Hi! Me! Again! This update took forever. I can't promise anything better, though, and I'm hoping it's an okay length. Longer than most things I've written, at any rate. Anyway, so, I feel like a long Author's Note right at the beginning would just kind of get in the way and be kind of annoying, so I'm putting it at the end, where I'm also replying to reviews – thanks for those, by the way!
Unchained Melody
Chapter 2: Dog Days Are Over
Seattle stretched out miles, at some point blurring into the blue of the sea.
Dearly beloved, we have come together in the presence of God to witness and bless the joining together of this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony.
He had a brilliant view of it all, a prime spot from behind the glass back wall of the coma ward.
The union of husband and wife is intended by God for their mutual joy; for the help and comfort given each other in prosperity and adversity; and, when it is God's will, for the procreation of children and their nurture in the knowledge and love of the Lord.
It was a seriously good view. The kind an artist or photographer could only wish for. Somehow, sitting cross-legged on the hard, linoleum floor behind the thin glass gave it all a beautiful kind of perspective. Gave even the bruised sky and dark clouds of yonder a broody kind of beauty which, although he wasn't aware of it, perfectly matched his own.
Therefore marriage is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, deliberately, and in accordance with the purposes for which it was instituted by God.
Although he'd worked inside Seattle Grace for over – what? – twelve years, somewhere around about, and had walked through this same dreary room at least twice a week rounding for most of that, it was only four years ago that his sister had shown him the true serenity it held.
Into this union Rose Anne Keane and Derek Christopher Shepherd now come to be joined. If any of you can show just cause why they may not be lawfully wed, speak now, or else forever hold your peace.
Before Amy came to Seattle Grace, he, Addison and Callie had hung out in the pit. They'd thought it a good idea, because they'd be on site for any cool surgeries, and there was really nowhere else to hang out that they knew of.
I charge you both, here in the presence of God and the witness of this company, that if either of you know any reason why you may not be married lawfully and in accordance with God's Word, do now confess it.
The coma ward was a stark contrast to the pit. The pit was always thrumming with energy, always full of people, always loud and boisterous and a good distraction. The coma ward was quiet, nothing but the gentle beeps and blips of the machines keeping patients alive. You didn't get comatose bodies in the pit, not the kind you got in the coma ward, all of which held charts declaring 'permanent vegetative state'. There were no crowds in the coma ward, not like the ones in the pit; visitors of the coma ward always stopped coming, in the end.
Rose, do you wish to have this man to be your husband; to live together with him in the covenant of marriage? Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honour and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto him as long as you both shall live?
It was dark and gloomy in the coma ward. But Derek liked it. The pit was good for distractions; the coma ward was good for thinking. Would Mark like the coma ward? He would. He'd say it was all creepy, the corpse-like people everywhere, and weren't people in comas meant to be able to hear it all? But he'd like it, he would. The mark of a best friend was a man you could spend years away from but still know like the back of your hand, and that was Mark. Mark would like the coma ward; he'd have to show it to him, as an apology for involving him in the whole wedding fiasco.
I do.
Right now, Derek wanted to be in the pit. He wanted to be in the midst of the hustle and the bustle, wanted to be there to witness all the blood and guts, was willing to resort to the scut work so that there was something to keep him busy.
But it wasn't guilt that was eating him alive, not guilt about what he'd done. It was guilt about the nothingness he felt pertaining the matter.
Derek, do you wish to have this woman to be your wife; to live together with her in the covenant of marriage? Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honour and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto her as long as you both shall live?
He wasn't working. He couldn't work. Officially, he was still on leave and Richard wasn't comfortable with allowing him to work without a psychiatric evaluation (just in case, how patronising could the man get?), but unofficially, it was because the nurses – all united behind Rose as their friend and colleague – were striking against the man they once nicknamed Mr. Darcy and now called McDouche and because he was sick of all the scathing looks he received and whispered rumours and insults he heard whilst in the pit earlier.
I… can't-don't. I don't.
It was somewhat understandable, to him. How people could look at him that way and spread all that gossip when he was the ass who left his fiancée at the alter and fled out the door without a second thought.
His mother was there. She was wearing her best dress, the green one she'd worn to Amelia's graduation. His sisters were there too. Nancy. Kate. Liz. Amy. One mother, four sisters, three brothers in-law, nine nieces, and five nephews.
He'd just ran from his own wedding. He should have been in a bar, drinking. Or home, hiding. Logically speaking, he shouldn't have been at work. He should have at least be sat by the bed of Beth Tanner – their favourite patient – talking with his friends – Addison and Callie were going to love Mark – about it, or about anything but it.
Further back there are six uncles, twenty three cousins, four great-aunts and Uncle Keith who's definitely family but definitely not an uncle.
This must have been depressing. This was depressing. He needed surgery, a patient, a distraction. Something.
Even Murray the f*****g Pug was there, drooling on the scarlet church carpet.
Someone.
Debbie the nurse, on Rose's side. Tyler. Over ninety-eight nurses. The Chief himself, over there with Adele. Callie. Over fifty-six other colleagues.
Maybe he should have taken a leaf out of Mark's book. Had a one night stand. Dated a rebound. Got over Rose quick so all this wouldn't come back to bite him on the ass later.
Dearly beloved.
"Dr. Shepherd?"
He was meant to have gotten married yesterday. The entire ceremony, as far as it had gotten, had been re-playing itself over and over in his head ever since. He'd been feeling guilty for not feeling guilty, for God's sake.
And then a woman walked into view. He wasn't sure how he hadn't heard her approach, in the quiet of the coma ward, but he hadn't. She was small. Hair the kind of dishwater colour which was brown when you looked at it from the angle he was sat at, but blonde where it was hit by the fluorescent hospital light. Green eyes. Nice eyes.
"Dr. Shepherd?" she repeated.
He had an M.D., but it took him a second minute to realise she was talking to him. He felt stoned. Or like he'd just successfully performed three craniotomies and a huge-ass tumour removal in one day.
Maybe he needed more coffee.
"May I help you?" he asked politely, too politely. He threw in a charming smile, to make up for the lack of flirtatiousness in his voice.
She seemed nervous. Did that make him imposing?
"Uh, Dr. Bailey has a patient in the uh, pit with a emphysema, a cracked pelvis and crushed lower body, definite damage to the spinal cord, and a skull fracture – possibly two. She, uh, needs you as a consult, probably surgical?"
"Why didn't Dr. Bailey page me?" he asked. "I mean, I understand it's fun to torture interns, but…"
"She, uh, did," she said. "But you're not officially working today and don't have it on you?" He didn't, hadn't even realised. "I asked around and a lot of people said you come here sometimes. And you are. Here."
"I am," he replied, pushing himself up off the floor and beginning to walk toward the exit. He looked over his shoulder. Saw her still stood there. "Well?" he asked. "I'm going to need to know the patient's condition and current location, Doctor."
"Grey," she supplied, jogging to catch up with him. "Dr. Grey. The patient was conscious but uh, extremely confused upon arrival and has since passed out and not woken up. He's in CT now, and they're debating taking him for X-Rays next before completing any further treatment because Ortho aren't comfortable doing anything before they know the extent of the lower-body damage."
"Dr. Grey," Derek said. "It suits you."
The case was indeed surgical.
John Daniel Meyer had a depressed skull fracture and very nearly irreversibly damaged spinal cord which meant his chances of not suffering paraplegia – even quadriplegia - upon waking up were near-impossible. And that was just the neuro part of it all – his heart was a mess, his lungs were a mess, and Ortho were actually considering amputation of both legs, they'd been crushed so badly.
The patient was in the ICU, though, and Dr. Shepherd could take off his cape and mask and become Derek again. It's a beautiful day to save some lives.
He'd seen Dr. Grey watching him during the surgery. Which shouldn't have been surprising, really; interns were meant to do that, watch and learn. At this early point in the game, she wouldn't have been asked to do anything more than monitor the patient's BP and maybe do some suction work.
The romantic in him liked to believe she was interested in more than just the miracle he was performing, just like he was more focused on the fierce concentration on her face than what she was truly doing.
He'd have liked to talk with her some more, propose a date, flirt a little, but she was gone. Probably told to monitor the patient post-op, or maybe trolling the pit for cases already.
He liked her. She was fresh. He wasn't Mr. Darcy or McDouche to her yet.
Addison and Amelia were charting by Beth Tanner's bed when he returned to the coma ward, a cappuccino in one hand and a bagel in the other. They'd page him if Mr. Meyer woke up or his condition deteriorated.
"Hey," he greeted them, sitting down beside them. "Any interesting cases? I just operated on the car crash victim with the depressed skull fracture and the spinal cord damage."
"Show-off," Amelia grumbled, but they both knew she was only joking.
"I had a uteroplacental apoplexy," Addison offered. "I managed to save the baby – healthy baby girl – but the mother haemorrhaged and bled out on the table."
"Nice," he grinned. "Where's Callie?"
"Surgery," Amelia explained. "Re-construction of a teenager's badly broken arm. She showed me the scans. Looked messy. Lots'a bone shards. Candy bar?"
He took it, stuffing it into his pocket. He tore off a quarter of his bagel, handing it over to Addison.
"Cream cheese?" she asked, eyebrow raised.
"Do you even have to ask?" he replied.
"How very New York," Amelia yawned, stretching and half-accidentally whacking Derek on the head with her arm. "Derek, can I scrub in on your two o'clock craniotomy?"
"Sure," he replied with a full mouth, finishing the last of his bagel and beginning on his aforementioned candy bar.
"Manners," Addison reprimanded him, reaching over to muss his hair the way she knew he hated it.
"Sure, Mom," he said, poking her in the shoulder.
"I need you for a one thirty consult on a woman whose amniocentesis suggests her baby has myeloschisis."
"I'll be there."
There was maybe a moment of quiet as he and Amelia finished their candy bars and Addison her bagel, and then Amy piped up again like the annoying younger sister she was.
"Hey Derek," she said slyly, a matching look on her face. "You weren't trying to tell us all something with your little runaway act yesterday, were you? You aren't getting it on with the handsome fellow who you reportedly celebrated your bachelor thing with?"
"Idiot," he replied, giving her a light tug of the ponytail. "That was Mark."
"Mark?" Amelia repeated, and he could swear her face lit up as though it were Christmas. "Mark! Is he still here? I didn't get to speak with him earlier, 'cause of all the chaos your little runaway gig created."
Derek ran a hand through his hair. "Don't be ridiculous," he said. "Of course Mark is still here. He's staying here. Or, you know, will until he sleeps with somebody's wife and runs to Nevada so he can escape yet another angry husband."
"So, who's this elusive Mark?" Addison asked. "Sounds like a real charmer."
"Oh, he is," Amelia assured her. "I grew up with him. He was practically Ma's other son, adopted son, whatever. He and Derek met in kindergarten and have been all buddy-buddy BFFs since. Or, were, anyway. They fought over med schools ages ago and haven't spoken since. Mark still sends Christmas presents for the kids, you know." She was referring to Derek's several nieces and nephews.
"He slept with half our graduating class," Derek told her. "The female half. Lucky b*****d even managed to get the lesbians into bed. Staying at the Archfield by the way, Amy," he added for his sister's benefit. "In case you'll be wanting to see him or whatever. He's gonna work here, but he's only meeting Richard later this evening to sign all the contracts and crap."
"Specialty?"
"Plastics," Derek and Amelia told her simultaneously.
A beeping interrupted them before either could say anything further. Each doctor automatically reached for their pagers, but it was Addison who was the lucky one being paged.
"S**t," she murmured. "Sorry, gotta go,' she told them, "Johnston baby's in respiratory distress."
She was gone before Derek or Amelia could say anything.
Meredith groaned, slamming John Meyer's chart onto the nurses' desk and looking at the man behind her with a clearly irritated face.
"Go away," she told him. "Not again, not ever. You work here, you're my superior, and I don't like you."
"Well," he said, pretending to look injured. "I only said hello."
She glared at him. "Go away," she told her one night stand.
"Now," he grinned. "Is that any way to speak to a colleague? A superior?"
Her glare intensified.
"Fine, fine," he pacified her. "I'll leave you alone, but I need you to do me a favour."
"I don't do that kind of thing," Meredith snapped. "No matter how slutty you think I am."
"Please," he said. "That's what nurses are for – " Olivia glared at him from where she was sorting folders nearby – "and besides, that's not what I mean. See, Dr. Grey, I saw this interesting ad on the bulletin board…"
Meredith turned around to face him, hands on hips. "No!" she nearly shrieked. "Are you kidding me? You're my superior. We have boundaries- there's a line. There's no point in you going away if it means I'll have to see you at home everyday. Besides, I already have roommates. Interns. You wouldn't like them."
"I'd live," he said, and then, "please," he continued to badger her. "You wouldn't see me. I wouldn't cross the line. It would just be a formality. I usually spend the nights with flavours of the week anyway. Come on, I'd pay half – yeah, half – the rent, which I know you interns would find useful, and I swear, the line and all that crap will stay uncrossed, untouched."
"No," she said, leaving and heading for John Meyer's ICU room, where she'd need to take his stats again. Every half an hour, Dr. Torres had warned her.
He followed her. Of course. Annoying man.
He was quiet for a good chunk of the journey and then… "A cranial reconstruction," he said. "With myself and Dr. Shepherd. Learning from the best."
She felt her resolve weaken. "Fine," she said in a huff, still walking. "But you'll have to throw in a rhinoplasty and the right to be your intern on the next groundbreaking case you get."
"Deal," he replied immediately, sticking out a hand. She shook it.
He started to walk away.
"Why do you want to move in with a bunch of interns, anyway?" she muttered.
He was far enough away that she doesn't expect an answer, especially not the exasperating one he gave her.
"I like your neighbour," he called over his shoulder. "The redhead."
It was only later, when she was listening to Cristina talk about the radical cystoprostatectomy Webber and Bailey were doing next week, that she realised just which neighbour Sloan was talking about.
Sat at the kitchen table and talking as they waited for their popcorn to pop completely, Izzie and George were reasonably surprised when a man – George identified him as the new Dr. Sloan – stumbled up the stairs with a laughing Dr. Montgomery – Izzie scrubbed in on her uteroplacental apoplexy case, she told George, the mother died, so sad – in the direction of what they'd both thought to be the guest bedroom, or whatever.
"Uh, Mer?" Izzie called to Meredith, who was gloomily poking at Indian food as she watched Titanic on the TV. Meredith had made it very clear that she hated the movie, but there was nothing better on TV. (Izzie didn't mind; she, for one, liked it, and George had never seen it before).
"Yes?"
"Uh, why are there two attendings kinda, uh, screwing, upstairs?"
Meredith groaned. "He told me he'd make sure to always sleep with his flavours of the week at their houses," she complained. "That's so typical."
Noticing Izzie's questioning gaze and George's dumbfounded one, Meredith added, "Oh, yeah, Mark's living here now. You know, like you guys. I get to scrub in on a cranial reconstruction with Shepherd, which is awesome, right? Cristina was so jealous."
"Cranial reconstruction?" Izzie repeated incredulously.
"Mark?" George squeaked. "Since when is Dr. Sloan Mark?"
"He's living here now, George," Izzie explained. "We're not gonna call our roommate Dr. Sloan; that would just be stupid. Hey, popcorn's ready!"
They flopped back onto the bed, panting and smiling.
"Hi, Mark Sloan," he introduced himself jokingly.
"The Mark Sloan? My cousins sing your praises," she said.
"Guess beauty like yours doesn't run in the family," he flirted.
She laughed. "Addison Forbes Montgomery," she replied.
"Pleasure to meet you properly, Addison Forbes Montgomery."
"Likewise, Mark Sloan. You're a real charmer."
Okay! Yay! Maddison and a smidgen of MerDer, for you impatient people who couldn't wait (I'm kidding)!
Anyway, first of all, because I forgot to mention last chapter, I've changed a few things. As you can tell, I'm sure. For one, Seattle Grace has a coma ward? I'm not entirely sure on the logistics of this, or whether patients like this would even be kept in a hospital, but the few books I've read which mention this kind of thing have coma wards inside hospitals.
Also, I've messed around with Amelia and Addison's ages – you can tell with Addison more, because she's only just become an attending and I had to have her skip like two grades for even that to happen. And with Amelia, I did it because I just couldn't make sense of how it all fit into Shonda's timeline – which, by the way, I'm also changing! Every season, except one and two which are one year put together, will be equal to a year.
Reviews:
JustAnotherIntern14 – thank YOU. I like that you like the new approach and that I surprised you, and I really, really hope I finish this too. I plan to, anyway.
Hushedgreylily – thanks! I'm a die-hard Maddison fan also, which is probably why I'm writing a Maddison fic, and I do like my twists.
Guest (1) – hey, let's face it, nobody likes Rose, including me. I probably won't have much of her in the overall story. This is a MerDer and Maddison story, but I like to lay out the backstory and etc. First so their relationships can begin properly – I always hated how Meredith technically acted as Derek's rebound from his marriage with Addison, and I wanted to change that so neither relationship would be affected by it. I did post a story like this a few months ago, but deleted it because I wasn't happy with it and just couldn't carry it on because of that.
Jill – hi, Jill (sorry, I just really wanted to say that, dunno why). I definitely wrote this under Awesome before, though I'm not sure if it was Allie. I know that in some fics I've told people they can call me Allie, as a nickname for Alex or whatever. I wanted to mix the story up more than before, for more shock effect. Amelia's in the story! I couldn't figure out a way to include her in the beginning but… here she is! I wouldn't call Mark and Meredith sleeping together MerMark given they were both so… you know… in the beginning, more like… exposition?
Guest (2) – thanks!
