Author: chicleeblair aka Daughter of the Bard
Summary: Miranda Bailey is having to learn that life is not as close to Broadway as she thought.
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Title, Author and URL of original story: Five Things Miranda Bailey Never Admitted Out Loud by Mardia Url: http://mardia.livejournal.com/108631.html#cutid1
A/N: This was my first time writing Bailey; she's such an awesome character!
Miranda Bailey never told anyone how much she loved musicals. It was more that there was no one to tell than a conscious decision not to tell. Tucker knew, and the baby had no reason to ask why the songs his mama sang him were generally from Les Miserables or The Scarlet Pimpernel than Baby'sFirst Lullaby Book. Tucker always smiled whenever she hummed songs from her favorites around the apartment. On the days when she had still been a med student and had spent nights hunched over her books he would come over to her and use his strong hands to knead the knots out of her neck, all the while singing one of their favorite love songs.
In the past, she had thought that their life would have made a pretty good musical. They had met by chance, when she was starting an internship at a lab, for something to put on her resume. He was also working at the lab, interning with their advertising department, and they road up on the elevator together every morning and evening. She could see a musical montage in her head all about elevators, with chorus members dancing on and off in the garb of various other employees, that led up to the finale of the song where he would sing the line “would you like to go out to dinner some time?”
Of course, in reality the question had been asked in a murmur, with his hands in his pockets, but hey that was close enough to a musical for real life, wasn’t it? She thought so, in those first months when he managed to totally sweep her off of her feet.
The first time he got into her car, he reached over and turned on the stereo before she could stop him. It was pouring down rain and she was fooling around with the umbrella and the car door and suddenly The Sound of Music was playing in the speakers. She did not know which to be more embarrassing, the fact that it was a musical, or the fact that she had unconsciously started singing along to “My Favorite Things”. But then, Tucker reached out and without looking fast-forwarded to the song “Something Good”, and began singing to her. From then on he would sometimes just look at her and murmur: “There you are, standing there loving me/whether or not you should” and she would wonder how she got so lucky to have such a man.
They’re wedding was not large, was not fairy-tale and would not have made a very good in-between act extravaganza like every musical she had ever seen had. They were married in a small church in her hometown, with her family and his filling up the pews. It was just before she was due to start her clinical rotations, because they both knew that after that she would not have any time what so ever for anything like a wedding or honeymoon. It was a nice wedding, with traditional vows, but nothing to write home about. For their honeymoon, though, he bought them tickets to New York.
The first night, on the hotel balcony, he sang to her, a medley of love songs he had put together himself. That definitely belonged in a musical. Over the next nights, when they sat in seats that they had gotten as cheaply as possible, she felt as gorgeous as the redhead in the gorgeous dress two seats over, whose husband had ridiculously good hair, who had probably paid full price for their theatre seats. She was sure that she had never been so happy in any other point of her life tha she was in those minutes. It was time for her happily ever after, she decided.
And it was happy, for a while. There was stress, but that was life. There were still enough of the nights that they cuddled on the couch watching Grease or listening to the soundtrack of an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical in the car before work. She became busier, but at night he still whispered in her ear. “Somewhere in my youth, or childhood, I must have done something good”.
The car wreck, her on one side of the hospital having their baby, with only George O’Malley (her bumbling intern, and yet her savior) by her side, she felt that that was definitely a dramatic climax. Happily ever after, the curtain call and the encore of the happiest song from the show were soon to come. Once Tucker was brought into her room, bandaged but alive, she was sure that they would move on, her to being a full-fledged surgeon and all of them to a happy family life.
When they argued, she decided it was stress. Even happy couples must have had stress. Beauty and the Beast probably still argued about the upkeep of the castle. Then he stopped singing. And she was too tired in the morning to even turn on her car’s CD player. The release of “Hairspray” (one of her guiltier pleasures) in theatres passed by them unnoticed. Only the baby heard her sing musicals, and it was generally a quieter tune.
Where was the part where they were forced by some inexplicable force of nature to reconcile? Not long after she thought this, the baby’s accident came. Except, this drew them further apart. That was not, she was sure, how it was supposed to work. He was supposed to sing a heart-felt ballad of apology to which she would respond, equally apologetic. This was not supposed to be the end. Her heart should not be splintering like this.
But there was no one to whom she could confide. Everyone at the damn hospital was too wrapped up in their own foolishness to see that her world was shattering in front of her like the chandelier in The Phantom of the Opera (when that came out in theatres, Tucker had surprised her with tickets to a preview-showing).
She was left to fend for herself, to realize that life was not how it was written to be preformed on a stage with glimmering lights, make up and dancing. There was only the buzzing of fluorescent lights in an on-call room when you were too scared of the present to even turn off a light. There was only the baby who looked so confused when he asked for “dada” as he sat up in a hospital crib, and a husband who looked at you as if you were a traitor.
For once, Miranda Bailey wished that someone else knew how much she loved musicals, so that someone could understand just how damaged she was becoming.