Not The End Of The Road

Chapter: Baby Steps

Author: Sarah

Rating: T

Pairing: Meredith & Derek

Disclaimer:Nothing is mine. Nada. Rien. Lyrics again from "End of the Road" by Boyz II Men. It inspired me when this story was half finished, so...

Summary:"You've never been here before... it's only your first time." Meredith and Derek – how season 4 could've played out, from 4.07 onward.

Authors Note:wow. Thank you guys so much for the response to the last chapter, I'm so glad you enjoyed it! I find it quite hard to reconcile the Meredith here with the Meredith on the show at times, but I really do believe that she would've fought when it came to it. So we'll see how it pans out. Anyway. This chapter takes place at the end of 4.08 – essentially, it ignores the date with Sydney, because really, who needed to see that?! However, as you'll notice, Rose does make a very brief appearance, merely because she's not a horrible person, and she will be dealt with in later chapters how she should've been on the show! Also, I was totally in love with that scene with Derek and Miranda so I've finished that off a little, and the Thatcher saga most definitely happened, as it did on the show, with one slight difference which I'm sure you'll pick up on.

Enjoy, and please let me know if you're still enjoying this!

--

Will you love me again like you loved me before?
This time I want you to love me much more.
This time instead, just come to my bed, & baby just don't let me go.

--

"What are you doing still sitting here in the lobby?" Miranda snapped eventually, conveniently ignoring the fact that she'd ordered him to sit mere minutes ago. "Don't you have some hotshot attending life to be leading?"

"I'm good here," he replied, knowing better than to turn the full McDreamy smile on her for the simple fear of getting slapped.

Something he definitely didn't put past Miranda Bailey.

Particularly as she currently had one eyebrow quirked disbelievingly at the thought that he had nowhere better to be.

Which he did, if he was honest. Considering what he'd seen earlier, he knew that Meredith might not be coping too well, and he was desperate to get to her. But he had a strange amount of respect for the chief resident sitting next to him, and right in that moment, he was good right where he was.

Not that Miranda would take that news sitting down.

"Okay, I'm meeting Meredith at Joe's," he confessed eventually when the intensity of her glare became too great, unable to hide the slight smile that crossed his lips at the thought.

"You're meeting Meredith," she repeated slowly, fixing him with a gaze that he'd almost have described as maternal. Fierce, but definitely maternal. "You. Are meeting. Meredith. Meredith who's been moping about you for weeks. Meredith who's –"

"Yes," he cut in quickly, fixing her with a firm gaze of his own. And suddenly, her eyes softened.

"Well don't let me go making you late for your 'date'," she commented slowly, smirking slightly. "And don't you go screwing with my intern again."

"If I have anything to say, Miranda, this won't be something that ever gets screwed up again."

"You promise that girl forever and a day, Shepherd," she informed him calmly in response. "Forever and a day, and a year after that too."

--

"Hey," he commented slowly, leaning against the bar to her right hand side. Meredith looked over with a slow smile, raising her drink slightly in greeting. It was long and mixed in a break from the usual tequila, and he instantly caught the sadness lurking behind her eyes and her smile. "I saw you sitting with the Chief earlier... are you okay?" he asked gently, letting his fingers brush lightly against his shoulder. She nodded eventually, letting her head slowly fall to rest against his arm. He moved his fingers briefly, letting them brush with the gentlest touch against the corner of her eyes.

Not that there were any tears there to wipe away, anymore.

"I guess maybe I was... a little stupid to think that drunk Thatcher could even possibly have been a good thing," she offered quietly, and he noted the change of name with sadness and just a tinge of anger.

"I'm sorry," he offered genuinely, slipping his arm round to squeeze her other shoulder gently.

"Me too," she replied quietly. "Me too..."

Taking a seat on the stool next to her, he nodded slowly, just letting his cheek rest against her hair, perfectly happy to sit in companionable silence until she was ready to talk.

"I just... he said all these things, Derek," she said quietly, her voice sounding far rougher than it had that morning, coarse with the pain of rejection, yet again. "He said so many nice things... was it so bad of me to want that?"

"Meredith," he began quietly, searching for the words to try and even start to take away the pain.

"Was it that stupid? To think that maybe he could..." she whispered quietly.

"No, Meredith, it wasn't stupid," he told her quietly. "You're a wonderful person and anyone should be more than proud to call you their daughter."

"He said he was a life... lifetime's worth of proud," she told him, her voice cracking slightly as she turned red eyes up to his. "But tomorrow he probably won't even remember my name."

"You deserve so much more than him, Meredith," Derek told her firmly, having to squeeze his own eyes shut for a long moment. "So much more..."

"All I want is for..." she trailed off, leaving the 'someone to love me' unsaid. Because it was becoming more and more apparent every day that she did have someone to love her... as soon as she was ready to let him. "My father's an alcoholic," she said quietly, closing her eyes again. "I don't know how to deal with that... I don't know if I even want to call him my father."

"I want to call you my girlfriend," he cut in quietly, surprising even himself at the sincerity in his words. "I know... this is the most ridiculous time to tell you that, but I want you Meredith, and I want you and everyone else to know that."

"Thank you," she whispered shakily, turning tear-filled eyes up to meet his. "I... you have no idea how much I needed to hear that..."

"Do you want to get out of here?" he asked quietly, meeting her grateful nod by holding out her coat ready for her to slip into. Glancing across the bar as he helped her up, he met Mark's gaze with a sharp shake of his head, and managed to shoot a friendly glance at the OR nurse he had befriended that evening, before turning his attention back to Meredith as she shot him a weak smile, all thoughts of the rest of the bar forgotten as he shrugged his own jacket on, caught her hand loosely in his, and headed up the stairs with her.

Knowing he'd do everything in his power to take the pain away, even a little.

--

Richard sat in front of his trailer; legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle, and he glanced up from his book as headlights flashed across the gravel. He glanced back down for a second, managing to locate his point on the page again only to snap his gaze back up sharply when he heard not one but two doors open on the car that pulled up.

He'd been waiting to talk to Derek about the day's events, but his mind hadn't quite connected that with the thought that perhaps Meredith had gotten to him first.

He was so used to the fact that their communication skills were somewhat lacking, that it hadn't really seemed an option.

But as Derek moved quickly around to the passenger side to guide Meredith out, locking the car with a quick press of a button over his shoulder whilst his free arm simultaneously snaked around her shoulder, it was clear that that was exactly what had happened.

And as Meredith's own arm crept around his torso, it was even clearer to Richard that this was who she'd really needed.

Derek's lips dropped briefly onto her hair, leaning down a little further to whisper something into her ear before straightening up, meeting Richard's eyes calmly as the Chief stood up and took the few steps to meet them.

"How're you doing, Meredith?" Richard asked, smiling warmly at the young woman in front of him.

"I...'m doing okay," she replied, and if her voice was a little shaky, all three of them ignored it. "Thank you... for earlier, I..."

"Anytime, Meredith. Anytime," he told her sincerely. "Now as long as you're okay, don't stand here getting cold for me," he urged them with a sudden desire not to intrude on what he suddenly felt was a deeply private, and possibly crucial moment between the two of them. Moving to turn back to his trailer, he only paused in his step as he heard Derek urge Meredith to head inside, promising he'd only be a minute behind her. She accepted it instantly, untangling herself from his arms and heading quietly towards his trailer, metal door banging slowly behind her.

"Uh, Richard..." Derek began somewhat awkwardly, shaking his head slightly. "I..."

"You don't have to thank me, Derek."

"She's everything to me, Richard," he replied frankly, shaking his head slowly. "She's been let down enough times in her life already, and I include myself in that list, more than once. So I do have to thank you, because I'm glad she has you."

"I realised something as you stepped out of the car. When she was sitting in my office, she wasn't just upset about what that... man, did to her, yet again. She was crying because she wanted you, Derek. So she might have me, she might have Yang and Stevens, O'Malley, Karev... Bailey, even. But all she really wanted today was you, even if she hasn't admitted it yet. So you just stop thanking me, and get in there and make sure she knows she does have you."

"I..."

"Go. Tell it to her, don't waste it on me," Richard instructed firmly, turning and heading towards his trailer, smiling as he heard the neurosurgeon's footsteps heading confidently in the direction of his own trailer.

It wasn't meddling, he told himself. Merely nudging them in the right direction.

Not that Derek had needed a lot of nudging, he mused, as he heard the trailer door bang for the second time that night.

And in fact, as Derek stepped over to the trailer, his concern for Meredith immediately overwrote every word of the conversation he'd just had, at least momentarily.

"Hey," he spoke softly as he entered the trailer, greeted by an impossibly fragile image right before his eyes.

"Hi," she whispered quietly, drawing her legs up a little further, wrapping both arms around them as she sat tucked into the corner of the little booth he was now hating on many levels. It was only when she moved, swiping a thumb against the corner of her eye in a last ditch attempt to keep her composure and catch the moisture before it turned into proper tears that he was shaken back to the reality of the situation and moved, resting a palm against the table as leverage to enable him to reach over and squeeze the hand that still snaked around her legs. The tremble that met him shook him even further, as he attempted to find the words to make her feel better.

"Come to bed with me," he blurted eventually, regretting that particular choice of words the second they escaped his lips as she turned an almost incredulous look on him. "Not in the way you think I mean, but this booth is too damn small for me to get in there and hold you properly, and you look like you could do with a hug right now. So please, come to bed with me," he urged gently, squeezing her fingers tighter to quell the shakes.

There was a long, painful moment where she didn't move, and he didn't realise he was holding his breath until she uncurled her limbs and allowed him to draw her up and out of the booth, and he exhaled in a long sigh.

"You're rambling," she informed him quietly, willingly allowing him to wrap his arms tightly around her for a long second.

"I'm aware of that," he replied, tightening his arms around her for a second before releasing her. They crossed the trailer in a matter of seconds, and he released her as they stepped into the bedroom, peeling off his jumper and shirt before passing the latter over to her.

"Make yourself comfortable," he told her quietly. "You don't... you haven't left any of your stuff here lately, and this is about me wanting to hold you, not have sex with you." He caught the imperceptible way in which her shoulders sagged with relief at the honesty in his voice, and it stabbed painfully in his heart that their relationship had become all about sex recently. "Get changed," he urged her quietly, taking a step to close the distance between them and wrapping his arms around her again for a long moment, "and come to bed with me."

"Can I leave some stuff here?" she whispered eventually, her voice slightly muffled against his chest. He breathed out a chuckle, tightening his arms around her for a long moment.

"Course you can," he murmured against her hair, completely unable to stop a smile crossing his lips. "Of course you can," he repeated, loosening his arms just enough to drop a lingering kiss 

against her lips. Stepping away, he flashed her one final smile before walking into the bedroom, kicking away his jeans in a practised motion, caring little about where they fell.

The gentle swish of fabric coming from somewhere behind him told him she was doing the same thing, and as he climbed into bed she was mere seconds behind him, gratefully accepting the arm he held out as she lent her head against his shoulder.

"How're you holding up?" he asked quietly, squeezing her shoulder gently before letting his fingers trail lightly along her arm. He felt her shrug a little, and tuck herself a tiny bit closer to him as a shiver ripped through her body.

"I don't know," she voiced quietly, taking a long moment to consider her next words. "Part of me is angry," she admitted eventually. "Angry with Lexie for shattering the tiny piece of hope I had, angry with him for..." she stopped abruptly, and with a sharp shake of her head fell silent for a long moment. "Angry with myself," she added eventually with a bitter chuckle, shaking her head again. "For letting myself be taken in..."

"Hope is never a bad thing," he told her quietly, letting his cheek rest against her hair. "What about the other part of you?"

"Sad?" she asked softly, "disappointed? Let down? I'm not... I don't think there's a word to describe it. He's never going to be the father... he's never going to be a lifetime's worth of proud, no matter how much I want him to be."

"You've got this far without him," he commented quietly, "do you really need him now?"

"Need and want are two different things," she told him softly, shaking her head a little. "I don't need him, and I even know that my life will probably be ten times better without him, but I want the memories. I want more memories than just a red truck on my fifth birthday and then a memory of him leaving."

"You have a family, Meredith," Derek cut in quietly. "Don't look at me like that; if the last year's taught the rest of the hospital anything, it's that your group of interns have a ridiculously fierce bond that it's almost impossible to break in to. They might not be your family in the strictest sense, but tell me you don't have a hundred different memories from this year."

They both fell silent at that thought, and she nodded slowly as a host of memories slipped through her mind, most silly and insignificant... inconsequential even.

But that was what the best memories were.

And then, unbidden, it felt like a thousand memories slipped into her mind... a thousand memories in which he took centre stage right along with her. Watching the sunrise over the ferryboats more than once – sometimes accompanied by red wine, coffee or breakfast; sometimes with serious conversation, sometimes a little gentle teasing and inconsequential chatter, or maybe even a little fooling around in the confines of his car.

Sneaking away for some private time and a little more fooling around in his car the night of Izzie's infamous meet-the-hockey-player party. Those tantalising first kisses, first nights, first mornings together...

Rare and lazy days off spent in the privacy of his trailer, finally rousing themselves from the comfort of his bed at some shameful hour of the afternoon, sometimes venturing only to the kitchen to eat before retreating back under the covers; other times walking around his land, searching out the best views.

Sometimes, getting more than a little distracted when they'd found said views.

"Hundred memories?" he asked softly, catching her attention before it could drift to the less than happy times they'd spent together.

"I was thinking about that little clearing we found on your land," she offered quietly, a smile finally quirking across her lips. His laugh was low as the memory slipped into his mind too, and he shook his head a little.

"When I said memories... you thought of me?"

"Yeah," she replied simply, linking her fingers loosely through his where they rested on his thigh.

"Well maybe we'll find that clearing again one day," he offered with a smile, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. "I'm glad, Mer. I'm glad you remember the happy stuff."

"Me too," she told him quietly, letting a soft sigh escape her lips and falling quiet as another memory slipped, uncalled for, into her mind. "When I was younger, I used to think there were monsters that lived in my wardrobe," she added quietly after a long pause, tucking her head comfortably into the gap between his shoulder and neck. "He... my dad told me they were just trying on my clothes, and I... I don't know if I thought all monsters were female, because why else would they be trying on my clothes, or if I thought all male monsters were cross-dressers, which is really a bit of a sophisticated thought for a four-year-old...but I wasn't scared of them after that."

"I bet you were a cute child," he told her with a chuckle, dropping a kiss against her hair. "Did you ramble as much as you do now?" She managed a slight smile at that, shaking her head a little. "Maybe... you should just try and separate the memories you have like that from what you know now," he suggested gently. "Those memories are of your father, and Thatcher... he doesn't deserve to call himself that. Not anymore."

"I don't have many more memories," she answered honestly. "That and the red truck... that's about my limit on memories. I might have a photographic memory now, but that obviously developed later in life."

"Not many people remember that much about their childhood," he offered quietly, gently guiding her a little closer as his own thoughts drifted a little.

"What do you remember about your dad?" she asked softly, turning surprisingly moist eyes up to meet his. "I'm sorry, if you don't..." she trailed off, realising seconds too late that the question might bring back some unhappy memories.

"I don't have anywhere near as many memories as I wish I did. But...if I'm half the man he was," Derek told her eventually, his hold on her tightening imperceptibly, "then that's okay with me." She nodded slowly, reaching up to place a kiss against his cheek, before settling back into his side with a slight shiver, accepting the corner of the blanket he pulled over them gratefully.

"It wouldn't surprise me if you were more than that," she offered quietly, closing her eyes for a long moment. "I guess neither of us have perfect childhoods to speak of," she commented eventually, not saying a word if she noticed that he was holding her hand a lot tighter than he had been before she'd asked her question.

"My family are amazing," he said softly, "and I'm not saying that to make you feel bad, I'm saying that because it's the truth. They might piss the hell out of me at times, but they're all lovely. Even Nancy," he added, managing a slightly wry smile. "So I know it's not the same by a long stretch, but I... I guess what I'm trying to say is that I understand what it's like to feel like you're missing out on a whole bunch of memories. It hurts, Mer, and it's okay that it hurts, because that says a lot about who you are."

"I'm not used to letting it hurt," she told him frankly, with a tiny shrug of her shoulders. "It's never really been an option." He nodded slowly, again wanting nothing more than to protect her from every nasty thing that came her way.

And in that particular moment, from Thatcher Grey.

But that wasn't the point. It wasn't about him protecting her; it was about her doing it on her own. And if she needed a little help along the way, well that was what he was there for.

"Maybe you could learn to give it a go?" he suggested quietly, rubbing her arm gently. "And when it hurts too much and you need a hug, we can just sit like this. I'm not trying to fix you," he told her seriously, about to continue when she opened her mouth to speak.

"You're just being all McDreamy again," she whispered with a slight teasing tone. "I know you're not trying to fix me, and I appreciate that. And I am trying."

"And I appreciate that. More than you know..." he replied, catching her eyes with a gaze more honest than anything that had gone before.

"Oh I think I've got some idea," she replied quietly, her smile growing a little with confidence as all thoughts of Thatcher were forgotten for a second. "Would you... would you maybe tell me more about your family some time?" she asked eventually, shaking her head a little as the man who wanted to call himself her father dropped back into the front of her thoughts. "Not tonight, I... don't think I could cope with it right now, but soon? I mean... I'm going to have to meet them 

at some point, I guess..." she added, gesturing for him to start speaking when she realised she was rambling.

"I'd love to," he told her softly, gently drawing her a little closer.

"Baby steps," she informed him softly, with the most genuine smile he'd seen all evening. "I'm not ready to meet them yet, and even the thought of it slams the little panic button hidden somewhere inside me right now, I want to be ready to meet them at some point so this... baby steps," she repeated, her cheeks flushing slightly as she realised the absurdity of her comment.

"I think it's more than baby steps," he said softly. "Compared to the last year, they're more like giant steps."

"That's probably an over-exaggeration," she countered quietly, shifting onto her side slightly as he reached over to turn the light off, kissing her lips quickly before curling around her, his chest pressed reassuringly against her back.

"I'm prone to over-exaggeration," he told her, and she felt him smile against her neck. "I guess you're just going to have to learn to deal with it."

"I think that's something I can work on," she said with a smile, linking her fingers through his as they rested on her stomach. "Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," she whispered quietly, her thumb tracing a gentle pattern over his knuckles as she hoped he'd understand the significance of those two words. It was more than a thank you for listening, or a thank you for being there when she needed a hug.

It was a thank you for understanding, in more ways than one.

"You're welcome."

tbc.