The breeze is strong here, and the air is thick and moist, telling her that the clouds may let loose soon. She should go back inside.
The first time she has the dream she is alone in an on-call room at the hospital. She wakes with a start, immediately reaching for him, only to hit her hand against the cold, hard wall. She wants to seek him out but a 911 page distracts her and she doesn't get to touch him for another four hours.
If she hugs him a little tighter, with just a hint of desperate affection that she usually reserves for times when they're naked, he doesn't mention it. He just holds her tighter and kisses the top of her head and asks how her shift went.
The second time, he wakes her by softly calling her name. She's nauseated and feels like sobbing, but a few deep breaths, later she's got herself under control.
"You okay?" he asks, his words slurred together like he's already on his way back to sleep.
"Just a dream," she chokes out.
"'S just a dream," he agrees, before settling his arms more firmly around her and falling back into solid sleep.
She never does get black to sleep.
The third time, they're at the trailer and she manages to wake up without disturbing him. She knows she won't get back to sleep so she climbs out of bed, pulls her hair back into a haphazard wad, pulls on her boots and huddles into one of Derek's sweatshirts before heading out to the clearing where they'll eventually build a house. Someday.
The view really is spectacular.
She walks out toward the edge, more and more of the city below revealed the closer she gets. She stops a couple of feet from the drop-off, mesmerized by the sight of the city lights dancing on the water.
She takes a step closer and stops. The breeze is strong here, and the air is thick and moist, telling her that the clouds may let loose soon. She should go back inside.
Maybe it's the lack of sleep. It's probably the lack of sleep. And maybe the images of a lifeless Derek that flash through her mind every once in a while, but something holds her there, at the edge of the cliff, looking down into the valley below.
She loves it here. At the edge of the world, knowing that the ground could give way any second but banking that it won't. It's quiet, but she feels like she can hear the entire world whispering at her.
The wind picks up and the air thickens into a misty rain that clings more than falls. Her hands start to tremble and she tells herself it's just the cold so she tucks them into the sleeves.
She closes her eyes for a moment. Just a moment. She savors the silence and the wind and the mist on her face. But then his lifeless body flashes into her mind and she gags. When she opens her eyes vertigo takes over and in that moment she is more scared than she has ever been in her life.
The edge of the cliff is just a step away and lights below are blurred by tears and instead of feeling giddy, she feels like she's going to vomit. She takes a step back and sits in the damp grass.
Gradually, her breathing returns to normal and the trembling calms and she is able to see the view once again through clear eyes. The lights aren't dancing or shimmering now. They're just lights, pretty and far.
"Meredith," he calls.
She doesn't answer him.
"Meredith, what are you doing?" he asks, closer this time.
She turns her head toward him in acknowledgement but still doesn't speak.
He stops just behind her and she can hear him breathe in sharply. She looks up and she sees him looking down, not at her, but into the darkness that expands out below her. Self-consciousness rises up around her and she pulls her knees up to her chest and lays her head against them, any peace she'd managed to attain now gone.
She flinches when he sits down behind her, spreading his legs out on either side of her and pulling her back against his chest.
"It's beautiful out here, isn't it?" he asks.
"Yeah," she croaks out. "Beautiful." And mesmerizing, and terrifying.
He's quiet for a moment before continuing, "What's going on?" He sounds lost and she hates it.
"Nothing. Just couldn't sleep."
"Another bad dream?"
"Yeah," she states simply after hesitating for a moment. They share a bed and she knows there's no hiding it.
"Tell me," he states, his arms tightening around her. She shivers.
"I hate this," she tells him.
"You're going to have to define 'this.'"
"Why can't I just be normal? Other couples get together and start talking about forever and houses and kids and they're happy."
"You're not happy?" he sounds hurt and she knows she's going about this wrong.
"No. Or yes. I'm happy. I love you. I'm happy that we're together." She tries to put a smile in her voice but she is afraid it falls flat.
"But…"
"I'm never going to be bright and shiny," she shrugs in apology.
"I thought we agreed that neither of us were cut out for bright and shiny," he whispers
"You are."
"I'm not. And I'm okay if you're not." He sounds so sure of this.
She doubts him, but they've had this conversation before and she's more than done with it.
They sit in silence for a few more minutes before he asks again, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing specific. Just a feeling."
"Is that why you're having dreams?" he asks.
"Maybe. Or maybe it's because of the dream," she shrugs.
"You can tell me. It's obviously eating you alive whatever it is. You can trust me with this," he reassures her.
"It's stupid."
"I doubt it."
She lets the silence linger awhile before giving in. "You're dead," she starts before realizing that it's a stupid thing to say. "Well, obviously, you're not dead, but in the dream, you die. You get hit by a car, or a bus or a truck – it changes – and I get there just as they give up and call time of death. Sometimes it's Bailey, sometimes the Chief, but no matter what, you're dead."
"That must be hard," he whispers, but he knows. He actually knows what it feels like firsthand.
"It's the worst feeling in the world."
"It is," he agrees before placing a long, firm kiss into her mussed, dirty hair. "But I'm alive. And so are you."
"Yeah."
The sun is starting to rise, illuminating the eastern edge of the skyline, mottling the thinning clouds with pink and gold. It promises to get even more spectacular.
"What were you doing out here?" he asks.
"Couldn't sleep…." She hopes he'll take that answer, at least for now.
He does.
They watch the sunrise together and it's glorious. But daylight illuminates their place on the cliff in a way that the moon glowing behind the clouds never could and Meredith is again aware of how close they are to the open air that sprawls out in front of them, bits of fog floating low on the sound. She half expects the giddy feeling to rise up again, but his arms are around her and she knows it won't.
Here, she's safe and grounded. It's a wonderful feeling, lovely and comforting, but she can't help but wonder if she'll ever get over the tinge of oppression she feels here in his arms; if the itch to dance along the edge of a cliff with the wind and mist in her face will ever go away.
"I love you," she says.
"I love you, too," he replies.
"Good."
"Breakfast?" he asks, standing before extending his hand to help her up.
She turns as she stands, faces him with a soft smile that reaches her eyes. And she doesn't look back.
"Definitely." Her stomach rumbles and she's hungry for the first time in days.
He doesn't let go of her hand as he leads her to the trailer, and she finds it comforting.
There's nothing wrong with safe.