Hey! So... I know I fail at life and working on my other incomplete fics... however, this just came to me, and it's the first non-school related thing I've written in MONTHS... so roll with it. I've got every bit of it outlined, and the first two parts are done already. So hopefully I can finish it! lol.
By all means, let me know what you think. I haven't watched Grey's all season (except for the latest episode), so if there was anything we found out from Amelia's visit about Derek's childhood that isn't right... my bad, y'all. ;)
Anywho... this is the song that inspired the ficlet:
Inevitable-Anberlin
Do you remember when we were just kids
And cardboard boxes took us miles from what we would miss
Schoolyard conversations taken to heart
And laughter took the place of everything we knew we were not
I wanna break every clock
The hands of time could never move again
We could stay in this moment (stay in this moment)
For the rest of our lives
Is it over now hey, hey, is it over now
I wanna be your last, first kiss
That you'll ever have
I wanna be your last, first kiss
Amazing how life turns out the way that it does
We end up hurting the worst, the only ones we really love
I wanna break every clock
The hands of time could never move again
We could stay in this moment (stay in this moment)
For the rest of our lives
Is it over now hey, hey, is it over now
I wanna be your last, first kiss
That you'll ever have
I wanna be your last, first kiss
Is it over now hey, hey, is it over now
Is it over how hey, hey, it's not over now
I wanna be your last, first kiss
That you'll ever have (that you'll ever have)
I wanna be your last, first love (that you'll ever have)
Till you're lying here beside me with arms and eyes open wide
I wanna be your last, first kiss for all time
...
I guess you could say it's AU. I hope you'll stick around for the ride! ;)
x3 And trust me.
CHAPTER ONE: I'll Stand By You
SPRING, 1987.
In a quiet Seattle suburb on this day—what had been the dreariest, most exhausting, depressing day of the early spring season yet—two children, aged eight and ten, lay together in an old tree house. The girl—the younger of the two—stared at the boy, who stared up at the ceiling. She kept her eyes trained on the boy as she watched him carefully, knowing him well enough to know that he was trying not to cry. She twiddled her thumbs nervously—it was way past their bedtimes, but she wasn't nervous or didn't care about that—she cared more about her friend, and finding a way to help him.
A tiny puff of air circulated in front of her—it was nighttime, the air was cooler—as she exhaled slowly; she blinked, surprised that tears had formed in her own green-blue eyes. She sniffled. So did he.
After a few more long minutes of silence, she finally spoke. "Hey?" she whispered as she slowly sat up, the old wooden floor of the tree house creaking beneath her shifting weight. Her voice sounded soft and broken, cracking because it had been several hours since she'd last said a word.
He, too, sat up and stared at her, his normally crystal-blue eyes now a deep shade of indigo, melting into her intense emerald stare. She tucked a few strands of hair that had fallen into her line of vision behind her ear and sighed. He only nodded at her—the strong boy admitting his weakness to his best friend—before she rocked on to her knees and protectively wrapped her arms around him. He allowed her to hold him—to even touch him, really—for the first time in days.
They stayed like that for what felt like hours to the girl—the boy sobbing into her shoulder, gasping and choking for air, depending solely on the little girl's strength to keep him from falling over—but was really a matter of minutes. Thunder clapped and rumbled through the air above them—lightning followed soon after, lighting up the sky—and they both jumped a little.
"It's okay," she said softly, her voice soothing and sweet. He looked up at her and locked his eyes on hers. "I've got you, D," she soothed. "I've got you."
Since before Meredith Grey could even remember—probably since birth, if she really thought about it—Carolyn Shepherd had been her second mother. Meredith spent countless hours with the Shepherds—Nancy, Kathleen, Derek, Kimberly and Amelia and their parents—eating dinners, playing, doing homework and even attending church services—while her mother feverishly worked at the hospital to save lives. This had especially been the case once her father, Thatcher, left for Boston, and her mother, Ellis, began working twice as many hours at the hospital.
And though Meredith enjoyed being with the Shepherd girls, it was Derek whom she related to most. Nancy and Kathleen were older—in middle school—and couldn't be bothered with their own sisters—who were barely in elementary school—let alone the "neighbor kid" as they called her. So Derek, being the closest in both age and interests, became her best friend.
The pair was inseparable. They played little league baseball together (even though the coaches insisted on putting Meredith on a girls' team, but she refused—she wanted to play on a team with Derek, or not at all). He saved her a swing on the fourth-and-fifth grader playground. He helped her with homework. He looked out for her when other kids teased her.
Derek was the brother she never had; he was her pseudo-sibling who had somehow become her best friend… and the single most important person in her young life.
He was always the one who was there for her when she needed and wanted him to be—protecting her, guiding her, loving her—and she knew, even at the tender age of eight, that she needed to be there for him too. Especially now.
Meredith knew what it was like to live without a father; she'd been doing so for three years already. But Derek… Derek didn't. And that made all the difference in the world.
Three days ago had been almost normal—school, homework, dinner and hanging out at the Shepherd house—until it wasn't. Meredith was at their house, a little later than normal, waiting for either the nanny or Ellis to come and get her for the night. On a normal day, Derek's dad, Christopher, would have been home for 45 minutes. But Carolyn had called and asked if he'd get a gallon or two of milk from the corner store—with five… okay, if Meredith counted, and to Carolyn she did… six kids, it wasn't an unusual request—and he agreed.
He still should have been home, but he wasn't yet.
And then the rest of the week was a blur.
The police showed up at Derek's house. Christopher had been mugged. Unwilling to give up the watch Carolyn had given him nearly 18 years ago for their first Christmas together, he'd been shot twice—once in the head, once in the heart… how was that for symbolism?—and had died upon arrival to the hospital. According to the police, the suspects had gotten away, but they were actively pursuing the gunmen—suspected serial criminals, with good descriptions from key witnesses from this and other muggings—and promising to keep Carolyn updated.
Nancy and Kathleen had been tucking the younger sisters in upstairs, leaving Derek and Meredith downstairs with Carolyn when the police had arrived. Meredith had eagerly raced Derek to the door—a Shepherd house tradition—and stopped short as she greeted the officers. They spoke in hushed tones to Carolyn; Meredith kept her eyes on Derek as they eavesdropped from the kitchen.
The worst part of it all was the way Carolyn sobbed; her voice came out in a cracked, high-pitched whine, her beautiful face crumpled and pained. Derek abandoned Meredith's side and wrapped his arms around his mother, comforting her like she had comforted him, his sisters and even Meredith so many times before. Nancy and Kathleen thundered down the stairs—a mess of questions and fear and brown hair—with Kimberly and Amelia hot on their heels. Meredith silently watched as the family connected and hugged and sobbed—already feeling and mourning the loss of their father, their protector, their everything.
She was scared. A lump of fear, anxiety, anguish, anger—a whole mess of emotions—grew in her throat. She couldn't watch anymore, so without a word, she slipped her shoes on and left her coat behind. She silently slipped out the door and crossed the patch of grass between her house and The Shepherds'.
That night, Ellis was at home. The surgeon-mother sat in the kitchen, her hands wrapped around her mug of coffee, even though it was nearly eight p.m. now.
"Mommy?" Meredith whispered as she stepped into the kitchen.
Ellis jumped at her daughter's voice, nearly dropping the mug from her grip. "Meredith."
"Is it true?"
If Ellis had been a normal mother—and in this moment, she almost felt like one—her heart would have broken. But she compartmentalized, took a sip of her coffee and nodded. "Mr. Shepherd passed away, yes."
Taking a deep breath, Meredith crossed her arms over her chest and asked, "Did you do everything you could to save him, Mama?"
Silence consumed them now, for Ellis wasn't sure how to tell her daughter that there wasn't anything she could have done to save their neighbor. There wasn't anything anyone could have done. Meredith's eyes filled with tears, her cheeks grew hot, and she stomped her feet slightly, challenging Ellis and silently daring her to answer the question. "It's time for you to go to sleep, Meredith," was all she offered.
Shaking her head in disbelief, Meredith turned on her heel and ran up the stairs. Ellis sighed, and as Meredith slammed her bedroom door upstairs, she cringed, knowing that her daughter's heart was breaking—for the umpteenth time in her eight short years of life—and there wasn't anything she could do to help her.
Meredith changed into her pajamas, but she knew she couldn't or wouldn't sleep until she saw Derek again, so she waited up for him. She pulled her blinds up and sat in the windowsill, watching Derek's bedroom for any sign of him. Meredith yawned and nodded off to sleep a few times, but it wasn't until 11:30 or so when she saw Derek.
She grabbed the flashlight from her dresser and flicked it on, shining it into Derek's room—their special signal—waiting for him to shine his flashlight back. But he didn't. She pressed her palm up against the cool glass, waiting for him to acknowledge that she was there. When he finally did notice her, he didn't wave. He didn't smile. He didn't shine the flashlight. He only pulled his own blinds down, harshly ignoring her, breaking her heart for the second time that evening.
Neither Meredith nor Derek—or any of the Shepherd sisters—went to school for the remainder of the week; instead, they all helped Carolyn in any way they could. But Derek still wouldn't speak to Meredith—and it took her a long while to figure out why.
Today, of all days, it rained. The sky was an endless, dark, angry black, with thunder and lightning intermittently decorating the atmosphere. The funeral was heart-and-soul crushing. So many people came to pay their respects, and talk to Derek and his sisters. Meredith watched and took it all in, and as the day progressed, she knew that Derek was slowly falling apart, even though he was desperately trying not to.
And that's how she ended up in the tree house with Derek; she knew she couldn't do much—what could she say, she didn't know how to comfort him in this situation… after all, he had been the one who had to comfort her when Thatcher left three years ago. He usually did the soothing, the comforting, the protecting… and now it was her turn.
That's how they ended up outside in the tree house, sneaking away from everything and everyone, for him to just be there for him… like he always was for her.
"Shh," she soothed again as another sob wracked her best friend's body. "I'm right here," Meredith said softly, rubbing his back in slow circles—just like his mother had done for her many times before.
After a few more minutes of this—sobbing and supporting and crying and helping—Derek sat back on his heels and wiped his face. "Meredith, thanks…," was all he managed to say before she shushed him.
"It's what friends do," she offered—echoing the explanation he often gave her when he helped her with whatever problem she'd faced on any given day.
They sat in silence for a few more minutes—each wanting to say so much to the other, but neither of them knew what to say. Meredith reached over to the trunk that was near the faux-window and searched through it, fishing a ratty doll out of the trunk's confines. She smiled at Derek, who smiled back, as she sat down Indian-style to face him. She gently placed the doll down in between them, and waited for Derek to make the first move.
"Anatomy Jane," he whispered with a smile. It had been at least a year since Meredith had touched it—swearing it off after Ellis had yelled at her for carrying the doll everywhere—and he was surprised that Anatomy Jane was her toy of choice this evening.
"Yep," she grinned.
Derek reached over and popped the faux-abdomen off the doll, and pulled an organ—the intestines—out. "What's this?" he asked, reverting back to one of their favorite games.
"It's the slivee," Meredith replied, and Derek rolled his eyes—he knew she knew better—Ellis had scolded them both enough in the past for the childish organ names—but he didn't dare correct her.
"Right," he said with a laugh.
And the game continued—the chubble, the twash, the jelly pouch (the spleen, the stomach and the liver respectively), etc—until all of Anatomy Jane's internal organs were removed.
"Now we've gotta put her back together," Meredith said softly, reaching for one of the plastic pieces that was closer to Derek.
He reached out and grabbed her wrist, surprising her. She locked her eyes on Derek's, not flinching, not pulling away… but waiting for explanation. He sucked in a slow breath as he stared at her for a moment, collecting his thoughts.
"Will you promise me something?"
"Anything."
Derek nodded, keeping her arm in his grip, and smiled. "When we grow up," he said softly, "even though I know you hate it, because of your…," Derek paused for a moment, shaking his head. Meredith nodded, encouraging him to go on. "Promise me, Meredith, that we'll both become doctors. So we can save people."
"I promise, Derek," she replied, smiling at him—nothing but sincerity and honesty and love in her endless emerald eyes.
"Good," he replied, gently releasing her arm.
Meredith smiled and nodded back at Derek. She picked up one of the colored organs and pressed it back into place. The pattern continued in relative silence—except for the fading rainstorm and the clicking of the plastic pieces—until Anatomy Jane was pieced back together. Perhaps if Meredith were older, she'd have realized the metaphor—piecing Anatomy Jane back together, as if they were piecing Derek back together (it would take more than that, though)—but she didn't. She was helping her best friend in perhaps the only way she knew how.
"You know, Derek," she said softly. This time it was her turn to grab his arm, just as he pressed the doll's plastic abdomen-cover into place. As he locked his eyes on hers—cobalt blue melting with emerald green—she released his hand. "I promise…," she paused. "I will always be your best friend," Meredith whispered. "Forever and always," she added with a nod.
Derek smiled at her and whispered, "I know."
And it was then when she realized the strength of her innocent promise—for it was not so innocent, was it… but she knew she meant it, because Derek—though he had no relation to her, other than being her neighbor—had been the one constant in her life. At eight years old, she knew she never wanted to give that up—she needed Derek as much as he needed her. So she leaned over, sitting up to her knees and hugged him close. She then whispered those three words again—[i]forever and always[/i]—and pressed her lips to his cheek.
He blushed and smiled, and hugged her tighter. They broke apart then—and he returned the sentiment. "I'm sorry for not talking to you," he offered as he stood—his head nearly touching the ceiling, he and Meredith were getting 'too big' for the tree house—and held his hand out to help Meredith up.
She took his hand and stood. "It's okay, D. I get it," Meredith shrugged. The silence that followed was slightly uneasy, so Meredith nudged him and said, "Last one to the house is a rotten egg!" before she opened the 'trap door' and slid down the rope ladder, leaving Derek alone in the tree house.
He shook his head and smiled before hopping down—landing on his feet, like his father had shown him the summer before—and racing after his best friend. And though he came close to catching her, he let her keep her lead—childhood was about give and take, and their friendship was, too—allowing her to 'win.' Pausing briefly to listen to her infectious giggle (and catch his breath), he watched as she made it to the back deck—choosing his house instead of her own—and hug his mother as she stepped inside. He heard his mother tell the little girl that she loved her, and he smiled—Meredith was his best friend, and she always would be.
"Come on, Derek!" Meredith called from the house—waving wildly—calling him home. He smiled again and sighed, he took that first, most difficult step forward toward Meredith… and toward the future.
-inevitable-