Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Everything belongs to the amazingly creative people over at ABC and Shonda Rimes.

Author's Note: I would like to thank all of you who reviewed the past chapters of this story and continued to ask about it after it went on a very brief hiatus. Now, it's back! Read on and enjoy!

Chapter 4
"Everything inside you knows,
There's more than what you've heard.
There's so much more than empty conversations,
Filled with empty words.
You're on fire when he's near you.
You're on fire when he speaks.
You're on fire burning at these mysteries."
On Fire – Switchfoot

The chill seeped from the damp floorboard to the seat of her jeans, spreading there like a numbing force. She felt it in every inch of her body but fought a shudder before reaching past the attic clutter for the trampled frame. Her fingers were cold as they fastened around the edge of the framed photograph, bringing it and another waft of dust into sharp focus. The sunlight streaming through a tiny window in the roomy attic lit the particles until they glistened like gold.

It was a quiet morning, a swift contrast to the rainy night that had left her tossing and turning restlessly in the admittedly comfortable bed of what she assumed had once been a guest bedroom. With the rise of dawn, the racket of a seemingly endless storm had given to the peaceful chirping of reluctant birds and the seductive hums of a calming breeze. It was easy to discern sounds for what they were. As she smoothed the pad of her thumb over the thick layer of dust coating the glass over the photograph, she could hear the unmistakable pitch of footfalls against the brush and gravel. Her heart twisted uncomfortably when the front door rattled and was finally pushed open.

Two unfamiliar faces gazed back at her from the supposed treasure she had found. The immortalized image was beautiful, a happy moment captured on film forever. Against a background of endless snow, a man with remarkable green eyes had his arms wrapped securely around an equally stunning woman with flowing dark hair and topaz eyes that gazed lovingly at the towering form of the man who held her.

The ladder she'd found behind the kitchen door and positioned strategically against the hallway's wall in order to climb up to the attic protested with a creak under the weight of Derek's first step. She found herself holding her breath in anticipation, waiting for his dark head to appear through the trapdoor, wearing the customary scowl and a scathing comment on the edge of that sharp tongue.

She'd only been conscious for five days, during which she'd gone out of her way to avoid him. He didn't seem eager to be in her presence either, even if he forced her to eat with him, making sure that she had at least something reasonable for each of the three meals they shared. After breakfast, he would check on her head injuries, coming too close for comfort with his narrowed eyes and the unrelenting line of his firm lips. With curt pointed questions, he would ask about her memory, earning no more than a frustrated shake to her blond head. Part of her was hesitant to remember, afraid that what she was suppressing was something awful. That fear kept her on edge, and if that wasn't enough, every time she ran into Derek in the limited facilities of his cottage, the tension between them would mount a notch. When she'd heard the front door quietly open and close in the early hours of the morning, she'd been relieved.

His palms slapped on the floor on either side of the trapdoor, but she didn't turn to look at him. She stared instead sightlessly at the photo of a man and a woman whose features were enraptured with love and laughter.

"What are you doing here?" His quiet voice drew her head around slowly, and she caught the first glimpse of him.

He was sitting on the edge of the trapdoor, a dark ribbed sweater stretched across his broad shoulders, emphasizing the masculine structure of his chest. His legs were dangling through the square-shaped door, covered by the length of a pair of faded blue jeans that looked worn. The thick stubble on his jaw and chin had been shaved, leaving only a light shadowy reminder of its presence. He was frowning, but he didn't look angry.

"I'm… uh…" She looked down at the picture she still held and shrugged. "I'm just looking around," she said lamely.

Her grip on the frame went loose when he stretched his arm and gently tugged it out of her hand. He flicked his eyes over the image, and the lines around his mouth relaxed into what resembled a ghost of a smile. "Anything interesting?" he asked absently, carelessly swiping away the dark curls that tumbled onto his forehead.

"Just that," she lied, nodding towards the photograph. She'd found a box overflowing with a woman's wardrobe, but she didn't want to give him an excuse to take it away from her.

He lifted his sharp gaze back to hers. "You recognize them?" he inquired cautiously.

A frown settled over her features and she shook her head briskly. "Should I?"

"I'm not sure," he answered, and there was a surprising degree of honesty to the short statement.

Shifting her sore legs, she stretched them on the dirty floor and rubbed her palms mindlessly against her thighs. "Who are they?"

"The man is a friend," he said, setting the photo aside.

"He's handsome," she muttered, studiously fixing her eyes on the inanimate object. The insignificant act didn't help in ignoring the man whose presence had suddenly made the chilly attic warm and small.

"The woman is his wife," he told her snidely as if the fact would disturb her, and she was startled by the frown he was directing at her.

She cleared her throat and made a move towards the narrow passageway. "They're a beautiful couple." Her demure voice starkly contradicted the rigid stance of her posture. When he made no move to facilitate her escape, she raised her eyes to his. His indigo eyes were dark with an unidentifiable emotion that turned her insides into something as unsubstantial as mush. And now that she was kneeling right by the trapdoor, the threadbare material of her denim pants brushing against the outside of his thigh, he was much closer than she'd bargained for. "Let me down, please," she said on a shuddering breath, disconcerted that even with their current positions, his head still loomed above hers.

He ignored her softly uttered plea and raked her face with stormy eyes. She didn't resist when his hand caught her chin, gently tilting her head towards him. Leaning across the stifling air, he touched the corner of her lips with his. Nimble fingertips traced the shape of her jaw, following the smooth curve to her nape. He linked his fingers just below her hairline, and his thumbs stroked the side of her neck. Her heart was hammering in her chest long before he rolled his head and caught her parted lips in a swift, probing kiss. His tongue outlined her lips, dipping into their corners tantalizingly. She didn't think of stopping him as her hands came to rest on his chest, nestling against his warmth. Her whole body ached for the sweet pressure of his touch, and she could feel the tension that had been building between them for days start to dissolve into the melting heat of his urgent kisses. He pulled away slightly to run his open mouth over her chin. Light kisses rained across her cheeks before sliding down to her neck.

"Derek?" she breathed, but his name turned into a moan when his tongue glided over a particularly sensitive spot at the base of her neck. His large hands slid restlessly along her sides, pulling her closer. She gasped when she stumbled into his lap, her breasts flattening against the solid wall of his chest. She clasped his shoulders tightly, her nails digging into the soft fabric of his sweater as he lifted his head and crushed his lips to hers in a torrid, demanding kiss. And she knew she couldn't let this happen between them. Keeping her lips sealed under the persuasion of his skillful tongue, she pushed feebly into his chest. "No, stop," she cried, turning her face away. Her short choppy breaths were loud in the aching silence, and she was flushed with the ardency of his kisses. Her breasts were tingling with ungratified passion, her womb yawning forlornly. She heard him curse, felt his heaving chest expanding against her shoulder as he shoved an angry hand into the disarray of raven curls on his head. She was still half-sitting in his lap, painfully aware of the evidence of his desire distending the fly of his jeans. "I can't," she whispered, hastily wiping away the tear that coursed down her cheek.

"Why the hell not?" he asked plainly, his tone tinged with anger or frustration. She wasn't entirely sure, but she propelled herself forward, away from the fiery contact of their bodies, and sat with her back to him.

"I just can't." Remorse sifted through her.

"You want to."

She did, and it scared her. He was her captor. The reasons for their circumstance were still unclear, but she knew it as plainly as she knew day from night. She was being kept in the isolated cabin against her will. As tempting as it was, she couldn't fall into the arms of a man she hardly knew when she didn't even know herself. She couldn't gamble on a past that would give her that kind of freedom, and she wasn't about to. She remained silent, waiting for him to fill the void his brazen observation had created.

He released a loud breath that echoed in the attic before his shoe caught on the first rung of the wooden ladder. It groaned under his weight.

She listened until his shoes hit the carpeted ground of the hallway, and she was all alone in the attic.

----

The door to her bedroom slowly creaked open. Swallowing tightly, she looked up from the lightweight pale green wintry dress she'd retrieved from the box sitting beside her bed. With some difficulty, she'd managed to carry it down the attic-ladder and into her bedroom without running into Derek.

Now he stood in the doorframe, his tall, lean body standing dauntingly at the threshold to the mediocre room. One of his arms secured a large brownbag against his side. His eyes lighted briefly on her before flitting over the obviously feminine clothes littering the bed. He frowned in query and looked back at her.

"From the attic," she explained briefly. "I'm not taking them," she promised, and she didn't intend to. It would feel strange to wear clothes that had once belonged to another woman. She'd only hoped that the reminders of society might spark her memory of once belonging to such a world, but they hadn't.

He continued to stare at her imperceptibly. "You should take them," he said finally. "The woman they belonged to has probably long since forgotten about them. I'm sure she won't need them anymore." His shrug was indifferent as he hoisted the bag he was carrying. "I bought you clothes today," he said with a self-deprecating smile, strolling into the room casually.

It rankled her that he could pretend that what happened between them a couple of hours ago hadn't taken place at all when her body still warmed at the memory of his tender kisses. She masked her irritation with a tentative smile and carefully retrieved the bag from his arms. "Thanks," she mumbled, shifting to place the crisp brownbag at the foot of her bed. She didn't try to explore its contents or look curious about them.

Derek hung back with his hands shoved deep into the front pockets of his jeans.

"So you're not locked in here," she pointed out wryly, folding her arms against her chest protectively. She was wearing one of the blue, long-sleeved oxford shirts he'd given her, and she'd tied it around her waist, careful not to bare an indulging view of her midriff.

He cocked his head to the side and smiled humorlessly. "I'm not," he agreed.

"But I am."

Heaving an exaggerated sigh, he shook his head, disrupting the thick locks of hair on his head. "I didn't say that," he said patiently.

"You didn't have to," she replied evenly. She braced her knee on the edge of the soft mattress and leaned against it lightly.

"I'll take you out tomorrow," he surmised dismissively and turned around, starting towards the open door.

"Can't I go alone?" she snapped.

He paused, rested his open palm on the doorjamb and tilted his face to look at her. "No," he answered simply. "You might get lost."

"Or found." She knew she'd struck a nerve when his jaw tightened reflexively.

"Lost," he insisted. "The nearest town is an hour away by car. Nobody wanders to these parts of the woods." His ominous words made her heart feel heavy.

She bristled silently and didn't try to anger him further, lest he change his mind about taking her out. She desperately needed the change of scenery. Being in that cabin alone with him was driving her certifiably insane.

"Lunch is ready. I'll meet you in the kitchen, Meredith." He was halfway out when she heard her voice stall him.

"What did you call me?"

His lips twitched with impatience as he turned back to face her. "Meredith," he repeated, and the name sounded vaguely exquisite when it rolled from his lips.

"I thought we'd decided on Jenny," she reminded him with a curious frown.

Annoyed, he raked a hand through his hair and lifted his shoulders nonchalantly under the lush material of his sweater. "I changed my mind."

And that's that...

This chapter was pretty much loaded with things to talk about, like for example the ramifications of their reckless kissing. Meredith is still confused about everything and frustrated, and she can't control the way she's beginning to feel about him, which isn't necessarily romantic. Part of her is afraid of him and of everything he represents. His intensity scares her. That and the fact that she has no idea why he lives in that very isolated place and what it is he's done because she suspects that he's done something. So when he kisses her, she lets him, hoping that she could go through with it to relieve the tension they're living with. Not being able to go through with it (which really doesn't piss him off as much as it frustrates the heck out of him) really just makes everything worse.

And then he promises to take her out, and he calls her "Meredith" instead of "Jenny", which is the name he chose for her a chapter ago. It's not a random decision.

'til next time!

Thanks for reading!:)