Song is Volcano by Damien Rice
Don't hold yourself like that
cause You'll hurt your knees
well I kissed your mouth, and back
But that's all I need
Don't build your world around
Volcanoes melt you down
And What I am to you is not real
What I am to you, you do not need
What I am to you is not what you mean to me
You give me miles and miles of mountains
And I'll ask for the sea
Don't throw yourself like that
In front of me
I kissed your mouth, your back
Is that all you need?
Don't drag my love around
Volcanoes melt me down
What I am to you is not real
What I am to you, you do not need
What I am to you is not what you mean to me
You give me miles and miles of mountains
And I'll ask
What I give to you is just what I'm going through
This is nothing new, no, no just another phase of finding
what I really need is what makes me bleed
But like a new disease, Lord, she's still too young to treat
Volcanoes melt you down
She's still too young +what iam to you+you do not need+is not real
I kissed your mouth
You do not need me
Derek slowly walks towards her room. Mark had found him. Mark had found him and told him that she had woken up. It had only been briefly. Dying is exhausting. At least he assumes that it is. He doesn't know why he is so scared. He doesn't know why he is so nervous to see her. His feet feel heavy as does his heart. His heart. His heart feels broken. But it shouldn't be. He should be happy. He should be happy that she is alive. He should be happy that he can breathe her in one more time. He should be happy that he can hold her in his arms once more. He should be. So, why is he so reluctant to allow that happiness to grip him?
He sighs as he reaches the door. She is asleep. She looks so peaceful. They have a thick blanket covering her. He figures that she is still recovering from the hypothermia. Hypothermia. That's an understatement. She was blue. She was a color of blue that he had never seen the human skin turn before. She was blue and so cold. Cold. Cold and dead. In his arms. She was blue, cold, and dead in his arms.
He can still feel her cold clammy lips against his as he tried desperately to save her, to save himself. Those lips didn't belong to Meredith. They belonged to not-Meredith. They weren't the soft, inviting lips that had kissed him that morning as he teased her about being her knight in shining whatever, as she called him. This morning. He should have known. He should have known that something was wrong. He knows her. He knew that something was wrong.
He leans against the metal doorway leading into her room and watches her sleep. He can feel the coldness of the metal through his clothing and it sends chills to the marrow of his bones as it reminds him of her skin. He finds himself watching the rise and fall of her chest, almost as if he needs the reassurance that she is breathing. That she is alive. That she is still his Meredith.
He watches as she scrunches up her nose a little, a tell that she is about to wake up. He only knows this from the mornings when he would watch her sleep after her snoring had woken him up. He loves to watch her sleep. She is the most peaceful when she sleeps.
His gaze moves from her cute button nose to her mouth. Her mouth where she is currently breathing on her own. He remembers just hours ago the tubes that were breathing for her. She was almost like a robot. Not almost. Was. She was a robot. She wasn't Meredith. She was a shell. A shell that she had been for so long. How did he not notice? How could he not tell that she was fading? He had a feeling this morning. He had a feeling when he found her in the bathtub. He should have known.
She can swim. She can swim and she didn't. She can swim and she gave up. She didn't fight. She didn't fight for her life. She didn't fight for him. He would have fought for her. He would have fought to live for her. She is enough for him. He needs her. He needs to be with her. He needs to be with her for as long as he can. He would have fought for her. Why didn't she fight for him? Why isn't he enough? Will he ever be enough? Will his love ever be enough?
He closes his eyes for a moment and her floating body floats before his vision. He remembers the little girl pointing out towards the water. His heart stopped. He froze. He froze for a moment before shrugging off his heavy coat and jumping in. The water was so cold. The water was so cold that it took away his breath. The water was so cold and dark, but he couldn't stop. He had to find her. It only took him a few minutes. She wasn't far from shore. She wasn't far at all. She could have made it. She could have made it to the dock. She could have. But she didn't. She didn't even try. She gave up. She gave up on life. She gave up on him. But he couldn't give up on her. He couldn't. He wouldn't.
He notices her eyelids begin to flutter open as she is aroused from her sleep. He watches her closely. Watching for any hint of something, anything. She opens her eyes and turns her head. She acts shocked to see him. Why is she shocked? Did she not know that he would be there? Of course he is there. He wouldn't be anywhere else. He thinks that he sees a small smile playing at her lips, but he can't be sure.
He watches. He waits. He waits for what seems like forever. He has so many things that he wants to say. He feels as if his heart could burst out of his chest with emotion, but where does he begin? How does he tell her that the last two hours were complete hell for him as he waited for something, anything, to tell him that she was going to make it. Were the last two hours not hell for her as well?
He knows that he should say something. He knows that he should tell her he loves her. He should. But he can't. He can't. What if he loses her again? He did lose her. She was clinically dead. She was gone. She was gone and she took his heart with her. Why can't he say those three words that he feels so strongly? Maybe it won't be enough. It wasn't enough last time. What if it isn't ever enough? He can't. He can't.
Derek: Hey.
When Meredith responds, her voice is raspy from the breathing tubes. Something that causes another small tear in Derek's already bleeding heart.
Meredith (almost in a sigh): Hey.
Derek fights the tears as he hears a voice he never thought he would hear again. A voice that although raspy and weathered, sounds like music to his hears.
A small sigh escapes from Derek's diaphragm as he slowly pushes himself off of the cold doorframe. A sigh that is full of so many emotions, so many unsaid I love yous, so many fears. He takes a few steps towards her bed. He has so many things to say to her. He needs to say so many things to her. But he can't. He wants to wrap her fragile body in his arms and protect her. He wants to hold her for forever and never let go. He wants to provide her warmth, comfort, and love. But he can't. Not right now. He can't.
So, he stares down at her and smiles. He smiles. He doesn't mean the smile. Not really. He is happy that she is alive. He is happy that she is breathing. But he isn't happy. Not really. He feels…lonely. He opens his mouth to tell her he loves her. He opens his mouth to tell her that he needs her. He opens his mouth to tell her that he is glad that she didn't die today. But nothing comes out.
He leans down and brushes his hand across her warm forehead, warm not cold, before placing a soft kiss on her skin. She is no longer blue. She is no longer cold. She is no longer dead. She is Meredith. She is his Meredith again. But why does he feel so alienated? He shoves his hands deep into his jean pockets, a motion that exemplifies the awkwardness of the situation. After all, it isn't everyday that the love of your life almost dies. That is when it really hits him. She is the love of his life. Meredith. She is his soul mate. He hadn't really realized that before. He didn't realize it until he felt dead inside while she was dying. She is the love of his life, but what is he to her?
He opens his mouth to speak again, this time formulating words, but not the ones that he was intending.
Derek: Meredith..
God it feels so good to say her name. To feel it roll off of his tongue like soft velvet. A name that she didn't think he would ever be able to say again. It is a relief. It is a huge relief. She looks at him and he can feel her eyes delving into his soul.
Meredith: My mother is dead isn't she?
Derek stands there for a short moment. How did she know? Did someone else already tell her? Surely not. If someone had told her she wouldn't be asking him.
Derek: Yes…
Meredith shakes her head, cutting him off. He just stares at her.
Meredith: It's ok...I think...I think it's ok.
Derek stares at her. He stares at the tiny, pale, fragile woman, the love of his life, engulfed by the thermal blanket and hooked up to numerous monitors and he can't help but think that it isn't okay. He can't help but think that everything if far from being okay. She isn't okay. He isn't okay. Things aren't okay.
So yeah...here is another one...I write when I get stressed...lol...hope you enjoy...let me know what you think.
-Marci