He stood in the doorway to her room; arms crossed protectively across his chest, watching her chest gently rise and fall beneath her blankets. He was not taking his eyes off her, not for a moment. He needed to see her awake again, he did not trust the reassuring, quiet beeps from her monitors.
Not two hours before, they had abruptly paged him. His pager had read emergency, and without a doubt, he knew he was not being called for a surgery. It was Meredith. He was certain his heart dropped right to his stomach. No, she can't be dead. She's not dead. She is not dead, he had repeated over and over, breaking all hospital rules as he ran through the halls to the trauma room, silently praying that it wasn't true.
The interns had all been gathered at her window, behind Bailey, who was silent. He could see Alex place his hand on Izzie's arm, who had a lone tear drifting down her left cheek.
No.
George was shaking, covering his mouth with his hand. He couldn't see Christina. She would have had to be in there. With Meredith. His Meredith.
No.
He suddenly found he could not walk any further. Not five feet away from her door, and he was glued to the floor. His legs had turned to jello, his stomach to ice. Never had he felt so cold inside, so useless, and yet so minutely hopeful at the same time.
Alex noticed him first, and murmured something to Bailey, who immediately turned and took a step toward him. "Derek…" she began. She had been crying too.
He shook his head, and could not stop the tears streaming down his cheeks. "Please, Miranda…" he could barely manage a whisper. He sucked in a breath, slightly winded from running three floors. He needed air.
The last thing he had said to her was that he was her knight in shining whatever. If he were, this would not have happened. He could have saved her. No. The last thing he had said to her was to ask her if she wanted to get married. It was not even a proposal, and now look at them. He'd be damned if he could ever manage a real proposal now. Meredith, I'm so sorry.
As she took a step closer to him, Bailey smiled. She smiled. She would only be smiling if…
"Derek…she's awake."
He could not remember much after that. He vaguely remembered his feet slowly beginning to move again, then quicker, as he reached the glass window. The interns, Meredith's friends, had quickly moved aside to allow him room. Christina was inside, sitting beside her, running a hand through her hair. She was struggling to keep her eyes open. But they were open. She was alive.
He stayed at that window, with his forehead against the glass, for what felt like an eternity. It was only fifteen minutes, as the nurses were moving her to a private room, in the ICU. Numbly, he had followed them, wishing that there were more he could do. Yet, all he could think about was how close he had come to losing her. How many times do you have to lose her before you figure it out? You need her. Tell her; show her that you can't live without her.
Now he was watching her sleep, wishing desperately that he could go in and wake her up, hold her and never let her go. There were so many things he wanted to tell her. That from now on, he would be her knight in shining whatever. That he did want to get married, even though he'd like to ask her in a more romantic way. That he still did have a thing for ferryboats.
Almost as if she could sense his presence, her eyelids began to flutter. His breath caught in his throat as a warm pair of green eyes looked back into his own. She was awake. She squirmed and winced a little, before meeting his eyes again.
"Hey," he said softly, smiling a little.
She blinked. "Hey," she returned, pain evident in her voice. As he began to cross the room, she tried to move, looking relieved to see him. He leaned over her bed and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, which won him a small smile. He would never get tired of seeing that smile.
As he pulled back, she heaved a sigh and looked up at him. She looked like she was in pain, exhausted, but not confused. Almost as if she knew everything that had happened. He mirrored her sigh, wishing he could tell her everything he was thinking.
"Meredith…" he began, and trailed off as his voice caught in his throat. She nodded.
"My mother's dead, isn't she." She stated it almost as a fact, not a question. He could see the pain in her eyes, but her voice was calm.
He hesitated, wishing he could give her anything but an affirmative answer to the question. He wanted to be able to say, I saved your mother. They wouldn't let me save you, but I saved your mother. But he couldn't. They hadn't let him save her, and he hadn't even been able to save her mother, either.
"Yes," he whispered, nodding. She blinked and focused her attention on a spot on the ceiling.
"It's okay." She continued to stare at the ceiling, blinking. "I think." She turned her face on her pillow and met his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. "I think it's okay."
Derek blinked back tears, trying to give her a smile, but failing miserably. He was supposed to be comforting her, but she wasn't showing any signs of being upset. She had been dead for over three hours, and had woken up to find her mother was dead, and she was calm. He had absolutely lost it at the mere thought of losing her. What kind of knight in shining armor was he? Losing the battle, he allowed a tear to slip down his cheek. He reached for her hand.
She smiled at him and squeezed his hand with the little strength she had. It was barely there, but it meant the world to him. He didn't even realize that the tears were streaming down his face now, until her eyes began to water slightly. "Derek…" she whispered, reaching out to wipe them off of his cheek with her thumb. He stood, and she carefully moved over, pulling the blanket up so he could climb under. He stumbled out of his shoes and into her bed, into her arms.
She held him close, and he cried into her shoulder, thoroughly wetting her hospital gown. Her tears mixed with his, and she pressed a kiss to his forehead. His tears gradually slowed, until he was only hiccupping. He shuddered and lifted his head to look at her, realizing that his eyes must be a great deal more bloodshot than hers. He pressed a desperate kiss to her lips, and she matched it, running her hand down his cheek. How many times do you have to lose her before you figure it out?
"Meredith…" he whispered, trailing off, his voice hitching as he spoke her name.
She placed a finger to his lips. She moved closer to him, tucking her head into the space between his head and shoulder, and slid her hand across his chest. "It's okay now. You're okay. Just stay with me."
It was like I was drowning, and you saved me. His own words flashed back to him. He wrapped his arm around her, gently rubbing her back as she fell into a sound sleep, sighing occasionally against him. He would never lose her again. He would make sure of it. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he finally allowed himself to fall asleep, knowing she was safe and alive, tucked into his arms.
I don't own Grey's. So don't sue. Thanks!