Conflicted: Made uneasy by conflicting impulses

Post 6x24/Pre 7x01. There was a lot missing between the two seasons, this is a short attempt in filling the gaps just a little.

Suggested Song: Maps – Benjamin Francis Leftwich

"He woke up while you were away!"

April Kepner's words were ringing in my head every time I closed my eyes.

She was there and I couldn't. She was behind him, distracting him, -distracting Gary Clark during that stupid shooting as well- and she even got to see him first when his anesthesia wore off.

I had been at Seattle Presbyterian and I had missed it. I was missing a lot of things, in fact.

I never wanted to open my eyes ever again and face the harsh reality awaiting out there, but I know I had to. It was part of the no running vow.

Derek was sleeping peacefully once again when I entered his room, a drug-induced peace that I knew wouldn't last for long, all the lines on his face smoothed, the pain disappeared, his stubble barely there.

I reached to stroke his face, his hair, to cup his cheek in my hand for a perfect fit like I did a hundred times and still, it all felt wrong. I intertwined my fingers with his and when I squeezed, he faintly squeezed back.

Derek, alive.

I looked up at him and his eyes opened groggily, fighting off sleep and anesthesia and memories, then he smiled softly, almost goofy and I couldn't help the tear that escaped down my cheek at the sight. I thought I'd never see that again.

I wished I could see it on our children.

I sighed deeply, breathing in, out, my eyes closing for a moment.

When I reopened them, he was staring at me, his hold on my hand stronger than before.

"Hi" he whispered and it was low, rough, primal. Broken.

"Derek" I said, raising up from the chair and kissing his forehead softly, ignoring the pain in my lower abdomen, in my heart, in my whole being. He sighed contentedly, like a grown up baby.

Even thinking the mere word 'baby' hurt, but Derek was alive, so I smiled when I sat back, disguising the wince. I was a little glad he was so drugged he couldn't see my pain.

"No break up" he mumbled and this actually brought a real smile on my face. He had promised in the OR and he had delivered and I was so happy that he did. So happy that for a moment I could forget about the miscarriage and feel the magnitude of the fact that he was still breathing.

"Yeah" I sighed contentedly, unable to articulate words, unable to think at 'what if's' and medical procedures. His hand untangled from mine and he stroked my arm up to my elbow, then he grimaced in pain.

"Slow down. It's okay, you're okay" I repeated like a mantra while he resettled, "You're okay"

"'m okay," he managed to mumble, then his eyes locked with mine and the veil of pain meds and hurt disappeared, leaving its place for a slight moment of concern as he asked, more clearly "Are you?"

My eyes unwillingly filled with tears and I swallowed thickly. What if I say no? What will happen then?

"Sit here" he almost ordered in a very resolute whisper, gently patting the bed to indicate that he wanted me on his right side instead of the left, and I followed his request; one more way to avoid tears was to keep myself busy.

On his right side, he had a wider range of movements and, after I sat -winching- back on the chair, his hand rose to meet my cheek and despite it took a great effort, he stroked my cheek and he managed to utter "It's 'kay if you're not fine"

I shook my head, but before I could think of an answer, I was crying, clutching his hand tightly against my cheek, hormones still wild, despite being only the faint reminder of everything that could have been.

And I wondered for a moment, what it would have been like to have him awake and tell him that we were having a baby, that we unconsciously created a tiny life that was growing inside of me. Was the operative word here.

"I will be okay" I sniffled, tears still flowing silently and I hoped there was some truth in my statement, something to hang on to, apart from the fact that Derek was alive and breathing.

"I know" he said confidently, his thumb wiping away my latest tear gently "We can talk 'bout 't soon" he slurred a little, but it was expected.

"I love you" I said, despite we didn't say it often, because I needed him to know that, even if we weren't having a child anymore, I still loved him and I was glad he was still there.

"Love you too" his voice was clearer, secure, unwavering.

"Get some sleep" I whispered softly and he nodded "I'm going to call your mother" I added and he smiled, pushing the button for the morphine, his eyes closing in command and he was in dreamland again, hopefully filled with beautiful images of blue-eyed chubby babies with charming smiles, chatty mouths and perfect hair.

'I hope he has his hair' Cristina had said and for a moment I let myself believe that we'll have another dark-haired, chatty baby sooner than we expected.

I kissed his forehead softly, brushing away a wild curl, staring at him -my husband, still alive- for a moment longer, then I picked up his phone and went out of the room, the door closing with a thud behind me.

Yeah, the door was closed but Derek was behind it, breathing, alive. And right then, it was more than enough.

I know that is Valentine's Day and this chapter is rather sad. But what love is greater than this kind?

There might be more about this span of time, since we got so little on screen. I hope the adjective used was clear enough. For now, this is all.

I wanted to thank all the people who reviewed anoymously (Juni, Anna and Kim), because I can't reply to them with a private message so yeah, here's my thank you.

I'm so happy for the response this story has gotten, it brightened my day. I hope you'll enjoy this until the end!