A/N: I do not own anything dealing with Grey's Anatomy, although I wish I did. This story is going to be based on Derek's POV in season one. Enjoy. R/R please. I think season 2 will be from Addison's POV. I'm getting bored with Derek's POV. Let me know what you think.

Save Me

Why does she always stare at me like that? I wonder as I get ready for work.

"So let's go sleep at your house tonight."

Is she ashamed to have me here with her friends here when I'm here? "What?"

"I mean, why are we always sleeping at my house? Do you even have one?"

Why is she asking this? "One what?"

"A house. With a closet. With your stuff in it. Your personal stuff. Do you even have one of those?"

Why does she think that I don't have my own house? That is ridiculous. "Mmm."

Meredith and I walk into the kitchen to find George and Izzie. "Good morning."

"Hey. You guys want a cupcake?" George glances at us.

I don't think that's such a good idea. My luck I'll get food poisoning or something. "Oh, no."

"Izzie made them," George said.

I love Meredith's place. And I thought she liked it here because she likes having her stuff around. "You know, I like it here. You said so yourself, you liked having your things around, sleeping in your own bed." I go and get cereal and a bowl out of the cabinet.

George looks over at me. "You're like a health nut, aren't ya? You eat muesli every morning."

I do not eat muesli EVERY morning. "No, I don't."

"Ok, the muesli thing, you do. The last seven days, at least," Izzie joins in.

"Oh, come on. I haven't been here for a whole week. Have I?" I didn't think I've been staying over that much, have I?

"See? Even they think it's weird," Meredith laughs at me.

We smile at each other. I love that smile.

As we walk through the hospital hallways, Meredith is being stubborn. "It's just that I hardly know anything about you."

Yes, she does. She doesn't realize it yet. "You know I'm from New York. You know I like ferry boats."

"Enough with the ferry boats. What about your friends?"

All my friends are in New York. I really do not know why I came to Seattle, other than to get away from Addison. "I'm a surgeon. I don't have friends."

"Everybody has friends. I mean, who do you hang out with? What do you do on your days off? These are important questions."

She is right about that. Everybody does need friends. "Ah, important for who?"

"We're having sex every night. I think I deserve details."

Why does she have to know these things now? "You have more details that most."

"See, this is going somewhere weird. I want facts, and until I get them, my pants are staying on."

I doubt that. She'll change her mind tonight. "Or you could just roll with it. Be flexible. See what happens."

"I'm not flexible."

I love it when she plays hard to get. "There I disagree. Hmm. I've got to go. We'll find these things out. That's the fun part. You know? That's the gravy."

"That is what I'm talking about. I don't want to be your gravy."

I get a call from the ER for a consult. "Ok, Mr. Walker. Does that hurt?"

"I can't feel anything until you get to my thigh," Mr. Walker says.

Just what I need. A complicated patient. "Try wiggling your toes."

"Are they moving?"

"No."

"Damn. I could about ten minutes ago."

Man. I was hoping for an easy day. "Well, your spine x-rays look clear. You fell rock climbing?"

"In Snohomish. Just a small drop. I was belayed. My wife and boys are on the way. What's wrong with me, anyway?"

He obviously doesn't get it. "Hold your legs up." I lift his legs and let go. They fall to the bed with a thud.

"Should I be scared now?"

Well, duh. Maybe a MRI will give me the answers I need. "Just try and relax. Nurse, I need a stat MRI. Send an intern with him. Make it Meredith Grey."

"Mm-hmm," the nurse says.

I hope we can get this figured out.

Later on in the MRI room:

"See, this. The guy's films are clear. There's no reason I can see for his creeping paralysis," Meredith observes.

I hate medical mysteries. Seems like I have those a lot lately. "It's just so surprising. I expected an intrusion into the spinal space or bony spur in the nucleus pulposus."

"Well, you were wrong. You don't always get what you expect, do you?"

What the hell is her problem today? Why is she asking all these personal questions? And it seems like she's trying to egg me on about something. I wish I knew what though. "What is your problem?"

"Give me something to go on. Anything. What are your grandparents' names?"

That is a weird question. "I don't have grandparents."

"Where'd you grow up? What's your favorite flavor of ice cream? Where'd you spend your summer vacations?"

Ok. She is so tense about this crap. "Lighten up. It'll be good for your blood pressure." I leave the room.

I hear her call after me. "Oh, don't you tell me to lighten up. I'll lighten up when I…feel light."

I thought I would go and check on Mr. Walker. "Any changes, Mr. Walker?"

"I can't move my legs at all now," he says with a hint of fear in his voice.

"He said he was moving his legs when he came in. What's wrong with him?" Mrs. Walker asks with concern.

I wish I knew the answer to that question. "I don't know. The paralysis is moving very quickly and there was nothing in the MRI to explain it."

Meredith joins in then. "Has Tommy been under any stress lately?"

Mr. Walker starts to get agitated. "You know what's making me stressed? Is being in here and not being able to move."

She needs to stop egging me and him on. "Dr. Grey."

"Emotional trauma can be converted into something physical, right?"

Why is she always right? "Yes, it's possible."

"Like hysterical numbness or paralysis. Maybe there is no physiological reason, and he's just having a conversion reaction."

What is she thinking? "You think it's psychosomatic?" When I say that, a curtain flies open behind me. What the hell is going on now? Is this place turning into a circus or something?

"It is not in your head, man. I believe you," a random patient says to Mr. Walker.

"Mr. Duff, please," Izzie yells at him.

Ok. What's up with this guy? "Who was that?"

"Psych sent him down. He has visions," Meredith fills me in.

"Is that it? Am I crazy?" Mr. Walker is getting more agitated.

This man is not crazy. There is no way there isn't a physical reason for this. Not psychological. "No. No. I'm gonna order a higher-level MRI. We're gonna figure this out."

Later on, Mr. Walker is starting to get worse. "First my legs, then my stomach. God. Doc! Doc, my hands can't move."

Great. Just what I need. "Squeeze my fingers."

"I can't"

Please God. Help me find the problem to this. "Right here. No? Let me know if you feel this." I poke him. "How about that? Here? Anything here? Up here? Ok. Nothing on this side? All right. I'll be right back. Nurse, cancel the second MRI. Call down and prep OR stat."

"You're operating? On what? If there was something to fix, wouldn't we have seen it?" Meredith looks at me confused.

I think I finally have the answer. "I think the MRI missed a clot somewhere in his upper spine. I'm gonna cut him open. I'm going in."

"What if you're wrong? Couldn't unnecessary spinal surgery do more damage?"

Am I ever wrong? Why doesn't she ever trust me? "If we wait any longer and this expands into his brain stem, we have a paralyzed man who can't breathe. I'm trusting my instincts. Sometimes you've got to take a chance to save a life."

In the OR:

Ok. Here we go. Moment of truth. "We've got to save this cord. This guy's built like the Rock of Gibraltar."

"You want me to start?" Meredith asks.

I am not gonna let some intern start my surgery. Even if it is Meredith. "No I'm gonna cut here from the base of the neck to the rib cage. I want you to hit the bleeders."

"I still don't think we should be doing this."

Why doesn't she trust me? "This guy has a spinal hematoma."

"We don't know that."

Point is we need to treat it if it is there. "Which left untreated are almost always fatal."

"You're cutting blind. Whatever happened to being practical?"

What is with the third degree? "I need to see more here. Retractor."

"Wow. The spine."

"There's no 'wow' in 'practical'"

Four hours later:

"Third thoracic laminae. Nothing. I think I see the dura pulsating here." Meredith is getting tired.

She's obviously not looking hard enough. "No, it's not. Keep looking."

"We have been at this for four hours. Maybe he just injured his spinal cord and there's nothing to fix."

She obviously hasn't read up on this lately. "Grey, when you read your books, make sure you reference them correctly. Progressive paralysis implies a pressure lesion."

"My books got me here…"

"Pressure is up to 180/111. The pulse is in the 40s," a doctor informs me.

"What is it?" Meredith asks.

"I'm pulsing 70 milligrams Diazoxide." The doctor jumps into action.

"Ok. Autonomic dysreflexia."

"Damage to the sympathetic nervous system?"

"BP and the heart rate are unstable."

"We're in trouble, aren't we?

Boy, are we in more trouble than I thought. "We've got to find the clot."

"I can see the cord below the dura. Is he gonna stroke out?"

I am not gonna let him stroke out. "Focus, Grey. We're gonna find the clot. It's there. Cleanup, please."

"BP's still up. Heart rate's at 44." The doctor is keeping tabs on it for me.

"Get on those bleeders. Keep looking, Dr. Grey."

"What is it?"

Thank God! I found it. "See for yourself. The second thoracic vertebrae."

"Oh, my God. I see it. It really is there."

I bet she's kicking herself in the ass for not believing me. "Of course it is. Let's suction and pack this baby, shall we?"

"You were right. Is he gonna be ok?

I'm absolutely sure of it. "I think so."

"But you don't know that."

"I know we stopped the paralysis from advancing." Or at least I hope we did.

"But, you don't know if the paralysis he already has will be permanent."

"No." No one knows that.

"You know, you keep taking everything on faith. How do you know what's real and what's not?"

She is full of questions today. And I have no answers. "You just do. You know some people would call this a relationship. The kind where you exchange keys, leave your toothbrush over."

"Who? Who would call it that?"

Me of course. "Me. I would."

"And I'm supposed to believe you?"

Why doesn't she trust me? "Uh huh."

"Show me something. Give me a reason to believe."

I walk away.

Later that night:

We are walking towards my car.

"Where are we going?"

"Trust me." I hope that she does and will for a long time.

After a car ride:

"Where are we?"

Why is she so full of questions? "Shh, shh. I'm gonna tell you. All right. My mother's maiden name, Maloney. I have four sisters. I have, uh, nine nieces. Five nephews. I like coffee ice cream, single malt scotch, occasionally a good cigar. I like to fly fish. And I cheat when I do the crossword puzzle on Sunday. And I never dance in public. Um, favorite novel, The Sun Also Rises. Favorite band, The Clash. My favorite color is blue. I don't like light blue, indigo. The scar right here on my forehead, that's why I don't ride motorcycles anymore. And I live in that trailer. All this land is mine. I have no idea what I'm gonna do with it. So that's it. That's all you've earned for now. The rest you're just…just gonna have to take on faith." With that we join hands and walk into the trailer.