The rain thrashed against the windows of the hospital as it did almost every night; it was winter, it was Seattle, it was far past midnight. The lights flickered for a moment, but then it was still, and all she could hear was the rain. There was no one in the room, except for the rain and her sleepy self, leaning against the wall, her legs criss-crossed on the couch. He was at home, taking care of their child, pretending that everything was okay, so that she, in turn, would believe that everything indeed was okay. She stroked her stomach lightly, the scrubs noticeably tighter this month then last month, and everyone knew, but no one really knew why- why she wasn't saying anything about it. She let her head rest against the window sill, the pounding of her thoughts beginning to subside as she closed her eyes with a sigh.

"Go home," Alex slammed the door behind him, "what are you even still doing here?"

"Nice to see you, too," she smirked, opening her eyes, readjusting her vision to the light, "and for your information, my shift does not end for another five hours."

"Rough," he replied, sinking into the couch next to her, his face weary with furrowed brow and frown in tow. "You don't look too good."

She blinked, realizing that perhaps she wasn't being too subtle about her consistent headache and now sudden throbbing pain. Trying to stand, she supported her body by leaving her hand gripped to the arm of the couch, but as she tried to stand up straight, something was stopping her.

"Mer," his voice trailed off with worry, "you're bleeding."

He immediately stood up, catching her as she began to fall, tears streaming down her face as sobs began to take control of every word she attempted to let from her mouth. The blood was a satin red, pooling at the bottom of her pants, less evident in the navy blue scrubs then the last time this happened, when the red stained her pale blue scrubs with dismay and sorrow.

"This can't be happening," she managed to spit out, "this can't be happening."

"Shhh," he rocked her, picking her up as she could no longer stand, "I'm gonna take you down to the clinic and we'll find out what's going on."

"No, no, no," she stammered, "I can't let anyone know, I can't. Take me, take me, take me-"

"I'll take you to a private room, okay?" he offered, beginning to walk down the hall, her body draped over his shoulders. The nurses eyed him as he walked down the corridor, head downwards, pretending this wasn't Meredith Grey having a miscarriage- this was just a patient, this was someone he never knew until right now.

"Please don't tell Derek," she whispered, her breathing becoming more level, "please."

"I won't," he replied, softly, his lab coat now damp with her tears, "we're almost there."

They were silent for a few minutes, until he reached a room at the end of the obstetrics ward, the room with all the windows, but so far from the nurse's desk that hopefully no one would see them. He gently placed her in the bed, sitting next to her, watching as she pat her cheeks and fix her hair, embarrassed that someone had seen her cry. No one ever saw Meredith Grey cry.

"I'm going to go find a resident to examine you," he stated, slowly standing up.

"No," she replied, "I need you to do it-or-or find April- April will do it and she won't tell anyone and she won't tell Derek."

Alex had instructed April not to ask questions, to smile occasionally, but work with Meredith as if she was any other patient, and to not talk about Derek at all. She responded accordingly, but a somber expression loomed her face, she knew how badly Meredith wanted this.

"You don't need a D&C," she quipped, removing her gloves as Meredith's legs remained in the stirrups, "this should all take care of itself."

"Okay," Meredith replied quietly, blinking back tears to herself, "thanks April, it means a lot."

"Don't mention it," she stood up, letting Meredith's legs fall back to the floor, "just page me if you need anything else."

She walked out the door, leaving Meredith looking longingly out the window, the sun beginning to peak through the rain, and the clouds disengaging from the midnight sky. She let out a bellowed sigh, and coughed a few sobs up, attempting to retain her composure to the best of her ability.

"Oh, Mer," and there he was, walking straight towards her, tears welled up in his own eyes, "oh Mer."

"Who, who called you?" she sat up, immediately, running a hand through her hair, "I-I-I who called you?"

"It's not important," he swiftly reached his hand to hers, gripping it with all his might, sitting on the bed next to her. She looked up at him, his eyes still glassy, and finally wept all the tears she tried not to cry, burying her head in his lap.

"I lost our baby," she cried, "I lost our baby, again."

"I lost our baby," she thrashed, "I lost our baby!"

"Mer," his voice was soft, sweet, he placed a hand on her head, "I think you had a bad dream."

"Oh," she opened her eyes, squinting, then moving her body around in the bed, "oh thank god, oh thank god." Tears still ran from her eyes, and she moved closer to him, threading her body into his, leaning her head against his neck, and he soothed her, but she only sobbed harder.

"I didn't even know," she hiccuped, "how much I loved this baby, until I thought, I thought he or she was dead."

"I know," he ran his fingers through her hair, he couldn't help but smile slightly to himself, amused that she was so in love with a baby she was so resistant to wanting to get to know, fearful it might slip away.

"We'll get through this," he webbed his fingers with hers, "we always do."