Dreaming with a broken heartby John Mayer
When you're dreaming with a broken heart,
The waking up is the hardest part,
You roll out of bed and down on your knees,
And for a moment you can hardly breathe,
Wondering was she really here?
Is she standing in my room?
No she's not,
Cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone
Gone.
When you're dreaming with a broken heart,
The giving up is the hardest part,
She takes you in with her crying eyes,
Then all at once you have to say goodbye,
Wondering could you stay, my love?
Will you wake up by my side?
No she can't,
Cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone
Gone.
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Would you get them if I did?
No you won't,
Cause you're gone, gone, gone, gone
Gone.
When you're dreaming with a broken heart,
The waking up is the hardest part.
Derek Shepherd was a man who rarely let himself think.
He preferred to keep himself occupied; whether it was with surgery, medical research or a bottle of scotch, he was never left empty handed or alone with his thoughts. Thinking was overrated. Thinking was stupid, depressing, painful, even. He knew exactly why he avoided his own mind.
He couldn't think without thinking of her.
How did everything get so screwed up? Seven years, countless hoursit had been, and yet she was still in the back of his mind, flashing him her soft smile whenever he closed his eyes. It was the most beautiful smile in the world; so absolutely enticing and somewhat healing - but always accompanied by the immense amount of grief that rushed over him. Pain mixed with pleasure. He used to curl up in a ball on the bathroom tiles whenever she took over his mind, letting the water splatter down his shoulders, ruining suit after expensive suit – but when his wife had found out, that had been the first time he had seen that look; the look of pure regret in her eyes.
Derek knew he was not the good husband he had always pictured himself as. He never asked how his wife's day had been, he never called when he went out with Mark, he stayed at the hospital almost every night and he drank more than he should. He couldn't even remember the last time they'd had sex…
No, Derek wasn't the man she had fallen in love with. He was a shell, an utterly empty one, and he knew it. In clearer moments than this one he felt guilty for being a disappointment - he just simply couldn't care enough to make an effort to change things. For so long, the only thing on his mind had been her, finding her.
She's dead, you know. That was how his wife had put it on numerous occasions, wrapping her arms around him, kissing him softly. Her voice would be gentle. Her fingers would be cold and clammy when they caressed his forehead. And yet he would feel strangulated, trapped and held back.
Yeah he would always mutter in answer, his tone unconvincing and his expression miles away. He wouldn't loose hope. Though everyone around him seemed to have given entirely up, he would never let her go.
She was alive.
She had to be alive.
She didn't die. She was simply not the type, not that girl. She was too strong, had survived too much to give up on life now. Derek would know it if she was dead. He would be able to forget her and move on if she wasn't in this world anymore. Then he wouldn't see her face on every stranger on the street, hear her voice and loose all train of thought, he wouldn't feel her.
Right?
Was he fooling himself? Was it just that the thought of her leaving by own free will seemed less painful than the idea of her being dead? Was it just that he couldn't live in a world where she didn't exist? No. No, he couldn't believe that.
Derek's eyes tickled slightly, his breathing came in rough little gasps. He could feel the shivers making their way down his spine, slowly, torturously numbing his body but not his pain.
See, that was what happened when Derek Shepherd allowed himself to think.
Why was it hitting him so hard today? Today of all days, the first day of his new job, would be the day he got caught up in the memories of her. He just stood there, in the hospital's lobby, unable to move a muscle, unable to see the concerned, knowing looks exchanged between his wife and best friend.
Maybe it was the awareness of being in Seattle, the city where she spend the first five years of her life. Maybe it was the fact that she had made her way around this particular hospital, playing in the morgue, napping in on-call rooms, drawing on patient's charts and running from the nurses, all the things she had told him about. It was pathetic and stupid; but being in Seattle made him feel closer to her.
Derek was still completely frozen in place.
It was crazy; he was crazy, absolutely lingering on the edge of insane. But as he had entered Seattle Grace Hospital, he'd caught a scent so familiar, a scent he had grown accustomed to over many years, a scent that he hadn't inhaled for way too long. A scent that made his dull heart flutter and his reluctant mind wander.
The scent of lavender.
