Disclaimer: This story was not written to in any way take recognition away from the creator (Shonda Rhimes) of any characters or plots mentioned.
Author's Note: I have dabbled in writing fanfiction for some time now, but nothing that I felt I could publish. Though I know I have an immensely longs ways to go, I have decided to dust off and publish this story. I have yet to decide whether this will remain a One-Shot or e further developed into a full-fledged story, however that will depend on whether I can think of what to write next. Positive reviews as well as constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. Please, read, review, and enjoy. :)
Alex and Cristina leave the locker room and it's just the two of us. I look down at Meredith, sobbing into her hands as I rub her back and think back to the conversation I had with Owen earlier today, they don't make it easy, do they? , he'd said. Except right now, in this moment, Meredith is making it very easy, and for the first time ever, I'm seeing her as 'Meredith, the mother who was terrified that her child was going to die, thinking it was all her fault', I let her think that. I let her take the blame for something that was just as much my fault as it was hers. Losing Zola wasn't solely her fault, sure, I can't take credit for what she did with the trial but with Zola, all she did was try to protect her and love her.
She's crying harder now, to the point that she's hyperventilating and rubbing her back won't help anymore. So, I stand from the arm of the chair, kneel in front of her, grab her arms and say, "Meredith, look at me," she doesn't and I begin rubbing my hands up and down her arms, I duck down, kiss the side of her head and lean mine against hers. "Meredith, she's ok, she's going to be ok," I tell her softly. It feels good to be this close to her again, I hadn't realized until this moment how much I actually missed the smell of Lavender or how it felt to touch her. I repeat the phrase again and suddenly, she reaches out and hugs me, clinging to me like she's afraid I'll leave.
She, takes a few shaky breathes, trying to clam herself down, to no avail. Her voice is rough and laced with tears when she says, "Th… this would have ne…never happ…happened, if she were with u…us," just when I thought she was calming down, she began sobbing again and continues, "and it's all my fault!"
"Oh Meredith," I sigh, trying to hold back tears of my own. I pull her of the chair and into my lap, turning so my back is against the chair, and we sit there, closer than we have been in months. Meredith is straddling my legs and our bodies are smashed together as she clings to me and desperately tries to keep her emotions under control. I rub my hands up and down her back in attempt to soothe her, we sit like this for what feels like hours but is probably only minutes and Meredith finally calms down. She pulls away slightly and gives me a sad smile, I smile back.
"I'm ok," she states.
"Yeah, you're ok," I respond, after reaching up to brush the remainder of the tears from her face, I stroke her cheek, and bring her face to mine for a kiss before I whisper, "I love you."
To my surprise, she looks at me and sniffles before smiling a watery smile and saying with confidence, "Even when you hate me."
We sit like this for a while, gazing at each other, she plays with the curls at the base of my neck and I place a hand on her cheek, rubbing soft circles with my thumb. I think about the little blue post-it hanging above our bed and the vows; the promises it holds, knowing that she is too.
"We should go home," she says after a while, her voice cracking slightly, "Cristina said she would call so we can say goodnight to Zo-Zo."
I move my hands to her thighs and rub the length of them a couple times, then smile. "Ok, I'll go change and grab my things. Meet me in my office?"
Meredith nods before moving to stand, once she's up, she sticks out her hand to help me up and I shoot her a smile before getting off the floor with a groan, she giggles and I swear, in that second my heart skips a beat. It had been so long since I'd heard that sound, and I never realized how much I could miss it.
I lean down and kiss her cheek before dropping her hand, smiling and moving towards the door. As I walk toward my office, I can't help but think of how much progress we've made in just the last couple hours. I know we have lot of talking to do; we have barely scratched the surface, but after tonight I know for sure that we'll get through this, and maybe if we're lucky, with Zola in our arms.
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As Derek turns to leave the resident's lounge, I can't help but reach up and touch the spot his lips had been just seconds before. I've missed him and his quick, yet meaningful kisses. Honestly, I don't think I would have been able to calm down without Derek. At the same time, I'm surprised I did with him there, after everything that has happened, there was an unusual awkwardness in the room and I wasn't sure if his touch felt reassuring. But the second his lips brushed my cheek, it disappeared, his touch became comforting again. With the combination of the low hum of his voice and the softness and familiarity of his touch, I suddenly didn't feel as shattered; he gave me strength.
After gathering the rest of my things and swinging my bag over my shoulder, I walk out of the lounge and down the corridor toward the infamous elevator. I get in, hit the number 6 on the panel and wait for the doors to close.
It's in this moment that I realize exactly how slow these elevators are. Most likely due to the fact that all I can think about is going home with my husband and 'talking' to our could-have-been daughter on the phone. The elevator finally reaches the 6th floor as I'm struck with the terrifying thought that when I reach Derek's office, things may be the same between us as they were yesterday. The moment in the Resident's Lounge could have just been a moment of weakness for him; a fluke. What if when I walk through that door, all of the hostility and anger that had just gone away, comes barreling at me full force?
I'm standing in front of the door now, my hand twitching at my side as I attempt to resolve the internal battle. Not long ago, knowing Derek was in the small room alone, I wouldn't have hesitated to turn the knob and walk right in without a knock. I shake off the negative thoughts and unusual feeling before knocking on the familiar door.
"Come in!" I hear his soft, low voice call, in a way that leads me to believe he thinks someone other than his wife, who has a key to this very door, is knocking.
I open the door slowly to see him standing in front of his desk, dressed in street clothes and cramming some paperwork into his brief-case.
"Hey," I whisper, moving closer to him.
He glances up to smile at me, after hearing my voice and responds softly, "You don't have to knock, you never have to knock, in fact if I remember correctly, getting you to knock every once in awhile, is like pulling. Hence why I've obviously given up," he finishes with a chuckle, and catches me off guard. There's a teasing tone in his vice that I haven't heard in so long, I nearly miss it, but I don't and giggle; half out of nervousness and half out of amusement. I decide not to touch on the subject of knocking today and question, "You ready?"