"All this feels strange and untrue
And I won't waste a minute without you
My bones ache, my skin feels cold
And I'm getting so tired and so old
The anger swells in my guts
And I won't feel these slices and cuts
I want so much to open your eyes
'Cause I need you to look into mine"
You open you eyes, slowly, almost losing all your strength as you do it. You see your best friend sat on the chair beside the hospital bed, sending a message with his cell. You don't remember what happened, but it takes you a while to be able to speak.
"M-ark."
Mark looks up at you, and his face lights up in relief as he realizes that you finally woke up. Who brings you to the next silent question: how long have you been unconscious?
"Hey Derek." he stands up, and touches you arm gently. "Meredith went to get coffee with Yang, she'll be back soon. Do you remember what happened?"
You pause before answering, trying uselessly to understand, to understand why you're feeling so weird. You can't, so you shake your head slightly.
"Gary Clark, one of your deceased patient's husband, wanted to kill you, Derek. He shot people around the hospital, but his real target were you. Cristina Yang, April Kepner and Meredith were there when he shot you, and Yang operated on you. You haven't been asleep for two long, just twenty-three hours more or less."
Images flash in your head, and you see blood all over your body. You remember something, now.
"And is she okay?" you struggle to say.
"Yes, Derek, she's okay. She was terrified, and she hasn't slept yet, but she knows you'll be fine. She just wanted you to wake up."
His answer should relieve you, but you keep feeling weird.
x
When you wake up again, it's dark outside and Meredith is asleep next to you. You put your hand on her hair, careful not to wake her. You look outside the window, feeling a lot better. Painkillers really do work.
You yawn, and glance to your chart on the bedside table, but you decide you don't want to read it yet. Your eyes set on the phone, and you take it slowly; it's heavy for your still weak arm.
The digits practically write themselves, but when you press the green key you're well aware of who you're calling.
"Hello?" her voice is crystal, even though she probably was asleep. You feel a strange sensation, but it's just because suddenly you stop feeling weird.
"Hi sweetheart." the word slips out of you mouth, like habits, and you feel guilty as you realize that you don't really want to take it back.
"Derek? Is that you?"
"Yeah, it's me. I'm sorry I woke you."
"Are you alright?" she asks, and then you know. Of course, she didn't hear of the shooting, or she would be here. You swallow, knowing that your words will hurt her.
"I got shot, Addie. Don't worry though, I'm fine."
"WHAT?"
"Yep... sorry. Patient's husband. He wanted revenge."
"Excuse me but... what are you talking about?"
You stay silent, and eventually she hangs up. You start feeling weird again.
x
Two weeks pass, and they finally tell you you can go home. Meredith's signing the papers and you're in your room waiting; the few things you asked her to bring in while you were there are already in your bag. You slowly walk to the window and look outside towards the parking lot, saying in your head the kind of cars you see.
You feel someone's presence behind you, and when you turn around you see her by the door. She's perfect – as always – and you confusingly notice you don't feel weird anymore.
A/N: my second fic about the shooting, and I'm not totally satisfied with it. I just hope you liked it; I loved the idea of Derek feeling strange without Addison. Oh, and three one-shots from me today, you're lucky :) I'm in a writing mood, so you could even get more, who knows.