A/N: Because really, Meredith should be in counseling.

"Pain removes the veil; it plants the flag of truth within the fortress of a rebel soul."

- C.S. Lewis

Chapter 4

"What the hell happened, Meredith?"

In a change from the previous 24 hours it is Cristina who leans shoulder to shoulder with her in the hospital bed. Meredith has finally convinced Derek that she won't disappear if he goes home and takes a shower, maybe a nap. And God, that had taken forever. He'd insisted he could do both things here, within 50 yards of her room. Meredith knows he is just afraid to leave her alone but even after Addison's interference, she still isn't sure how to handle him like this. So worried, so afraid, so… anti-Derek.

It had taken Cristina's arrival (apparently Derek judged Cristina to be a suitable replacement sentry) and a direct order from his ex-wife to get him to leave.

Meredith's feelings about Addison have, if possible, become even more complicated and confusing than they were before the… accident. She has the idea that Addison is responsible for Derek's relative physical and emotional safety in the aftermath of the ferry boat disaster, and for that she is both grateful and resentful. Thinking on Cristina's question, Meredith knows she has no right to either emotion; after all, the anti-Derek is Meredith's fault.

She looks down at her hands, picking non-existent lint from the crisp white hospital sheets and trying to ignore the little pulse-ox attached to her finger. Maybe she can go home tomorrow.

"Well?" Cristina sounds impatient, now. Her hand grabs Meredith's and stops her fingers' nervous movement.

"The patient knocked me in the water. It was cold; I couldn't stay up." Meredith's voice sounds flat even to her own ears, and she knows the instant the words leave her mouth that Cristina won't buy it. The realization causes her resting heartbeat to spike, lighting up the monitor and broadcasting her state of agitation to Cristina. Oh well, Cristina always knows when she's lying anyway. Doesn't even need the machines to tell her.

Meredith hates/loves that. Come to think of it, she kind of hates/loves everything about her best friend right now.

"Please," Cristina spits out, giving Meredith a hard look, "you and I grew up with the same mother. I know you know how to swim."

Meredith just shrugs, but Cristina is right. In fact, Meredith had been on the swim team until high school when she had shunned all school-sponsored activities in favor of smoking during P.E. and sex after school.

The hands gently holding Meredith's tighten. "So tell me the truth."

Meredith loses her patience and pulls her hands away angrily. "What truth? I drowned, that's it!" The pair exchanges a look, Meredith's eyes dark and stormy, Cristina's… frightened? Meredith softens her voice. "What answer do you want, Cristina?"

"I want the one you might not tell your boyfriend, but you will tell your sis- your sister."

Meredith jerks her gaze away and shifts restlessly in the bed, the sudden prickling of tears behind her eyes making her uncomfortable. She realizes she's about to cry and blinks back the moisture, horrified.

"I tried to swim, I did. I tried." Meredith nods her head emphatically and turns her body towards Cristina, who is still pressed up against her side. "I tried so hard!" She feels the corners of her mouth pulling down into a frown of complete misery.

"So what happened?" Cristina's eyes are surprisingly soft and her voice is gentle and coaxing. It pushes Meredith over the edge.

"I- I- tried! I was swimming and kicking but the water was so cold," she says shakily. I got to the surface but my arms were tired." She swallows and feels hot tears slide down her cheeks. She stares right through Cristina and sees nothing but murky darkness. "Then… for a second," she sobs, "just for one second, I thought, why bother fighting? It doesn't matter." You don't matter, the little voice inside her head screams. "Please don't tell anyone, okay?" Meredith pleads brokenly, her breaths coming in short, desperate sniffs.

Cristina clutches her tightly and Meredith sees that she's crying now, too. "Derek has to know, Mer."

"No! No, don't tell him. I don't want him to think…"

"Think what? He loves you Meredith. If you had died, he would never have been the same again." She takes a deep breath and calmly wipes her eyes. "Neither would I."

"But I didn't die."

Both women are quiet for a time, thinking about the possibilities. Meredith has almost forgotten what she said last when Cristina breaks the silence.

"But you wanted to. And he deserves to help you… fix that." An awkward pause. "I'm no good at that stuff, Mer," she whispers urgently, "you know that, you get that, right?"

"Yeah, I get it."

"Will you tell him?"

"I think he already knows, but yes, I'll tell him."

Derek inhales deeply and lets the breath out in a whoosh, feeling some of the awful tension in his muscles leave with it. He lounges on his side in Meredith's bed – not her hospital bed, but the big bed at her house – and watches her sleep. She snores; the noise she makes as she breathes is the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. She's breathing.

He runs a gentle finger down her nose, relishing the feel of her warm, soft skin. Derek stifles a laugh when she frowns in her sleep and rubs her nose.

He burrows down under the covers and snuggles closer to her. The movement is enough to wake Meredith, and she sleepily turns and tucks herself into his embrace. He smiles at her, his eyes a little watery, and waits for her to smile back. She doesn't disappoint. They stare into each others eyes for what seems like eons, smiling softly like the lovestruck idiots they are. And then Meredith's mouth slowly begins to tilt into a frown.

"What is it?"

She bites her lip and focuses on the button of his flannel shirt. "I have to tell you something."

He tilts his head, confused. "Okay," he nods and rubs a reassuring hand up and down her arm, "what is it?"

"I don't know if I can tell you this. I don't really want to, but Cristina has a funny way about being right about things like this, even though she doesn't have a clue how to deal with her own stuff and can't be honest and truthful for herself and Burke…" Meredith trails off and look back up at him. "But I'm going to try this whole communication thing you seem to like."

"That's good," he whispers gently. Derek is well and truly confused now, and starting to get a little worried. He feels some of that tension begin to creep back into him, but reminds himself that nothing she says can possibly be more horrifying than the last week has been for him.

She takes a deep breath. "Okay." Another breath, and Meredith begins speaking quietly, so quietly that Derek has to strain to hear her. "The water was really cold."

Derek feels a hard knot of ice form in his stomach; the urge to gag is powerful. He doesn't think he wants to hear her describe how she died, to relive the last week. He's not sure he can handle it. But then he looks at her face and something tells him that this is necessary for Meredith. Telling this story is like breathing, it has to happen to live. He rubs her arm again.

"It was really cold and I was surprised. It happened fast. He just knocked me right over the ledge." She pauses and looks at him. Their eyes meet briefly before she looks away. "But I was swimming. My shoes were a problem, but once I realized I couldn't get them off I just went with it. It was hard work to swim, harder than I thought it ever could have been. I started to go under more often than I came up, and I wasn't getting any closer to the steps. And I started to think maybe I couldn't do it, maybe I wasn't a good enough swimmer." She buries her face between his arm and the pillow. "Maybe I just wasn't good enough at all."

Derek hears a strangled gasp and knows it comes from him. "No, no, you're better than good enough. Meredith, please…" He tugs on her a little until they face each other, only inches between their noses. "I know what your mother said, but you can't believe her. She didn't know what she was saying to you…"

"Yes, she did." Derek opens his mouth to protest but she silences him with a finger to his lips. "She knew, Derek. She just didn't know that this time, out of all the hundreds of times she's said something similar to me, that this time I would believe her." Meredith shakes her head and smiles sadly and what remains of Derek's heart breaks. "She's probably right… but in the end it doesn't matter. I came back for you anyway."

"No, Meredith Grey, it does matter. You matter, and not just to me. You are extraordinary." He swallows hard and holds her gaze, knowing he has to find the words somewhere. He has to make her believe him. "Look at how far you've come, what you've been through, who you've been through it with. You're a brilliant doctor, a loving person, and an amazing friend. You are so far from ordinary, and I love you so much…"

Derek watches her blink away tears. "She said the same thing, you know. My mother."

"What?"

Meredith shakes her head. "I think in the end, maybe my mom loved me anyway." Derek stays quiet. There's nothing he can say to that. "But I'm still feeling a little more dark and twisty than usual." She smirks.

Her attempt at levity doesn't move him, but he smiles gently. "I know… don't worry though, we'll get you better."

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