"Stay here. Don't move. Wait for me."
And true to his words you faithfully remained. Except two hours have elapsed and he was still no where to be seen. You feverishly dig your cell phone from out of the depths of your denim pocket and dial his number for the third time that night. After five rings it goes to automated voice mail.
"Hey Derek, it's me again," you say, the worry seeping into your voice even though you were shooting for casual. "I know you're off trying to be chivalrous and noble or whatever, but seriously? This bottle of champagne is starting to look really tempting if you don't come back soon. Give me a call back." Sighing, you close the phone and slip it back into the confines of your pocket.
The candle house you built earlier that night continues to flicker in a valiant attempt to stay alive as you pace diligently, the grass flattening submissively underneath your feet. Doubts begin to run rampant in your mind. Was it possible that he and Rose…? You shake your head as if to physically dispel that train of thought. He wouldn't. Not after he kissed your breath away and promised that this time around was going to be done right. Hell, you promised yourself that this time around was going to be done right. Extraordinary even. And damned if anything got in your way, scrub nurses or not.
So you decide that if he isn't going to show up that you would go find him. After all, the street goes both ways. You grab the unopened bottle of champagne from the dewy grass and head back to the jeep. After slamming the door shut, you sit for a moment behind the wheel and realize you don't know where to go. If Derek had gone to her house, there was no way you were going to hunt down where it was and storm in, although that would be pretty damn dramatic. And incredibly stalkery. That leaves you with no choice but to hope that they are still at Seattle Grace. Worst comes to worst you could break into the Chief's office, find Rose's address from her file, and storm in anyways.
Smirking with satisfaction on your brilliant plan, you're about to start the jeep when a vibrating sensation ripples through your thigh. Pulling the cell phone out of your pocket, you frown at the LCD screen as it reads CRISTINA.
"Cristina, I'm kind of in the middle of some –" you explain impatiently, but she interrupts you.
"Meredith," she emphasizes urgently, effectively silencing you. Her dangerous tone signifies that something serious has happened. "It's about Derek."
She never calls him Derek. It's always McDreamy. Or in more recent memory McBastard or McJackass, but never Derek.
"What?" you ask hesitantly, already knowing that bad news was coming your way because fate had that cruel way of turning you dark and twisty when you dared to be bright and shiny.
There was a pause on the other end as if to delay the inevitable before Cristina replied.
"He's been in an accident. You need to come to the hospital."
The pit of your stomach drops as the phone slips out of your hand and clatters to the floor.
Racing through the familiar sliding doors of Seattle Grace, you bypass the elevators and head for the stairs. You have no patience for elevators today or the fond memories that they evoke, the memories that he evokes.
People look at you like you're a mad man as you rush by in a whirlwind, but you are beyond caring at this point. Your dark jacket whips behind you in the stairwell as you take the steps two at a time to the surgical floor, your heart racing.
"What happened?" you demand as you burst through the doors, having some masochistic need to find out the exact details. Immediately the Chief and Cristina converge in front of you, obscuring the trauma bay that you know contains Derek. The Chief puts a sympathetic hand on your arm and it takes all of your willpower not to shrug it off and scream at him that you don't care for his condolence right now.
"A bus in front of him hit a telephone pole," Cristina explains quietly. "He tried to swerve to miss it but…"
Your eyes widen in fear and panic at the news. "How bad is it?" you insist urgently. With every passing second it's becoming harder to breathe.
"Meredith…" the Chief and Cristina say simultaneously, trying to placate you, but it falls on deaf ears. Don't they understand? You don't want to hear their feeble attempts of comfort. You just want to see him before it's too late.
"Meredith, you're going to have to be strong," Cristina trailed off but you ignore her, pushing your way through her and the Chief.
While you are used to being on the other side of the table as a doctor, nothing prepares you for the sight of Dr. Bailey desperately doing compressions on Derek's bloodied chest while a grim Mark is by his side pumping air into the intubation tube. Your breath catches in a distressed gasp.
"Derek!"
Harsh denial sets in. This isn't right. This isn't natural. Derek has always been the image of strength in your eyes. You've never even seen him come down with a cold, much less bodily harm. He's invincible, he's muesli-eating Superman, he's the rock that never wavers. Yet there he is lying on the table, broken and battered. This isn't your Derek. Your Derek teases you until his eyes crinkles with laughter. Your Derek grins mischievously when you make an appointment to meet him in the on-call room. Your Derek knows where to lick you under your ear just right to elicit a moan every time.
The abrupt realization of how much time you both wasted being voluntarily miserable hits you with frightening force. But who could really blame you? Being a girl who already had trust issues to begin with, the Addison fiasco did nothing to appease them. As a result, you were hesitant to let Derek back in again, though you do give him credit for being persistent. But then dead mommies happened and drunken daddies showed up and you had your second brush with death and...it was just easier to shove Derek to the back burner and coil within yourself because you feared he would be the next in line to shatter your trust. So even when he hovered and professed his love to you, you apprehensively pushed him away until you're both exhausted with wanting more. You decide at last that you would get ready for him but then he whips out the scrub nurse and you are back to square one. It's a vicious cycle that you both share responsibility in creating, but none of that seems to matter now when he is lying vulnerably in front of you.
"No, no," you moan desperately. You need more time to make him smile again, more time to let him know you love him, more time to make all of this right…
Your chest heaves heavily in an attempt to keep oxygen circulating, but your lungs do not seem to want to cooperate. Hot tears blur the scene but you blink them away rapidly, focusing all of your attention on Dr. Bailey's intense efforts of reviving Derek. Your eyes widen in disbelief as she lifts her hands away from his chest and shakes her head. Her face is etched with the unbearable pain of losing one of our own as she recites his time of death.
"No!" you cry in a hysterical mantra, your body trembling with sobs. You slam your palm against the cold window, willing that the life from your hand would somehow magically flood the room and revive Derek.
Your heart feels as if it's been pierced by a million shards of glass and suddenly you don't know how to live anymore. Hours ago you were going to build a house together with the kids and the dog and the white picket fence. You were finally going to be happy. But it figures that in your fairytale the knight in shining whatever would die before making it to the happy ending…
You awaken with a sharp intake of air as your eyes fly open and blink in confusion briefly before recognizing the familiar surroundings of the trailer. Derek's warm and very alive body cocoons around yours in a spoon, his arm draping protectively around your waist. You pray that he doesn't live up to being a light sleeper as you attempt to regulate your labored breathing to some semblance of normalcy, but it's too late.
"Mer?" he mumbles sleepily, rubbing a soothing hand along your stomach. Your throat constricts as fading images of a lifeless Derek continues to float in your mind.
The pitter patter of rain outside reverberates loudly followed by the occasional ominous clap of thunder, filling the silence.
"It's nothing, go back to sleep," you insist quickly, horrified at the tears flooding your vision and spilling hotly on to your cheeks.
Derek isn't fooled. "Meredith," he murmurs wearily, turning you in his arms.
You bow your head hastily in a vain attempt to hide the flow of tears. But to your horrible luck, lightening finds now to be an opportune time to illuminate the room, and Derek can clearly see that you've been crying. He brings a gentle hand under your chin and tips your face upward.
"Shh," he soothes, tenderly wiping away your tears with the pads of his thumbs. To your dismay and irritation, tears keep leaking out like you're some broken faucet. Since when did you become this mushy, emotional heap of a girl you wonder? The old rebellious, pink-haired Meredith would be ashamed. But then again, old rebellious, pink-haired Meredith never stopped running to let anything affect her.
Derek doesn't ask you any questions. He simply cradles you in his arms, whispering quiet reassurances in your ear. You appreciate him for not prodding, but you've been down this worn path of silent communication before and you don't want to experience where it leads again.
"I don't want to lose you," you gasp out suddenly.
"Meredith."
"I had a dream that you died," you interject softly. "After you left tonight to break it off with Rose, you got into a car accident and…" You pause at the threat of a new onslaught of tears.
"Oh Mer," Derek sighs, his face softening in understanding. "I know I haven't given you much reason to believe me lately, but I promise I'm not going anywhere."
You nod your head silently. You've heard all of this before.
Derek senses your skepticism.
"Meredith, I've been dishonest with you, and I'm not proud of that," he acknowledges.
You snort in agreement. He smiles apologetically before continuing.
"Rose…Rose was bright and shiny, and routine, but at the end of the day she could never replace you. And I'm truly sorry that it came down to that for me to see the truth."
Lightening flashes again and you lose yourself in pained pools of indigo that are enough to lower the defenses safeguarding your trust.
"It's okay," you reply, linking your fingers with his.
"No it's not," Derek shakes his head firmly. "I shouldn't have pushed you with house plans when we were taking it slow. You deserve better from me."
"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. No one is holding you to any standards Derek."
"Except for you," he responds quietly.
There's a pregnant pause and for a minute you only listen to him breathe.
"Like that clinical trial," he continues when you remain silent. "I felt like I let you down every time we lost a patient because you expected greatness. Because you deserve greatness, Meredith."
"That was unchartered territory for the both of us," you counter. "You can't put the blame fully on your shoulders when we all didn't know what to expect."
"I just don't want to fail you," he whispers, and it's the most vulnerable you've ever seen him. You cup his face with both of your hands.
"I don't demand perfection Derek. I mean, look at me and all my dark and twistyness. If anything, I worry about not living up to your expectations."
"That's not true Mer," he insists, running his thumb over your cheek. "Like you said, we're taking baby steps. And I'd say you're making good progress after that house of candles tonight. I didn't know you were such a cheesy romantic at heart."
His teasing tone earns him a punch in the shoulder from you for being cheeky.
"Mer, you know I'm just kidding," he laughs uncontrollably. "I apologize. It was a very grand gesture and I appreciate it."
"Ass," you still mutter, stifling a yawn.
"I love you too," he chuckles, gathering you in his arms again as you rest your head against his.
That phrase stirs you awake.
"Derek?"
"Mmm," he purrs contently, combing his fingers through your tangled hair.
"Just in case I don't say it enough, I do love you."
His drowsy, half lidded eyes reopen in surprise. You grin at his astonishment, leaning forward to press your lips against his.
"I love you too," he moans seriously this time as your lips duel passionately.
Sure, there are still plenty of issues unspoken between you two, but right now? You would consider this right now to be pretty damn extraordinary.