It's been a while since I've written anything, but I couldn't help it after last week's episode. It was just so good, I had to do something about it.
Here's a short piece on how things went from Derek saying he couldn't even look at Meredith, to them holding hands in the elevator later. Just something short to take my mind off this episode. I hope you have fun reading it, because I really enjoyed writing it.
Tell me what you think!
It's only after a while since Alex and Cristina have left that she is able to stop crying.
Maybe it's been hours, she doesn't know.
All she knows is that Zola is going to be fine, for now. Her baby is lying somewhere, surrounded by unknown nurses, probably disoriented, but she is going to be fine. She also knows that she wishes she could take her home with her and make sure she's fine all by herself. She knows that the worry, the guilt, the constant arguing and the final relief that she has experienced today has got to be too much for her, so she has been crying for the past 15 minutes or so.
Or maybe it was days, she doesn't know.
There is one more thing she does know. And that is that Derek has been there with her the whole time, gently rubbing her back. He hasn't said a word, but he's there. And she's not sure she could have ever stopped crying if he wasn't. He's not as reassuring as he used to be, like it was between them before everything happened, but that's mainly because she doesn't feel comfortable enough to let herself feel reassured by him. Not yet, at least. But still, for some reason she has never quite understood, it feels nice to have him there, rubbing her back, not saying anything and just…showing up. After all, it is also his baby who's surrounded by unknown nurses and disoriented after surgery, right now. So maybe that was it, maybe knowing they're both hurting is what feels reassuring.
Or maybe she missed him, she's not sure.
She lets out one long, shuddery breath. The kind that's supposed to ease down the lump on her throat and make her lower lip stop quivering, so she can finally stop crying. She wipes her tears away with both of her hands and slowly breaths in and out.
She's going to be fine. Zola's going to be fine.
She feels him shift positions and slightly winces when he takes his hand off her back to run it through his hair. Her back feels cold, but she can't ask him to put it back. Not yet, at least. He sighs tiredly and clears his throat. "I'm gonna go change and I'll meet you here so we can go," he says softly, which is a nice change from the harsh tone he's been using towards her for weeks now.
She nods. He walks towards the door and just as he's about to leave she calls after him. "Derek," her voice is raspy from all the crying and she thinks that maybe he won't hear, but he turns to look at her once again. His eyes are shiny. He wants to cry, but he hasn't. Her head is on her hands and she's still sitting on the couch, because she doesn't think she has the strength to stand up yet.
"Thank you," she says with all the gratitude she feels. Thank you for being here even when you're mad at me. For trying to be strong and for loving me, even when you hate me. She means to say all those things to him, but she doesn't need to, he gets it. He can still read her, that hasn't changed. He nods with a sad little smile and leaves.
When he walks back in he sees her sitting in front of her cubby, looking down at something in her hands. Her phone, apparently. Her whole body is slumped forward in a way that makes it obvious she's been through enough already. She's crying again. Not sobbing uncontrollably like before, but sad, quiet tears are rolling down her cheeks. He's reminded of that time he found her in the exact same position a few weeks after O'Malley died. Except he doesn't hug her this time. He's not sure he can. Not yet, at least.
As she hears him come in she quickly sniffles, wipes her tears away and looks up at him. Her eyes are red and puffy and her makeup is all messed up. But still, he doesn't make a move.
"Ready?" He asks quietly, he's too tired to speak any louder.
She nods. "Cristina said she would call later tonight so we can say good night to Zola," she says. She doesn't want to raise her voice, because she feels it'll break again, and she's tired of crying.
He whispers back an "ok," with a nod. She looks back down at her phone; he follows her gaze and notices she's looking at a picture of the baby.
Their baby?, he doesn't know.
Zola is sprawled on their bed wearing one of those cute little dresses Meredith was so intent on folding this morning. She has the biggest smile on her face and is drooling all over their bed.
"They shouldn't have left things get this bad," she says sadly, with guilt maybe? And he suddenly feels compelled to rub her back again. So he does.
"They didn't know what to look for," he says; echoing her words from that afternoon. He's not sure why he says it, but he does. She looks up at him and gives him a look. Does this mean he doesn't blame her? She doesn't know. And the thing is…he's not sure either.
She looks back at Zola's picture and sighs once again, "I'm exhausted. Not knowing is exhausting," she says with the most fragile and vulnerable voice he's ever heard coming out of her mouth. He squeezes her shoulder one more time.
"Let's go home," he says.
She quickly puts her phone away, as if she needs to put it off her sight to tear her eyes away from the picture. Then she stands up and follows him outside. They walk side by side, but they don't touch. She's not sure they should.
He starts thinking about his earlier talk with Owen, as they wait for the elevator.
'They don't make it easy', he'd said. And he was right, they usually made it very hard.
Except right now, right now she was making it really easy. He tries to remember a time when he has seen her cry like this in the past five years since he's known her.
Or has it been a lifetime, he's not sure.
Well, there was that time after George died. She was so sad, she missed him so much, but even then, it wasn't like this. There was also that time a few months ago, in the elevator, after Callie's accident. She was lost, she wanted answers, and he'd assured her, they were going to get a baby, he'd said. Then he remembers that time years ago. Addison had just showed up and he had a decision to make. He'd found Meredith crying outside the hospital. 'Hating you is the most exhausting,' she'd said. And then she'd kissed him. He doesn't think he remembers what that feels like. Or does he?
And finally his mind goes back to this blurry memory buried deep in his head.
A few hours had passed since his surgery, he'd already been awake once, but had gone back to sleep. He was ok, or at least that's what they said; the truth was he felt as if he was in hell. Everything hurt so freaking much. He doesn't remember much about those days, but he does remember the pain. And her.
He had woken up to the quiet sound of someone crying. Not sobbing, but softly sniffling, whimpering and every once in a while taking a deep breath to avoid letting out a moan. As if she didn't want anyone to notice.
He had opened his eyes and he saw her. She was hunched over, on a chair by his bed, her head on her hands. Her whole posture said she'd had enough for the day, but still, she was there.
'Hey,' he'd whispered, making her wipe away her tears quickly and look up at him giving him a weak smile.
'Hey,' she'd replied with a broken voice. He studied her face, she looked broken, devastated, like nothing he had ever seen before, not on her. He wanted to say he was ok, he was going to be fine, he was alive, they both were, but someone came in.
And that's as far as his memory can go. Maybe it was a nurse who had come in to up his dose, he's not sure.
In that moment he'd thought she'd been crying because of him, because she was scared, because they'd lived through something awful. But right now, looking back, he knows that she'd lost much more than her sense of security that day. She'd lost a baby, their baby, and he realizes now that this was what devastated her and broke her into a million pieces.
He'd always known she'd be a great mother, but is just now that he realizes how much she really wants to be one and how good she actually is.
Is that thought alone that makes him quickly stretch his fingers and in one easy move, take her hand into his. Like it doesn't mean anything. Like they've been doing it forever. He doesn't look at her, or say anything. He's too tired, and he doesn't think it's necessary, so he just holds her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. He's not sure what it means, but suddenly he feels that maybe, just maybe, he can start to forgive her after all. And he knows that even though he's still mad at her, he can't just stand there. She's his wife, he sees her pain, and maybe he can do something.
She doesn't say anything either, but when she feels his hand on hers she takes one deep breath. Before, she hadn't been sure she felt as reassured by him as she used to; but right now she feels that maybe, she actually does.
The elevator door opens up and they walk in.
He's tired. So tired. So when she, without giving it a second thought and after feeling the need to just lean into him, puts her head on his shoulder, he doesn't pull back, or even say anything. In fact his body alone readjusts so she's more comfortable against him. His body seems willing to take care of her, and he's too tired to fight it.
Why should he, anyway.
When she feels him slightly shifting his position so she can fit better, she can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, things will be ok.
They stand there, deep in thought, thinking about how everything got so screwed up. About their baby.
Was it their baby? They're not sure anymore.
Their baby spending the night with Cristina instead of them and about their little girl in surgery. She was so little. She should have been with them, they would have noticed sooner.
And its right then than the elevator doors open up again.
Crap.
Damn it.
Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!