"There are moments in our lives that we never expect. Unfortunately, nine times out of ten they aren't positive things. They cause us pain, and can hurt others as well. Sometimes it seems like its just better to keep things to yourself, and spare others the pain. This is how I was raised. My mother told me that in order to be a surgeon you have to control your feelings, manipulate yourself to convince yourself that it doesn't matter, that it's not worth telling anyone, and not worth thinking about. She was amazing at it, and so am I."
"Meredith… Derek's asking for you."
Meredith was tempted to smile, because her husband was finally awake…and alive thanks to Christina. She nodded at her best friend and looked back down at the slim white pregnancy test in her hands with a sad feeling at all she had lost and nearly lost today.
This was something she had been looking forward to telling Derek, and it almost slipped out in the few times she had seen him between finding out and him and Mr. Clarke, but now she was glad she hadn't told him, because she was sure that knowing what they had lost today would hurt him, and she only wanted him to get better.
So Meredith walked over to the trash can and stepped on the lever that opened it, deliberated for only a second longer, and dropped it in, then walked away to see her husband.
He was lying with his eyes closed, his face was still ghostly white from all the blood he had lost. A Bullet to the chest and a rough surgery, and his hair is still perfect, Meredith thought to herself, smiling slightly and crossing the room. He seemed to hear her, and as though there were weights hooked to his eyelids, he made an effort to look at her.
"Hey," Meredith said quietly, reaching his side and running a hand lazily through his hair, then clasping that hand with his. "How are you feeling?" her words were hoarse from tears and lack of sleep. She herself had lost much blood, but everyone who had been in the OR when she had the miscarriage seemed to have forgotten about it in all the chaos. She was having dizzy spells occasionally, and knew she should be lying in a hospital bed as well, but she was more concerned for her husband.
Derek gave her a small, reassuring smile. "I feel much better now… that you're here," he whispered, squeezing her hand weakly. She looked over his face, remembering all the pain she had felt, watching him get shot, watching his monitor flat line while Jackson Avery led her to believe that he was dead. Meredith's eyes started to water, and she sniffed away her tears, bringing Derek's hand to her face.
She closed her eyes as another dizzy spell over came her. She felt his thumb brush her hair line. "Meredith… are you sure you're okay?" Derek asked, concerned at the perspiration she was giving out. "You're respiration rate is higher than normal, and… you're sweating like… a pig." He struggled to say, but the concern was evident.
She opened her eyes and kissed his forehead, giving him a small smile. "I love it when you talk doctor." He smiled briefly, but she knew from his expression that he wasn't kidding. "I'm fine Derek," Meredith told him, knowing that she was lying, but unwilling to leave his side.
Meredith leaned in to offer a kiss, which he accepted happily, and sighed. At that moment, Doctor Hunt walked in, flipping through his charts. "How are you feeling Chief?" he asked, looking at the monitor. "BP and vitals are looking good, all things considered," he said, not waiting for an answer. He rubbed his left shoulder absent mindedly.
"Should you really be working Owen?" Derek asked, eying his shoulder. "You were shot, weren't you?" his expression was guilty, and Meredith squeezed his hand feeling more guilty that it hadn't been her shot instead, survivors guilt.
Owen shrugged. "It was through and through, and I didn't really lose much blood…" this sentence led him to look at Meredith, who looked away from him, knowing what was on his mind.
"How are you feeling Doctor Grey, shouldn't you be—"
"Thank you Doctor Hunt, I'll keep an eye on Derek for now," Meredith cut in, raising her eye brows at him as if to say Keep quiet or you'll find yourself with a reason for a hospital stay.
"Meredith…?" Derek questioned, but looking at Owen. "Meredith you weren't shot were you?" he asked worriedly.
"No!" Meredith and Owen both said at the same time, trying not to agitate him. His heart rate had minimally increased, as well as his blood pressure. Derek looked between the two of them.
"Tell me what happened," he insisted lowly, staring at Meredith.
"It was nothing," she replied, but unable to meet his gaze. How could she tell him without hurting him even more?
Owen attempted to leave while Derek was distracted with extracting the truth from Meredith, but Derek stopped him. "Doctor Hunt, tell me what happened to my wife," his voice was stronger then he looked, but she knew that he had taken on his chief of surgery voice, and all the power and unsaid threats that came with it.
Owen glanced apologetically at Meredith before answering his boss. "While Meredith was tending to my shoulder… the, um, situation in your OR put her through a lot of stress… um…" he shifted his weight, unsure if Derek knew the whole story about Mr. Clark holding the OR under gunpoint during his emergency surgery. Derek nodded once, telling him to go on. "Well Meredith had a, um," he cleared his throat, "Misairage."
The word was low and barely recognizable.
There was a moment of silence, then Derek looked at Meredith. "You had a what?" clearly confused.
Meredith shot Owen a glance that clearly told him to leave, which he did. "I'm sorry Derek," she started, attempting to control the urge to break out into sobs. "I only found out that morning, and I went to your office to tell you but you were in one of your moods, so I decided to wait and tell you last night, but then the shooting happened and…"
"Shhhh…" Derek soothed her. He groaned and managed to move his body as far to the other side of the bed as possible.
"ohh," Meredith moaned in protest, watching the brief expression of pain cross his features, but he only grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer to the bed. It was a weak pull, but she got the idea, and joined him on the stiff, uncomfortable mattress. She was lying on her side, and he on his back, but with his head turned to face her. He linked their fingers together between them and used the back of his hand to brush away tears she was unaware of shedding.
"Now, tell me what happened."
"Maybe we should wait until you're better—"
"Meredith," he chastised, raising his eyebrows at her. "I'm getting tired, and I should sleep, but I'm not doing that unless you tell me what happened."
He was playing the sick person card, go figure. She sighed. It took her a whole minute to work up the courage and admit what had happened, and Derek was patient.
"I was pregnant," she told him quietly, watching his eyes light up momentarily, but then understanding settled, and his eyebrows creased in concern.
"Was?"
"While I was helping Dr. Kepner fix Owen's shoulder, I had a miscarriage," she told him reluctantly, tracing her fingertips along his jaw line.
He closed his eyes and sighed, grabbing her hand and bringing it to his lips for a light kiss.
Meredith felt a weight leave her shoulders from admitting her secret, and knowing that he wasn't angry with her, as she had irrationally feared.
"Are you alright?" he asked her, his eyes looking down at her stomach.
Meredith nodded. "Yeah, just a bit dizzy." She deliberated for a moment, then continued, "I'm sad that we lost the baby, but there will be more, and hopefully they will have the McDreamy hair," she teased, running her fingers through his hair once more. "But I cant replace you, so don't ever get shot again, or fake die in an OR."
He chuckled sleepily, "I'll try."
Then he fell into an exhausted, much needed sleep.
"I think maybe my mother was wrong for the most part. Of course, I wouldn't go telling a complete stranger my entire emotional make up, but it is worth sharing things if it helps. Everyone needs someone to be there for them, or else we wouldn't be human. Moments define our lives and shape our personality. If we can't confide in someone these moments, then what's the point in anything else?"