This Chapter is for Caterpillar, who has been so kind enough to comment on almost every chapter! I did leave you on a certain cliff, but it was a lot better if I had left you in the middle of this chapter! This is a very emotional one with adult content and language. I thought it was entirely justified giving the circumstances though. This first part of the chapter winds between the present and the past, the past being in italics. Enjoy!


Meredith awakes in her room, not quite sure how she has made it back to said room. Her head feels like two two-by-fours have been using it as target practice, her mouth feels like a dull cotton swab, but her body is absolutely humming. She's lying flat on her stomach with her head in her pillow. She tries to move a little and is rewarded with a sharp pain in her hip.

"Ugh!" Meredith calls out in pain as she lands harshly against the wall outside of her room.

Derek had successfully carried her the couple of blocks back to the hotel, albeit with a little swerving and a couple of near misses with a very stupidly placed street light and one very annoying potted plant. Meredith doesn't care though. She is in Derek's arms, for the second time, and this time she is going to be awake to enjoy it. Derek swerves and stumbles as he carries her along, but all she does is laugh and laugh. And pretty soon he's laughing right along with her.

They laugh when Derek accidentally kicks the afore-mentioned potted plant and has to untangle her from the dratted palm fronds. They laugh when he can't manage to get the door open to their hotel, and Meredith has to extend her hand out and swing it open as wide as she can while he rushes them in before the door shuts. That took a couple of tries. She even laughs through the pain when he clumsily drops her onto the wall next to her room. For he laughs right along with her and takes away the pain she might have been feeling with a breathtaking kiss that she feels all through her body and down to her toes.

That remembered kiss sends a searing warmth down her body. She licks her lips to discover that they are swollen and sore from an evening of love-making.

"I really like these shorts." Derek tells her as he cups her ass and lifts her up into him.

"Well, I think these pants are entirely over-rated." She zings back as she returns the ass-grabbing favor.

His only answer is to growl at her and send little darts of pleasure running up her neck as he lathers attention on the area just below her hairline. She tilts her head back to give him more access, only to find him zipping around to grab her mouth with his and rapturously mate his tongue with hers. She doesn't know when kissing has ever felt this good. The feel of his mouth on hers, their tongues delving together, their bodies melding making her completely oblivious to the fact that they are still only in the hall.

She turns herself over in bed, only to discover that she is completely naked under the fancy comforter. She looks down at the gold, yellow, and white comforter that exactly matches the one in Derek's room. Her room is a little different, happening to be one floor down (which is why they had chosen it), and has slight variations in the décor, but is essentially the same.

Somehow they unlock her door and make it into the room, the where and how not so important. As soon as the door is closed, he literally rips her shorts and her underwear from her body, pushing them down to her knees in a pause between kisses. She tries to return the favor with his pants, but she was not quick enough for his nimble fingers. He quickly unbuttons them and pushes them off of her before she even knows what was is happening. His shirt quickly follows, and she feels her shirt follow quickly thereafter as she falls back onto the bed.

She looks to her right, to find an already awake Derek lying on his back in contemplative repose. His right hand stands propped behind his head while he stares intently at the ceiling.

"Hey." She calls uncertainly, seeing the same weight of the world on his shoulders she had only seen the one time before: when he had been talking about his Ducal responsibilities. What could it mean?

But then he sees that she is awake and his entire face changes. "Hey." He calls out softly as his eyes crinkle in happy greeting and she is once again surrounded by the cool warmth of his eyes.

"Meredith." He calls out to her as his body rests above her on the bed. She opens her eyes to see his blue orbs smiling down at her as he pauses to verify that all is right with her.

"Derek." She says with a smile and reaches up to grab his face with both of her hands. She can see him close his eyes at the warm caress, and she suddenly feels like the luckiest woman in the entire world. She slides her hands back through his hair, and can hear him sigh in pleasure. When her hands reach the back of his skull, she pulls his head closer for a kiss.

She turns to lie on her side and scoots closer to the warmth of his body. He stretches his left arm out to encompass her and she finds herself resting between the happy confines of his arm and his chest. She lifts her head to look at him and can't help placing a kiss on those lips that have given her so much pleasure.

Their lips meet again, this time not hot and heavy, but warm and inviting. The gentle warmth of his mouth on hers echoed by the gentle rub of their bodies against each, meeting all the way down to her toes resting against the smoothness of his ankle. Their bodies so close, it just seems natural for him to suddenly be inside of her. She sighs in pleasure, only to hear him echo her sentiments as he begins to move within her. The bodies move together in tandem for what seems forever, but must only be a small sliver of time. Over and over again as the pleasure builds between them. And oh too soon, her body stretches and he fulfills and the stars explode in her mind, followed quickly by his final release and guttural groan of happiness.

He takes her kiss and even holds on to her head with his free hand, but quickly pulls back. She can see that the weight of the world is back in his eyes.

"I have to tell you something." He says ominously, as he licks his lips nervously. She can see sadness and guilt and weariness in his soul, but she was expecting that. She might be feeling a bit of that herself if she really let herself think about it. Which she wasn't. But he obviously was.

"Is this about your girlfriend? I know…" She begins to say, but he winces at the word 'girlfriend' and interrupts her with, "Well, that's just it."

She watches him try to gather his words and suddenly feels entirely naked for a completely different reason. And her fears are completely founded when she hears him utter, "She's not my girlfriend, she's my fiancé. Who on Sunday is going to be my wife."


Meredith makes no reaction at first, only staring into his eyes as a deer would suddenly smelling the hunter just upwind. He waits for her to do something, to say anything, but all he gets is an incremental withdrawal that he can only feel because they had been so close moments before. Her body tenses and she withdraws, both mentally and physically. Her emotions shut off from him, her body taken away.

She slowly pushes herself off of his chest, turning to stare at the bed. He's certain she just doesn't want to look at him. This was what he was afraid of. This is why he hadn't told her. But he had to. He just couldn't share what they had just shared and not tell her. He had never meant for things to go this far. But they had. He just couldn't not tell her.

He watches her as she slides out from under the comforter, dragging a sheet with her. She still won't look at him, so he calls out questioningly, "Meredith?"

She gives no answer, just tying the sheet around her and rising off of the bed. He dives over to grab at her hand and calls out "Meredith," again in a louder voice. She shakes his hand off and hisses softly but vehemently, "Don't you touch me."

He lies on the bed frozen, not sure what to do. He can see the hurt and the betrayal pressing down on her, but he has no idea how to fix it.

She walks like a zombie to the closet and pulls out her only piece of serviceable clothing: her dress; the dress that he bought her.

"Where are you going?" He asks softly, not even sure if she will answer him, but having to ask anyway.

"What do you care?" She asks despairingly as she places it on a chair to grab her bra and underwear out of a drawer.

"I care, Meredith, I care." He calls out himself as he rises and joins her at the dresser.

She keeps her back to him though, and responds with, "You don't care. I'm just some floozy you picked up on the Spanish steps that was stupid enough to sleep with you."

"You are not some floozy. I never meant for any of this to happen. I swear." He argues to her back, just wishing for one moment that she would just turn around and look at him.

He gets his wish, but it was certainly not what he was wishing for. She turns on her heel, the dull vacant look replaced by brimstone and fire, directed at him. "You didn't MEAN for any of this to happen? Is that your excuse for all of this?" She fires at him, her tiny fists clenched together in hurt.

"I thought you were my friend. I WANTED you to be my friend." He pleads, trying to make her understand.

"I am NOT your friend. This is not how friends behave. Friends do not lie to each other. Friends do not tell other friends that they have an almost-wife only after they've slept with that friend." She says cuttingly, punctuating every syllable, as she grabs the dress, her underwear, and her bra and huffs into the bathroom to change.

Her words seem to cut a swath right through his heart. It can't end like this, it just can't. He grabs his own pants from the floor and quickly puts them on. What can he possible say to make this right? He approaches the closed bathroom door and can only say what is in his heart, "Meredith, please don't let it end like this."

He is clearly surprised when she rips open the bathroom door, fully dressed, and yells, "End? End? How can it end? We never had anything to begin with!"

"Don't say that. You felt it just as much as I did." He pleads a little angrily, angry that she would even deny that. He knows she felt it too. He had seen it in her eyes. He had FELT it in her body last night. He wasn't alone in this.

"Move." Is the only thing she responds, as he is blocking her way out of the bathroom. He notes her hard eyes and rigid body and reluctantly steps aside.

She brushes past him and moves to slide on her sandals, grabs her purse, and opens the door. But not before she calls out behind her, "You better not be here when I get back."

The door slams shut and he is suddenly alone. He stands uncertain in the middle of the room not knowing which way to go. She obviously doesn't want to have anything to do with him. Following her out into the busy hotel probably wouldn't help any. God, she really hates me, he thinks as he sinks down on the edge of the bed and lets his head fall despairingly into his hands. What has he done?


Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Shit. Shit. Why the fuck did he have to do that? I knew he had a girlfriend. I have a boyfriend. I could have gone home on Saturday none the wiser, thinking I'd had some European fling with some sexy charming Duke that I had met on the Spanish steps. Okay, Meredith, now you're telling yourself you'd rather not have known? You are sick. Look at where you're standing! You are in the holiest fucking place on earth. Hold it together!

She looks up at the daunting edifice that is St. Peter's basilica and curses to herself. Again. When she had left the hotel this morning, she had thought the one place that she hadn't been, that she really should visit, was the Vatican. She wasn't going to let some lying, cheating, bastard ruin her god dam vacation. She could visit the sites without HIM. Except now that she was standing here, all she could think about was him. Where just the day before she had looked at this same dome from a different perspective: wrapped in his arms at the top of the world. But even then, he had been a lying, cheating, bastard.

She takes a look around at the splendor that is the Vatican, being able to appreciate its manufactured beauty even through her present emotionally-overloaded lenses. She stands in the exact center of the giant courtyard of the Vatican, where the masses gather to hear the Pope's frequent addresses. She stands on the exact spot the guide book indicates and is amazed to watch the double pillars merge into one. For when the courtyard had been designed, it had been built in such architectural exactness, that when one stands in a certain spot, the all of the second columns lined up exactly behind the first, and it looks like the entire ring was just one layer.

Which is exactly how she had felt last night. She couldn't have told you when she had left off and when he had begun. Even in quiet moments, their bodies entwined and rested, they had been connected. God, she couldn't even visit the Vatican without thinking about him! What the fuck was wrong with her? I shouldn't even be thinking about him. He had lied to me, he had used me. He was a fucking bastard.

She thinks this for about the millionth time as she starts forward toward the Basilica. The giant, pillared, ivory-colored edifice rising up before her. But all she can do is hear the lonely click of her sandals against the hard stone of the courtyard. She was going to see St. Peter's, she was going to see the vault, and she was going to enjoy it! She would, she declares to herself, reaching up to wipe away a stray amount of wetness that had made its way into her eyes. It must be sprinkling. Or something. She was not crying. She was not.

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Derek sits unhappily at a tiny table in a café next to the Pantheon. He knows if he waits around long enough, Richard will show up. This is his favorite place to grab an espresso, and Derek did leave a note for him at the hotel saying that he would be here. He really needs someone to talk to. Richard has always been a really good friend. He'll know what to do. Maybe he can shed some perspective on this whole thing.

He sits staring at his now cold espresso, staring at the foamy brew in desolation. He's dressed in his normal white linen shirt and khaki pants, but his otherwise ducal appearance is lacking. He has large rings under his eyes from a sleepless night that at any other time he would be rejoicing in. His hair sticks up in all directions, haphazardly brushed a few times to get rid of the bed hair. He had spent the most wonderful night of his life, and he was fucking miserable. Seeing the lights in her eyes dim when he had told her about Addie had probably been the most heart-wrenching moment of his life. He was supposed to be get married on Sunday. What did it mean that he cared more about someone he had known for three days than the person he was supposed to married to three days from now?

"Why so glum, my friend?" Richard asks as he sits down in the opposite chair and see's Derek's depressing state.

"You remember Meredith?" Derek starts off right away, preliminaries not being something needed between such close friends.

"Yes, the little bellezza di sonno. Why?" Richard asks in confusion, at the same time hailing a waiter for his own serving of espresso.

"I slept with her." Derek admits guiltily, staring down at his espresso rather than at his friend. When Richard doesn't say anything though, he lifts his eyes to find the most comical expression on his friend's face: shock, happiness, confusion, and amusement all mixed in one.

"What?" He asks, not being to decipher what that face could mean.

"Derek, you know I've never really liked Addie. No, let me rephrase that. I've never liked you with Addie." Richard begins, reminding Derek of the many conversations they have had about the subject.

"Yes, but what does this have to do with Meredith?" Derek asks, even more confused by this direction.

"You're getting married to Addie on Sunday, remember?" Richard reminds him gently.

"Don't you think I know that?! Why do you think I'm sitting here with a still-full espresso wishing I felt guilty?!" Derek yells out in frustration, but then freezes when he realizes what he has just said.

"Derek? Just what does this Meredith person mean to you?" Richard asks hesitantly, seeing the very real and very raw emotions almost tearing his friend apart right in front of his eyes.

"I don't know." Derek answers, resting his elbows on the table and rubbing his aching forehead with his outstretched hands.

"Well, you might want to figure that out my friend. You might want to figure that out before it's too late." Richard tells him simply.


Meredith walks into the patio of the hotel after spending an entirely unsatisfactory afternoon at the Vatican. The building had been filled with such splendor and grandiosity she never thought would have existed anywhere in the world. Gold, on top of marble, on top of silver lining, with the world's most beautiful statuary mixed in for good measure. She had stood in awe at the high ceilings and overwhelming splendor. And had wanted to share it. She had wanted to hear what Derek had thought of it all. Had wanted to hear his perspective on a building filled with dead people (the Pope's are buried within the walls). She was pathetic. She was a weak person. Because even though he had lied to her, even though he was a lying, cheating, bastard, she still wanted him beside her. Even if it was only to ask him one question.

So here she is standing in the door to the patio. She can see him silently resting in one of the patio chairs. He has his back to her, but he's not doing anything. He's not reading the paper, he's not drinking an espresso or wine, he's just sitting there by himself staring off into the distance. The once-cheery patio atmosphere has changed into a place of sadness. The happiness and gaiety of their breakfast yesterday only serving to emphasize the loneliness and isolation of the scene before her. She almost feels sorry for him. Almost.

She walks silently over to the chair next to him and sits down without looking at him. She can feel his gaze on her, but she can't look at him. She won't get out what she has to ask if she does. So she opens her mouth and asks simply, "Why?"

She doesn't hear any answer, so she slowly slides her gaze over to his. Her first thought is that he looks like shit. Good. The lines on his face are more pronounced, he obviously hasn't shaved, and dark circles emphasize the look of overall tiredness. But it's his eyes that tell the real story. He shakes his head back and forth, silently saying "I don't know", but his eyes tell her the guilt and misery he is feeling for what he did. She hardens her heart though. This man was getting married in a couple of days. This man had lied to her. This man deserved whatever he got.

"What was I to you? Some last fling before you settled down? Some poor American girl you could screw and never see again?" She asks in softly controlled anger. She tries to sound strong. She tries to sound like she doesn't care. But her shaky voice betrays her, and she cracks the last word.

Those blue eyes though, they stare right into her anyway. She believes him when he looks right into her eyes and says, "You know it wasn't like that."

His words shake her, but she can't give up that easily. "Oh yeah, you didn't mean for this to happen. I remember now." She says with scorn, turning to fully face him when she asks, "So what did you mean then? Why not tell me?"

Derek looks like he's just going to shake his head again in the same befuddled manner, but then thinks better of it and says, "Because I just wanted to spend time with you. Can you honestly tell me that if I had told you about it, you would have spent more than two seconds with me?"

Meredith thinks about this for a second and reluctantly agrees with, "Probably not." She rallies herself though, to say forcefully, "But you should have let me make that choice."

"I should have." He agrees softly, but without conviction, but then surprises her with, "But I won't take it back."

She looks up with surprise, to have him grab her hand and declare, "Meredith, last night was one of the most wonderful night of my life. These last couple of days have been precious to me. I'm not going to feel sorry for that."

"But you're…" She starts to say 'you're fiance', but he stops her with, "I've been with Addie for a long time. We were childhood friends. I…I….I owe her this. I love her. I do love her." He pauses as he confirms something in his mind, and then tells her, "I've just been selfish. I saw you on those steps and you were grumpy and prickly and adorable, and I just couldn't stop myself from saying something to you."

"You told me it was too early in the morning for a beautiful woman like myself to have such a frown on my face." Meredith tells him, smiling through her hurt and anger at the remembered moment.

"Not one of my finest moments." He agrees with a mirrored smile, but then smiles even bigger when he says, "And then you ignored me."

"I did." She agrees, smiling back until she realizes what she is doing. She drops her smile and his follows suit.

"I was just going to help you and that was it. I was going to have Richard help you find your hotel room, wish you a good trip, and say goodbye. I swear." He tells her earnestly as he squeezes her hand in emphasis. The left side of his mouth hitches up into a smile though, and he says, "But then you fell asleep."

"This is so not my fault. You're the one who brought me back to YOUR room." Meredith reminds him with a small defensive laugh.

"I know." He answers with a small blush, but then justifies it with, "But I wrote you that letter and I said goodbye. I stayed in Richard's room."

"Then you showed up at the Forum." She gently reminds him.

"Well…yeah….um…." He hems and haws a bit, not really able to come up with an excuse. He does calm down though and pulls out, "I don't really know what that was about."

"And the kiss?" She jabs, knowing that she is pushing him, but she really needs to know that this wasn't just fling on his part. She needs to know that she is not alone in this.

"I have no excuse for that either." He admits as he leans back further into his chair and looks like a chagrined little boy that just got caught with his cookie in the cookie jar. He does redeem himself a bit though, when he says in a frustrated manner, "It's just that….(pause)…you…you fascinate me."

Whatever she was expecting to hear, it wasn't that. She tries to pull her hand back, but he won't let her. He holds on to it, and tells her while staring straight into her eyes, "You fascinate me. I love the way you can be so grouchy and prickly and ballsy but still be adorable and cute and friendly all at the same time. I love the way you giggle. I love the way your hair smells. I just love being with you. And if that was selfish of me, then so be it. I never meant to hurt you. I see that I have, and I wish I could take that back, but I can't."

"Derek." She interjects; overwhelmed at the declarations he is making, not able to resolve this new information with the need to hate him.

"No, please, hear me out. I'm not alone in this, am I? I need to know I'm not alone in this." He pleads with her, grabbing her one hand with both of his and squeezing hard.

What is she supposed to say to that? "How can you ask me that after last night?" She asks with fresh tears in her eyes.

Tears start to well up in his eyes too as they both remember the deep connection they had shared. It had been a night to remember for the both of them.

Derek reaches up with his left hand and runs his hand through her wavy tresses. He watches his hand travel through her hair and sighs in happy appreciation. She wasn't prepared to hear what he said next though.

"I have no right to ask this. You can hate me all you want. You may run out of here screaming and calling me names, but I have to ask." He says and then pauses to gather his courage.

Meredith waits with bated breath, waiting to hear what he has to say, and hating herself for wishing it was something about a dissolution of a wedding. It wasn't that though.

"I know you're going home the day after tomorrow. My family has a resort on the coast. I am a weak man when it comes to you. I was hoping you would spend your last day with me." He asks earnestly, pleading with his eyes for her to say yes.

She looks up into his eyes and wants to scream and yell at him. She wants to run out of here and slap him for his audacity. But she is weak too. She wants to spend that last day with him. She wants to be back in his arms. She wants to drown in those blue orbs again. She is weak when it comes to this man. She didn't realize how much until this very moment.

She calmly and almost inaudibly agrees with, "Alright."