The first thing they did once his monitor noted the lack of a heartbeat was to turn off the machines, which seemed a kindness that Meredith had never truly appreciated until the moment the ringing pierced the terrible silence of the ICU room. The second thing they did, after they unhooked and untubed Derek, was to bring her a bag of his possessions, which seemed to Meredith an unexpected, terrible blow. The sight of it knocked the wind out of her, and the young nurse had scrambled to get a chair for Meredith to sit in.
Meredith had refused the seat, stormed out of the hospital to the car, with Bailey and Zola in tow. She numbly buckled the kids into their seats, unsure where to go next. All she knew was that she felt empty. She didn't feel scared like she knew she should- after all, they had barely managed to handle the kids with two parents, now how would she do it all on her own? And how would she make payments on she and Derek's land? Derek always took care of that-and the taxes too, for that matter. How was she supposed tell her children that their Daddy wouldn't be coming back, let alone raise her kids all on her own?
She knew these were the questions she should be asking herself, that these were serious issues that would now be everyday parts of her life, but she couldn't bring herself to care. It was as if something had turned off in her brain. It wasn't that she knew she'd find a way to do all these things-she certainly wasn't sure how she would do any of those-it was just that she couldn't bring herself to actually stop and consider them. Her brain just wouldn't allow it.
She also knew that she should be sad. Seriously sad. Not many things were sad or terrifying or traumatic enough to make Meredith cry, but she was certain that this should be one of the things that did. And yet no tears fell. Not one. There was a lump in her throat that made it hard to breathe, but that was it. Maybe her body thought she had shed enough tears on Derek over the years. Maybe her body was storing them up and preparing to make her burst with tears. Maybe all her emotions had fled from her body. Probably, it was shock.
Most of all, she knew she shouldn't be driving, but, similarly, this had no effect on her. At first, she just drove. She couldn't imagine going back home. That wasn't an option. She couldn't drive to the hospital-she really couldn't imagine being surrounded by people right now. But where else could she go?
She arrived at the hospital all too soon and when she entered the doors of Grey Sloan, pushing the stroller and carrying Zola on a hip, she was so glad that Derek's name wasn't similarly plastered on every window, door, desk and pen. She wasn't feeling well, as she walked through the halls, but for the life of her she couldn't dig deep enough to figure out what was wrong. She finally made it to the daycare on the west end of the hospital and checked Bailey and Zola in, as if it were a regular day. No one else seemed to know just how irrevocably and permanently out of place everything was. She still had the bag-the one with all of Derek's things. She couldn't hold out any longer. The only thing that moved or burned within her was the want-no-the need to know everything about the moments before Derek had died.
She made her way to the surgical wing by means of the tunnels and other back alleys that posed the least amount of human contact possible and holed herself up in an empty on-call room. She clicked the lock resolutely into place and glanced at the room. This room was just like all the other on-call rooms. It had two bunk beds, all with fresh sheets and blankets, the beds all made neatly. One chair sat in the corner next a small side table which held one of the only two lamps in the room. The other was a floor lamp, which was placed in between the foot of one bunk and the head of the other. It was, in all ways, plain and unremarkable. Except that it looked like every on-call room she and Derek had ever spent a night in or stolen away to for a few passionate moments or even just hidden in for five minutes of peace.
Somehow she knew, this had to be the place. Shakily, she opened the bag.
The first object her fingers found was cold and metallic to the touch-it was his watch. The really nice, super deluxe Rolex watch bought him when he became chief. She smiled at the thought. He had been so surprised to open her present. He hadn't known she knew anything about nice watches-which she hadn't. It was just the one that the jeweler had recommended-not that she admitted as much to Derek. The face of the watch was now cracked, but it still kept time, which relieved Meredith to no end. She wouldn't have been able to cope if it had been stuck on the time of Derek's crash-the time she was stuck in.
The next object was familiar to her. It was his wallet: a standard issue brown leather wallet, nothing fancy, just functional. Within it were his driver's license-shamefully displaying the one, most unfortunate, bad hair day that Meredith had ever witnessed. She rifled through it, found credit cards and a few dollars in cash, and reflected that these were probably the only worthless items in the whole bag.
Finally, she found what she was looking for-the pictures of their family she knew had to be there. One, a picture of Derek, his sisters and his mother, taken at a Christmas gathering a few years back. Meredith had dreaded the party but had ended up begrudgingly enjoying herself. Another, a picture of Derek and herself, his arms around her waist, head pressed to hers from behind. It had been taken at Christina and Owen's wedding. The couple looked stunningly happy and blissfully unaware of how short, cruel and painful life really was. The last, a picture of the kids together, one of those professionally photographed ones where the kids are posed unnaturally but are inevitably not looking at the camera. Still, Zola and Bailey looked quite sweet, Bailey sitting in Zola's lap clutching a stuffed frog as Zola stared at her new baby brother. It was just like Derek to keep these photos with him. They went out enough to know that he pulled them out and bragged over them every chance he got, no matter the occasion-medical conference, grocery line, you name it.
Next she fished from the bag what appeared to be his cell phone, what police had told Meredith was the cause of the accident. It was completely crushed and had been found in the floorboards of the ruined car. Pulling out her own phone, Meredith realized with a sigh of utter joy that all its pictures had been saved to the cloud. As for its other contents, she had already started scrolling through their old text message conversations. She had the minute the police had arrived at their house. She wanted to make sure she had wished him luck and a safe flight before he left. Wanted to make sure the last thing she texted him was loving. A lot of the texts she had scrolled through were brief and cold, evidence of the long, bitter battle they had endured prior to his decision to move back to Seattle. She was tempted to delete these, as they haunted her, reminded her of all the time she wasted fighting when she could have been loving him, appreciating him for being alive. She didn't of course. These were the last few remnants of conversations, proof that he had existed and that he wasn't just some figment of her imagination, just some knight in shining whatever from some fairytale her brain had conjured up.
Damn him. Damn him for making her soft. For making her bright and shiney. Damn him for making her care. She had been fine without him. She had managed fine until he swooped in and gave her something to lose. He had given her so much to lose. He had made her care and made her care and then made her whole and then he had left her. He put her back together just so she could fall apart. He had shown her light just to leave her stumbling in the dark. Damn him and his smile and his charm and his scalpel and his hair. He left her lonely and scared. He. Left. Her.
He left her with a watch, a wallet and a cell phone. These were the things Derek Shepherd had gone out of the world with. Not with her, not 50 years from now in a hospital bed, her just a few minutes from following. He left her with three material possessions, all full of memories, of their life together, stories she would never forget. A watch, a wallet and a cell phone. These were the material things he had left with.
What about his thoughts? What was the last thing he thought of? Who was the last person he thought of? Was he worried or scared or just tired? Was he imagining going home? Did he see the truck that hit him? Did he know what was coming?
Months later she'd think of the other things he left her-the house, the land and the trailer, all pieces of Derek, of parts of a dark, twisty, shiney, beautiful story they had written together. All parts of him which he had invested time and life into. All full of his clothes, his smiles, his ghost. All these no longer his, as he had bequeathed them to her.
Another thing he'd left to her- four sisters-one in particular, Amy. She had never wanted a sister but there she would be, months later, learning to be a sister with a woman she had never given much particular thought to.
Then there were the subtle changes she never would have considered before he died. Like the fact that she couldn't bring herself to walk into Joe's bar anymore, because they guy from the bar-her guy from the bar- would never sit there again, or order a double scotch, single malt. He would never again look at her like he did, wearing his red shirt, his nice red shirt, or bicker over who was really taking advantage of who. Plus, Tequila would never have the same taste again. Screw him! Tequila had been there for her before he had been, when he hadn't been. And now she wouldn't even be able to drink away her sorrows.
But none of these occurred to her in the moment she held those three items, the watch the wallet and the cell phone. The only thing she could think, with unwanted, horrible clarity was that Derek was dead. She was alone and Derek was dead.
Derek is dead.
I am alone.
I am alone and Derek...Derek is dead.
Meredith was on the edge of passing out. Or puking. Or puking then passing out. What the hell? She wondered briefly. It was probably shock. Or stress. Or disgust with herself.
Here she was, thinking about all these crappy things that Derek had left, as if he had meant to do it. As if he had purposely and with great malice chosen to leave her. Of course he hadn't. She was here complaining and bitching about all the things he had left her with-things she was sure would haunt her forever- when she knew he had left her with a lot more. He had left her many things and memories which would make her sad, to be sure. But for every one which left her quaking in despair, there were thirty more things that he had given her that were good, so good, just like him.
He left her two beautiful kids. Two beautiful kids whom she loved and cherished and without whom she would most certainly be worse off. He left her with Zola and Bailey. Zola, a daughter who she saw learn and grow every day, and Bailey, sweet Bailey who's baby laugh could make any day brighter.
He left her with courage. Once she had been a wide-eyed clueless intern. She had been helpless and eager. She might have wanted to be a surgeon before Derek was part of her life, but she couldn't deny that his encouragement, his teaching and nurturing hadn't been one of the greatest motivators, one of the greatest bolsters.
He left her with hope. She knew happiness before she met Derek, and darkness too, but most of the hardest, most painful things she lived through she did so with Derek. Near death, loss of family and friends, these were all terrible, crippling things to Meredith. To Derek, they were just another roadblock, just another character builder, just another lesson which made you more prepared and ready the next time disaster struck. And more appreciative of the things you had. To Derek, there was no situation that was too bleak, too impossible or too dark. He was the embodiment and bright and shiney. He was her personal example for optimism. He was her rare optimist, the one that still believed in soulmates and true love.
He left her with love. He loved her, taught her how to love. Because of him, her life had changed forever. He had opened her up, taught her how to let people in, taught her that family wasn't just blood, wasn't always screwed up, and that even when it was, it was beautiful.
Head full of things he left, she stumbled out of the on call room. No one was in the hall, but she had to find someone. Because Derek had left her with people. Derek had left her but he had left her with people and something was wrong. Something was wrong besides that Derek was gone.
Derek was gone.
He left.
Dead.
Derek was dead.
Derek was dead but she was not alone.
Laying eyes on her friends, she could only manage, "Derek is dead," Before everything went black.
A/N: Yes, I said he left her TWO kids on purpose. Keep in mind that at this point in time, she didn't know she was pregnant. I wrote this just as a little exercise, my own little farewell to Derek. I loved Derek.
And now a little Derek's Death rant. I have watched from the beginning. I have rooted for Meredith and Derek since the beginning. I watched the show for them. This show has been on for so long, and has become such a big part of our lives. So yeah, I was sad that Shonda killed of McDreamy. Of course I was sad. I cried for days. (Yes I sobbed like a bitch baby.) But I am still watching the show and still loving every second of it. It's Grey's! How could I leave Mer to suffer the McDreamy-lessness of the show all on her own? I guess on some level I understand not wanting to watch the show without Patrick. I mean, he was such an essential part for so long...But. But at the same time, the show wasn't about Derek. It's called Grey's Anatomy. Not Shepherd's. Grey's Anatomy. So when I heard that people actually stopped watching the show, I kind of felt betrayed, for Shonda and Ellen and all the other Grey's characters who had been previously killed off and had not had boycotting fans. In my humble opinion, season 12 has been one of the best. It is literally so awesome.
And for all those who say that Shonda betrayed Patrick or the fans or whatever, here's just a little bit of insight: Patrick Dempsey wanted to leave the show. It's not like Shonda just arbitrarily decided to kill McDreamy because she wanted to be a bitch. Patrick wanted to leave, and he has the right to. And Shonda, seeing as she owns the show and created literally every single character, has the right to kill off said characters. She has the right to give other characters a chance to explore new and different (yes, horrible) possibilities. Ellen has the right to want to explore her character's new life. Patrick has the right to not want to be on Grey's. Shonda has the right to find a way to make that work and I have the right to my opinion on all of this, just as all of you do.
Okay, I'm done now. :) PLEASE review and comment! Did this make you feel any better? Did it make you weep bitch baby tears all over again? What kind of story would you like me to write next? 'Kay, see ya'll later!