Here's just a look at how I think As We Know It could have ended. I changed a little bit of it, but this is more supportive of MerDer. It includes the ending of the episode, so the dialogue from that (other than the very last line) doesn't belong to me, nor to the characters or anything. All I own are my words.
Enjoy!
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She'd had a feeling she was going to die today.
She'd told Izzie. Izzie had told her that she had to get up and go to work.
She'd told Cristina. Cristina had stood on her bed, and forced her to get out of bed and go to work.
Then she'd told Derek.
She hadn't meant to tell him. It was just a kind of spur-of-the-moment thing where she'd needed to say it to him. She wasn't sure why, but it was like she knew he'd have some kind of answer for her, a reason why she didn't need to have a feeling.
He'd told her that he got them sometimes.
And it had comforted her, knowing that she wasn't the only one who woke up with a feeling. Of course, he hadn't told her that his felt like he was going to die that day, but he still woke up with a feeling that something, anything, was going to happen that day. A feeling that leaves you dreading it, and awaiting its arrival with such a sick anticipation that by midday, you're begging for it to happen just to get it over with. The waiting for it is so much worse.
Although, having her hand stuck inside of a man's chest, touching a live explosive that could go off at any second if moved in the slightest, and being told that she needed to remove it...that was slightly worse than waiting.
She'd had her hand touching it for a little over two hours now, and whilst it was there, still, not moving, nothing to distract her, nothing for her to panic about generally, she'd felt fine. Now, when told that it needed to come out, she was started to get more than just a bit scared.
Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest. Her knees felt weak. Her head was reeling. The butterflies in her stomach had suddenly developed a mind of their own and were beating against her stomach, causing her to feel so nauseous, that had she not been in a position where movement was out of the question, she would have needed to sit down just so that she could breathe again.
She couldn't remember the last time that they kissed.
Derek.
She needed him. She ashamed to admit that she was needing a married man, but she knew in her heart that she couldn't wait for the way until she became perfect enough for to him realise what he'd walked away from when he'd chosen Addison. She'd been told to imagine someone that she did like. He was the first person that came into her head. He was the first person on her mind, even if she hadn't wanted him to be. He'd been the only person to offer her any sort of comfort with her feeling, even if he had crushed her feelings before, and now, when she was convinced that her feeling had been right, she was standing with her hand on a bomb, listening to the voice of the man that was telling her that it was okay.
She'd told Cristina that she was going to be okay.
Burke had told her that it was going to be okay.
The guy from the bomb squad had told her that it was going to be okay.
The only voice she had believed the words from, had been the one of Derek's that she'd imagined. She needed him there. She was grateful for Burke standing beside her, coaching her through in a way that he knew she needed, but Derek would be doing so much more.
He'd be able to look into her eyes, give her that gentle smile he reserved only for her, and the fear would melt away into a insignificant puddle. He'd put his hand over her free one, gripping it ever so slightly, and the shaking that was threatening to endanger all of their lives would be ceased. He'd gently place his lips against the side of her head, just above her temple, and the way that his breathe would tickle against her skin would reassure her that she was okay, and that she could do it.
It would make her believe, more than any words could, because he was the comfort on her mind, and somehow, he was with her all the time, no matter where she was, or what she was doing.
Instead, she took deep breaths. That was supposed to be calming. It wasn't though, because it made her heart race even more, preparing itself for what was about to happen. She gazed down at her hand, seeing where the white glove overlapped on her ocean blue scrubs, a colour Derek had once told her suited her very well because of her eyes, and she wished that the two could seperate, and she could walk away without looking back. The red of the man's blood made her wonder whether her blood would be added to the room if she made a mistake. Would she bleed, or would she simply be evapourated on the spot by the force of the explosion?
The man across from her kept his gaze fixed on her for the entirety, making sure that at any moment, he could react to her movement. She moved her had slightly, and a single whisper uttered from his lips.
"Gently."
Gentle. Gentle like the breezes that the town had when it wasn't pouring with rain. Gentle like the way she would stroke Doc's coat when he was sleeping. Gentle like the way her voice would be when her patient was a scared child. Gentle, like the way that Derek kissed her when he spent an eternity gazing at her.
Her eyes, filling with frightened tears, flickered from the man before her, back down to where her hand disappeared into the crevice of the injured man's chest. Her deep breaths were still making sure that her brain was functioning, but her body seemed to move of its own accord. She wasn't sure what her other hand was doing. She wasn't sure whether she was still blinking. In fact, if she hadn't been so convinced by the emphasised rising and falling of her chest, she wouldn't have been sure if she was still breathing.
And then she did it.
The minute her hand moved, she felt her mind hesitating, screaming out every word she had never said, but should have. None of them formed on her tongue though. All she could do was breathe, very gently, when she started to slide the bomb out of the man's chest. Slowly. So slowly, she could almost imagine how loud the man's screams of pain would be had he been able to feel what was happening around him. So slowly, she thought that she could step out of her body and watch it in slow motion before going back into the situation.
So slowly, that she saw Derek's face in a thousand different places in her mind before it was even halfway out of his body.
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A steady beeping overtook the monotonous tone that had previously sounded off the walls of the OR. Derek cast his glance up to the moniter, and was satisfied that Tucker was back with them, and as his vitals steadied, they began to finish up the operation.
Meredith.
Somewhere out there, Meredith had her hand on a bomb. His Meredith. He stopped himself, almost ashamed for calling her 'his'. She wasn't his. She wasn't anyone's, yet he felt so strongly for her that she was the only person who belonged in his heart. He needed to tell her that.
If it wasn't too late.
Cristina had told him that they were moving down the hall to an OR that wasn't above the main oxygen line. If they'd stayed across the hall, the whole hospital could have blown up. Derek wouldn't have minded. He'd already have gone if Meredith had been the bombs victim. They were still close enough to the other room, that they'd easily hear if the bomb exploded at any time, and that one hope of silence from the outside corridor gave him enough hope to remain in the room to finish operating on Tucker.
He didn't feel he was in the right place. Usually, the OR was the one place he felt at home. It didn't matter what city he was in, he was always at home in a hospital, in an OR where there was nothing else to think about other than how to keep your patient alive for the length of the surgery. Now, he knew that he shouldn't be in there. He should be with Meredith.
He'd be there to help her. To stop her getting scared. He'd look into her eyes, and give her a gentle smile, the special McDreamy smile, as she called it, that he knew he only gave to her. He'd put his hand over hers, the one that he knew wasn't encased inside of a chest near to an deadly explosive, and he'd grip it ever so slightly, gentle enough so that it wouldn't hurt her or pass his panic onto her, but strong enough for her to k now that he was there. He'd kiss her on the side of the head, not on the lips, because then he'd want to kiss her properly, and that wouldn't help the situation. So he'd kiss her on the side of the head, in the spot right above her temple, where he knew it instantly melted away any anxiety that was cooped up in her body.
He'd do whatever it took, just to make sure she was okay.
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Three-quaters out.
It was almost over.
That's when the tear slipped out of her eye, and onto her cheek. It was almost over. She wanted so much to give into the hope that was starting to fill her, but knowing that it could still go wrong was enough to keep her rock steady, still scared that she was going to die.
She still had the feeling, even as she passed the black mass in her hand into that of the bomb squad officer. She'd never had so much blood on her gloves before, but then again, she'd never plugged a body cavity with her hand before. For the first time in her life, and her surgical career, the sight of blood made her feel sick.
There was a pleasant weight that seemed to leave her shoulders when she felt the added touch of the officer against the underside of the bomb. She waited for his silent confirmation that it was safe in his hands, and then she started to uncurl her fingers from around it, lifting her hand off and away from the bomb.
"You did good." He told her, as she gently brought her arm back to its natural position at her side, too numb from the fear and shock of the situation to notice the ache that had formed there. All she could feel was the succession of tears that were still falling down her cheeks.
He started to move away from her, stepping backwards and turning so slowly, so gently, so professionally. How many bombs had he removed in a situation like this? Every day, she worked to ensure that people were treated and didn't die, but he went to work every morning knowing that he could die no matter where he was, or what he was doing. How did he do it?
Her right hand was still raised over the body, the blood stained glove contrasting greatly against the kevlar jacket, blue scrubs, and the white of her surgical mask and gloves. Her left hand was placed at the side of the body, but she didn't move it. She was so focused on not moving her right had for the past few hours, that she wasn't sure what had been happening with any other part of her body, but she was aware now that her whole being was shaking.
She quickly took a step backwards as soon as she felt able to move, and Burke and the remaining staff worked on stopping the bleeding of the man who had the whole hospital under an immediate evacuation.
Her eyes weren't on an operation that she could learn a lot from, as she couldn't bring her eyes to stop watching the officer holding the bomb. He was at the door now, steadily walking out of the opening with even, slow steps that had alreay taken him around thirty seconds just to get to the door only a metre away.
When he was out of sight, she moved again, heading towards the door with a curiosity that had overcome her feeling. Stepping out into the hall, she didn't notice the look that Burke gave her, wondering why she was following the bomb that had endangered her life only moments before.
Then it, and the officer holding it, just exploded, right before her eyes.
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The explosion rocked the OR just as Derek was starting to close Tucker's skull cap, just when he was starting to convince himself that he wasn't going to hear it. His hear jerked up, stopping all movement with his hands, and he looked towards the closed door. After a few moments, he saw the smoke shoot past the glass, and then settle again.
"Meredith..." He muttered under his breath.
Had she been hurt? Worse?
"Doctor Yang." Cristina looked away from where she, too, had been watching the smoke engluf the corridor a moment. "Finish closing him up."
He handed her the tools in his hands, and as soon as they had been placed securely in his grasp, he bolted to the door. He forced it open, leaving it open behind him, and went out into the hall. Further down, he could see the intersection that seperated him from where the other OR was.
Windows were smashed from the force of the explosion. Black smoke residue and rubble littered the ground, along with the presense of burning papers that had been blown to the ground. The whole corridor was dark where the lights had smashed, and the only light came from a smashed window which cast an eeire glow into the corridor.
"Grey!"
He heard Burke calling from inside the OR, and headed down that way. Why was he calling for Meredith? Burke had been with her, so if she was okay, she'd be with him? Fear filled him, and he could almost feel the adrenaline building up inside of him.
"Grey...Meredith...can you hear me?"
There was no answer to Burke's call, and Derek rushed into the OR, seeing Burke working on the patient before him, but still calling out for Meredith. Meredith wasn't in the room with him.
"Where is she?" He demanded, out of breath, but from the rapid beating of his hear rather than from the short run down the corridor.
"She's not out there?" Burke asked, bringing his eyes away from his patient up to where Derek was pulling off his scrub cap and his mask, which he had forgotten to move in the hurry of leaving his own OR.
Derek's eyes widened slightly, and he looked back into the corridor. "Where is she?" He demanded again, louder this time.
"She walked out that door, and then the explosion hit." Burke said, before returning his attention to the patient that he couldn't leave, even to ensure that Meredith was safe.
Without waiting for another moment, Derek had left the doorway again, and searched the corridor around him. For a moment, he feared that she had been completely eradicated. He'd heard that when you exploded, they called you 'pink mist'. He hoped that a mist hadn't been her fate.
"Meredith?" He called out, hoping for an answer. A scream, a cry, a yell of pain. Anything. He just needed to hear her voice.
Before he could hear an answer, he caught sight of her collapsed body on the ground.
"Meredith!" He yelled on instinct, running to her side where she lay beside a collapsed gurney. No wonder he hadn't seen her on his run down the corridor, she had been completely blocked from view.
He pushed the gurney away from her, and for a moment, feared that she was dead. She was on her side, her face covered in dirt and smoke, small scratches, and accompanied by a gash on her forehead that was bleeding. Her eyes were closed, her entire body just collapsed into a heap, and she wasn't moving.
She wasn't breathing either.
"No, no, God no." He muttered, quickly removing the kevlar jacket before starting CPR.
He'd wanted to kiss her that day, but he didn't know that it would be the kiss of life.
The compressions he applied were strong, and he was vaugely aware of Burke calling him from the OR, but he didn't answer. Meredith needed him.
"Don't do this to me, Mer."
She wasn't breathing.
"Please, just wake up."
She was basically dead in his arms.
"Open your eyes, breathe. Please, Mer, don't leave me like this. You can do this."
And that thought scared him into a submission where all he could do was hope that she was okay. He was on autopilot applying the lifesaving technique that he had previously applied to Tucker only a few minutes before, only without the monotonous tone he was sure would haunt him, had it been for Meredith.
He breathed into her open mouth, forcing air into her lungs, and as he was starting to think he might have lost her, he drew his lips away from hers, only to have her choke underneath him.
She was breathing.
"Oh, thank God." He gasped in relief, and gathered the upper half of her body into his arms whilst she gasped for air to fill her own lungs.
He held her tightly, but not tight enough to crush her. He just needed to feel her breathing against him, knowing that she was alive. Her desperate breaths racked against him, and as she struggled to catch her breath, she blindly reached upwards, grasping a handful of his scrubs in her fist, holding onto him.
"Breathe, Meri, just breathe, that's it. Deep breaths, you're okay."
She responded to the voice that she could hear holding her, and though she couldn't catch her breath properly, she found it in her to form his name up on her lips. "Der..." She had to break off, as using her voice caused her to start coughing and choking again. She could feel his hand against her back rubbing it and easing her airway into breathing a bit more. "Derek..." She spluttered against his chest.
"It's me. It's Derek." He whispered to her, holding her head against his chest so she wouldn't hurt herself by moving if she had any injuries. "I've got you, Mer. I've got you. You're okay now, I've got you."
He held her in his arms until she managed to control her breathing, and even then, the only moved her further down the corridor, away from the clouds of smoke that were no doubt adding to the hinderance of her breathing. He sat against the wall, cradling her body in his arms as she took deep, shaking breaths that brought tears and sobs with them. He could only whisper words of comfort to her, assuring her that it was over, and that she was safe, and that he was there, as she cried uncontrollably. All of the build up stress from the last several hours had overwhelmed her, and as much as she was trying to stop crying, she knew it would be less exhausting to stop fighting the tears.
He began to realise that since he had heard about the code black situation, he'd given no thought to the woman he called his wife. Addison. Part of him wondered whether she was okay, he knew that she'd probably be trying to keep Richard calm, as well as stressing herself out with Bailey's stubbornness giving birth. He knew he should probably ring downstairs to check she was okay, but Meredith needed him, and he needed to be with her. Since he had met her, no one else seemed worth thinking about, and he'd be lying if the thought of Meredith being married to him instead of Addison hadn't crossed his mind.
They sat there, holding onto each other so desperately from the fear of loss they were scared of experiencing minutes ago, right up until Burke and Cristina approached from opposite ends of the corridor.
"Meredith..." Cristina breathed worriedly, getting on her knees beside Derek and putting her hand on the back of Meredith's head.
"How is she?" Burke asked, watching how Cristina's worry was released onto Meredith, and started to seep away now that she could see was safe. It wasn't often that he got to see such a strong emotion from her, but knew that the friendship between the two women was great.
"She's in shock. She's exhausted, scared, relieved..." Derek listed, not once raising his head from the spot on the ground he had been staring at whilst his head rested on top of hers. "She's not okay. Alive, but not okay."
Cristina removed the mask that was tied so loosely around Meredith's neck still, and then removed the scrub cap that was holding her hair together. Her loose mousy hair fell over the arm that Derek was using to support her back, and when he felt it brush against the bare skin on his arm, he let out a breathy sigh of relief.
"Bailey's husband's been taken back downstairs." Cristina told Derek, who merely nodded, and then she turned up to Burke, getting to her feet as she did so. "The guy with the bomb...how is he?" She asked.
"He's stable." Burke nodded, and Cristina mimicked his action. "We should head downstairs." He decided.
Cristina nodded again. "I'll call ahead and tell them."
She disappeared back into the OR she had just left, and went to the phone, calling to tell the Chief that they were coming back down. In the meantime, Burke looked down at Derek, and notioned to Meredith.
"Think she'll be able to walk?" He asked.
Derek shook his head. "No." He said simply.
Burke cast his glance to the nearby gurney which, although on its side, still looked fully functional. "We can take her down on this. It will do just for the elevator."
"It's okay. I've got her." Derek said, standing up with ease, whilst keeping her in his arms. Burke saw first hand how shaken Meredith was when she gave a tiny whimper at the movement, grasping the handfull of Derek's scrubs that much tighter. "Hey, its okay." He whispered to her. "We're going back downstairs."
The position she had been sitting in wasn't comfortable enough for him to hold her, and he went to stand her on his feet for a moment before he would be able to lift her again. The minute he started to place her down, she tensed in his arms.
"Don't let me go." She pleaded in a tiny, scared voice. "Please."
Burke raised his eyebrow at the intern who seemed to be able to get through anything. Derek held her still for a moment. "I'm just going to for a moment, just a second, Mer. I'm not going anywhere." He told her, and slowly lowered her until her feet touched the ground. He then moved around her slightly, and then bent down, lifting her by the legs and wrapping them around his waist, so that she was held against his chest still. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing her face into the side of his neck. "That better?" He asked her. She simply nodded against him in reply.
"She must be in shock." Burke said, thoroughly convinced of Derek's diagnosis. "That's not like her at all."
Derek shot him a look, suddenly feeling very protective of the woman in his arms. "She's had her hand in a body cavity, handled an explosive, and then witnessed the same explosive exploding. That could have been her. She'd scared. It's been an extremely rough day for her. Give her a break." He snapped at Burke.
Burke said nothing, understanding why he had snapped back so quickly to his comment, but still inwardly wondering why he was so worried about Meredith when he had chosen to be with Addison over her. He was saved from making a comment by Cristina's arrival.
"We're ready to go." She said simply, and they headed towards the elevator.
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"Okay, people, they're coming down." Richard announced, and everyone crowded around the elevator. He'd seen the two patients come down in the elevators, but his surgeons were still up there. Yang had called ahead and told him they were on their way, and now, he had a lot that needed to be said. He should probably be angry with Shephard for staying in surgery when ordered to evacuate, but he knew that he would have done the same thing for Bailey's husband.
They all waited, and then, the doors opened.
Cristina and Burke left the elevator first, giving view to where Derek was waiting for them to move before leaving. Meredith was still firmly gripped in the same embrace he had placed her in, holding herself in a death grip against him as if he were holding a child. He could still feel her trembling against him, and didn't pay any attention to the looks he was getting from the gossip nurses.
Richard shook Burke's hand, thanked Cristina, before going over to Derek, who made no move to put Meredith down from his arms, even though there were at least twenty gurneys in close reach of him. "What happened up there?" He asked Derek.
"Grey managed to remove the explosive from inside the cavity, and the patient and Bailey's husband should make a full recovery." Burke offered, standing his ground beside Derek, who was more focused on Meredith than the Cheif of Surgery standing before him.
Richard looked with a frown from Burke, to Meredith, to Derek, and then back to Burke. "Judging from the fact that Meredith Grey is clearly is some distress, I'd hazard a guess that something more happened as well."
Burke nodded. "After the explosive was removed from the room, it exploded with Grey in close range."
Richard looked at Meredith again. "Is she hurt?"
"A small gash, nothing major." Burke said.
Derek shot him a look. "Nothing major?" He repeated, sounding rather frustrated. "I've never seen someone so in shock!" He protested.
"Derek." Richard warned. He knew that Derek was just overreacting because of his blatent feelings for Meredith, but he didn't need him to start kicking off.
"No, Sir." He said, all to aware of the fact that everyone, including his wife, was watching still. "She's not fine. She is not okay. She's had her hand on a live explosive for the past few hours, and then she watched it, and the man holding it, explode. That could have been her that didn't make it, and I think she's more than entitled to being as scared as she is."
Without waiting for another word to be said, he marched off down the corridor, still holding Meredith protectively against him and ignoring the protesting calls that followed him. He was followed by Izzie and Cristina as he entered into the first empty room that he came across.
As he carried her, he started to realise that he really was in love with Meredith. It suddenly occured to him, now that he knew she was safe, how worried he had been, and that even though it was hard to get through the end of the surgery knowing that she was in harms way, that feeling of wanting to be at her side, helping her through it, was a feeling that he never wanted to go away.
It was a feeling that he didn't mind.
It was all over now. No more danger, no more bomb, and even though it had hurt him so much when he had been so scared, he never regretted a single second of it. If he hadn't been so scared for her safety, so worried and protective of her, he wouldn't have known that he was truly in love.
It wasn't easy to get her to lay down on the vacant bed, as she was determined to stay in his arms, but eventually, he settled for getting her to sit in between Cristina and Izzie, who held her steady as she seemed to fall into a world of her own for a moment. Derek went into the attatching bathroom, and dampened a cloth with some water so that he could clean her face away.
He returned, bringing a chair closer so that he could sit in front of her. Reaching out, he brushed her hair behind her ears, looking at her hollow eyes with concern. She didn't seem to notice him, and was focusing on a point over his shoulder, but not really seeing it. Izzie recognised the look, but it wasn't why it was usually stuck on her face. She knew repeatedly that whenever Derek was mentioned or around her, her eyes would glaze over in a second. Now, however, she looked like she was replaying the days events before her eyes.
"Mer." Derek said softly, trying to regain her attention. "Meredith." He tried again, but to no avail. Trying for third time lucky, he placed his hand against her cheek. "Meri." She snapped out of her trance at the name no one else used for her other than him, and brought her eyes to his face. He gave her a smile. "Hey." He whispered, having regained her attention. "I'm just going to clean you up a bit, okay?" She nodded, and he started to wipe away the dirt on her face from the explosion.
As he cleaned away the dirt, she never once removed her eyes from his face, clearly seeing the concern in his eyes, laced with relief, and he concentrated so hard on being gentle, of not hurting her
"I almost died today." She said, the first coherant thing she had said other than Derek's name.
Taking a deep breath and nodding, Derek sighed. "Yeah, you almost died today." He said, and gave her a weak smile. "I'm glad you didn't die today."
She seemed to zone out for a moment again, but this time, the point she was focused on was Derek's eyes. "I can't remember our last kiss." She whispered. "All I could think about was I'm going to die, and I can't remember our last kiss. The last time we were together and happy...I want to be able to remember that, but I can't. I can't remember."
She lowered her eyes, looking away from his blue orbs, and felt Izzie's comforting hand creep up onto her shoulder. She was going to cry again. She'd noticed before that her previous tears had left various damp patches on Derek's scubs. As a tear slipped onto her cheek, Derek placed the cloth he was cleaning her face with back into a bowl, and using his finger to gently raise her chin, bringing her eyes back to his.
"It was a Thursday morning." He told her. "You were wearing that ratty little Dartmouth t-shirt you look so good in...the one with the hole at the back of the neck. You'd just washed your hair, and you smelled like...some kind of...flower. I was running late for surgery, you said you were going to see me later, and you leaned into me, put your hand on my chest, and you kissed me." He moved his hand from underneath her chin to cupping her cheek, gently stroking the now-clean skin there. "Soft. It was quick. Kind of like a habit...you know...like we'd do it everyday for the rest of our lives...and you went back to reading the newspaper, and I went to work. That was the last time we kissed." The tears that were pooling in her eyes weren't enough to blind her of the image of Derek leaning closer to her again, she was soon aware of the gentle sensation of his lips against hers, only for a moment before he went back to his chair before her. "But it won't be the very last time." He assured her.
She opened her eyes again, letting the tears fall from where she had enclosed them with his kiss. These weren't tears of fear, or of pain or shock, as they had been earlier, but tears of relief.
The feeling was gone now, and replaced with a warm, fuzzy feeling inside of her chest that she wasn't sure how to describe, other than that she was still in love with Derek Shephard. Only now, he was in love with her as well.
Every once in a while, people step up. They rise above themselves. Sometimes, they fall short. Life is funny sometimes...it can push pretty hard, but if you look close enough, you can find hope. Some people find it in children's words, in the bars of a song, or in the eyes of someone you love, and if you're really lucky, maybe the luckiest person on the entire planet, the person you love, decides to love you back.