Derek's POV

I think the trailer's shrinking. The walls are closing in and it's becoming an effort just to make it to the kitchen every morning. The hallway was barely there to begin with, but now it's damn near impossible to squeeze through; I have to take a deep breath of air and suck it in just to make it to work. It's cold, too. Logically it should be getting warmer, I mean, it's already June; isn't that month normally associated with warmth? But no, the trailer is getting colder and colder and colder, so cold that I have to wear three layers when I crawl under the covers after my shift, so cold that my teeth chatter in a jittery, constant pattern.

I stay at the hospital for hours just to be somewhere that lets me walk, move, breathe. It takes me until the first nightfall after she's left when I crawl into bed alone to realize that the trailer is shrinking because I miss her. I shouldn't be this pathetic, I mean, one day and my teeth are already chattering? One day and the trailer's shrinking? That isn't normal, it's scary. I'm turning into someone dark and twisty, someone that I'd never thought I'd be. But that's not the worst. The worst, the most horrible thing about this whole thing is that I'm not remembering the good things about us, I'm remembering the days when I'd drive her to chemo and when I'd wake up to the sounds of her throwing up in the bathroom. I'm remembering her pale and exhausted, hair gone and gasping for air.

Like I said, this isn't what's supposed to happen after one night away from each other, especially when it's not our first. This can't happen, I need to see someone, maybe a therapist. But, the problem is, I've never really liked therapists. Maybe a friend, a coworker? Addison's out of the question but Burke could work. He'd understand, with Christina finally back at work and back to loving surgery. He'd understand how to deal with this humiliating, inexplicable loneliness that's been clawing at the walls of the trailer ever since I got back from the airport. He'd know what to do.

I grab the keys to Meredith's Cherokee, relieved to have a goal, a mission, a task. A task that could potentially allow me to sleep alone at the trailer tonight without feeling like I'll either suffocate or die of hypothermia. I flick idly through radio stations once I'm behind the wheel, relaxing as The Clash starts to blare through the speakers. I sing along, softly at first, but by the time I'm pulling into the Burke's driveway I've reached full lung capacity. I'm off-tune and I'm pretty sure the neighbors can hear but it feels good to let go for once, to remember what it's like to have fun. After so much angst, it's reassuring.

"Derek," Burke stammers, clad only in boxers when he throws open the door, "I thought you'd be the take-out."

Maybe I should have called.

"You greet take-out guys in boxers?" I say, one eyebrow raised, "Don't tell me how you deal with solicitors."

"Funny. Hey, come on in. We were just about to eat."

"Is Christina clothed?" I ask skeptically.

"Good point," he mumbles before turning to call up the stairs, "Christina? You might want to get dressed. Shepherd's here."

"Why the hell did you let Shepherd in?" She calls back, followed by a series of not- so-quiet bangs. "Shit!"

"You alright?" Burke says, starting to climb the stairs. I step into the house, closing the door behind me and beginning my usual sweep of the photographs on the mantle. There's a picture of the interns that's my favorite, a picture I always migrate to first, a picture taken before Meredith left the first time. They're all leaning over the hood of Meredith's car with the Seattle Grace sign in the background that's glowing with the last glimpse of light before sunset. They're all laughing, captured right in the middle with earsplitting grins and twinkling eyes. I love how Meredith's hair is falling in her face, the bangs she used to have covering part of her eyes as her head dips forward with laughter.

"I remember that," Christina says quietly, running a finger over the bottom of the frame. Burke's standing in the doorway, watching us.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. That was about two months after you guys met. She was happy."

"She was."

Burke offers me the arm chair in the living room and he and Christina take the couch. He loops an arm around her shoulders, smiling at her for a second before turning to me.

"How are you?"

I'm painfully aware of Christina's presence, painfully aware that all this will eventually get back to Meredith.

"Can we maybe… talk alone?" I ask cautiously.

They exchanged a confused look before Christina rose to her feet and padded upstairs, making her footsteps audible to prove she wouldn't be eavesdropping.

"So what did you need to talk about?" Burke asks once the footsteps are gone.

"What else?" I ask bitterly, "you know its Meredith."

"What happened?"

"She left for New York," I say, and Burke frowns, opening his mouth to say something but shutting it once I begin to let out a string of words, "She left for New York and now I sit in the trailer with nothing to do and it keeps getting smaller and smaller, which it shouldn't, right? I mean, I lived without her for three years, the trailer shouldn't be getting smaller after one day apart, right? That's not normal. It's not normal that I can't even close my eyes anymore because I see her with no hair, hooked up to all these machines…" I let my voice die out.

At this point I could probably beat some of Meredith's most impressive rants.

"Breathe, Derek," he says, and I'm reminded of when I said that to Meredith while she was hyperventilating in the supply closet a lifetime ago.

I breathe.

"I just…I just shouldn't be this broken up over her absence. If this is what happens after one night…"

He pauses to think, his frown still firmly in place while he leans to rest on the back of the couch.

"Do you have nightmares?"

"Sometimes," I say, flushing, "But I can never remember them."

"When did they start?"

I think back.

"Maybe….four months ago?"

Burke nods.

"I think I know what's wrong," he says, and the pause between 'I think I know what's wrong' and telling me what's wrong seems way too long. I feel a long-suppressed urge to bite my fingernails reappear. "I think you're having delayed shock about what happened to Meredith."

"What happened to Meredith…" I prompt, lost already.

"The cancer. I think you're remembering how she left for New York without cancer and came back with it. I think you're worried that the same thing will happen with this trip."

I scoff, "That's crazy! You think that I have some sort of superstition about New York City?"

"Subconsciously," Burke clarifies. There's an odd silence, a silence where Burke is obviously as uncomfortable as I am; no small accomplishment.

"But that's impossible. I know she's fine," I insist, "although I'd feel a hell of a lot better if she had a different tour guide."

"You probably can't recognize that it's happening. But you're scared, you're scared she'll come back and tell you she has cancer."

It makes sense, I realize, despite my initial reaction. Whenever I think about her, I think about her sick. I think about how she told me, how it felt like a kick in the stomach. I think about the chemo treatment dripping into the IV. Burke notices the silence this time and puts an awkward hand on my knee.

"Listen, Derek, she's going to be fine. This trip doesn't mean that there's going to be some sort of déjà vu, it means that she misses the place she used to live. You're going to have to accept it or you're not going to make it through the week."

He eyes my wrinkled clothes and not-so-perfect hair meaningfully. I follow his gaze, taking in my scuffed-up boots and my stained jeans that really, really need to be washed.

I see his point.

--

The next few days are better. I force myself to think of the good things with Meredith, the times when we weren't so…confused. I take out the snow picture and find a frame, setting it by our bed. I remember the feel of her lips on mine, the day that we got our first sonogram, first heard about the baby. I'm smiling, smiling at the memories when my cell phone vibrates in my pocket, signaling her incoming call. I hold the phone up to my ear, eager to hear her voice. For some reason I know it's her without reading the display.

"Hey," I breathe.

"Hey."

Her voice sounds strange, like she's not calling from her cell. I hold the phone away from my ear.

Unavailable –it says.

"Where are you?"

I can't keep the worry out of my voice. What if she's in an alley somewhere, hugging her knees to her chest and struggling to control her tears? What if something happened with Mark?

I can feel her biting her lip.

"Looking back, you'll find this funny," she promises.

"Find what funny, Meredith," I grit out.

"Don't freak out."

"I won't."

"Promise?"

I'm either ready to laugh or yell with disbelief at how long she's dragging this out.

"Promise."

I hear the phone line sag as she sucks in a deep, shaky breath.

"Mark and I…Mark and I are kind of…"

AN: It had to be done. It just had to. I knew you guys were missing the cliff hangers, so, I put one in. Start guessing!!!!!