Hi everyone!
I can't say it enough: Thanks for the reviews!!!!! They really mean the world to me, especially all the compliments and the reactions about what I wrote earlier about my dad. To everyone who has had, or is still having, the same experience: I wish you lots of luck, love and strength!
As for the story: I know it is taking me more and more time to update, however, I haven't forgotten the story or lost interest in it! I'm just awfully busy, writing papers, taking exams and trying to get everything finished before the summerholidays. But I keep doing my best to write and update, and your reviews are helping loads :)
Enjoy the new chapter!
love, Zimra
summary: this time not a story about Meredith getting sick and Derek coming to the rescue... no, in this fic it's the other way around...
disclaimer: I would give a sweet thing to own Patrick Dempsey, but alas...
In Sickness or Health
Part 7.
Meredith fastened her pace as she neared the right hallway. 'Just a quick peek', she told herself. She wouldn't wake him up.
As she walked through the double doors, a door halfway down the corridor opened to reveal a familiar figure, tall and with dark hair.
"Hey!" Meredith's mood lightened instantly. "You're awake! Feeling better now, I suppose?" She knew there was still a good 100 metres between them, and that yelling in hallway's wasn't really adult-behaviour, but the relieve almost made her run towards him.
Derek apparently hadn't seen her yet. He hadn't turned around to wait for her, arms wide open and with that cheeky grin of his.
She saw that he stood slightly hunched over. His right arm gripped the doorframe. He swayed.
The sight made Meredith stop dead in her tracks and wiped the smile of her face. For a split-second her mind thought of fleeing. Then she saw Derek loose his balance, clawing at the wall for support, and in a flash she ran forward, reaching him just in time to grab his shoulder and push him back up with all her strength.
From up close Meredith saw that Dereks face was even paler than it had been before. His eyes where half closed, and he just barely seemed to notice she was there.
"Derek! Derek, look at me. Can you hear me?" She touched his burning cheek and tried to look into his eyes, which were glassy and far away.
"Sweety, why are you here? You're sick, you should be sleeping."
"Mer?" She finally saw a hint of comprehension on his face.
"Yes, I'm here."
One of his hands gripped her shoulder with a surprising strength and he apparently did his best to focus on her face. He mumbled a sentence that Meredith couldn't understand, so weak and hoarse sounded his voice.
"Derek, I didn't hear you. What did you say?"
"Mer...", but the rest of his words where, although this time loud enough, completely un-comprehensible.
Meredith felt a rush of panic inside her. This wasn't good. Why couldn't he talk?
Suddenly, without any warning at all, he bent forward and threw up. Vomit splattered on the floor, on Meredith's pants and on both of their shoes. Ignoring her own gagging-reflex, Meredith put her arm around him and used her weight to keep him upright, as his balance was in danger again.
"Derek, you're sick. You need to lie down."
He vomited again, this time down the front of his clothes.
Cringing at the smell, Meredith tried to steer him away from the mess and back into the room where he had been resting before. But for some reason, Derek was resisting her and now started uttering again, in complete gibberish, muttering feverishly and pulling at her arm. The more she tried to guide him, the more distressed he was becoming. The last thing she needed was him panicking, so Meredith relaxed her grip and stroked his back lightly to calm him down.
"You don't need to operate. Someone else will do the surgery. You just need to lie down."
He was still struggling to say something, clearly frustrated. Meredith positioned herself in front of him, seeking eye-contact.
"You're sick, Derek. You need to lie down, so I can examine you. I need to know what is wrong with you."
This, finally, seemed to calm him down a bit. He let her steer him into the room, in the direction of the gurney. Meredith hadn't foreseen, however, that as soon as they stepped away from the door and the wall that Derek had still been touching for balance, his knees shook and he was leaning on her with his full weight. She felt her own knees buckling, both of them swayed and she knew she couldn't support his weight long enough to get him on the gurney. Instead, she tried to carefully lower him down to a kneeling position, shielding his body with her own until they where both lying on the floor. His eyes where closed now, and Meredith grabbed a blanket that was just in her reach to use as a make-shift pillow under his head. When she tried to lift it onto the pillow Dereks eyes flew open and he gasped. He was in pain. Letting go of his head, Meredith blinked back her tears.
"Honey, I'm going to get someone to help me, 'cause I can't lift you on my own."
She made a move to stand up, but he held onto the sleeve of her shirt and stared at her with panicky eyes.
"No, I won't leave you. But I need help." Tears now streamed down her cheeks.
She touched his burning forehead and when she saw him flinch at the touch, she took a quick decision and stood up.
"Hold on, I'm back in a second."
At the door she looked over her shoulder at Derek lying on the floor. Then she ran out of the room and into the hallway.
Oh, I know I'm torturing both you and Derek with such an awfull cliffhanger... but don't worry, just wait for the next chapter! ;)
Like it? Hate it? Please review!
love, Zimra.
