Disclaimer: I don't own Grey's Anatomy, et al.

Author's Note: Hi there and thank you for the lovely words for this story, a dissection at best, but in the end, I think it helped me remember what I used to love so much about this show (though the ferryboat 3-arc was the beginning of the down spiral in some ways) … anyway, thank you for the support. Please let me know what you think, it would mean a great deal.

One last note … for those of you waiting for an update to "True Colors", it's coming. I added a chapter and for those of you who follow my stories, you know that means a cursory review of the story as it is written already, so hang in there with me!

Miracle Drug – Part 7 – 'Everything was so clear …,"

And although time moved that night – it moved slowly – creeping along the walls of their enclave of happenstance, for there were heavy periods of sleep interrupted by the seemingly constant check on Meredith's vitals. And so now as dawn was imminent, Derek opened his dry, tired eyes, vaguely aware that his grip upon his lover had tightened, a new reflex, one that he knew would take a while to wane, if at all.

He focused then, calming his raging heartbeat if for no other reason that to keep himself steady, unmoving, unchanging … so she could rest – though he blinked all the same, once, twice – rousing his body from its achy slumber, already looking forward to getting Meredith home just to fully decompress … even though the thought of doing just that scared him to no end. Another pang of self-doubt consumed him then, but he pushed it away with haste, clearing his mind of all the stress and tumult, willing himself to just live in the moment (and hold on to Meredith for dear life as he did).

He blinked again and briefly thought of Tom and Jane and their first sunrise and as he did, he found himself watching the shadows become brighter as that blessed pre-dawn light cascaded and twinkled through the blinds – his heart calming on the idea that this side of the world was waking up – and that, so were they. An unforeseen tremble rocked his body and he shuddered as if out in the freezing cold without a jacket, frozen to the bone, but he held onto Meredith and blinked and watched the shadows and blinked and prayed and thanked God … for this … sunrise.

Closing his eyes again, he focused on Meredith's breathing, paying attention to her rhythm as he tried to match his beat with hers – harboring a new level of appreciation for doing that – for often, she was able to sleep in so much more easily than he and on those rare occasions that they had a late start together, he would rise early only to read or watch the shadows before he would eventually roll into her heat again and breathe in tandem with her until he would find that soothing velvety darkness and join her there.

And he did that again now, he aligned himself with her, feeling how his eye sockets cauterized with fatigue and only then did he let himself go to that same place (the one he would find on those lazier mornings they had shared). And once there, he inhaled sharply, 'breathe, breathe', he chanted, calming himself down – hoarding her warmth as he held her close – sighing as he allowed himself to release just a little bit more of the pressure and stress he kept to himself. And though, the sleep he fell into was superficial, it was heavy and encapsulating and healing too.

###

Somewhere in the vast darkness of his mind, Derek felt Meredith stir. He opened his eyes to the morning light, the space untouched, though the shadows were muted by the hour. He sensed Meredith was awake, but he held his tongue and waited – 'wait, wait' – he waited this time, letting her take the lead for once.

Glancing at the clock, he saw he had slept for a little under a half hour, he counted backwards, thinking now that a nurse would be in to check her vitals within the next half hour – they had time, to talk, to connect – they had time and he realized then that the gift of time was all he really had prayed for and for that gift, he would be forever thankful.

Even now, with the lingering doubts in his mind (about his own strength and fortitude), he still was overjoyed that Meredith had pulled through and would have more time in the here and now. And on that thought, he shifted slightly and pulled her closer wherein she slipped her fingers through his and squeezed.

"Derek?" she whispered cautiously after another minute.

"Hmm," he breathed, listening to his angel's call – her voice cracking through the sound barriers of sleep, exhaustion and his wandering mind – he blinked and then pressed his nose into the back of her ear and inhaled.

"Cristina …," she breathed. "She … told me … it was you," she sighed; he felt a tremble move through her humming body, the tension building again.

"Me …," he prompted, his eyes wide open, his mind wild now.

"Yes … you …," she sighed as she began to turn in his arms, moving gingerly, she repositioned herself, smiling weakly as she set her head back down on the pillow. "You saved me … pulled me out of the water …," she whispered, her serious eyes vacillating.

"I did …," he sighed, blinking and waiting … he felt a trigger-sense of the freezing water prick his skin; he pressed his hand to her hipbone to ground himself. He swallowed hard and pressed his lips together.

"Tell me about it," she urged, her voice calm and steady as if she had no fear, though her eyes became glassy pools of water … depth, despair, gray-green, murky.

Fat tears stung his eyes then and he blinked, trying his best to ease them down and away. "You disappeared …," he sighed. "I saw the little girl, the catatonic little one … the one who reminded me … so much of you …," he rambled, smiling weakly in recollection; his voice cracked. Meredith looked on without blinking. "She pointed to the water … it was still, calm … freezing, but I dove in anyway …," he breathed, exhaling sharply – his heart on fire – his flesh tingling at the memory of the icy water.

Meredith shook her head and her tears began to fall. Derek watched her falter, crumbling before his eyes while she watched him do the same. She sighed and they connected without words – 'I'm okay, you're okay' – much like they had learned to do whilst they were separated. And so within that silence, he watched her gather her senses, fighting off the urge to let go completely as she moved her hand up and rested it along his cheek.

She inhaled sharply and then began to speak. "I fell in," she said firmly. "The patient I had been treating … he was agitated …," she shook her head. "I remember … he stood up and I fell backward off the dock … and into the water …," she recounted, filling in the missing pieces – 'you think she went into the water on purpose?' – came Addison's soft voice as he processed everything.

He swallowed hard, his watery gateways vacillating; he shuddered, a fever prick ran up his spine. Meredith caressed his cheek, her touch was warm, soothing … 'she didn't jump', it was all he could think … 'she didn't jump, she fell' … she had fallen. He blinked and then he waited, pressing his lips together as he fought the untamed range of emotions that threw him into a tailspin where he stayed: somewhere between lost and found and guilt and relief. His heart shimmied – 'she didn't jump, she fell' – he pressed on.

"You were freezing by the time I found you …," he sighed weakly, his voice quivering as he made it all so real again. "I was so scared … lost, without you … you were so cold, blue … waterlogged, heavy …," he rambled, his eyes burning with hot tears, crowding his gateways with nowhere to go but down his face and into the crease of his neck. He looked down and away from her for a beat; just a momentary reprieve was all he needed.

Meredith moved herself closer and reached up, taking his head in her hands wherein she stared into his eyes, her lips quivering, her eyes moving, back and forth, she checked on him again and again … never blinking … never moving … she stood her ground.

"But you found me …," she insisted firmly, her stormy eyes still pinned on his.

"No, actually …," he sighed, inching closer to her heat he missed so much; she cocked her head. "I lost you …," he breathed, his heart pinching with a deep pang of regret.

"Lost me?" she queried; she blinked, alarm marring her beautiful face.

Derek cleared his throat. "Hmm … yes … the truth is – I had been losing you for a while already – had been failing you for so long … I'm sorry – "

"Don't …," Meredith interrupted him. She shook her head. "Don't do that …," she pleaded; her eyes again filled with tears.

She shook her head and lost herself for a long moment, unable to speak, unable to cry. Derek reached around her, bracing her trembling frame against his – holding her steady – his nose pressed to the top of her head, his fingertips caressing the soft, warm flesh along her spine, soothing her without words, without the wherewithal to do anything more than just be there in the moment … the sun rising in the sky now well above the cloud cover.

"I'm sorry …," she muttered after a minute; he sniffled, inhaling sharply. "So … sorry …," she heaved, struggling to speak. "The water … it was just so cold, Derek … so cold … and it got so hard so quick …," she sobbed, shaking in his arms. "It was me … I wasn't strong enough … I wasn't enough …," she breathed as she held on tight.

"No … now that's where you're wrong …," Derek muttered with a soft smile as he pulled back, smoothing her matted hair away from her face. "You are …," he insisted, his voice trailing off, encapsulated in his own moment of clarity now. "I just … I didn't hesitate, you know … to jump in and go after you – you have to know that – just you and me …," he confessed as he searched her eyes.

"You saved me …," Meredith declared softly, her eyes searching his now wherein he spotted a small ray of light from within.

"I had a lot to lose …," he whispered thickly, swallowing hard as he stared at her. "Everything to lose …," he added thoughtfully.

Meredith sighed, her eyes vacillating still while everything was silent between the two for a beat as they connected – hands caressing one another's faces – wherein silent, but in no way empty promises were made. They sighed in tandem then, each silently acknowledging what a mess they were, both together and apart from one another.

Derek smiled weakly and rested his hand along her flushed cheek, watching her struggle to keep her eyes open now before she gracefully acquiesced and let her gateways close, wherein he pulled her near and held here there, feeling the weight of her survival as she rested in his arms.

Only then did he close his own eyes, slipping under, down and away from it all – 'she pulled through, she didn't jump … she was enough' – his mind wandered much like his fingertips now as they lightly danced along the open back of her hospital gown. She stirred in his arms, trembling as she did, her nose pressed into the crease of his neck … her warm breath fanning his flesh, in, out, in, out she went.

"Derek…," she breathed then, her cheek resting on his chest now.

"Hmm …," he opened his eyes, the sweet way she said his name hung inside their private space.

"I know who was in that trauma room with me …," she whispered without moving. "But it was you … you saved me … rescued me … you did everything you ever said you would do … for me …," she rambled, her fragmented thoughts tumbling from her mouth and no, she still didn't move. Her grip only tightened.

"Well, I love you," Derek muttered factually, cupping her face in his hands, he drew her up and took a good long look into her watery gateways. He smiled, sniffling through his tears.

"And … I … love you … believe me … I do … I do …," she sighed, a soft raspy breath escaping from her mouth as she did. "Everything was so clear …," she recollected, seemingly a million miles away for a brief second. She smiled weakly and then blinked. "And then I made my choice … and it was you … it is … you …," she smiled, inching closer.

"And so you … turned around …," he declared, running the pads of his thumbs along her cheeks, caressing the puffy and blotched skin there.

"Yes … and I didn't look back – and you're my reason for that – I may have … lost the fight, surrendered in the water … but …," her voice trailed off as a smile found her eyes – it was just a glimmer – just enough for him to see his woman coming through.

"You're here now …," he breathed, drawing her near, his nose brushing against hers, the hot ricochet of their collective breathing fanned his face.

She nodded in assent and a new set of tears crashing along her pink cheeks as she did. "It's our second chance … a chance … for more time … our time …," she mused aloud, her words strangled, but her message clear.

"You're still you …," he announced, his lips less than in inch from hers.

"I'm still me …," she agreed as she closed the gap and kissed him.

Their lips engaged now like their minds and hearts and souls – they kissed and it felt much like it always did – solidifying and perfect and familiar … and meant to be. He cradled her in his arms, her perfect fit still perfect, though she trembled, and before he could pull back and make sure she was all right, her kiss became more intense, more desperate wherein he reacted and suddenly wanted the same from her – more, his flight or fight reflex on high alert now – for it was the stuff of survival and he knew then, in this very moment, that the way he loved Meredith Grey had not changed, it had only intensified.

"God, it's really true," she cried against his lips, her tears splashing along her face, slipping beneath his fingers. "A whiff of you isn't enough …," she breathed as if suffocating.

"A whiff …," Derek pondered aloud, pulling away, his glassy eyes moving over hers, … a brighter shade green already. He shook his head in wonderment, because he agreed … a whiff simply was not enough.

"I can't explain it …," she shook her head and smiled. "It's just you – I need you Derek – I didn't want to leave you … or change you … I just need you …," she sniffled, her pleading eyes searching his.

"Me too … I need you too," he sighed; a new set of tears stung his eyes.

They sighed collectively then, each unwilling to look away from the other. Derek smoothed her hair away from her face, watching again as a heavy wave of fatigue washed over her and somehow encapsulated him in tandem. And as those waves rocked them, his head spun with everything that was said inside this moment of clarity – the one just after surgery – the moment he always wanted for his patients … and then he smiled, because this one belonged to them.

"They'll be in soon …," he muttered, leaning in he kissed the heated plane of her cheek, warm, soft, alive, alive. "Close your eyes … sleep …," he encouraged as he watched her let herself go.

"And you'll be here," she whispered, curling inside his embrace.

"I will be … right here," he soothed as she grew heavier in his arms.

And so that's where they stayed, wrapped around one another deep inside their moment of clarity, this time when communication would just flow between them as they reconnected and counted their blessings and resolved to make everything right and easier between them … for this is what the beginning of a second chance does to a person … this is what it had done for them. And as they mutually acquiesced to sleep, they held onto one another with the intent of never letting go – his eyes dipping shut, hers already closed, her breathing steady – while his mind went wild with untapped emotion … so many feelings, so much heartache, so much pressure, so much praying … so much fear and loneliness and loathing and relief … so much … it hurt.

And hurt it would for a long time – for he still felt the pain of losing her – and somewhere in the vast recesses of his mind, he knew he would likely hold onto those thoughts … all the terrifying 'what if's'.

He also knew he would guard them with great tenacity and position them next to the memories of his father's death and the loss that consumed him … and still did today. Because the truth was, he wasn't Derek Shepherd without those aches and pains … and then he wondered for a brief moment … if he really was enough to survive … for.

Because even though he knew Meredith was enough for him, a small amount of self-doubt lingered and he had to ask himself … was he enough for her? Was he strong enough? Was his faith strong enough? Was his belief in true love enough? Was his belief in soul mate love enough? Was his belief in the miracle of medicine enough? Was he enough?

And therein, he already knew the answer; his response to all questions would be the same. Yes, yes, he would answer, for he had no other choice – because she had survived – so yes, yes, he would answer … with one final question remaining: would he survive?

Fatigue claimed him as his tattered and torn heart and soul and mind pondered this ugly range of thoughts. He breathed deeply, matching his output with Meredith's once again – her body heavy, her breathing as it should be – slow and steady and therein, he found the elixir he was looking for – his medical miracle – tucked safely inside his embrace where everything was aligned and clear and perfect … and full of hope.

And as he drifted off to that dark place, his thoughts soared into the future and he had a vision, very much like one he'd seen before, a long time ago, when he first met Meredith and she saved him without even trying – for this was his recurring dreamscape – the one that made him believe that he was in love with her in the first place. The one that restored his optimism and hope and belief in true … undying … love. The dreamscape he also believed he would one day share with Meredith.

###

For inside this dreamscape he had come to memorize, he would stand on some unmarked piece of land and look down and away – it always started out that he was searching for something – something near and dear to him, something he'd lost along the way. And he had a feeling that he had been searching for a long time for that missing thing, until he would come to realize that it wasn't something or even someone … rather it was an element to his life, an element that while it was missing, made him feel less than ordinary.

And so he would wander around in that dark place and open his eyes wide to see further into the velvety darkness as he stood on the edge of something – on the precipice of seeing what he was meant to see – all alone out there in this dream, until the wind would invariably change, pushing against his back, cold, invisible, damp, urging him to press on and move.

And so he would, he would begin to walk inside the darkness, the earth crackling under his feet as he went. His freezing hands shoved into his pockets, his wool coat hardly enough – a fleeting thought would come – he should be scared. He should try to blink the dream away, blink, blink, blink.

But blinking never worked, never. So he would press on and move forward and let the wind guide him, and then he would see it … he would see her.

And when he did, his heart would always tremble and his mind would always go blank for a beat as his legs would stop walking and he would survey the sight before him with his last breath trapped in his lungs.

For there she stood – his missing element – this part of himself he had long ago said farewell to, until he met Meredith and she changed him or reminded him of what he'd been lacking ... and that, to him, was extraordinary.

And so as there he would linger upon that precipice and marvel at her ... stunned by her natural beauty and strength, for she was a vision … she was his angel … his miracle … his savior … his everything … swathed in a pattern of flickering candle lights.

And even so, even if he knew all of this, he stayed in his spot to watch her because she was her true self in that dreamscape moment – she belonged to herself – she wasn't yet marred by what he had done to her. And then he would feel a smile crack along his face as he watched her, for she was alighted by her task – rambling away about how stupid he was – except that he could see the light in her eyes, the one that made him fall in love with her that very night they met … the one that restored his faith and hope in miracles.

And so with his eyes pinned to that light, he would navigate away from the darkness and step toward his woman, watching as she would light a candle and set it on the ground only to pick another one up and do the same, the plain of grass she stood upon becoming bigger and bigger with each candle she illuminated.

And as the lights flickered and the land all around her became bigger, he thought she would become dwarfed in the mix – but she didn't – because when she would finally see him and he would watch her breathing hitch and her eyes shimmer in the darkness, all he could really see was her hope and undying love and faith … and it was a miracle ... for she had survived all that was done to her and only she remained … his soul mate and the love of his lifetime … his miracle.

Miracle Drug – Epilogue to follow.