Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of Shonda Rhimes and ABC. This writing is for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit.
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"There's a club. The Dead Dads Club. And you can't be in it until you're in it. You can try and understand, you can sympathize. But until you feel that loss..." – Cristina Yang, Six Days, pt. 2
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Small, slow, trancelike steps. A hand hovering inches from the small of her back, not daring to touch the purple cotton of her shirt. No tears, not yet, but they're getting close to one of them. Breath coming in heaves. Utter disbelief, disappointment from both. Ghostly pale and reddened eyes. They keep walking, one foot after the other, right, left, right, left, and to the one it's like learning how all over again.
He didn't even make it to surgery.
Meredith was just about to step across the threshold to Richard's office, fine, I'll do it poised on her lips. Before she could finish the first word, her pager interrupted her.
From there, it was standard. A code. Paddles. Compressions. Drugs. The noise of no pulse, the sound of hope lost. Time of death. The cry of pain, the sigh of defeat, the look of sympathy, the regret. Their arms touched as they stared at the lifeless body in the bed. One sister sunk into the chair that was luckily beneath her and the other just kept staring.
That was an hour ago. Now, Meredith needs to take Lexie away. Small, slow, trancelike steps leading them away from his room – away from the death and the lawyers and the papers and the identification of the body (they take the wrong person? Lexie had squeaked incredulously, curling in on herself in horror). She needs to take Lexie away from everything so that she can fall apart like Meredith knows she needs to.
They reach the elevator and Meredith guides Lexie onto it before solemnly pressing the lowest button. It happens sooner than Meredith is prepared for: the doors sliding shut, hiding them from the world, must be some kind of trigger because Lexie finally loses it.
Deep, gasping breaths that serve no purpose whatsoever. Hands grasping at nothing, opening and closing with a rhythm that Meredith can't hear. Sobs so hard they hurt her ribs, the hollowness in her stomach, a constant stream of tears pouring from her frantic eyes. She almost chokes herself on one breath, an the coughing and sputtering are made worse by the uncontrollable crying. Meredith watches her weep for a moment before reluctantly placing a hand on her sister's hip, barely touching so that it's still almost like inches are separating them.
Still, Lexie capitalizes on the contact by leaning into Meredith, resting her weight on her and sobbing again so that Meredith has to step backward to keep them from toppling over. Nonetheless, her arms find purchase around Lexie's shuddering frame, holding her more tightly than, a year ago, she ever would have thought possible.
It's highly uncomfortable, and part of Meredith wants to crawl out of her skin and just be gone, but it's the least she can do.
It figures that the first hug they ever share comes at a time as shitty as this.
Lexie rests her head on Meredith's shoulder, crying softly into her neck. Meredith somberly touches Lexie's hair despite herself. It smells like vanilla, too innocent for this.
Nothing is right for this. Not even what she had convinced herself of. It's confusing and there's no question of feeling happy of sad, just of not feeling.
Meredith owed Thatcher nothing. But the man who just died wasn't the man who had ruined her life; he wasn't her father (but he was). He was the shell of the man he once was, weakened by loss and heartbreak and addiction and sickness until he was almost transparent. Until he was pitiful. Until it seemed a shame to hate someone so weak. But she still does. But doesn't. Did. Didn't. It almost gives her whiplash.
As Lexie continues to let it out, gripping Meredith's hand and trembling with sobs, Meredith finally acknowledges what she's carrying.
Anger at Thatcher. Anger at Lexie. Anger at herself for letting Lexie down. Anger at herself for being so condescending when Lexie literally dragged him into the ER. Guilt for not feeling like Lexie, not crying like Lexie. All of those years of him being gone culminating in him really being gone. It all seems to settle right in her liver until she can feel the organ specifically and feel blood and life pulsing through it.
It almost makes her sick.
One sister regrets because she couldn't do anything to save him. The other regrets because she could.
Even though it has seemed that way for a long time, both of them really are orphans now.
Lexie has quieted to shaky breaths by the time the elevator finishes its long descent. The silver doors part, revealing the basement tunnel. It's quite a few degrees cooler down here, and a blast of cool air hits them as soon as the doors open all the way, but neither Meredith nor Lexie shivers. They don't feel the change. Moonlight casts eerie shadows everywhere, and Lexie flinches. But Meredith forces her onward.
Leaden, robotic movements carry them. Footsteps echoing and bouncing rigidly off the solid walls. Their feet take them to where, at last, there are other humans – living, breathing humans that tell them to go on. Cristina blinks and stands from the gurney she had been sitting on, hand resting on the crown of her head, fingers tangled in ebony curls. Derek tilts his head to the side and regards Meredith and Lexie with a small, sad smile, and understanding blue eyes.
Cristina and Derek begin to move toward them like ghosts over the tile. Calculated movements. Ritualistic. One step, then another. Meredith bites her lip with sudden perception. Both Cristina and Derek belong there, and now, so do Meredith and Lexie.
There's this phantom presence in the tunnel as well, a warmth that was just a bit too far away to touch, turning four people into five. Meredith knows George would be there too. He was a part of this thing. He would be there to comfort them along with Cristina and Derek. It's not painful to think of – it's the opposite.
Lexie's tears are silent, now, and she wipes them away with the back of her hand. Her chestnut eyes gleam in the pale light. Meredith clenches her jaw, willing her own away when she looks at her person and then her husband.
Derek's arm comes gently around Meredith's shoulders and he presses a kiss to the side of her head. She nods wordlessly, swallowing the lump in her throat. No running. No shrinking away. It's okay to suffer with others, she tells herself. It's okay.
With atypical softness, Cristina places a hand on Lexie's shoulder. Then, she gazes between the Grey sisters with such compassion that it takes Lexie's breath away.
When she speaks, her voice is gentle and affects Meredith and Lexie differently but with equal profundity.
"Welcome to the club. I'm so sorry you had to join."