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Carina still remembered the moment she thought she had lost everything—her wife, her marriage, her dreams, her grip on herself. The tears that had fallen down her cheeks, the ragged inhales that followed, had felt so final.
She’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop for months now. She hated that she almost waited for her life to crumble into pieces, but it was a ritualistic habit at this point. The universe would like to test her, and Carina had grown up knowing that her life would occasionally fall to pieces.
The patterns were practically written in stone. It was hard to dispute the facts.
Her parents’ marriage deteriorated. Andrea’s birth. The beginnings of mania. Lucia taking them to Nonna’s house coast for routine trips. The physical threats from Vicenzio. Andrea learning how to walk and talk. The shouting matches between her parents, dishes being thrown against the wall. Andrea’s obsession with his big sister. Vicenzio’s manic incident, resulting in four people dying. More time at Nonna’s, days at the beach. Lucia taking Andrea and leaving for America. Carina meeting Gabriella. Vicenzio’s continued absence.
Then, she had seen the same thing with her love life. She and Maya seemed to experience those familiar highs and lows, alternating between paradise and spats. Despite it all, they promised one another that they would navigate the chaos of life together as one, and Carina had almost trusted it.
However, Maya’s unjust demotion on the day of their wedding had begun a downward spiral that nearly killed her, and brought Carina to a dark place that she hadn’t known since Andrea’s death. It had been agonizing to be alone and to grieve what they’d lost for both of them. They’d grown together, and not being by each other’s side felt like a knife to the heart.
Maya, wracked with guilt but filled to the brim with determination, began to piece herself back together, and after jumpstarting her journey, initiated her intent to save their marriage. Carina hadn’t been sure that Maya meant what she said. She’d learnt by now that hope was cruel, a thief in the night waiting to take the last ember of good that remained.
It was at the station during a free clinic when Ben had urged Ross to share what had happened early that morning, where Maya turned down the opportunity for captaincy. Carina had reeled with that knowledge.
“Well, uh, your wife just turned down the opportunity to be considered as captain of nineteen,”
Carina had laughed for a moment, shaking her head profusely. It didn’t compute in her head what Ross had just said. “No, n-no no. There’s nothing that she wants more than her captaincy back,” She'd said.
Ben had pursed his lips, a small smile on his face. “Mmm, you’re wrong… Cause there’s something she wants more,”
Carina was scared. She’d barely survived the aftermath of the hospital shouting match, and there was a part of her that felt as if things would fall apart once more. Maya had left her both phone and text messages, apologizing profusely and promising that she was better, but Carina couldn’t get herself to respond. She was beyond hurt by what had been said, by Maya throwing Andrea’s death in her face…
Yet, Maya was here. Her cheeks were rosy with life, and the bags under her eyes had receded. This version of Maya was healthy. Happy. She gave up a chance at restoring her captaincy because it wasn’t the most important thing any longer. Carina was.
So, Carina took a chance. Maya was clearly serious about this, and Carina wasn’t ready to give up the best part of her life. Maya was her soulmate. Carina agreed to come back home, and things had been good for a while. It had been great, even, until the ghosts of those six months began to haunt Carina. It had become too much, and Carina couldn't hold back the grief any longer.
“I’m sorry for everything I put you through. It wasn’t fair. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to you when you tried to help me,” Maya admitted, her voice trembling. She rose from the bed in her oversized long sleeve and black fuzzy socks, a look of such seriousness across her face. Carina leant against the dresser, her hair still tucked in her lavender shirt. She was pursing her lips, trying to will her tears back down.
“I know that the version of us that is happy and light and lovely died in that hospital that day…” Maya had begun, sniffles surrounded them as Carina lost the battle of holding her tears back. Maya was inches from Carina’s face, possessing such gentleness. With her hands, Maya cupped Carina’s tear-streaked face, her thumbs caressing her wife’s cheeks. Carina leant into the touch, and then when the tears became too much, she bowed her head, the crown of it resting against Maya’s chest. Her body shook with silent cries.
Maya pressed her lips gently against Carina’s head. Carina felt those gentle breaths and Maya’s heart beating in a consistent rhythm. “But I am willing to put in the work to rebuild us. To make us stronger and better. Because I know from the first time that I saw you in that bar…”
Carina lifted her head, blinking tears from her eyes as Maya held her face once more. Her hands were pleasantly warm, the touch reassuring. Maya was giving a small, hopeful smile. Carina held her breath, helplessly hoping.
“You were the person that I wanted to call,”
The promise Maya made to her that day reassured Carina. Those demons, the ghosts, began to recede, and then the firefighter ball had brought them closer once more; the agreement to start IVF and the rekindling of their intimate life left Carina feeling like she was walking on the clouds.
“I cannot believe that I’m here, that we’re here together,” Maya had whispered softly.
Carina, her fingers in her wife’s beautiful blonde locks, smiled. “After so long. You, amore mio, are my everything,” She’d hummed, and Maya’s cheeks flushed a brilliant pink.
The terrifying events of the firefighter’s ball were just days later. A night of celebration had quickly turned into a nightmare when the floor gave way, resulting in casualties. Micheal Dixon had died, along with a pregnant waitress, and dozens people were injured. Carina was left with no choice but to perform an emergency c-section along with her wife to save the baby in an industrial kitchen, a sentence she never thought she would say, but the baby survived.
Just when they thought things were okay, Jack collapsed. He had a minor brain bleed that required surgery, but one Amelia Shepherd had been the one to assure the team that he would make it through. Once he woke up, nineteen had called him every name under the sun, thankful he would be okay. The extent of the injury meant he could no longer be a firefighter, and the day he’d signed his name underneath the table in the beanery had been a hard one. Everything was beginning to change, and it wasn’t easy. Maya and Carina had fallen in love with the baby from the firefighter’s ball, Liam, and had been approved to foster him. Liam and his beautiful hazel eyes, rosy cheeks and gummy smile, was their world.
All of that was three years ago, and in the three years since, their lives had flourished in ways Carina didn’t know was possible.
Liam was now three, officially a DeLuca-Bishop and a big brother—his one-year-old sister, Andrea, was his shadow. Motherhood had changed Maya and Carina, had changed everything. It wasn’t easy, nor was it overnight, but it was foundational. Together, they’d found a new rhythm—sleep deprived and chaotic, but full of joy and purpose. Parenthood didn’t fix everything, but it gave their love new roots, a shared center. Liam and Andrea were their reason to slow down, hold tighter, and choose each other time and time again.
While the task of being a mother, being their mother, was some days a challenge, Carina was excited. Each day was a blessing that she felt so fortunate to have. Had someone told her ten years ago that motherhood was a concept that brought her butterflies and a smile that couldn’t be wiped off her face, Carina would have laughed.
But looking at Andrea, Maya and Liam, that missing piece had slid into place. She didn’t even know she was missing something, but Carina felt impossibly whole. Her heart overflowed every time she saw Liam melt into Maya’s arms, watching Andrea follow Liam everywhere, hearing their shrieks of laughter, witnessing Maya rocking their children back and forth like they had been birthed from her very heart, Carina felt something click. That hole in her heart, that pain about her past, the ache of everything she’d endured… Andrea, Maya and Liam filled it.
The world around them had changed, too.
Victoria and Travis had moved across the country, but were in constant touch. Once every two months, they would grace the DeLuca-Bishop home, bearing enough gifts that it was a wonder they had room for more at all.
Andy or Jack were never far, either. While Andy had risen to Battalion Chief within the SFD, taking Natasha Ross’s position after her retirement, Jack was thriving as an emergency dispatcher. His calling to help people was being fulfilled, though it was different than before. The two of them took their relationship slowly at first, but life hardly ever went as planned. After Andy had collapsed at work on a routine call, Carina had been the one to deliver the news—they were pregnant. It had been a battle the two of them grappled with, but they ultimately chose to take their opportunity by the horns, and nine months later, welcomed their son, Ryan.
Grey-Sloan had changed alongside station nineteen; Ben had come back to the hospital and was undergoing another residency. Amelia and Meredith were piloting a research program. They’d seen Cormac Hayes go, and Monica Beltran come. New interns graced their halls. Addison Montgomery came periodically, as did Arizona Robbins.
Miranda Bailey had taken a step back from work and was on a sabbatical. Pru was certainly not complaining, and enjoyed every second she could with the mother that had taken her under her wing. Miranda Bailey had been instrumental in guiding the hospital through years of trauma and obstacles, but after some reflection, had chosen to finally put herself first. She’d all but handed the clinic—which had been renamed to the DeLuca-Bailey Memorial Clinic—to Carina and Addison, and given that Addison was often travelling with the mobile clinic and battling the political restrictions on women’s health, Carina’s professional workload had changed immensely.
She’d once said she’d wanted to open her own practice, to make a difference in women’s health, and this was as close as it was getting. As Carina found herself taking more on, Maya had quickly offered to take time off to do what she could to help. The gesture had made Carina breathless—Maya, who was once so taken with ambition that she would sacrifice herself to climb SFD’s ladder, who refused to take vacation or sick days, going into work sick and injured, had offered to take a sabbatical, to step away from the job profession loved so much.
“I found what mattered most to me, and it’s not my job,” Maya had shrugged as if this was as simple as telling the weather and not undeniable proof of her mental growth. “I lost sight of what was important to me years ago. I’m not making that mistake again. You and our family, Carina, are my gold medal. You three are the light at the end of the tunnel. My happy ending. You are it,”
For Carina, saving lives was no longer about rushing into surgeries or emergency rooms. It was about sitting still, listening, and trusting the women who walked through her door. Together, the clinic had become a space of power, safety, of understanding, of belief and trust. Carina was beyond proud to play a part in making a difference, in helping make reproductive care more accessible, in helping her patients. The women who came to her were real people, with struggles and dreams and feelings, all of whom deserved more than cursory glances and the dismissals they got.
They were that something powerful, that larger than life force.
Despite the fact that their country had turned its back on women and their ability to choose to do with their own bodies, the work that DeLuca-Bailey Memorial Clinic did remained the same. Regardless of the protesters that flocked outside, regardless of the bricks they threw and cars they rammed into interns, their work would always continue. Their patients depended on them, and their purpose would not be deterred by uneducated, hateful and bigoted protesters that flocked outside. The fact was, that this clinic did more than provide abortions; it provided necessary reproductive care for women. One that could not be understated.
Today had been ordinary.
Carina had spent hours filling out paperwork. It had been a quiet, calm day, interrupted sporadically by texts from Maya, sending pictures of the kids, updates on their antics—today’s was Andrea refusing to put on clothes—and other small things.
It was hard to be away from her family so often and for so long. Carina missed them between breaths, the beats of her heart and in both the busy and calm moments of the day. On the days where being away from them was hard, Maya made excuses to bring the kids to visit Carina during her lunch break, coming with coffee and a pastry from the Italian bakery around the corner. Today was a day that Carina had missed them more than she could express, and while their one-year-old was attempting a coup of her own at home, a delivery of coffee and a pastry had still made its way to Carina’s desk.
She had a patient consultation at four, just an hour before the clinic was supposed to close, and before she knew it, a quiet knock on her office door jarred her from her thoughts. Carina turned, and a smiling nurse greeted her.
“Doctor DeLuca, your four o’clock consult, Mrs Richards, has arrived. She’s in patient room four.”
Kimberly Richards was one of the most kind people Carina had met. She was the epitome of joy, of caring and grace, a reflection of empathy and all things good. Her smile was warm and radiated through the room, and the optimism she wore seemed effortless. Her presence was warm and lifelike, hopeful and bright. The kindness she spoke with and the sincerity of her words seemed to touch every corner of the room. She held tightly to her husband, Dave’s, hand, and the love in his eyes when he looked at her made Carina’s heart flutter. He looked at his wife like she was the promise of all things bright and good, like she painted the night sky with its stars, like she was the horizon, his promise of a happy ending.
They’d flown in from Kentucky, Dave explained, because they had heard of the work the clinic did as well as the doctors who worked here going above and beyond for their patients. They were immensely grateful that Carina had made time to see them. They needed the best, and they came to Carina.
The mood in the room seemed to shift when Carina asked what had been going on. Tears filled Kim’s eyes, and Dave stepped in to explain. Three months ago, Kim began experiencing pain in her stomach. It was small at first, dulled to a manageable level with an ibuprofen or two. The pain never went away, but seemed to get stronger with each passing day.
Kim knew her body, and it was telling her that she needed to be seen, that something was wrong. She booked appointments with her doctor, who dismissed her worries. It’s flu season, he’d declared. You’ve likely just caught a bug. He sent her on her way with a script for antibiotics. The next time, he’d told her it was hormones. You’re forty-three, nearing menopause, and your reproductive system is changing. The following time, he suspected it was a dietary issue. Take notes of what you eat, and systematically begin to cut foods out to see if it gets better. The fourth time, her doctor suggested it could be Crohn’s. He still hadn’t run a single test, and the pain was beginning to derail her ability to function.
She’d been to the emergency room five times and urgent care three times during that period. Kim begged and pleaded for any testing, for someone to take her seriously, but no one did. Doctors dismissed her symptoms and sent her on her way, telling her to come back if it got worse, and when she did, they simply seemed to shrug.
Carina handed Kim a box of tissues, her heart feeling impossibly heavy.
Being an ill woman often meant being a second class citizen. It meant to be seen, not heard, to be looked at as nothing more than checking a box rather than a person asking for help. Women were forced to be their own champions, to scream and push and advocate for themselves, to fight a battle just to be believed. Two out of three women experienced medical misogyny. It was and is an epidemic, an infection of bias that has spread. Gender bias in healthcare killed. The names of Joyce Echaquan and Yunique Morris were proof of that, women and girls who died at the hands of doctors who refused to believe their pleas, who dismissed them as if they weren’t people at all.
Kim fought tooth and nail to be taken seriously, to be believed, but hadn’t. She’d started to wonder if the doctors were right, if it was all in her head, but when she’d heard about the free clinic that was the DeLuca-Bailey Memorial Clinic, she’d begun saving money for a trip across the country, for the testing she knew she needed. Kim was a childcare worker. Dave was a mechanic. They had four kids and bills to pay. Neither of them had much disposable income, but with the help of friends and family, were able to make it.
They’d made good progress in the hour they had together—Kim finally got the tests she had been begging to have and gotten the tests done when the clinic closed, and Carina promised that she would come in tomorrow on her day off to read through them with Kim and Dave. They thanked her profusely, and Carina headed home.
She’d opened the door, stepping inside the threshold of their home, feeling the lingering heaviness from work. It had been a hard consult, and all Carina wanted now was her wife and her children.
“That’s Mamma. Mamma’s home,” Maya’s voice echoed from the back of the house, and Carina beamed. There was an eager squeal, accompanied by laughter.
“Mamma!” Andrea shrieked.
“Mamma!” Liam cried, and Carina’s smile only grew as she heard the quick pattering of small footsteps approaching her, along with shouts of excitement. It was one of the best moments of her day. Carina set down her things, and knelt as her children came into view. Liam slammed into Carina’s open arms with no regard for slowing, while Andrea ran clumsily behind, trying her best to keep up with her brother. She was only wearing a diaper, and was covered with blue and green scribbles.
“My goodness, my bambini! How was your day?” Carina asked, noting the state of her daughter and tabling it for the moment.
“Fun! We played with markers and made lotsa pretty drawings!” Liam declared, his hazel eyes shining with joy.
Andrea finally reached Carina, wrapping her little arms around Carina’s neck, squeezing with all her might. Her smile was almost as big as she was.
“Where are your clothes, bella? Did your clothes grow legs and walk away?”
“No, Mamma!” Andrea shrieked with delight as Carina poked her stomach, repeating her favourite word as of late.
“Left the room for all of ten seconds to get them water. Came back to a naked child and an artist at work.” Maya rounded the corner, her hair a mess, her face a sight for sore eyes. “I was in the middle of trying to negotiate bath time, although dinner is spaghetti, so maybe we should wait.”
Carina shook her head, unable to wipe the happiness blooming across her cheeks as she beckoned Maya closer, pressing a kiss to her lips.
Dinner was chaos and spaghetti-enthused messes, and bath time was a battle of bubbles, laughter, toy tantrums and playing.
By the time the kids had been washed, dried and dressed for bed, Andrea was fighting sleep and Liam was campaigning for a story. Carina sat on the rocking chair in Liam’s room, cuddling with Andrea, while Maya sat on Liam’s bed, ensuring he was tucked in before cracking open tonight’s book, The Boy in the Dress, and began reading. She held the book with one hand, and smoothed Liam’s hair rhythmically with the other. It was the perfect pattern, one they knew would lead to sleep.
Only minutes later, Liam had fallen asleep leaning against Maya's chest.
Carina and Maya met each other's eyes and beamed. Ever so gently, they put their sleeping children to bed and crept out of the room, hand in hand. They weren't sure what they would do with their free time, and despite how exhausted they were, they were so blessed.
Carina wasn’t sure why she was awake. It was half past two in the morning, she’d awoken on the edge of the bed, and Maya’s body was pressed against her.
This was all very typical, as Carina learned that Maya simply didn’t sleep on her side of the bed. No matter which side Carina slept on, she woke on the edge of the bed, with her wife pressed against her, Maya snoring softly in her ear. Her legs and arms were thrown across Carina, clutching her close even in sleep. She was awake, and she didn’t know what had been the cause.
Carina laid back, her fingers tracing patterns against Maya’s bare skin, feeling the steady rhythm of her wife’s breaths, hearing her snores, and Carina closed her eyes.
That’s when her phone rang loudly, jarring the silence of sleep. Carina jolted, and Maya sat upright, murmuring about blue fire protocol. Carina looked at the screen to see who was calling, and through the blur of her tired eyes, she saw Grey-Sloan’s name. She answered the call quickly, and Meredith’s solemn voice met her.
Kimberly Richards. Her patient. Kim had gone to bed early feeling unwell and woke up hours later, vomiting near-black blood. Her husband had awoken to a nightmare unfolding infront of him, and immediately called for an ambulance. She had been rushed to the hospital, lights and sirens ablaze. Meredith’s first call upon direct them to trauma one was to call Carina.
There was no question in the matter.
Carina kissed Maya firmly, telling her she’d be back, she’d call soon. She made the drive to Grey-Sloan, her foot heavy on the gas pedal, and by the time she’d come sprinting down the halls, her hair a sleep-mussed mess, her heart hammering in her chest, worries snaking up her throat, Meredith was sitting infront of the screen of the CT lab, staring, and Carina was quick to see why.
What was on the screen before them was a body riddled with cancer. It was an ugly, gnarled parasite, growing everywhere it could, taking any and all open space. Carina had never seen anything quite like this. It was everywhere. It was in her lungs. It was in her pancreas. It was in her liver. It was in her stomach. It was in her intestines. It was everywhere. It was the most horrifying thing she’d seen.
The pain in her stomach she’d been experiencing? Cancer.
The feeling of tightness in her chest? Cancer.
The digestive issues? Cancer.
The fatigue plaguing her? Cancer.
It was all cancer. For three months, this woman had begged, fought and pleaded to be believed. She’d suffered with agonizing pain, booked visits with her doctor and went to the emergency room, only to be dismissed each time. They had not run a single test, and now this woman had a body filled with cancer.
Neither Carina or Meredith spoke for several long minutes. Her vision became blurred, and with a start, Carina realized she’d been crying. What was there to say when faced with something as unimaginably awful as this? Something that could have been prevented but had not been because she was a woman seeking help in a field that treated women as lesser than?
“You called, Doctor Grey? I can— Jesus Christ.” An oncologist Carina didn’t recognize, cursed from behind her, drawing a strangled gasp. “Whose patient is that? That is… God.”
“Mine,” Carina sniffled, wiping her face hastily. “She came to me yesterday afternoon. She’d been experiencing stomach pain along with a slew of other things for three months.”
“She came in via ambulance a half hour ago. Woke up vomiting blood.” Meredith concluded, and the oncologist was still staring at the screen with wide, horrified eyes.
“I’ve never seen anything like it.” The oncologist admitted softly. “There’s… There’s nothing we can do. If all of that grew in three months, then… No amount of chemo, radiation or surgical treatment is going to make a dent.”
Carina choked on a sob.
She was outside the room when the oncologist alongside Meredith broke the news to Kim and Dave. Carina nearly lost whatever composure she’d managed to scrape together when she heard Dave burst into tears, his sobs carving away at her heart.
Kim’s cries were softer, as if a part of her knew this was coming. It’s going to be okay, she said quietly. You and the kids will get through this. We’ll make memories that will last a lifetime.
Carina was furious. She’d sobbed for her patient, for how unfair the situation was… Kim had four kids that she wouldn’t get to see grow up… Dave was devastated. He would be losing the love of his life.
This could have been preventable. It should have been preventable. How could every medical professional Kim saw have turned her away, dismissed her symptoms and concerns? How could a doctor, who made a promise to do no harm, ignore someone’s cries for help? How could another human being do that to someone? It was baffling. Her heart was broken.
She’d gathered the strength to pull herself together, and then she’d went in to see Kim and Dave. Carina didn’t know what to say other than how sorry she was, and if there was anything she could do. Whatever she could do, she would do it. Carina would do anything.
Once what had happened made its way through Grey-Sloan, the attendings came up with a plan. Richard fit the bill for a helicopter to fly Kim to her hometown of Louisville, Kentucky, and be well-taken care of. Anything the Richards family needed would be seen to by Richard Webber himself. They wouldn’t have to pay a dime for anything, he insisted. Hospice staff had been paid for by the hospital.
Kim, who looked so small in her hospital bed, expressed gratitude for the staff of Grey-Sloan and for the DeLuca-Bailey Memorial Clinic that had seen and believed her. She’d smiled, held their hands and assured them that everything would work out, as if they were the ones dying rather than her.
By morning, Kim and Dave were flown home. Carina felt a fury like she'd hardly felt before. Her heart was broken. She was filled with guilt… This wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. Kim deserved better—for herself, her family, her young kids… As a mother, Carina could not have imagined a fate so cruel.
While she could not say for sure whether or not this could have been prevented had Kim’s pain been taken at face value and tests conducted years before it grew into incurable cancer, the possibility still stood.
A couple of weeks later, Carina was among the handful of the attendings that flew out to visit Kim in hospice. It was horrible seeing how she had deteriorated, but she was still all smiles and gratitude, her smile still warming the room. She’d presented them with a painting she’d made, insisting nothing would be enough to thank them for their kindness, but that painting could be a start.
She passed away weeks later, surrounded by her family.
Not a single person at Grey-Sloan knew what to do. None of the doctors had known her, not really, but the cruel fact remained that Kim’s pain was dismissed, as if she was making up her pain. By the time she was taken seriously, it was far too late. And now she was dead. Four kids, without their mom. A husband, left shattered. Her family and friends left with a hole in her heart.
No one knew what to do. No one knew what to say.
Carina felt impossibly fatigued. She felt guilty, she felt hollow, she felt angry. She wanted nothing more to wallow, to let this sadness swallow her whole.
“I need your help, Vic,”
It was just after seven in the morning. Carina was still asleep, and Maya wanted to keep it that way. The kids were up and busy, wanting to see her, but Maya was trying her best to keep them busy.
“Mamma’s not feeling well today, bambini. We need to let her sleep,” Maya had explained when Andrea tried to open their door, and they frowned, their concern deepening.
“Mamma’s sick?” Liam asked, his eyes wide.
“Yeah, Mamma isn’t feeling well, so we need to be quiet,” Maya insisted, pressing a finger to her mouth. Andrea looked at Maya, pointing at the door to their room with a wobbling lip. “I know, baby. She’s not feeling well.”
Liam whimpered sadly, wrapping his arms around Maya’s waist. “That makes me sad,” He said quietly.
“Me too, buddy.” Maya replied softly, rubbing his back as she swept Andrea into her arms.
“It’s too early,” was Vic’s groggy response, her voice raspy. Maya was incredibly thankful that she and Travis were in town.
“Vic, I’m serious. I need you to take the kids for a bit, I know this is last minute, and I’m very sorry about that,” Maya apologized, bouncing Andrea on her hip. “I’m worried about Carina. She’s taking what happened to one of her patients, Kim, really hard.”
On the other end, Vic went quiet. Word had gotten around the Grey-Sloan community about the cruel loss of a woman who had pleaded to be believed, that something was wrong, but was ignored all the same. One of her family members had filed a lawsuit against the family doctor in Louisville, and her story had picked up like wildfire.
“Is she okay?” Vic asked softly.
“No… no, she’s not. I’ve never seen work impact her like that, not since the protests. I’m worried,” Maya admitted, and for a moment, Vic was silent.
“…Whenever you need, bring the kids over. We’re here, and we’ve got you. Trav and I are here whenever you need,” Vic assured, and that was that.
After Maya fed and dressed the kids, Vic and Travis came by to pick them up. Maya busied herself with tidying, tackling every chore she could find just to keep moving. Worry gnawed at her, an endless cycle of anxious thoughts—it hurt to see Carina like this. Carina had done everything she could for Kim, just as she did for all of her patients, but Maya knew it wouldn’t make the sting of Kim’s death hurt any less. Maya would have taken every ounce of the pain off of Carina’s shoulders if she could.
She had tried to give Carina space, tried to let her grieve in her own way, in her own time but eventually, the silence became too heavy to bear. Gently, Maya knocked on the bedroom door and eased it open, her voice soft. “Carina? It’s almost noon.”
There was no response.
With a quiet sigh, Maya crossed the room and lay down beside her wife. Carina was awake, tears streaks staining her face. Maya reached out and brushed them away, one by one, her touch tender and wordless.
“Hey, you,” Maya whispered, her hand gently cupping Carina’s cheek. Carina’s lip wobbled, her eyes pooling with fresh tears that ran down her cheeks in twin rivulets. “The kids are with their Aunt Vic and Uncle Travis. It’s just you and me.”
Carina sniffled.
“I need you to eat for me. I made your French toast for the kids—I tried, it’s nowhere near yours, but my love, I need you to eat for me, please,” Maya said quietly. She knew that on the bad days, Carina wouldn’t eat. She’d seen it before—when stress overwhelmed her, but especially after Andrea had passed. It was always the same pattern; the quiet withdrawal, the way food, sleep, even simple conversation or a shower, seemed impossible. It was as if Carina’s exhaustion simply eclipsed everything else.
Maya had hated watching her wife shut down like that, hated the helplessness that came with it, the feeling that there was nothing she could do. Yet, she knew there was something—she could be there, and that’s what she did. Maya brewed tea, offered quiet cuddles, and took care of the kids and the house. The affection and simple, steady presence was what eventually drew Carina back. Bit by bit, her wife began to eat again, to talk, to cry, and finally, to sleep.
When Carina sniffled, Maya leaned in and brushed a soft kiss against her nose. “Please, let me help you, amore mio,” She whispered, her Italian choppy in comparison to her wife’s.
Carina hesitated, biting her lip before giving a small, trembling nod. Maya wordlessly left the room, returning less than a minute later with two pieces of french toast, a small bowl of yogurt and fruit. Maya sat against the headboard, Carina resting against her wife, and little by little, the plate was eaten.
“Now that you’ve eaten, let’s get you showered, okay?” Maya said softly, brushing a strand of hair from Carina’s face. “We’re meeting the kids at the park in an hour and a half, and we need to get you smiling and in the sunshine. I’ve already set out your towels. If you need me, I’ll be right here.”
Fresh tears welled in Carina’s eyes. “Please,” she whispered.
Maya smiled tenderly. “In sickness and in health, my love. Come on.”
She led Carina into the bathroom, helping her undress before slipping out of her own clothes. The shower roared to life, steam filling the air as Maya guided Carina beneath the warm water.
“Shampoo first,” Maya murmured, pouring some into her hand and gently massaging it through Carina’s dark curls. Carina closed her eyes, melting into the sensation of her wife’s fingers working through the tangles, a gesture of love and softness.
“Does that feel okay?” Maya asked quietly.
Carina opened her eyes, meeting Maya’s gaze. “Mhm,” She sighed, the sound almost content.
Maya smiled, brushing a thumb across Carina’s cheek. “You’re perfect.”
A small giggle escaped Carina’s lips. “Grazie, bella,” She murmured, but the joy faded quickly, her expression faltering as the reminder of her grief settled in. Her lip wobbled. “It’s not fair. What happened to her was not fair.”
“No, it’s not.” Maya replied quietly.
“She had four kids. Her youngest was six. What if that had been me, Maya? What if that had happened to us? To our children?” Carina’s voice was strangled as if picturing their children, their beautiful children, having to be told that she’d never come home again, or to hear Maya cry like Dave had when he’d been told his soulmate had incurable cancer.
“It won’t,” Maya insisted roughly. She’d burn the world to keep her family, her wife, safe.
“We don’t know that, though.” Carina had insisted, gnawing on her lip. “I just can’t stop thinking about how many times she tried to get help. Nine emergency room visits, six doctors appointments, and no one believed her. They dismissed her symptoms as if none of it mattered. She died because of medical ignorance.”
Maya swallowed hard, her jaw tightening. “Someone should have caught it. She shouldn’t have had to beg to be taken seriously.”
Carina nodded fiercely, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Do you know how many times women are dismissed like that? Especially when they say they’re in pain? I see it all the time, especially in the clinic. They’re told it’s nothing, that it’s anxiety, hormones or all a figment of their imagination.”
“I know,” Maya murmured. She brushed her thumb over Carina’s cheek, her touch steady despite the storm in her chest.
“No, Maya, they don’t know,” Carina said, voice trembling with anger. “They don’t care until someone dies. Kim was my patient, and they ignored her before I ever saw her. And when I did, it was too late. I keep thinking of what if I’d seen her sooner? What if I’d pushed harder?”
Maya shook her head. “You already do more than anyone. You listen, Carina. That’s why people come to you. You can’t carry what the system refuses to fix.”
Carina let out a bitter laugh through her tears. “But I am the system, Maya. I’m part of it. I’ve seen doctors dismiss women, especially women of colour, queer women, immigrants. I’ve watched it happen. And now I’m watching families grieve because of it.”
They were less than an inch apart, and Maya pressed her forehead against Carina’s, water dripping down between them. “Then change it,” she whispered. “You can. You already are. Every patient you treat, every student you teach—you’re showing them what care is supposed to look like, how a doctor is supposed to act with their patients. You go above and beyond for your patients, Carina. Just like you did with her.”
Carina’s sobs quieted, her breathing uneven. “I just wish I could’ve seen her sooner.”
Maya kissed her temple gently. “You gave her peace, amore mio. You believed her when no one else did. That’s what she’ll be remembered for.”
Carina sniffled, seeking comfort in Maya’s arms, just as she always did. “I hate that I feel like this. Helpless. I wish I could do something.”
Maya frowned, tilting her head. Her eyes glazed, and for a moment, she was silent. “You could. You could start a fundraiser, an initiative, a fun run or a grant in her name to—”
“Hold on,” Carina interrupted, her thoughts suddenly moving at a fever pitch. “A grant. I could… I could apply for a grant. I could ask the Catherine Fox Foundation, or Richard, or even Grey-Sloan…” She trailed off as the possibilities shot through her mind like nerves firing.
Maya pushed fallen stray hairs off of Carina’s face. “You can name it after her, start a study of medical misogyny or something else. You can turn her story into something like a legacy, have her name be associated with changing things for the better.”
The stirrings of hope lit like a flame inside Carina’s chest.
Three years later, Carina was pacing back and forth inside her closet. Today, she was introducing the Kim Richards Research Grant.
She’d proposed it to Meredith first, as she'd been there with Kim that day. Meredith agreed with her—it was a fantastic way to honour her memory and to take the values she held dear and make real change in the world. She suggested taking it up the ladder, and once Richard caught wind of it, he told Catherine, and all of a sudden, the Catherine Fox Foundation had talked to the National Institute of Health and were arranging a meeting with Carina.
It had happened so fast that her brain had spun, but before she went, she flew to Kentucky to talk to Dave Richards first.
His opinion would be Carina’s course of action—if he gave his blessing, she would do it but if he said no, she would drop it in a heartbeat. Dave had been humbled, insisting that Kim wouldn’t have wanted anything else.
It took time to seek and get the proper credentials, but today was the day. Grey-Sloan, the Fox Foundation and the NIH had invested their time and resources into throwing a party to announce this grant. Carina had put on outfit after outfit, her stomach seeming to turn with worry. For some reason, they had asked her to give a speech. Ben had called his friend in the newspaper, and the department was bringing a camera crew and lots of press.
What if her accent was too thick? What if she forgot a word in English? Carina couldn’t stop worrying, and had been flipping through outfits for what seemed like an eternity.
“You will be fine, my love,” Maya coaxed, forever her cheerleader.
“You’re biased. What if my English is bad? What if I mess up?” Carina fretted, pacing back and forth.
“Carina, come here. Come here,” Maya beckoned, opening her arms and pulling Carina into a tight hug. “Breathe in… and out… you will ace this just like you ace everything else. Pretend you’re talking just to me, Liam and Andrea. Ignore everyone else,”
Carina sighed as Maya rubbed her back. She breathed in her wife’s comforting presence and felt herself relax. That thought comforted her, and Maya could tell. “Si, you’re right. Grazie, bellina,”
“See? Sometimes I have good ideas,” Maya winked.
Carina laughed, and Maya picked up the fourth outfit that Carina had tried, a white blouse with flowing, navy slacks. “This is the one,”
After more pep talks and nerves, the DeLuca-Bishops were on their way to the hospital. Once they arrived, Carina lost what little colour she had regained—the crowd outside the event room had swelled. A mini stage with a podium had been constructed, and Ben was corralling the crowd towards their seats.
“You’re still fine, Carina,” Maya soothed as they walked towards Catherine.
“You don’t know that,” Carina whispered. Liam took Carina’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze. Andrea hugged Carina’s leg, patting it affectionately.
“Perfect, you’re here. I wanted to have a few words before the opening ceremony on behalf of the foundation,” Catherine Fox said, smiling as she took off her glasses.
“Remember to breathe. I love you, you’ll be great,” Maya said, kissing her wife before leading the kids outside.
“Why was Mamma green?” Andrea asked Maya, who was trying to not lose their kids in the large crowd outside.
“She’s a little nervous for her speech,” Maya replied, and Liam nodded.
“There are a lot of people here,” He said quietly, holding on to Maya’s hand a little tighter.
They headed to the back of the crowd, where the Grey-Sloan group stood on benches to see the stage better. They greeted the DeLuca-Bishop crew with open arms and big grins. Scout somehow had candy and was trying to barter Liam for it, while Andrea was enthralled by her older cousin, Pru.
Catherine tapped the microphone and stood in front of it with a big smile. Cameras began flashing, and reporters began to record. “Good morning, everyone! Today, we are gathered to announce something incredibly special, brought to us by the efforts of one of Grey-Sloan Memorial’s doctors, Doctor Carina DeLuca. The Kim Richards Grant is in partnership with the Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital, as well as the esteemed National Institute of Health and of course, The Fox Foundation. The Foundation supports the vision of providing affordable healthcare, breaking down barriers and taking care of the community wholeheartedly. Without further ado, I’d like to invite the mastermind behind the grant, Doctor Carina DeLuca, to say a few words,”
Carina stepped on the stage, and loud, whooping cheers met her. She recognized the familiar crowd of her friends, coworkers and family. Maya let out a rather noisy cheer and mouthed three words. “You got this,”
She smiled as she placed her papers on the podium. She looked briefly at the cameras and reporters and grinned, before looking into the large crowd. Her wife’s words echoed in her head. Breathe in… and out… you will ace this just like you ace everything else. Pretend you’re talking just to me, Liam and Andrea. Ignore everyone else.
She cleared her throat. “Thank you, Catherine, for the introduction. My name is Doctor Carina DeLuca, and I’m an OBGYN and surgeon from Grey-Sloan, originally from Catania, Italy. I am an immigrant to this country, and I’ve learned a lot in my time here. One thing that stood out to me immediately was how greatly America values its communities. They are the… foundation of the American people’s strength, determination, and kindness. People treasure where they come from and where they live, and treat their neighbours like their own family. Another thing that I’ve learnt is that… unfortunately, America’s healthcare system is broken. It leaves many communities broken and individuals unable to seek proper care for themselves or their families. It is unfair how many Americans die each year because of preventable and treatable conditions, diseases and injuries. People should not have to choose between saving their own life or putting food on the table… or a roof over their heads. Healthcare is a right that everyone deserves to have access to. Through the incredible generosity of the Fox Foundation and our friends from Grey-Sloan, my fellow first doctors and I were able to create this grant,”
Carina was interrupted with loud, whooping cheers from the crowd, the loudest coming from her family, coworkers and friends. Carina’s smile extended from ear to ear. Her nerves were non-existent now. She was fuelled by excitement and passion for the work that she was doing.
“I met Kim Richards three years ago at the DeLuca-Bailey Memorial Clinic. She came to me after being dismissed from her family doctor six times for a pain that started three months prior, and the emergency room nine times. Not a single doctor listened to her when she told her that the agony she was in left her unable to function. By the time she came to us, her tests showed terminal cancer that had grown untreatable. She was a person who needed help, and was ignored. Kim Richards passed away in hospice just three weeks later, leaving her family behind asking why she’d been ignored. In the wake of her death, I was angry at how something like this could have happened, and my wife was the one who suggested that we create something to associate her name with positive change. The Kim Richards Research Grant will go towards studying and dismantling medical misogyny, awarded annually to the best proposal in which is submitted to the Fox Foundation. It has been an honour to head this project, and I would like to thank my family, who have been by my side for all of this journey…”
She saw Andrea waving, Liam cheering and Maya clapping loudly. Her family… her rock in this crazy world. Her Earth, moon and stars. Her galaxy. Her everything.
“My coworkers who agreed to join this mission…”
Amelia smiled as Meredith applauded. Jackson and April held hands while Miranda and Ben watched on, both of them beaming.
“The Fox Foundation for supporting this cause financially and the National Health Institute for sponsoring this…”
Catherine Ross was grinning, while several higher-ups that Carina didn’t recognize looked on in approval.
“And lastly, to Dave Richards for allowing us this honour. Together, we will create a better future in Kim’s name. Thank you,”
The crowd roared with applause. Carina flushed with pride, smiling as she stepped down.
Cancer was indiscriminate, ruthlessly taking lives at a whim. It tore families apart, broke people down and carved holes of grief into countless people. Kim’s story had broken Carina’s heart. Her family was her everything—her sun, her moon, her stars. Carina was fortunate that she and her family had a clean bill of health, and that she still had them with her. She hoped that this grant would help inspire people to be generous, kind and to come together for good causes such as this one. Through the money raised, scientists and doctors would be able to do so much good in the world.
Carina liked to think that Kim would have loved that.