A/N: Starts in early season 9. This is my first Grey's fanfiction; I'm very new to the fandom (I watched every episode in only two weeks). I wanted to write a happier story, but my brain is wired dark and twisted. Please let me know your thoughts, good and bad. If you're triggered by sexual assault themes, then this isn't the story for you. You were warned.
Rating: M for sexual content and violence.
"It is impossible to strive for a heroic life. The title of hero is bestowed by survivors upon the fallen, who themselves know nothing of heroism." - Johan Huizinga
Meredith Grey wasn't a hero in her own eyes. However, she might as well admit that she was the luckiest woman alive.
She had defeated Death on numerous occasions. If she were a cat, you might say she was on the verge of using up all her nine lives. After all, she'd already escaped from a bomb, a drowning, a gunman, and a plane crash. The plane crash had eaten at least three of her lives, leaving her two left. She'd been so close to Death itself that she could taste it. As if she had turned into Death herself. Well, it had been her nickname. You can't escape yourself, can you? You can't escape Death. Everyone dies…eventually.
But she wasn't dead. Her heart still pumped blood through her veins. Her lungs still inhaled and exhaled oxygen. She still woke up every morning next to her amazing husband. She still kissed her daughter every night. She had survived five years of residency. She was, without a doubt, a survivor.
Not only had she had survived; she had miraculously managed without major repercussions. She was undoubtedly lucky. The bomb could have easily exploded just moments earlier, killing or severely injuring her. When they resuscitated her after the drowning, she could have been brain dead. If Cristina hadn't been there to hold her back while the gunman was pointing a gun at her husband, she most likely would have been shot too. And the plane crash. Statistically speaking, there was only a 24% survival rate of passengers in a fatal crash. They'd beaten the odds; two-thirds of those on the plane had survived. As a doctor, she knew that statistics were absolutely useless. After all, there was only a .00001% of your plane crashing in the first place. The odds of being in a car crash were significantly higher, 1 in 303. Go figure, despite Derek's reckless driving habits, she'd never been in a car crash. The point was she lived, and that went against every odd in the book.
She wasn't supposed to be alive, more less walking. She should have something drastically wrong with her. Lexie and Mark were dead. They'd lost their lives because of the crash. Why Lexie? Meredith asked herself every single day; why hadn't it been her? Arizona had lost her leg, and Derek had undergone procedures to fix his hand and still experienced numbness which prevented him from operating. He was
"There are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies, and statistics." - Benjamin Disraeli
A lot goes into statistics. They all started with a hypothesis, which eventually led to an experiment. It's virtually impossible to collect data from the entire population, so samples are selected. A sample must consist of at least thirty to be considered viable. The higher number in the study, the lower the margin of error and the higher the confidence interval.
And that's why statistics are unreliable. That's why they can't be trusted.
When the statistics are small, you doubt it'll happen to you. Humans like to think they're invincible. That nothing bad can possibly happen to them. Bad things happen to other people, right?
If there was one thing Meredith Grey had learned during her lifetime, though, was—if the statistic was numerically small, the odds were high that it would happen to her.
The statistics on sexual assault are staggering and mortifying. Every two minutes someone is sexually assaulted in the United States. Eighty percent of these victims are under the age of thirty. Only one out of three of these assaults are committed by strangers.
Meredith Grey was thirty-seven years old. She had a loving husband who would never lay a hand on her. She had wonderful, supportive colleagues and friends whom she fully trusted with her life, not because they were great people, but because they had saved her life on multiple occasions. Time after time, she considered herself one of the lucky ones. Statistics indicated it was unlikely she would become the victim of a sexual assault. And if she did, it would be someone she knew.
But statistics are just numbers, right?
It was just another day; another day part of her regular, ordinary routine. She awoke to her husband's body heat against her skin. His arm was wrapped securely around her. She felt safe in his arms. Meredith had learned to rely on Derek being by her side. She couldn't sleep without him. Before the plane crash, she'd felt lonely on the nights he got paged for a surgery. She'd hated sleeping in the on-call rooms without him on the nights he went home and she had to stay late. But she wasn't a resident anymore. The long overnight hours were no longer demanded of her. She was able to go home at night and depend on her interns and residents to monitor the patients, the job she'd done for five years. She was an attending and, frankly, she was enjoying it. She was enjoying every minute of playing Mommy and wife. Who would've thought her life would end up like this?
Being a mom wasn't in her genetic make-up. There were two types of parents. You could be a mother without being a mom, just like you could be a father without being a dad. Meredith had never had a mom or a dad. Her mother was married to her job, and her father was absent. Her parents never held hands in front of her. She had no memory of them kissing. In fact, she barely remembered the days when her parents were together.
She was determined to provide a different life for her child.
"Having a child changes everything. All of a sudden you have so much to lose, so much to live for." - Mariska Hargitay
She carefully shifted her body toward Derek, trying not to wake him, but his eyes flashed open as she faced him. His blue eyes twinkled and he leaned in and kissed her. "Well, good morning, beautiful," he said in a soft voice.
"It is a good morning," Meredith replied, kissing him back, then added, "a good morning to be alive."
He kissed her forehead. "Someone has turned into quite the optimist."
"Well, I have a lot to be optimistic about," Meredith laughed.
"Do you?" Derek chuckled, running his mouth down her neck, gently kissing her neck. A shiver ran down her spine.
"I do," she said, grinning widely.
"Tell me more," he insisted, giving her a cheerful smile, then he ran his hands up and down her waist as he began to remove her nightshirt. He covered her collarbone with kisses, and a soft moan escaped her lips.
"Well, for starters. This," she gasped, as his soft hands tenderly massaged her breasts. He surrounded her nipple with his lips and sucked gently. Her head started to buzz delightfully. She moaned faintly again. "Waking up to you every morning is the highlight of my day."
He lifted his head and their eyes met. The love in his eyes radiated into her veins. Her heart rate quickened. He leaned into her face and kissed her lips. "I'm glad that waking up to me is the highlight of your day, because waking up to you every morning is the highlight of my day. Now, tell me more." His warm morning breath lingered into her nose. In the beginning of their relationship, it bothered her; but she'd grown used to it. She'd even grown to enjoy it.
His lips moved to her stomach, and he covered her stomach with his kisses, as he slipped off her pants. He lowered his mouth. Her heart raced.
"Secondly," she said between moans, "I have Zola. She's growing more beautiful every single day, and I couldn't imagine my life without her. We're so lucky to have her."
He kindly looked into her eyes. "I would have to agree with you. She's perfect, just like her mother." Meredith giggled as he lowered pants and leaned over her. He kissed her neck. "Anything else?"
"Well, let's see," she said, and released a grunt as Derek entered her. His thrusts were rhythmic, slow, and gentle. "I have," she moaned, "such wonderful colleagues and friends, who have gone out of their ways to save my life on more than one occasion."
"I would have to say you're one lucky woman," Derek smiled warmly, and he began thrusting quicker and faster. She began panting; her breathing quickened as he moved faster and deeper into her. She could feel him pressing against her cervix. Her head spun; she was on the tilt-a-world at the carnival. She was getting close.
"Oh, Der," she moaned quietly. "I love you."
"I love you, too," he said, groaning as they climaxed together and he finished inside her. After over a year of trying to get pregnant, they'd stopped trying. Frankly, she was happy that they had stopped trying. Sex was so much more enjoyable when you weren't trying to conceive a baby.
He rested his body next to her, and lay his head on top of her chest.
"That was amazing," Meredith gasped, catching her breath, and then she kissed his lips.
"Want to go again?" Derek asked, a hopeful spark present in his eyes.
"I would love to," Meredith said, quickly glancing at the clock, "but our daughter is awake, and we have to get ready for work."
"How do you know she's awake? Did you hear her?" Derek stared at his wife inquisitively.
"Mother's instinct," she replied simply. She kissed him on the forehead and gathered her pajamas before going to her daughter's room, where she found her toddler daughter standing in her crib. "Good morning, Zozo." The little girl giggled as her mother gathered her in her arms. Meredith snuggled her daughter and carried her back to the bedroom, where Derek was already fully dressed.
"Mother's instincts, indeed," he smiled. "Hello, Miss Zola." He took the baby from Meredith's arms. The toddler's face lit up as she entered her father's snug arms.
"I'm going to take a quick shower. Can I count on you to get her dressed?" Meredith asked.
"You can count on me for anything," Derek replied with assurance in his tone.
That was their morning schedule. Nothing extraordinary. Nothing in the least bit out of the ordinary. Their schedule was no different than any other American working family. As part of their morning routine, they left for the hospital together and dropped Zola off at daycare. So much had changed in the past year, and Meredith had never felt closer to Derek. She hated being away from him. She hated being away from Zola. Now, with Cristina in Minnesota, she found herself clinging tighter to Derek. She talked to Derek about things that she used to talk to with Cristina. He was now her person. While she still talked to Cristina on a daily basis, she wasn't always available.
They used to drive separately to work, but now that she was no longer a resident; her schedule was more flexible. He was no longer doing surgeries. Most nice, they were able to leave the hospital by seven o'clock. It was nice. Meredith couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so alive. So rested. She'd forgotten what a good night's sleep felt like. Until now.
She kissed Zola goodbye at daycare, then she and Derek went their separate ways in the hospital. Derek was off to teach his first class of the morning, and Meredith had pre-rounds to start. She was on her way to the Attendings' lounge when she heard a voice from behind.
"Doctor, excuse me. Can you help me?"
She whirled around and observed unfamiliar man who was approaching her. He was wearing light blue scrubs, which indicated he was a resident. Yet, she didn't recognize him. She thought that she knew all the residents.
"Do I know you?" she inquired.
"I'm sorry, let me introduce myself. I'm Dr. Lawrence. I've just recently transferred here. Started yesterday, and I was wondering if you could show me to an on-call room. A guy's gotta catch a little shut-eye. I'm sure you can relate."
His smile was cunning yet charming. He had dark, mysterious brown eyes; they were the kind of eyes a person didn't forget. She wondered why she hadn't seen him the day before, if it had in fact been his first day.
"Where'd you transfer from?" she asked out of mere curiosity.
"Huh? Oh, Portland. I wanted to be closer to my mother who was recently diagnosed with leukemia. She lives here in Seattle. I couldn't imagine leaving her alone. I'm an only child, you see. I'm all she has."
"That was kind of you," Meredith replied. "You weren't given a tour of the hospital yesterday?"
"Well, I was, but I can't seem to remember where the on-call rooms are. Could you please show me to one?"
"Follow me," and she guided the man to the closest on-call room. She opened the door, and led him in. "Well, here you are. I have to get back to work now."
"Thank you, Dr. Grey," the man smirked, and her heart stopped.
"How'd you know my name?" she asked quickly with hesitance.
"It's on your coat," the man who called himself Dr. Lawrence pointed to the letters on her white lab coat.
"Oh, right," she chuckled, rolling her eyes while feeling slightly humiliated, then she turned around to leave when suddenly she felt his hand tightly grab her wrist, pulling her back. He shut the door and locked it. He pushed her against the wall, clasped his hand over her mouth, and held a gun to her head.
"Scream and I'll shoot you," he hissed in her ear. "Now, drop your pants."