The road is quiet. Your bike purrs beneath you, and the fresh end-of-the-day air gently whips your face. You feel light, almost at peace. In civilian clothes, no one can guess what you carry inside you: the missions, the invisible scars. Just another biker on a lonely road.

The car coming towards you swerves. You don't even have time to react. The impact is brutal, your body thrown into the air, floating for a fraction of a second before you violently hit the ground. The world around you becomes blurry, sounds muffled. A wrenching pain invades you, each breath a struggle.

At Grey Sloan, Bailey warned them that a head-on collision has left several victims on their hands. A retired couple, and a person in their thirties are taken inside. Driver of a fancy sports car, and biker, apparently. Callie raises her eyebrows at the biker.

Callie: "Oh wow. Muscles..."

Bailey: "Torres, this is not the time"

Owen and Teddy just frown, something seems familiar. April notice their faces.