A/N: This is more of a 'Derek's trying-Wyatt's trying' chapter. I just wanted to show how much effort Derek's putting in, and cementing the fact that Sam's still pretty much in the picture and, like Finn, doesn't look like he's going anywhere soon. The ex-interns will squeeze themselves in pretty soon; this basically revolves around the triangle between Derek, Wy and Sam.

Even though it's late, I'd still like to greet everyone Happy Holidays! Hope you had a good one! Hope you had a great 2006!


VII. Prisoner of Hope

One thing about Wyatt Grey was that he was careful. He didn't let his guard down easily, and it usually took a lot to get under his skin, protective armor he used against broken promises and false hopes one had to get accustomed to with a mother, and godparents cum guardians, like he had.

With Derek's arrival however, he noticed, and quite irritably too, that his guard always seemed to melt into nothingness, something that frustrated a part of him so much he began to wonder if he had a personality disorder. Derek's sudden appearances enthralled him and annoyed him at the same time, like a drug.

He was actually starting to like Derek, with the older man's weird liking for fishing and ferryboats and his ridiculously expensive clothes, even though he really didn't want to. Not yet.

It was all too fast, just too fast. From experience as well as common sense, Wyatt knew nothing that happened or went too fast could be trusted, and he was scared of it.

"Thanks for…" he gathered his voice (thank God for the radio that was playing on low). "Thanks for picking me up today."

It had been Preston's turn. Today was a Tuesday. He'd been surprised to see Derek waiting for him at the gates beside a black Ford pick-up instead of Preston and his godfather's omnipresent BMW, but he couldn't say he wasn't glad.

He fought to suppress it, the uneasy excitement that usually accompanied Derek Shepherd's re-entries, knowing he could be very disappointed once fate (or Derek) found the opportunity.

"No problem. Hope you don't mind though. Preston had a surgery to do."

Right.

"I brought you a snack," Derek handed him a wrinkled McDonald's bag that had been tucked beside the driver's seat, almost sheepishly.

"Sorry, but I based your food preferences on my nieces and nephews. I don't actually know what you like so there's a salad there, and some chicken nuggets. Juice too."

Wyatt took the bag. He didn't like McDonald's, but he appreciated Derek for trying.

"Thanks. But, for the record, I'm not much for fast food."

Derek suddenly looked worried, realizing his mistake. Wyatt saw as his grip on the wheel tightened, the leather squealing a bit under his fingers as he did.

"I like sandwiches though. Izzie makes the best sandwiches."

"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for telling me." Derek scratched his chin, an embarrassed smile on his face. "Sorry, I should've asked Meredith...your Mom...before I bought..."

"That's okay."

Wyatt leaned back into his seat, blowing a gust of his breath out forcefully through a small crack between his lips.

"Our class has a play coming up this Friday."

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them and before he could even think them out. Automatically, they strung themselves into a sentence he immediately regretted saying, as though they'd been lying dormant inside his subconscious the entire time like a sleeping time bomb.

"Oh? You in it?"

"Props man," he lied. "I get to open the curtains and stuff. It's nothing. You don't have to watch it if you don't want to."

"No no, I'll be there," Derek suddenly looked strangely excited. It was weird, seeing a grown man so keyed up about something so pathetic as a class Christmas play. Wyatt raised an eyebrow at him.

"What time will it be?"

"Around seven…it's really okay if you can't come. You're a surgeon. I'll understand. And besides I'm just a props man."

"It doesn't matter. I'll be there, I promise."

A sinking feeling inside of Wyatt told him to be prepared to be disappointed. He wished he'd never mentioned the play.

"Okay."


"So how are you and your Dad getting along?"

The fire from the fireplace crackled and popped behind them, like infant fireworks. Wyatt stared harder at the mahogany chess pieces that sat on the board on the coffee table that stood between him and Sam. Somewhere upstairs, his Mom had put Elvis Costello on as she took a shower and the music intruded through to the living room, where they were.

"It's fine."

He moved the king. It was getting to be a precarious situation.

"Is he nice?"

He was finding it annoying that Sam cared so much. He cracked one of his knuckles, a habit he'd yet to break.

"Pretty nice."

Sam rolled up the sleeves of his sweater and cleared his throat.

"That's good."

Wyatt found himself nodding. As much as he liked Sam, he wasn't his father. Derek was his father, and he was ready to battle it out for him should Sam make the mistake of saying one wrong word.

"Be careful, Wyatt. I don't want you to get hurt. Hope but don't expect, okay?"

He was surprised Sam even mentioned that.

"I'm always careful," he muttered. "I'll be fine."


The feeling of having butterflies in his stomach was new for Wyatt. Constantly, he pushed back the thick musty-smelling red curtain that hid the stage from view to peek at the growing audience.

"Honey, relax, you're going to do great," Meredith knelt down to her son's level and smoothed his robes, her finger easing in each wrinkle, each slight crease.

"Yeah, champ. You'll do fine." Sam winked at him, then raised his hand and gave his shoulder a loving pat. "We'll be right in the front row."

"Is he here? Mom, I actually told Derek we had a play tonight. Is he here yet?" Wyatt lowered his voice so Sam wouldn't hear. He had never felt so anxious his entire life. Uncertainty glinted in Meredith's eyes.

"He has surgery tonight, honey. I don't know if he'll be here."

"He promised."

"I know, babe, but don't worry. I'll be here. Everyone else will be here. Alex and the others have the entire front row covered."

Wyatt felt strange having to admit to himself that tonight, at that instance, he wanted Derek more.

"Just concentrate on your lines, hon. I love you."

A lipstick mark made its way to his cheek. Sam gave him a high-five before they left him to get to their seats.

The lights dimmed, and the play started. Wyatt began to acknowledge the sinking feeling that had been there since Tuesday.

He gave the audience one last look before Joseph helped Mary up on the makeshift donkey.

Preston's glasses glinted from the front row, beside a mass of curly hair that was unmistakably Cristina's. Alex sat with Izzie, sharing a milkshake as though they were in a movie, thick coats over their scrubs. George shared the outfit, his face contorted as though he were sympathizing with the donkey that had to carry Mary. His Mom and Sam sat at the end, grinning at the scene of Joseph grunting and heaving Mary onto the poor animal. Sam's arm was over Meredith's shoulder and she leaned against him comfortably.

Practically his whole family was there to support him, despite the busy schedules and despite the full OR board. It was all just a matter of priority.

Derek wasn't there. Derek wasn't coming.

He shouldn't have asked.

A defeated heaving sigh rumbled up from his chest. He was about to turn around and forget when something caught the corner of his eye. A silhouette, waving.

To him.

Wyatt squinted in the hopes of getting a better view and the silhouette moved forward where a spot of light from the stage caught him.

Derek, in a coat and a suit, breathless, a satchel in his right hand that looked as though it had been crammed with papers at the last minute, and a video camera in the other. A grin was on his face as he lifted the video camera, seemingly to show Wyatt that he'd come prepared.

Joy burst inside of him and coursed rapidly through Wyatt's veins at the realization that Derek was there, Derek had made it, Derek had kept his promise.

His Dad was there. For the first time ever.

For the first time since Derek's arrival, a huge unguarded smile swept over Wyatt's face, seconds before he was yanked back into the wings by Miss Lionels to go and deliver his line.

TBC


A/N: Thought Derek wasn't gonna show, didja? Well, I did tell you he's trying. And Derek for me, when it gets to this kind of thing, he's gonna try REALLY hard to get a stake of what's his. Next up is probably a (late) Christmas chapter. I don't know, I haven't decided. But we'll see. For now, please review and tell me what you think. :)