Just a little collection of memories, usually Derek's POV, one shots and drabbles.I know I'm supposed to be updatingmy other fic, I swear I will.Enjoy !

NEW YORK

JUNE 1988

When you suffer through four years of high school and then four years of college, you don't expect to deviate from your plan.

You're going to graduate from med school, you're going to be a neurosurgeon, and you're going to marry your high school sweetheart, that is your plan.

You never plan for tall redheads, you never imagine that Gross Anatomy will be the highlight of your week.

But destiny and fate are tricky things ; they shape our lives in ways we never imagine , and sometimes what you're looking for comes along when you aren't looking at all, and sometimes you don't know that it's what you wanted in the first place.

Sometimes paths cross in just the right way, and sometimes it's just so inevitable, so fairytale - perfect , that you give in and let yourself be pulled along with the current.

But you don't expect it in Professor Osborne 's nine AM Gross Anatomy lecture.

" Pronate your hands and dissect down to the superficial fascia. ... "

" Like this ? "

" No, it's not a pencil, don't hold it like a - "

You expect it to happen over candlelit dinners and flowers, music in the background, because that's the kind of boy you are, you're a candles and flowers kind of boy.

" Give me that. "

You don't expect it to happen with a scalpel in hand, gloves yellow with formalin and eyes squinting behind protective goggles, even if her voice is soft and musical and does things to you that you put down to hormones.

" Hold it like this, good grip, with your palm, not too much pressure - go on , your turn. "

You don't expect it to happen while you're slicing into the chest of a sixty eight year old man who died of mitral valve stenosis, according to his toe tag.

But it does, and you're not complaining.

" How do you know so much ? " Mark demands, because he has to be the best, because it's always a race with him.

" My father's a surgeon. "

And there go your dreams down the drain, because if there was ever someone out of your league, it's her.

He's a clumsy bewildered hack with the scalpel; she moves as swiftly and smoothly as if she were born to it .

" So you want to be a surgeon too ? " Mark says, and you envision your dreams flowing through sewers and into the sea, because you recognise the look in his eyes, you've seen it too many times before, and not many girls stand a chance against it.

" You think I can't ? " she cocks her head ; you almost drop your scalpel because this response is not in the plan.

" I never said that. "

" You try. "

You watch them bicker about the finesse of each others work , you feel yourself falling further and further for absolutely no discernible reason at all ; you're a candles and flowers kind of a boy but you're not naive, you don't believe in love at first sight .

So you ignore it, you quietly work your way through the rest of the lecture and then you flee from the hall, because you didn't plan for this and therefore it scares you.

But destiny and fate are tricky things; they have a way of bending things to their will and you find yourself on the library steps alone that night because Mark is with the blonde waitress from last night and you don't have that kind of suave charm, so you're with a pile of books you can't fit into your bag.

" Hey. "

You don't recognise her at first, without the scrubs and goggles, or maybe you do but you're not actually sure she talking to you, because why would she be ?

" Can I help you with that ? "

You straighten up and almost fall back down again, because she's standing so close, silky red hair blowing across her face.

" No, I , uh - "

" It's all right, I'm not busy anyway. "

She picks up half the pile and starts walking, you follow and catch up to her easily , because she's tall but not quite as tall as you.

" Thank you. "

" No problem. I recognised you from Gross Anatomy this morning, thought I'd give you a hand. "

And you can't stop looking at her hands, surreptitiously checking for rings of any kind, because you're that sort of boy.

" Well- this is me. " you say outside your dorm , sorry to see her go , grateful to lose this distraction.

" See you tomorrow then ? "

" Yeah. "

" Good night, then. "

She lingers a little longer than she has to and you wonder if she can feel it too, this faint maybe-imaginary magnetic pull drawing you closer and closer .

But of course she doesn't, you think, look at her.

She's gorgeous, for lack of a less clichéd word, gorgeous, all long limbs and red hair and that mouth you can't stop looking at because you're just a boy, after all.

And those eyes, those eyes you've been trying to avoid since you saw them this morning behind green plastic lenses, the shifting blue color of the lake your father took you fishing at and so easy to drown in.

But you have everything planned and you've not allowed time to drown in eyes that you know are going to haunt your dreams tonight, so you turn to leave.

And you'll look back on this moment, this tiny space of time where it could have gone either way, and you'll identify what happened next as the split - second decision that mapped the course of your life for the next fifteen years.

" Wait - I didn't even ask your name. " You call to her retreating back, sure you're about to be shown your place.

She turns around, ocean eyes wide with surprise. " I didn't ask yours. "

You walk back to her, hold out your hand.

" Derek . "

She smiles, and in that moment you know you're lost.

" Addison . "

And you definitely didn't plan to remember this fifteen years later in a strangers living room, you didn't expect it to feel so wrong.

" Derek. "

" Meredith . "

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