xxvii. couples — best friend therapy
10.10

Atlas is looking at Ben Warren and his husband like they've grown three heads. Maybe it's because Ben freaking Warren just admitted that his wife, Miranda Bailey, aka Atlas's person, was committing "malpractice" because of her growing ocd.

"Stop." Derek finally says, placing a hand on Ben's shoulder. "You gotta stop now, Ben. Anything else said is going to be to Owen."

Atlas frowns when he turns to Ben, and only Ben. He doesn't look at Derek, he doesn't look at Derek's research. He blocks everything out and looks at Ben, "She didn't tell me."

Derek reaches out, but Atlas moves away. He's hurt. His heart aches because his person, ( and remember, Atlas is Miranda Baileys person too ) didn't tell him that she was struggling. That she needed help. That her life was changing.

"I gotta talk to Bails." Atlas mutters as he reaches for the door, and before Derek can even reach for his husband, Atlas is down the hall and heading towards the icu, where he hopes he'll find Bailey.

He doesn't find her, not right away anyways. He finds her standing over a patient, fixing the tools so they're straight and evenly spaced between each other.

"Bails." Atlas says, tying the mask around his face as he steps closer to the operating table. She doesn't answer, she doesn't even turn her head towards him. "Miranda."

That catches her, and she looks over her shoulder, confused. "Atlas? What are you doing here?"

"Ben went to the board." Atlas doesn't hold back, and when he sees Miranda Bailey drop the tool onto the floor, he's reaching for her, not the surgical tool. "I'm sorry."

"He did what?" She splutters out as a nurse picks up the tool, replacing it with a clean, freshly just opened one. "He went to the board about what?"

"You."

Bailey cracks. She steps away from the patient, hands shaking. She's pulling at her gloves as she counts her fingers. Atlas is already barking an order to an intern, who's scrambling to page Meredith Grey and Owen Hunt. When they arrive, Atlas is wrapping his arms around  Miranda Bailey, pulling her close to his chest.

He ushers her out of the room as Owen Hunt tells her that she's suspended until further notice — that an investigation needs to be done before she can return to work.

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"Thank you, Miranda and Atlas, for meeting with me today." Doctor Roman Rhee, Atlas's favourite personal to go to when his probably are too much for Derek to handle, his therapist with more than enough degrees on the wall. "So, Atlas, you made the appointment with me today, would you like to share why?"

Atlas looks at Bailey; it had taken him two days for her to agree to this. For her to even respond to Atlas's messages. He understood, he did. "I'm worried about my best friend."

Miranda Bailey isn't in the best place, her mind somewhere else since the patient died because of an infection she had that she didn't know about. She blamed herself, and her way of coping was with her growing ocd.

"You didn't say Miranda, or Bailey. You said best friend. Why?" Doctor Rhee, asks, tiling his head and scribbling notes in his Atlas deemed notebook. He noticed the man's hesitation, and he smiled. "It's okay, Atlas."

"She's my person." Atlas reached out to grab her hand, but ultimately he let it drop against his own lap. "She's my best friend, she's my Bails."

Bailey sniffled and tried to hide it. Doctor Rhee turned his attention towards her, smiling softly as he did so. "Is there anything you'd like to share, Miranda?"

It's quiet, and no one is pushing her to talk. "Tucker made a joke this morning that me and Atlas were doing couples therapy." She started, wiping at her tears but she smiled ever so slightly. "He said "mom, you and Uncle Atlas are like a married couple who love each other too much to burden the other with pain. It's a couples therapy day!""

Roman scribbled something in his book, underlining the word Uncle four times before he looked back up. "It does feel like couples therapy, they're oddly similar. If it makes you more comfortable, I do have many appointments between friends to work out any issues they have."

"She never came to me." Atlas blurted. There had been a pause in the conversation after Roman Rhee had spoken, and it just came spilling out. "I just don't know why she hadn't come to me and tell me what was happening."

Roman hums, tapping his pen against the notebook. "Did you ask Miranda why she hadn't told you?"

Atlas frowns. "No..."

"Why not ask, Atlas." Roman smiled with encouragement, gesturing to the woman who was sitting beside Atlas. "Nothing could hurt if you asked."

Atlas shuffled, so he was sitting on the couch facing Bailey, instead of facing towards Roman. "Bails ... why — why didn't you tell me something was going on?"

Miranda Bailey was quiet, fiddling with her nails as she tried to avoid eye contact. "I couldn't give you more to worry about,"

"I'll always worry about you, Bails. Ever since the ice cream police — and until we're sitting beside each other in a retirement place talking over tubs of butter at breakfast."

Tears were shed, sniffles echoed, and hugs were shared. By the end of the hour, Atlas Lee — Sunny and Miranda Bailey were okay. They shared their stories, promised each other they'd tell them if something was wrong, and left their appointment with the idea that ice cream would fix everything.

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authors note, hi!
hi! poor atlas and bailey, they're just living in a world where things seem to be against them. thanks for reading!