As the clear droplets of moisture hit the the window pane and slide down the glass in zig-zagging patterns, Meredith Grey picks up the engraved ball point pen from the desk that used to belong to her mother, and draws a perfectly straight blue line across the square on the calendar marked November 30th. She sighs. Thirty days of non-stop rain. She wonders if she will ever see the sun again.
The alarm clock on the bedside table sounds with an annoying buzz, filling the room with what should be Meredith's wake-up call. She doesn't know why she bothers setting that thing to begin with. At least in the last month, anyway. Somehow, she always manages to wake up well before it is time, which unsettles her a bit because the sun is never out when her eyes open of their own accord.
Rising from the squeaky chair that matches the mahogany desk, she crosses the room and turns the alarm clock off with a firm press of her pointer finger. The room goes silent once again, except for the tapping of the rain against the window. She turns her head toward the sound, her eyes picking up the slight reflection of herself in the window. The street lamp on the corner illuminates part of the street and reflects against the moisture on the glass. The sky is still dark, but dawn is near. She will be tired later, but for now, she is wide awake, the wheels in her mind turning and turning without fail. Trying to go back to sleep would just be a waste of her time. Without hesitation, she leaves the quiet bedroom and enters the adjoining bathroom to shower and get dressed for the day.
Steam rises and fogs the bathroom mirror. After undressing and tossing her pajamas into the laundry basket in the bathroom closet, Meredith steps over the side of the tub and into the spray of the hot water. She turns around, letting the water cascade over the tight, tired muscles of her back and shoulders. Her body aches like she has taken part in a triathalon, but it is just stress and working long hours that has caused her muscles to bunch and tighten underneath her skin. The water beats down, reddening her skin and loosening the strained muscles and tendons. It is like a drink of water after a hike in the desert.
Closing her eyes, Meredith welcomes the way the water slides smoothly over her body. Before the water can turn cold on her, she faces forward again and goes through the motions of cleansing herself. She wonders, as the water and soap mix and slide down the drain, if everything she's been feeling inside will wash away with it and disappear. It isn't until she turns the water off and steps out of the shower that the cold air, and reality, hits her all at once, and she realizes that her thoughts have been nothing but wishful thinking.
By the time she gets dressed and arrives at the hospital, the sky is just starting to lighten. Well, if a dismal cloudy gray can be considered 'light'. The rain is still falling, but it is only a drizzle now. She makes no move to sheild herself from the rain. She even leaves her umbrella lying haphazardly against the back seat of her jeep. As she walks toward the entrance of the hospital, her hair and clothes get damp, and her shoes are soaked because she walks straight through the rain puddles without daring to care. It doesn't matter anyway, because all she can feel is numb as the outside world continues to move and function all around her.
Once she is inside, the cold air meets the moisture on her skin, hair, and clothes, and she shivers. Her purse strap is sliding down her arm, but she doesn't move to adjust it, because moving would cause the material of her clothes to brush against her skin and she knows that it would feel like rubbing ice upon her already freezing skin. She flinches when she has to reach out and press the button to signal for the elevator because the hem of her coat slides against her wrist and it truly is like an ice cube against the goosebumps already present.
Once the elevator arrives on the fourth floor, Meredith is through the sliding doors like a bullet from a gun. Her teeth are nearly chattering and she's really rethinking the umbrella in the car thing, so when she enters the resident locker room it is a race to peel off her wet clothes and get into some dry scrubs. Luckily, she also has dry tennis shoes in her locker. Once she ties the laces on her shoes, she slides her lab coat on and she is instantly warm and comforted. She pulls her damp hair back into a low ponytail and fills her pockets with pens a granola bar for later, as well as her blackberry, before clipping her pager to the waistband of her scrub bottoms. With one more glance in the mirror to apply a light coat of lip gloss, she shuts her locker door. The metal shakes against the frame and echos in the vacant room, but she pays it no mind as she exits.
"Coffee?"
His voice makes her pause mid-stride. She turns slowly to see him just outside the locker room door. He is smiling and holding a Styrofoam cup in each hand. Steam rises out of the small openings of the lids and curls in the air in front of him. He extends an arm, offering up one of the cups and she stares at him as if accepting it is a life altering decision. The wary look in her eyes doesn't go unnoticed by him, but he chooses to ignore it just the same as he pulls himself away from the wall and takes a step forward. Her eyes widen.
"You're here early." She comments. Her eyes leave the cup for a moment to lock with his humored expression.
"I could say the same about you." He replies, eyeing her knowingly.
"I couldn't sleep." She says quickly, as if she is defending her presence.
He shrugs slightly. "I never left. I had an emergency craniotomy and there were complications."
"I'm sorry," she apologizes. Her slightly panicked expression softens at his admission because it makes her feel better knowing that he hasn't arrived so early just to have coffee with her. That kind of gesture would be overly considerate and it would only serve to make her feel guilty about the unspoken distance she is putting between them.
"Meredith." Her name rolls of his tongue like butter. He extends his arm out further, reminding her about the coffee he is presenting.
"Derek." She states his name and swallows as though her throat hurts.
He sighs and tilts his head. "It's only coffee."
Her eyes shift again to the cup in his hand. After a few seconds that feel more like eternities, she nods slightly and reaches out. Her fingertips brush his as she takes the coffee from him and they both fight the tingles that course through their veins at the mild contact. Derek smiles and the tightening in his chest fades a bit at the tiny smile that now graces her lips.
It isn't much, but it's something. And he'll take whatever she is willing to give him at the moment.