'm not gonna say it."

"Don't even think it."

"I'm not gonna think it."

"It's probably 'cause of spring break," Izzie says. "School's out and everybody wants to get away…"

"Lucky them."

"We should all go away sometime," George says. "All of us. Someplace warm, where it doesn't rain."

"And where there's cocktails."

"And beaches."

"And hot chicks."

A sense of peace spreads over the group as they let themselves imagine it, imagine the salty taste of the sea breeze, the soft sand between their toes. And then the information that there's an incoming ambulance sends them all scrambling.

"Fifty-two year old male, collapsed while delivering a sermon at church. He's tachycardic, temperature 104.2…" One of the paramedics recites as they unload the stretcher, revealing a priest.

"Sir," Meredith jobs alongside the stretcher, trying to stay in view of the patient's face. "Sir, can you hear me?"

The patient starts convulsing. George and Izzie rush to get him into the correct position.

"I need someone to get a line in him, and get me 2 milligrams of Ativan, please! Somebody page Dr. Shepherd."

But by the time Derek rushes into the pit, the patient is cold and glassy-eyed. Dead.