Take Me Home to My Heart
By Illyria13
Disclaimer: I do not own the show, characters, lyrics, or anything you might recognize.
Timeline: Set in season three, an AU from episode 17, "Some Kind of Miracle". I warn you now that this is a Character Death story. If this makes you unhappy, I'm sorry. I can't force you to read it.
Warning: There is suicidal thoughts/actions in this story. Again, if you don't like, don't read.
bRandom notes: I never thought I'd write a Mer/Der story. I like the couple, I like their pain, I like their angst. That being said, I don't think they can survive what I like to put my characters through, as you will see below. But when I saw this two/three part episodes in season three, I fell in love with the way Derek was acting when he was afraid for Meredith, so I wrote this story. I know some people will hate me for what I do to them, but it's my story, and I think it works for the circumstances I chose.
The lines in between sections that are in italics (other than the lyrics at the beginning and end, and the quote at the beginning) are all direct quotes from the episode. They were said by Denny to Meredith in the whole dead-dream thing.
Read and hopefully, enjoy!
And thanks to Lynxgoddess for putting up with my ramblings about this fic. And to my Psych professor, who talked about sleep cycles in class today, causing me to tune him out and work on this instead.
Summary: She's dead. Now he's dead too. Even if it takes him longer to go. AU 3X17 Mer/Der
//
Close your eyes so you don't feel them,
They don't need to see you cry.
I can't promise I will heal you,
But if you want to, I will try.
You were there for summer dreamin',
And you gave me what I need.
And I hope you'll find your freedom,
For eternity, for eternity.
-Eternity by Robbie Williams
//
"The Gods envy us. They envy us because we're mortal. Because any moment might be our last. Everything's more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again."
-Achilles, Movie 'Troy'
//
He believes in true love…
//
He'd thought he'd found love with Addison. Maybe not true love, heart-stopping and breathless and tingling-in-your-toes, but love nonetheless. A love that was enough to make him satisfied, to live and continue living, in somewhat peaceful happiness.
Until he met her. And then he'd known that he'd never felt love, all those times before, not really.
But now he has and he doesn't want to let it go. Let her go.
Meredith Grey.
One-night stand turned girlfriend and lover and sometimes he thinks that it must have been fate that led him to her in that bar on that one night. Fate that made his wife cheat on him with his best friend, fate that drove him away from his city and into a new one, fate that got him a job in the same hospital and same vicinity as Meredith Grey. And every day, he's thankful to fate, because he couldn't live without her. She's everything he wants, nothing like he'd imagined, and the woman he needs to be with.
True love is her.
She's scary and damaged, dark and twisty, but he has baggage too, and if she can overlook his, then he can ignore hers. Because he loves her, and she loves him, and this is how the world should be. This is how the world is.
His life has never felt more complete than when he is with her. He's never wanted anything more than her. And after everything they've gone through to be together, all the exes and the breaks and the arguments, how could they be anything other than right?
He has no doubts about it. What they have is true love.
But it's been a long time since he's read Romeo & Juliet, the most common example of true love.
He's forgotten that it's a tragedy.
//
And magic…
//
Magic exists. It's like true love. He knows it exists because he's felt it.
He feels it around her.
Magic is also like fate. You know it's there but you don't feel it, until those moments come along that are completely impossible without a little help from a higher power.
Meeting Meredith is one such time. Her wanting him is another. And her choosing him even after he's broken her and thrown her away and damaged her further, is yet another.
Because he hasn't been nice to her always, not like he should, and he doesn't deserve her. Nobody deserves her, but she doesn't believe that, so when she chooses him, when she wants him, he resolves to make her realize that she is special. She is perfect for being imperfect.
She is magic.
So he lets himself sink into her, lets her become his lifeline in the storm, and he doesn't have to remind himself to take care of her too. If she can save him, then he can do it too, and definitely easier than it is for her. And astonishingly, she lets him; lets him soothe her back to sleep after a nightmare, lets him hold her when they're together, lets him love her when in bed and when they aren't.
She'd told him once that he was the person she'd thought she'd spend the rest of her life with. Even in the midst of argument, he'd clung to those words, hoping that one day, it would come true. And it has, because he is her forever person.
And she is his. Nothing is more magical than that.
But there's one thing he's forgetting about magic.
It isn't meant to last. Eventually, it wears away.
//
And soul mates…
//
She's his other half, his soul and breath, and without her, he's broken. Like being ripped in two, the trampled remnants of a human being wailing inside at the agony; the agony of losing her.
It's not quite emptiness, more like being full; full of pain and dread and loss and despair. He'd much rather have the emptiness because it wouldn't hurt as much as everything else because the world is empty now to him so it only makes sense that he'd feel the way his world does. But he isn't empty, but full, and it's so much like he's drowning.
She'd saved him once from drowning. She'd been his breath of fresh air just as he breaks surface, she'd held his head above water and she'd towed him to shore, all with the love and affection she'd offered to him.
So why couldn't he save her from drowning, too?
He'd tried, he really had, but trying wasn't enough and now he was alone. And he's going to drown again, just like he had once before, because there's no one here to save him and no one he wants to try. Because he deserves to drown, he wants it, if she is not able to pull him out.
Eventually, she'll fade away, even as he clings to the photos and memories he has of her. But they aren't enough, aren't the actual person, and he doesn't want to fight to hold on to a memory. Not when he can have the real thing.
She is a broken princess locked in a tower, but she is his and that's all that matters. He doesn't want her to be anything different. He doesn't want anyone else.
She's his true love, his soul mate, and his slumbering cold princess hidden behind glass, and he is the one who can save her, he has to, so he offers her kisses of life. He pounds on her chest and he breathes into her mouth and he needs her to wake up, just like in the fairy tales he has always believed in. Because even though she has never been white and always been kissed, she is his red queen of the trampled and broken hearts and he needs her.
But she doesn't awaken, and he's pushed away, the stained white knight with a mantle of Grey, having lost the battle along with the war. And he wonders if that is why she never wakes up, never opens her eyes, never returns to her knight, because they threw him out and took his position. But he knows it isn't them, it's him, and she didn't come back to them because she'd already been gone.
She'd left when it was just him and her.
Because they are soul mates, and he'd known she was gone before he'd found her. He'd sensed it, he'd felt it and now, he is alone. Alone and full with the pain and despair and loss.
Alone, and drowning with half a soul.
//
He's an optimist.
//
Optimism. He scoffs at it now. It was useless and worthless and stupid, because all the optimism in the world hadn't saved her.
He used to believe in things and in a way, he still does. Only it isn't love and happy endings and magic; it's pain and sorrow, salty tears or bitter rain, and 'til death do us part is now even death will not part. He can't believe in anything else. It only brings more pain. He's had enough of that for a lifetime.
Unfortunately, he'd forgotten that he was surrounded by optimists.
They thought they could save her. They refused to give up. Optimists.
Until reality had set in after five long hours and nothing had changed except the hand on the clock. And hope dies with the long monotone of the heart monitor, and the softly whispered time of death doesn't mean anything because she was already dead and they only prolonged it. Optimists.
Quiet lies of she's in a better place and it'll be okay and give it time are thrown back and forth because even now, they can't give up, can't allow him even a moment's peace. Optimists.
They give him a moment alone with her, thinking it'll help him be able to move on, and tell him that she didn't feel a thing, forgetting that he's a doctor just like them. It's easier for them to pretend that she's just another patient, he's just another boyfriend, and that they haven't lost them both. Optimists.
Optimists are liars. They lie to each other, to the world, and to themselves. And it's those final ones that hurt the most because there's nothing sadder or more powerful than delusions. He'd feel for them, if he could, because he understands how comforting those lies are. They're better than the truth.
Because if there's one thing he's learned, it is that optimism only brings ruin.
//
You cannot break down. You cannot fall apart.
//
He's empty inside, shattered and lost, living without breathing and dying every second.
If he could feel anything, it'd be pity for the others, Christina and Alex and all of them who'd cared for her, because he is not the only one who's lost something precious. He knows that her friends miss her and want her back. He knows that they are blaming themselves. He knows that they are broken because they were never hanging on in the first place. But he can't feel anymore, so he doesn't even try.
He's not breaking down. He's not falling apart. There's no longer anything to break or anything that's whole enough to fall.
He walks around the hospital in a numbed daze and doesn't even care enough to pretend differently. His work is flawless and his patients get his care but there's no life in anything he does. The Chief and Burke are concerned, Mark and Addison are quietly frantic, and Bailey goes Momma Bear on anyone who goes near him. He knows why they are acting this way, but doesn't try to reassure them or convince them of anything. He barely even has the energy to look at them because they are the ones who'd told him she was dead and he isn't really sure he can forgive them for that.
He'd cried at first, so long and so hard, like his heart had been ripped out and the pain was wiping out everything left. And then he'd lost it, pounding his fist into a wall until it was no longer white but red, bones cracking under the ferocity of his onslaught. Mark had pulled him away, wrapping his arms around his chest and literally hauling him back from the wall, but the minute he'd let go, he'd gone right back until they'd eventually been forced to sedate him.
When he wakes up, he's still crying, tears falling down his cheeks even in slumber, because all he can feel is her loss. He breathes her name in between sobs and doesn't allow anyone near enough to touch him because they are not her. He refuses to talk, refuses to speak and they keep him there for a few days because he's in no shape to do anything. They watch him closely, because they've never seen this Derek before and aren't exactly sure what he will do in this state, and deep down, he isn't sure either. He also doesn't care. But he says nothing, and eventually they let him go, and he goes to his trailer because he can't face their room in her house. They make him take a few days before allowing him to return to work, and he spends the time curled on his bed, crying soundlessly because he can't seem to stop and doesn't know what else to do.
And then he stopped crying.
He's not even sure when it happened. Maybe it was sometime in the middle of night, after he woke up screaming her name, or during his latest shift; maybe it was even as he poured his seventh whiskey while sitting in the field behind his trailer. All he knows is that he no longer cries. He's stoic and calm and completely composed, and everyone breathes a sigh of relief. But Mark and Addison are the only ones who don't because they know him, and his silence makes them more concerned. There's nothing for them to do except watch, and he avoids them, uncaring if it's obvious. He doesn't care and doesn't cry and everything seems a lot simpler that way.
He doesn't even cry at her funeral.
He watches as they lower her into the cold ground, drops of rain bouncing off the wooden casket, and he thinks that God is laughing because the water that took her away from him is filling the hole in the ground she's being placed in and he still cannot save her, even as she drowns a second time.
He thinks it's a shame that everyone else is crying, the world is crying, and he's so much of a bastard that he doesn't shed a tear for the woman he loves. Instead he throws a single red rose into her grave, watching as it lands on the space over her heart, and silently promises to come to her soon. And then he stands there as everyone moves around him, ignoring their voices and their sickening sweetness and their empty sorrow because he doesn't care about their pain. They couldn't save her and neither could he, and they all deserve to suffer for it.
It isn't until Addison tugs gently at his arm that he goes, allowing her to lead him away from his grave. She says his name softly as he gets in the car and he looks at her, waiting for her to speak, but she closes her mouth and allows him to sink back into his thoughts. He wonders what brings the pain to her eyes when she looks at him, but can't breathe long enough to ask.
He's sedated again that night, after Mark and Addison find him running a razor across his wrists, and he doesn't understand why Addison's crying as she holds him against her chest while Mark ties gauze around the weeping gashes. He doesn't understand why Addison is rocking as she runs fingers through his hair and down his face, or why Mark sits back on his haunches and slams a fist on the ground. And when his once-best friend looks up with tears in his eyes and asks Why?, Derek still doesn't understand.
I'm crying, Mark. He says. I'm crying for her. Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?
The look of pain on their faces at his words is confusing, too, and he's grateful for the slumber he slips into, because everything about this night, this day, this whole fucking life without her is utterly confusing.
He gains two watchful guardians after that, always hovering, forcing him to eat and sleep, and now some part of him knows that he'll have to postpone his plans for a bit. But he's okay with that, because he waited his whole life to find her; he can wait a little more.
So he continues working, continues existing, and finds himself counting the days. And when he reaches three months, he's surprised that it's been that long even as he is undeterred. Because it's been 90 days and he still can't cry, can't breathe, can't live and nothing has gotten any better.
It hits him one day at the end of a surgery when he notices that he doesn't care whether or not his patient was alive.
They're doctors, all of them, him and Mark and Bailey and Burke, but now he knows exactly what they are and what they do.
They deal in death.
Death dealers, not healers, because for every patient they save, two more die, and in the end, they kill more than they save. But they also cannot exist without death or sickness or pain, and this is why they are not healers. How can they be, if their very presence depends upon others being in the ugliest and worst of conditions?
They deal in death and he no longer wants to deal. He wants to have it instead.
A week later, he wakes and knows that it's time. He doesn't call in to work, doesn't call Mark or Addison, doesn't say goodbye or leave a note. He goes to the quiet dock where it all began and sits down, looking out at the ferryboats they both love, before pulling a scalpel from his pocket. And he slits his arms from wrist to elbow before laying back, feeling the blood pooling into his now-worthless hands, and whispers into the sky, I'm drowning, Mer. Will you breathe for me?
He's found by a pedestrian and the paramedics bring him to his hospital, where the staff finds themselves working on yet another one of their own. But it's a lost cause before they even start and it's with tears in their eyes that they stop. And when he's buried, they stand at his grave and admit to themselves that they were over three months too late for him, if they ever could have saved him at all.
The official cause of death is suicide but everybody at Seattle Grace knows that it's accidental drowning.
Strangers, reporters, board members and patients alike, hear the story and ask, why?
And those closest to the couple list a couple of reasons.
Because they did break down, did fall apart, but they did it together and death will no keep them from each other.
Because he was no longer an optimist and couldn't lie any longer.
Because they're soul mates and lovers, and when she died, so did he.
Because magic fades, and so do people.
Because theirs is a true love, and true love is tragic.
But which is it? Those asking say.
And everyone shrugs and says the same thing.
Pick one.
//
Yesterday I died; tomorrow's bleeding
Fall into your sunlight
-Trading Yesterday, Shattered
//
End.
Author's Note: I hope you liked it. I'd appreciate reviews!