A/N : So, guess I should mention updates on this won't be regular (especially since I've reached exam season) but I'm liking where this is going so it'll probably continue.

Here's a slightly longer chapter; I wanted it to be longer but my brain just couldn't see anything else for this...

Lyrics are from Timshel by Mumford and Sons, one of my favourite songs.

Thanks for sticking with me for this long!

Enjoy!

Out of all the things Mark and Addison could've predicted Meredith would do to bring Derek out of the grasp of the panic attack, this wasn't even a blip on the radar.

Meredith's voice floats quietly into the small space, lips moving in a dance none of the other occupants even knew she was capable of creating. Clear as a bell and weaving gently through the air, she sings softly, eyes closing as she holds the hands of the man she can't help but love in an easy grasp. The words are quiet, but fill the small space, entrancing Addison and Mark, who stare shamelessly.

With her eyes closed, she doesn't notice when Derek's gaze begins to slowly refocus and his breathing steadies, nor the looks Mark and Addison are aiming her way.

Cold is the water

It freezes your already cold mind

Already cold, cold mind

And death is at your doorstep

And it will steal your innocence

But it will not steal your substance

Pausing to take a quick breath, Meredith catches the sound of footsteps approaching them and a quick shuffle of clothing as Paul returns. Along with it, the scent of coffee drifts into the small space and Meredith's nose twitches and her mouth waters. But she can still feel the small trembles running through Derek's crouched form and, all personal thoughts on the man aside (the man who fixed her and then broke her and still holds her heart and the man she wishes she could hate to make all this easier), she will bring him out of the panic attack. So she settles and drags forth more of the lyrics from her brain.

But you are not alone in this

And you are not alone in this

As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand

Hold your hand

The irony of the lyrics isn't lost on her.

As her voice drifts into silence, she blinks open her eyes to see Derek staring at her with an expression she can't name and her hands clutched tightly in his. Part of her relishes the feel of his hands in hers and the mere proximity of him, but the rest of her wants nothing more than to back away as fast as possible. So she takes a second to study McDreamy, taking in the flushed features but clear eyes and the lack of trembles and decides she's succeeded in her task of pulling him free from the clutches of his own mind.

Gently extracting her digits from his, Meredith withdraws and leans back, scooting her legs beneath her in order to stand. Ducking her head at the quartet of gazes aimed her way, she retreats to her corner and shuffles her feet awkwardly.

"Well Doc, I'll be damned," Paul whistles from his little window into the elevator. "And I hope you don't mind me guessing that you're a doctor; you have that look about you," the fireman says kindly.

Grateful for the distraction, Meredith looks upward at the fireman. "Thanks Paul," she murmurs with a smile. "And you're right. I am a doctor. A first year surgical intern actually," Meredith announces, a small bit of pride infusing its way into her tone. As she speaks, Paul reaches down into the elevator car and passes her a warm paper cup of steaming coffee.

Taking the small cup, she clutches it carefully with both hands, allowing the warmth to bleed into her as she holds it close to her chest.

"Surgery, that's pretty hardcore," Paul says cheerfully, causing Meredith to chuckle and nod, reaching behind him to grab the next coffee, which he gently hands to Addison, before repeating the process once more to hand a third paper cup to Mark. The two older surgeons quickly accept the proffered liquid, finally breaking their gaze away from the young woman opposite of them.

Taking the arrival of coffee to heart, Addison uses the distraction to start sipping at the caffeine, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back against the wall of the elevator. The exhaustion that floods her system is a shock and she can't help but feel as though she could sleep for a week after this. Things around her felt as though they were moving too fast and the explosion of new information she'd gleaned about Meredith, Mark and Derek in such a short time was making her head spin and question her very opinions on her three fellow surgeons. Especially those of her husband and his former mistress.

Taking the cup with a quick 'thank you,' Mark approaches his best friend where he remains crouched and disheveled, and extends a hand, a silent peace offering.

Derek looks up at the man he'd been best friends with for over twenty years, who he had grown up with, who he had caught sleeping with his wife, and sees flickers of something so genuine, he could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen that expression on Mark's face. And there was sadness there, a sadness that Derek had only ever seen once, and that had been at his father's funeral. Because Derek's father had been more of a father to Mark in the three years before the fatal shooting than Mark's own father had been his entire life.

Still a little off balance from the panic attack, the panic attack whose origins he still wasn't entirely certain of, it takes Derek a bit longer than normal to process all this. Because of the delay, Mark takes the lack of reaction as a rejection and resignation flickers across his face before it closes off and becomes expressionless.

Derek catches this just in time and reaches out to grasp his friend's hand as it starts to drop.

The world famous plastic surgeon's eyes widen as they dart up to meet the neurosurgeon's and the two take a second to communicate silently. Then Mark breaks into a face splitting grin and gently pulls Derek to his feet. Derek smiles back and gratefully accepts the coffee Mark presses into his hands.

Part of the tension that has been scraping around the trapped four's spines ever since the elevator doors had closed vanishes and something settles in the two men's hearts.

"Though," Paul continues, taking in the proceedings below him with a knowing smile, "if you don't mind me saying, of course, I'm pretty sure if this whole surgery thing doesn't work out, I bet you would make a wonderful singer." As he speaks, he hands in the last cup of coffee to Mark and then settles his head on his hands.

At this, Meredith snorts mid-sip, sending a small wave of coffee splashing onto her hand. Cursing softly, she passes the paper cup to her other hand and sets about shaking off the hot liquid. As Paul apologizes profusely, he attempts to hand in a stack of napkins, but Meredith is more focused on keeping cool air flowing over her scalded skin.

Mark is the first to jump into action, as Derek has yet to return to full function and Addison has just opened her eyes at the sound of Meredith's curses. Setting down his own cup of piping hot coffee, Mark grabs the napkins from Paul and snags Meredith's hand out of the air. Keeping his grip gently and away from the back of her hand where the coffee had struck, Mark uses the napkins to gently dab away the remaining liquid. As he does so, he gives her tiny hand a professional once over, happy to see that the skin is only mildly irritated from the quick contact with heat and not burned like it could have been.

"Are you okay Meredith?" Addison asks from her corner, the genuine worry in her voice surprising even herself. The red-head peers around Mark's tall form to take a peek at Meredith's hand herself and missing the quick flicker of surprise that races across Meredith's features.

"Yeah, I'm fine Addison. A little singed, no biggie. I guess I wasn't expecting anyone to compliment the singing, so it made me laugh," Meredith answers bluntly, smiling reassuringly in Addison's direction. "And thank you Mark," she adds, tilting her head to meet the plastic surgeon's still worried gaze and offering up a grin. "Seriously, I'm fine," she repeats, letting her hand linger in his grip for a second more before retracting it.

Holding it up, she wiggles her fingers and gives her hand, albeit splotched with angry red, a little shake to show off her fully functioning digits. "See, little and effective fist still in working order; want me to demonstrate?" she offers with a quirk of her eyebrows and clenching her hand into a fist.

With a chuckle, Mark steps back and raises his hands in defense and Derek can't help the snort that rises in his chest at the sight.

"I'm glad you're okay Doc," Paul chimes in, "and I'm sorry I startled you."

"Ah no worries Paul, seriously. It happens," Meredith responds kindly.

"But I was serious about the singing; you're a natural hun."

"You know, that's the first time anyone's ever told me I could sing," Meredith says contemplatively.

"Really?" Addison blurts out loudly, startled, before she can stop herself. In the small space, the sharp sound echoes, causing Mark, Meredith and Derek to wince. When all eyes turn to her, a red flush dances across her cheeks. "Sorry…"

"Um, yeah," Meredith starts, curiosity and surprise warring on her features as she stares at Addison. It's quickly chased away by embarrassment as once again, she finds herself at the center of attention in the small space. "My mother wasn't one for frivolous activities like singing and by time I started, my dad was already out of the picture. And I don't sing for anything, ever really."

"Then why…?" Paul starts, still not entirely sure what he had returned to with the coffee. All he knew was that the young surgeon and the dark haired one had been on the floor of the elevator and the beautiful voice had distracted the fireman before he could observe anything else.

Meredith's gaze cuts to Derek as she answers, "desperate times Paul." Stuffing her hands into her pockets as a clear sign of withdrawal, she ignores the flash of pain that comes when her irritated skin scrapes across the fabric of her jacket. "I don't really want to talk about it if that's okay."

"Sure thing Doc," Paul agrees, feeling the discomfort radiating from the young woman even from his position outside the metal box. At his side, his phone chirps and he glances at the display, a grin blossoming.

"Good news passengers!" he chirps happily, drifting back into his flight director mode. "Looks like they're just about finished downstairs so we should get be getting this show back on the road any minute now. Just want to prepare you incase the doors close suddenly, the lights flicker or the car jolts," Paul informs them, internally grinning when he sees the amusement appear on every face in the small space, even the space-y dark haired man.

"Thanks P - " Mark starts, only to be cut off by a ding and the sight of the silver doors sliding closed, along with the feeling of the floor beneath their feet starting to rise.