Chapter 4

This time, I will be listening

It had been four months since I last talked to Meredith.

Four…freaking…months.

It drove me crazy, not knowing what she was up to, what she was doing. I gave her the space she asked for, but I wasn't quite sure that either of us liked the arrangement. We tried to avoid any and all situations that might result in our being alone in a room together, and I lost several pounds taking the stairs instead of the elevators. But the truth of the matter was, I missed her. I missed her so much. I only ever acknowledged her presence in silent observance, quietly and discreetly so no one knew I was checking up on her. And every time I saw her, she got thinner and paler. There were bags under her eyes and her face was more hollowed out, more gaunt. It drove me in despair to see her like this and I very nearly asked her several times how she was doing. But then I remembered that look on her face the last time we were in an elevator together and I stopped. It was better like that, anyway. Really.

At least, that was what I kept trying to tell myself.

If it was really better though, I couldn't tell. Anyways, it didn't really make a difference if we were talking or not. Because in the end, I wasn't with her. I was still with Addison. And nothing in the world could ever make that alright.

"Meredith, I have some bad news," Dr. Hahn announced grimly as she walked into my regular room at Mercy West. Cristina was standing next to me as usual, and squeezed my hand a little harder than necessary when she entered the room.

"Yes?" I asked, fighting to keep the exhaustion from sounding obvious in my voice. The chemotherapy had certainly taken its toll on me as the months slowly progressed. My eyebrows and eyelashes were no more and Cristina had to almost carry me home on more than one occasion. Any more bad news just might break me down, further than anything I could ever handle.

"It seems like the chemotherapy is doing more harm than good," she said very gently, but as frankly as she could. "While the chemicals are destroying the abnormal cells, they're also destroying the healthy ones." A silence followed this declaration.

"What are the options?" Cristina asked finally, trying to sound composed, but I knew better than that. I could hear faint notes of panic bleeding through in her voice.

"At this point there are three," Dr. Hahn replied. "One, we continue to use chemotherapy in hopes that your healthy cells will grow at a faster rate than they're being destroyed. Or we take you off chemo."

And die. But she didn't say that part.

"What's the third?" I asked.

"The third option is a bone marrow transplant," she said. "At this point, it's the only feasible solution."

Cristina and I exchanged glances. "So," I began in a rather choked voice, "if I don't have a bone marrow transplant, I could…I could…"

"You could die, yes," she said very gently. "It's a lot to handle right now, so I want you to really think about it before we decide on anything. Read up on some stuff, research it thoroughly. I don't want you going into this without knowing what you're up against, okay?"

I nodded and with a reassuring pat on the shoulder, she left the room.

The walk out to the parking lot and half of the ride on the way home was silent between Cristina and me. But as we were exiting the highway, she said very quietly, almost inaudibly, "You're getting that transplant."

I swallowed very hard. "Cristina--"

"No, Meredith," she said, her voice, though wavering, stronger and more assertive. "I've been listening to you for the past four months. Now it's your turn." Suddenly, she pulled over onto the shoulder of the road and put the car in park. "I refuse to let you die," she said fiercely, glaring me in the face. Tears were dangerously close to spilling over her eyelids. It suddenly struck me that I had seen her almost cry in these past months than she probably ever had actually cried in her life. "I can't let you die, Meredith. I just can't."

"Cristina," I began in a raspy voice, "maybe it's better if I just let go. You know? Maybe it's time for me to go."

"No," she growled. "It is not time for you to go. I know that you've had a pretty shitty existence and it's gotten worse as you've gotten older, but you've got to fight this. You've got to survive because there is so much more to life than what you've seen. There's so much more that you have to live for. You still have to prove to everyone that you can live up to your mother's legacy. And you still have to prove to McDreamy that you don't fucking need him. You have to keep fighting this because damn it, Meredith, you are a fighter. You're a fucking fighter and if you die, I don't…I don't think…"

It broke my heart, watching her trying to get out these words that had been weighing her down. Right then and there I realized that this disease had been plaguing her as badly as it had done to me, if not worse. My person was breaking down. She was breaking down and pretty soon I wouldn't have much of a person left if I didn't continue to fight this.

"Do you really think I can get through this?" I whispered.

"You are," she said. "You are going to get this bone marrow transplant, and you are going to live. Okay? You're going to live."

The tears began to trail down our at the same time, and we wordlessly reached across the car to hold ourselves to each other, refusing to let go until the sun had almost set.

I was standing at the nurse's station, writing up some post-op notes when Addison approached me. "When was the last time you and I went out to dinner together?" she whispered in my ear as she wrapped her arm around my waist.

I suppressed a groan. "Um, I'm not sure," I said in a tone that hopefully showed my disgust at the idea of us going out to dinner. There were a million other things I would rather do, Meredith being the top of that list. But seeing as how that wasn't likely to happen any time soon, I kept my mouth shut.

"Because I was thinking," she said, not so subtly running her hands over my chest that made me groan in a completely nonsexual way, "that maybe after our shifts, we could go out to a nice, candlelit dinner…maybe sip a few glasses of wine? And then we could go home…" she trailed off suggestively.

"Addison," I said tiredly. "I'm not in the mood."

"Oh-ho, not right now," she said, flashing me that look that I would have called suggestive a long time ago, "but later on you will be."

"No, Addison," I said very firmly as I pulled away. "I won't. Look, I'm sorry, but there's a lot on my mind and I really don't think--"

"Come on, Derek," she said, almost pleaded. "We haven't had sex in almost six months. Look, I really need you. Please?" She lowered her face she was looking up at me through her long, wispy red eyelashes. "Please?"

"No, Addison." And before she could beg again, I was walking away. Again.

Luckily, I didn't get a chance to dwell on my guilty feelings for turning her down, leaving her alone when she clearly did not want to be alone. Just as I was walking away, several EMTs started running down the hallways, preceding a gurney and flanked by more paramedics.

"We've got incoming!" one of the nurses shouted, and I ran up next to one of the paramedics.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Car crash," he replied. "This guy didn't have his seatbelt on and he went flying through the windshield. He's got a few piercing wounds from the glass, but they seem pretty shallow. We're more worried about head trauma than anything."

I nodded. In the corner of my eye, I saw Bailey's infamous interns running down the hall in their yellow gowns to catch the gurney. "Get this guy to ICU. We'll proceed from there." Then I turned to the interns standing before me. "Grey, I want you to take this guy to MRI ASAP, okay?"

She nodded her bald little head, the light flashing off her shiny skin. "Yes sir."

It turned out that there were several other things wrong with him than just his brain, things which couldn't wait to be solved. So his brain surgery was scheduled for the next day while his other issues were taken care of that night. Leaving me free to go home as soon as my shift ended. Home to Addison, my wife.

When I got home, though, said wife was waiting at the kitchen table with her luggage surrounding her. She was all packed and ready to go. To where, however, I had no clue.

"Addison?" I asked in confusion. "What's all this?"

She took in a deep breath. "I tried, Derek. I really did. You can't fault me for not trying."

My eyebrows shot up. "What--"

"Let me talk," she interrupted. "It's easier if I just get this all off my chest." She took a deep breath before continuing. "I've been offered a fellowship in hospital in New York and I've accepted."

A long silence engulfed us. I gazed at my wife, not really seeing her but instead seeing all of the sudden opportunities that had been presented to me in those few sentences.

"They actually called me a while ago, but I didn't know if I wanted to take it until I talked to you. Look," she said as she stood up from her chair and walked to me to stroke my arm. "I didn't want to leave until I knew that there was no chance that we could ever be what we once were."

There was a sadness in her eyes that I couldn't quite imitate. As tragic as it sounded that this was truly the end of our marriage, it didn't make me as depressed as it probably should have been. Instead, I felt the strange sensation of hope, something I hadn't felt in a long, long time.

"I know when I'm not wanted anymore, Derek," she said. "And your heart hasn't been in this for a really long time." She stroked my arm not as a wife would stroke her husband's arm, but as a woman would comfort a friend. "I love you, Derek, but I think it's time for me to let go."

"Addie…" I trailed off. Her letting me go was the single sweetest thing she had ever done in all eleven years of our marriage. I could hardly speak. So instead, I wrapped my arms around her and nestled my unshaven face against her neck, breathing in her distinctly Addison-like scent for the last time. "Thank you," I whispered, not bothering to keep the quaver from my voice.

She gave me one last squeeze before pulling away. With tears brimming in the wells of her eyelids, she smiled at me and said, "I expect an invitation to the wedding, okay?"

The next day at work, I walked in feeling lighter and much freer than I had in a really long time. "Good morning!" I nearly exclaimed to everyone who was passing my way. They all turned to shoot me weird glances in return, as if I was sprouting broccoli out of my ears.

"How are you this wonderful, bright morning, Dr. Stevens?" I asked as I strolled confidently to the OR board.

She gave me the same weird glance that several of the other nurses had shot me. "What's wrong with you?"

"Oh, nothing," I said happily. "Just that Addie got a fellowship in New York. And we're getting a divorce."

I realize in retrospect that it wasn't really the greatest way to announce that I was actually single, but at the time I was too excited to care. I also realize that I probably should have told Meredith in person, but I wanted her to find out as soon as possible. So I told the person who would ensure that she found out before the next hour's end.

"Seriously?" Izzie asked, eyeing me with what I assumed was newfound respect.

"Yup. But I'd really appreciate it if you kept this under wraps," I said, knowing fully well that the best way to get this to spread was to tell her to keep it a secret. "No one's really supposed to know until everything's finalized."

"Oh, of course," she replied, almost peeing herself in her excitement. I tried to wipe off that complacent smirk on my face. It was so obvious that she was going to tell Meredith the moment she got the chance.

"Thanks, Dr. Stevens. Well I'd better get on with rounds," I said, then abruptly stopped as I made my way down the hall. "Oh, and if you could, could you tell Bailey that I need an intern for a surgery I have scheduled this afternoon? Preferably Dr. Grey. Thanks."

"Sure thing, Dr. Shepherd," she said, practically jumping up and down on her toes, ready to go racing down the hall.

The moment I turned around, I almost came crashing into Dr. Yang. Her dark brown eyes were narrowed at me, and I was distinctly reminded of Dr. Bailey. With no preamble, she immediately spat, "Look, McDreamy. I'm onto your game."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said, playing the clueless card.

"Yes you do," she growled. "You think that just because you and McWife are getting a divorce, Meredith will come running back to you. Well guess what? It doesn't work like that. She asked you to choose her and you didn't. Just because you finally grew a pair doesn't make everything alright. It's gonna take a lot more to get Meredith back, because you played her once and I'll be damned before you play her again."

I opened my mouth to say something, but I couldn't. She was right. She was one hundred percent right.

"And I'm scrubbing in on your procedure this afternoon," she said confidently.

I crossed my arms, no longer intimidated. "What exactly makes you think that? The last time I checked, I'm still your boss, Yang."

She didn't say anything. Instead, her eyes widened very slightly and I had the very distinct impression that I was being stared down. And unfortunately, it was working. "Okay, fine," I grumbled as I turned away. "You'll scrub in."

"Are you sure you can do this?" Cristina asked for the millionth time. We standing over the sinks in the scrub room, adjacent to the OR itself. I hadn't really felt like myself since I had been diagnosed, but since I woke up that morning, I had felt even weaker than usual.

"I'll be fine," I lied. "I swear."

I had gotten better at lying in those months. I had to, after all those times I told George and Izzie that I was just exhausted and all I really needed was a good cup of coffee, or a long nap. I had to have been getting better. Because they kept believing me.

I stood at the edge of the OR, watching Derek perform his actions with precision and skill, something I always admired about him. I had heard the rumors that he and Addison were finally getting a divorce and had felt the appropriate mix of guilt and intense happiness. But I couldn't help but feel doubtful of him. He left me once, who was to say he wouldn't leave me again?

The OR was getting fuzzier by the moment. I shook my head several times to regain focus, and very rarely did it work.

"Dr. Grey?"

"Yes sir?" I asked, struggling to regain focus. Cristina stood next to me, giving me a gentle nudge with her elbow.

"Pay attention, Dr. Grey," he reprimanded. He repeated the question and after thinking back to my med school education, I gave him the textbook answer.

Several hours later, he was closing up the skull. "Great work, people," he announced as he set down his tools. "Mr. Alvarez here will make it through the night with no lasting damage. Dr. Grey, if you could inform the family…"

I didn't hear the rest of it. I was too busy fighting to remain conscious.

"Mer?" Cristina murmured under her breath. "Mer, are you okay?"

"Cristina," I whispered. "Cristina, I--I don't think…"

I don't remember anything after that, because the blackness that had been framing my vision throughout the operation finally engulfed me. The last thing I heard was Derek's voice shouting frantically above the bustle around me.

A/N - I'd just like to dedicate this chapter to MeredithGreyPotter1 for reminding me to update. If you haven't checked out her story Stolen I sincerely suggest you do. And review and tell her to update immediately. Because she seriously needs to.

So...Meredith passed out. What will happen?

Unfortunately, you guys don't get to find out until later. Because I'm going to Breckenridge for the next five days (as in, I'm leaving as soon as school lets out) and I am literally posting this right in the middle of Visual Basic class, hoping to God Mrs. King doesn't catch me. Because that lady can be a grade A bitch. See what you guys are doing to me? You're making me risk my academic reputation.

I'd really love to come home to an inbox overflowing with reviews. And I know you guys can do it. So...get reviewing! And be sure to check out my blog for stuff that was too long to put in my Author's Notes.