Meredith cracked one eye open slowly. The sunlight filtered in through the crack between the curtains, causing a single stripe of light to fall right across her face. Her alarm hadn't gone off yet; it wouldn't for another half-hour, but Meredith couldn't sleep. The bed felt empty without Derek on the other side; she wasn't used to sleeping on her own anymore. She still couldn't believe he'd moved out. She could understand his needing space, but taking all his stuff out of the house? It felt like a nightmare; she was expecting to wake up any minute to the sight of Derek beside her, asking what was wrong. It was like when she kept dreaming that he was dying all over again, only this time, it was really happening.
Knowing she wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep, Meredith got out of bed, got dressed, and headed downstairs. Nobody else was up yet; Izzie was exhausted from all that Patient X stuff, Alex tended to sleep until the last minute, and Lexie was at Mark's. Meredith turned on the coffee pot and sat at the island, staring into space.
Last night had been awful. Meredith had gone home to talk to Derek, only to find his things were all gone, as if he had never been there in the first place. She'd found him at the trailer, where he'd told her to leave. When she refused and accused him of quitting, he'd told her that she shouldn't talk; she had written the book on quitting. Desperate, she'd confronted him about the ring, and there'd been a moment, a moment where she thought she might have gotten to him until he'd pulled the ring out and batted it into the woods.
"You wanted me out from the day I moved in." His accusing tone rang in Meredith's ears. She knew he was drunk, he wasn't thinking rationally, but, at the same time, the words still stung. Yes, she'd had a bit of trouble adjusting to him moving in. But she was new at this whole relationship thing; she'd never done it before, and he knew that. She had tried; she had tried as hard as she could, and it wasn't her fault that he had moved back out to the trailer. He hadn't left because they were having relationship troubles; he'd left because he'd decided—stupidly, in her opinion—that he was going to quit surgery.
The coffee was done. Reluctantly, Meredith got up and fished around in the cupboards for a mug. Her hand froze when she spotted the blue travel mug, the one that Derek used all the time to take his coffee to work. He must have forgotten it when he had emptied his things, and Meredith realized why: it had been in the dishwasher when Derek had come by to get his things; Meredith had seen Izzie unloading it with the other dishes when she had come home looking for Derek yesterday. Instinctively, Meredith grabbed it—her last piece of Derek.
As she stood at the counter, filling it with coffee, she wondered what to do. The others weren't going to be up for another little while, and Meredith hated sitting in an empty, silent house. It was here, in the silence, that the ache that accompanied Derek's absence was the strongest, where the hurt from last night was the most fresh.
She needed to get out of here. She had to go somewhere; not Cristina's because she had a roommate, and God only knew what she and GI-Joe could be up to, not the trailer—there was no way she was ever going back there again. She could go to the hospital. There was a place where there would always be work for her, where there would always be something to take her mind off Derek and that stupid ring, which was now sitting somewhere in the wilderness, never to be found again. There would be people there; patients to deal with; surgeries to scrub in on.
As Meredith headed out the door, she couldn't help but notice them empty hook that normally held Derek's coat. Sighing, Meredith turned away, but, even once the door was closed and she was driving away, she couldn't help but think about that empty coat hook and what it signified: for now, at least, the house was always going to be empty.
Derek really needed to find that ring.
Now that he was awake and suffering a nasty hangover, he had come to realize that the gravity of what he had done. Not only had he drank more beer last night than he had in his whole adult life, not only had he driven Meredith away, but he had also batted his mother's engagement ring into the woods; the ring that she had given him to give to Meredith. The ring that he'd been lugging around for days like some kind of idiot, waiting for the perfect moment to pop the question. Addison had ruined the first attempt, and the death of Jen had ruined the other.
His mother would kill him if she found out what had happened. Hence the fact that he really needed to find that ring. Not only that, but he didn't have any other ring to give to Meredith. If she would still have him after this, that is.
Derek sighed and combed a hand through his hair. Before he could go look for that damn thing, he needed Advil, something to stop the agonizing pain in his head. That was one of the perks of living with Meredith: there was a medicine cabinet full of Advil, Tylenol, and other drugs. It had been a while since he'd been here at the trailer, and he wasn't sure that he still had any Advil, or any other medications, for that matter.
A quick search of the trailer told him that his suspicions were correct. Sighing, Derek headed outside, hoping that the fresh air might help. It didn't; the sunlight was so bright it had him squinting, and it only made hi headache worse. How was he supposed to find the damn ring when he couldn't even see anything? He had to start somewhere, though. If he waited until dark, he'd never find it.
Derek stopped, foot halfway to the ground. Who was he kidding? Meredith wasn't coming back. He remembered that moment a few months ago, when he'd told her she was like a deer: move too quickly and she'd run off. Well, he'd charged at her last night. She'd never come out here again. Even if she didn't have issues, she wouldn't come back. Not after the way he'd treated her. What did he have to offer anyways? He was unshaven and hung-over. He was a failed surgeon facing the biggest lawsuit of his career. He'd batted his mother's engagement ring into the woods, and had told the love of life to go away and never come back. Who would want him?
Derek sank onto the porch step. He was never going to find that damn ring. It was gone. Just like Meredith. There wasn't going to be a fancy church wedding—though there was no guarantee that there would have been one even if Meredith had gotten the ring. She wasn't exactly a church wedding kind of girl.
Derek wondered what she was up to now. She was at work, of that he was sure. It was almost four o'clock. If he were at the hospital, what would he be doing at four o'clock? He'd probably be in surgery, or just getting out. As for Meredith, well, she'd probably be in the OR, or helping a patient. She might even be eating lunch; as a surgeon, your schedule was never reliable. One thing was sure: she wasn't thinking about him.
He wasn't going to call her. He couldn't, not after last night. Even if he did, he was certain she wouldn't want to talk to him.
Sighing. Derek combed a hand through his hair. He couldn't believe this. A week ago, he was a happy, successful neurosurgeon, living in a nice house, and preparing to propose to the love of his life, and now he had no job, he was living in a trailer, and both the ring and the girl were gone, never to return again. Suddenly, he felt a wave of frustration. This was all his fault. He was so stupid. In one fell swoop, he'd lost everything he really cared about. All he was left with was the reality. Meredith was gone for good; his career was shot. He was on his own.
There was only one thing left to soothe the ache in his chest, to ease the guilt that was crushing him. He may have been alone, but there was one place he could go to escape it all.
Resigned to his fate, Derek leaned over and grabbed a can of beer.
Meredith had thought that work would be a place she could go to escape Derek's absence. She'd thought that she could lose herself in work and everything would be okay. She'd been wrong. Works was just as full of Derek—perhaps even more so— than home. Every trauma, it seemed, required a neuro consult; each doctor she passed gave her a sideways look, and the Chief—among others—asked her a million times if she had seen Derek, if she knew how he was. Work was so full of Derek that by the end of the day, Meredith's heart was aching. What she wanted more than anything was to go home to Derek, have a glass of wine while discussing their day, and going to sleep in his arms. She wished all of this had never happened.
Something touched Meredith's arm; she jumped, startled.
"Are you all right?"
Meredith could not have been more surprised to see Mark Sloan's hand on her arm. He'd never struck her as the type to be concerned about how people were feeling.
"I'm fine," Meredith said quickly. She didn't want anyone else making big pity eyes at her, or asking about Derek, because she didn't know. She just didn't know.
Mark wasn't buying it. She could tell by the expression on his face that he knew she wasn't fine, and then she remembered that he was being asked all the same questions. People were looking sideways at him too; the cut on his face and the bruised knuckles were hard to ignore. He wasn't going to badger her; he probably didn't want to talk about it either.
"You sure you're okay?" Mark, who rarely ever pried into others' personal lives and emotions, who normally doesn't care about other people, was being unusually kind and selfless. Derek would be shocked if he could see this; he'd laugh about it. Most people would be surprised and maybe even pleased at Mark's interest—they'd take it as a sign that he was maturing, that he was growing emotionally, the way he so adamantly insisted he was—but Meredith wished he had remained as his old selfish self. She didn't need anybody else—not even someone who understood—checking up on her.
Meredith sighed impatiently. "Yes," she replied. "Thanks for asking," she added. It wasn't fair to just snap at him. He hadn't done anything wrong.
There was a moment of silence. Meredith expected Mark to walk away—after all, he and she were one and the same, so he'd surely understand that there was no more to be said and that he should really just go—but he lingered, looking like he had something on his mind. She paused expectantly, waiting for him to walk away or spit it out and expecting the former. The dirty ex-mistresses were never bid on communication. So when he did speak, it was, yet again, a surprise.
"Do you want to get a drink with me?"
A drink with Mark Sloan? "Shouldn't you be with Lexie?"
"She's working tonight," Mark explained awkwardly.
Flattered as she was, Meredith wasn't in the mood for going out, and besides, Lexie or no Lexie, she wasn't sure she trusted Mark Sloan in a bar situation. "Maybe you should go see Derek." Meredith was desperate for news, but she wouldn't go back there. "I'm sure he'd appreciate the visit."
Mark chuckled. "He hasn't returned any of my calls. I'm the last person he'd want to see."
This was true. "Well, I think I'm going to go home," she said apologetically.
Mark nodded. "Yeah, of course. But Meredith?" he called as she headed off to get changed. She turned expectantly. "Don't give up on him. He needs you."
Meredith didn't say anything, for fear of admitting the truth: she needed him too.
For Derek, being drunk was becoming a part of his daily routine. For the last two days, all he had done was drink, accumulating enough beer cans that by nightfall he could release all of that fury and guilt and drunken energy by playing baseball. If there weren't enough beer cans, he'd find other things to bat, like sticks…and rings.
He wasn't playing baseball tonight, not yet at least. There weren't enough beer cans accumulated for a good game. Another couple or so and he would be good to go.
The rumbling of the Jeep's engine caught him by surprise. He hadn't expected any visitors this evening, if he had, he probably would have prepared himself a little better, maybe attempted to make himself presentable. The thought made Derek chuckled. Presentable! He didn't remember how to make himself presentable anymore.
As the Jeep drew closer, that small part of his brain still able to think rationally began to panic. Even in the darkness, the powder blue paint was clearly visible. The only person who dared brave his company on a night like this was the one person he thought he'd never see again.
"Meredith." The word came out as barely a whisper, under his breath. She was here. He couldn't believe she was actually here. What kind of idiot would come back after last night?
She was beautiful. Maybe it was the fairy lights strung above the porch, or maybe it was just the alcohol, but she seemed even more beautiful tonight. He couldn't help but noticing—drunk as he was—the trepidation in her steps; she was hesitant to approach him, which was hardly surprising given how she had been treated last night. He was surprised she had come at all. Maybe she meant all that crap she'd made up about not running. Still, she shouldn't have come. He was glad, deep down inside under all the drunkenness that she had come that he still had a chance; one last shot to make it right, but he also wished she hadn't come. Not when he was like this. She didn't deserve this. He had nothing to offer her, not anymore. The fact that she had come back, after everything he had done to her, made him angry. Why couldn't she leave him alone? Couldn't she see she deserved so much better than this drunken excuse of a surgeon? Yes, she was the love of his life, the one, but he didn't want her to see him like this. He was only going to hurt her more.
"Mark asked me out for a drink." Meredith didn't even say hello. Is this why she had come? Did she drive all the way out to woods just to tell him that his bastard manwhore of a best friend had asked her out? Had he not been so drunk, he would have been angry at Mark, would have gone and confronted him about it, but, since he was drunk, he was more angry at Meredith: did she really think he needed more pain in his life? Did she think he'd magically snap out of this because Mark was hitting on her; that he was magically going to come to her rescue; be her knight-in-shining-whatever again, because he wasn't. And what made her think that he was going to be better company than Mark?
"Why didn't you go?" Derek asked bitterly, turning away from her and draining the rest of his beer.
Meredith blinked, surprised. Not the reaction she was expecting, obviously, but Derek had a tendency of surprising her in a rather unpleasant fashion. By being her boss; by being married; by wanting to marry her; by dating Rose; by beating Mark up in front of half the hospital. He was a man full of surprises.
"I wasn't in the mood to go out for a drink," she replied tersely.
Derek snorted. "Meredith Grey not wanting to go to a bar? I'm floored!"
"Derek," Meredith cautioned.
"I would have thought you'd be honoured that Mark had the balls to ask you out," Derek snapped, reaching for another beer. "Little Grey's obviously not good enough for Big Man Sloan, so he has to upgrade to Big Grey."
"Derek Christopher Shepherd!" His cutting words had obviously done the trick; Meredith was furious. "Lexie is working tonight. Mark was asking me out to cheer me up, not to please himself, because I've been worrying myself sick about you all day! You think you have it bad; well I have it pretty bad too. Do you know how many times I got asked where you were; how you were; when you were coming back? Do you know how many times I had to say, 'I don't know,' because I didn't want to tell them the truth, that you're—"
"Why not?" Derek couldn't believe she was still trying to protect him. What was there left to save? "Why are you lying for me, Meredith?"
"Because I love you!" Meredith cried, exasperated. "And I know that this isn't the end of your career, Derek. I'm trying to make sure you have a career to come back to."
"Well don't!" Derek didn't want her trying to pull him out of this hole. She didn't get it: there was no getting out. The black cloud surrounding him was never going to go away. "I don't need saving, and certainly not from you."
"Well, if you know anyone else who can save you, let me know, because I sure as hell don't!" Meredith was mad, more mad than Derek had ever seen her; she looked like she wanted punch him. Part of him wished she would.
"I don't need saving! Can't you see, Meredith? It's over! I'm done! So just get the hell out of here and leave me alone!" Derek took an angry swig of beer. Why did she have to decide now that she was going to be all persistent and steadfast? Why couldn't she be the old Meredith, and just run away?
Meredith sighed and raked a hand through her hair angrily. "I know what this is like, Derek. I've been here. Many times. More times than I can count, actually. And, even though it feels like this is the end of the road, it's not. There's hope for you, if you can pull yourself out of your drunken stupor long enough to realize it!"
Derek let out a harsh bark of laughter. "'Pull yourself out of your drunken stupor'? Who are you to lecture me about drunken stupors? If it'd earn enough to make a living, you'd abandon everything for the tequila!" He could see the hurt that flashed in Meredith's eyes, and felt the matching blow piercing some deep, secret part of his heart. He was wounding himself as much as he was hurting her, she just didn't know it.
"You can hurt me as much as you want, Derek. I'm not going anywhere," Meredith replied firmly. She was brave, he'd give her that; it was so painfully obvious that she wanted to leave, to escape the berating that she was getting here, and yet, she remained.
"Well you should. I've got plenty more where that came from." He had no idea where half of what he was saying was even coming from. It just seemed to spill out of his mouth like a waterfall.
"Go ahead then, if you've got so many more insults to throw my way!" It seemed as if she had finally snapped; she was as angry and rash as he was now. "It's not like I haven't heard them before!"
Derek wanted to say something, something so hurtful that she would be forced to leave for good and find herself someone better than him, but, now that he actually wanted to wound, words failed him. The best he could come up with was, "Just leave, Meredith."
"No." Why did she have to be so stubborn? "I told you, I'm not running anymore."
"LEAVE!" he bellowed, desperate for her to go, to leave, before the gravity of what he was doing—of what he had done—came over him and brought him to tears. Instead, she came to sit beside him on the porch steps. "No," she repeated.
Derek couldn't take it anymore. It was too much: Jen dying, fighting with Mark, losing the ring, driving Meredith away, it was too much. He could feel the tears beginning to roll down his cheeks, and soon he was crying, crying like he hadn't since his father died. Meredith—God bless her—simply held him and rocked, back and forth, back and forth, like his mother used to when he was a kid.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I wanted to give you everything, and now I have nothing."
Meredith sighed, her anger ebbing away. "I know, Derek. I know."
"You deserve so much better than this." It was humiliating, that she had to see him like this.
Meredith smiled weakly. "I don't know, Derek. You had to deal with me when I was at my worst too. I'd say we're about even."
Derek shook his head. This didn't even compare. "I lost the ring."
Meredith looked at him for a moment, and when their eyes met, it was almost as if this had all never happened. "You'll find the ring," she said quietly. "And when you do, I'll be waiting." And with that, she got up, walked to her car, and drove away.
Derek stared at the half empty beer can in his hand. She was gone. Again. And now she was expecting him to be all whole and healed for her and to find that damn ring. Well it wasn't going to happen overnight, that was for sure. He wasn't even sure if it would happen at all. But if it was ever going to happen, he had to make an effort.
Sighing, Derek got up off the porch and drained the can of beer. He needed to find that ring.
A/N: Sorry if that wasn't the happiest of fanfictions, but that wasn't really a happy time for Mer and Der either. I tried to keep it as true to what they were feeling as possible. Hope you enjoyed it though!