AN: I have to admit, this chapter has gone through a lot of revisions, and I'm still not completely happy with it. I thought long and hard about how I wanted to continue the story, and this is what came to mind (or really, the one that I feel most compelled to). So yeah.

Thanks all for the reviews! I'm so glad with all the responses I got regarding Derek's cliffy. Hahaha. But yea. Thank you so much for the reviews! They have all made my day. :) Hope you like this chapter and happy reading!


"Get them and go!" Peter yelled, gesturing frantically for Carl and Ed to take action. They followed hurriedly, grabbing Anthony and Addison and throwing them on their shoulders, throwing them forcefully into the van. Peter ran, giving one last imploring look at Agatha before hopping in, speeding off with Anthony and Addison in tow.

Detective Sanders cursed heavily. Things weren't supposed to go this way. They were supposed to have everything under control. How could they have not taken action while it was early? Before the running and shooting happened?

"Dispatch a team to track that van down before it gets out of sight!" he barked, members of the force obliging. Only a second later, the blaring of sirens echoed across the highway and disappeared into the direction of the van.

Bizzy ran right away from her spot, crouching beside Derek and calling 911, her heart pounding at the sudden development. Not only was Addison still in danger, her ex-husband was too. And this time, because Peter knew of Agatha, his anger would be less contained. and he would be more intent on hurting them.

"Derek, honey?" she whispered, her voice motherly and laced with concern.

He didn't stir a bit. He was unconscious and bleeding from the back, and on his stomach. Bizzy knew that without immediate medical attention, Derek, the man her daughter loved with all her heart, would die right there then.

"Derek, don't do this," she cried, willing the ambulance to get there quickly. She took his hand and held on to it, turning him over so he was lying on his back. "You gotta fight this, Derek. Don't… go into the light or whatever you believe in." She felt slightly silly for saying that, but she needed Derek to be okay.

And then, only a minute after, the wailing of the distant ambulance caught her hearing, and she breathed a sigh of momentary relief.

The ambulance settled about 5 yards away from them, two men and a stretcher coming out of it.

"We got it Ma'am," the man said, grunting as they loaded Derek on to the stretcher gently.

"Oh, don't you need his information?" Bizzy asked, desperate for a distraction from the danger her husband and daughter were still in. "I'm Beatrice Forbes," she emphasized. "I'm his mother-in-law."

The man nodded, motioning for Bizzy to hop into the ambulance with them as they asked her questions and stabilized him. She obliged, her heart still pounding.

"His name's Derek Shepherd, 35 years old. He's a doctor at Seattle Grace Hospital, a neurosurgeon. He has no allergies, except for strawberries. But that's not really a drug allergy," she babbled. "How is he?"

No one answered her as they tried frantically to stop the bleeding. He was losing blood too fast, and they couldn't initiate a blood transfusion until he was sewed up.

Bizzy's face paled. The sheets were bloody, Derek's whole body was bloody, the hands, the gloves, almost everything was covered in blood. She wanted to throw up, but she held it in in hopes of being of some help to those who were trying to save Derek's life.

"How is he?" she asked again, nearing the hospital.

The paramedic shook his head. "We don't know yet, but it's not looking good. He's going to need a lot of surgery on his chest area because of those stabs."

"And the gunshot?"

"That too," he confirmed. "Good news though is that the bullet didn't hit his spinal cord so our biggest worry has been surpassed."

"What does that mean?"

"It means he still has his motor skills. So if he survives this, he's still going to be the man you know him to be. But like I said, it's not looking too good."

Bizzy nodded. "If he survives this," she whispered to herself, taking hold of Derek's hand.

-

Peter cursed loudly as he noticed the police cars hot on their tail. They were now driving dangerously fast on the regular freeway, a potential threat to everyone on the same road as them. He swerved madly across lanes, his speed reaching 200 kilometers per hour. But the cops weren't a let down. They simply tread the way he had paved as he moved in hopes of escaping them.

At the back of the van, Anthony was busy trying to get his hands free from the tight hold Ed had on him. Addison, on the other hand, was too weak to move and lay on the van floor, her breathing shallow.

"Let go of me, please," Anthony begged. "I won't do anything stupid. I just want to hold my daughter."

Ed grunted, still not releasing his tight hold. "I don't exactly trust you. You can watch your daughter from here."

"Don't fight it, Daddy," Addison whispered, her voice small, childlike. "You'll need the strength for later."

Anthony shook his head. "What did they do to you? I promise Addison, they're going to pay for this." He made sure his voice was loud enough for everyone in the van to hear. But no one cared for they were sure Peter would get away from the cops.

The van swerved angrily again, rougher than all the other swerves, and everyone in the back of the van momentarily lost their balance. Anthony had, for a moment, been released from Ed's strong grasp, but Carl quickly took his place, locking Anthony back in position. He sighed, seeing Addison almost still on the floor. She was too weak and too injured to be in a situation like this.

"Addie-bee, I want you to stay awake," he said, pleading. "Don't close your eyes. I want you to fight that sleep. Please."

"I'm trying, dad," she said honestly, her eyes fluttering open and close as she struggled to stay awake. "But maybe I should just let go."

"Don't!" Anthony exclaimed, his heart clenching in worry. "You listen here, young lady. You're not going to do anything other than stay awake. Do you hear me? Derek did a good job at bandaging your thigh. You did a good job staying strong for the past 3 days. Now I need you to do your best and stay awake."

Addison closed her eyes tightly, her tears falling as she couldn't contain them anymore. "Derek," she whispered. "I'm not even sure he's going to be okay. I dragged him into this mess. He doesn't deserve any of the treatment he received."

"Think about Derek later, honey. Your mom's got him, I'm sure. For all you know, he's at the hospital, everyone scrambling to save his life. He's going to be fine," he said firmly, even though he knew Addison didn't believe him. He didn't believe himself either. Derek being okay was too farfetched at the moment, unless a miracle happened and the bullet didn't kill him all at once.

"Fuck it!" Peter yelled as he swerved again, helicopters now buzzing overhead. They were completely surrounded. But he kept on driving, not allowing himself to give up. He longed for comfort amid the pounding of his heart and dangerous situation he was in. And so for a moment, he was distracted by the image of Agatha in his head, standing before him as she did moments ago, a haunted expression on her beautiful face. He sighed, his heart heavy at disappointing the woman he was doing all of this for. All he wanted was to give Agatha the life he failed to when Anthony Montgomery had locked him up. And now, he was facing charged he himself could not account for. The image of her face was a welcome thought.

It appeared, however, that the distraction was enough to drive his attention away from the vehicle he was running. And before he could realize it, he sent the car speeding too fast on such a busy highway right by the Seattle waterway. And before he could take action due to his lack of focus, the vehicle was already spinning madly, and in trying to prevent the van from hitting another car, he turned the steering wheel largely to the right, effectively locking it in place. The action had sent the van spinning out of control, toppling over due to the high speed it was running on before it tried to get the free itself from the locked position.

And then, as soon as Peter and the rest of them had the time to process what was happening, the van had slammed onto the side rails of the road, sending the vehicle down to the fiery waters below them. It crashed on the rocky Seattle waterway in a heap of black and orange, small flames starting to build up as it hit the dark waters forcefully.

-

Preston Burke stared at the patient before him, nervous for the first time in his life. The patient wasn't just a random person who needed a heart transplant or a valve replacement. No. The person laying on front of him was a man he considered his friend, a man everyone at the room assisting on the operation knew. It was Derek. And even though he was stable at the moment, the chances of him surviving the operation with so little strength were slim.

He sighed, eyeing Meredith who was standing adjacent to him. She was stunned, to say the least, her eyes in a trance-like state of pure shock. To her, seeing Derek on the table, bleeding and fighting for his life was almost too much to handle. But she wanted to help. She wanted to know for herself that everyone was doing their best to save the man she loved dearly.

She couldn't help but feel a pang of anger towards Addison. When they had found out about the kidnapper's motifs, bitterness coursed through her, as well as severe pity for Derek. He wasn't supposed to be in this game. He wasn't supposed to be part of the equation. And yet, because he cared for his wife too much, he was suddenly on the verge of dying, and she couldn't help it much.

Burke cleared his throat. "Are you ready everyone?" he said, his eyes narrowing in on Meredith. It was obvious that the question was meant for her.

Everyone nodded, including Meredith. So he stretched his hand out, eyeing the scrub nurse beside him. "Scalpel."

-

"Detective Sanders? We have a situation out here," the policeman said through the walkie-talkie, watching as some of the men jumped into the water in an attempt to get the people out.

"What happened?" he asked, still on his way to the hospital with Agatha in tow.

The cop hastily relayed the happenings of the past few minutes, his voice fighting to be calm.

There was silence on the other end before the cop heard the loud screeching of the car as Detective Sanders turned around, driving to their location. "Has an ambulance been dispatched?" he said hurriedly, already thinking of his next course of action.

"They're on their way here, sir," the cop replied. "But you have to know, the van's sinking pretty fast. Diego and some other men are making a dive for it."

"Good. Remember, your priority's Anthony and Addison. Make sure they're pulled out first."

-

Addison struggled as water rapidly filled the van interior. Peter was unconscious and bleeding, Carl and Ed seemed to have taken the saying "every man for himself" to heart, and her father looked like he was having a heart attach.

She swam against the cold water, reaching her father as a sudden rush of adrenaline coursed through her body.

"Dad? Dad, stay with me. Dad!"

Anthony nodded, taking in deep breaths as Addison tried to unlock the van door. In her haste, she couldn't register the fact that it was locked, and in her panic, water filled it so rapidly that their heads were fully submerged in its murderous bonds.

They held their breaths, both of them fighting to unlock the door while trying to stay calm. They were both bleeding as well, from the impact. But it didn't matter at the moment. What mattered was getting out of the water and getting a breath of fresh air.

It seemed like forever before she started to feel dizzy at the lack of oxygen, her strength failing her. She turned her head to her father who was almost in the same state as she was in.

And then, before she passed out completely, she felt the door slip open and an urgent tug on her body, propelling her upward.

-

"34 year old female, Addison Montgomery Shepherd. We're trying to revive her after the car she was in fell into the water. She passed out. She's terribly weak, with lacerations on her lower body and intense bleeding. We're guessing lots of internal injury from the fall," the dispatcher said, his gaze never once leaving Addison's pale body as the paramedics tried to resuscitate her.

One of them turned to the dispatcher, shaking his head. "BP's dropping, and she'd bleeding profusely. I don't think she's going to make it."

-

Burke glanced at Derek's crashing stats, the blood transfusion not seeming to work its magic yet.

"Damn it, Shepherd. Don't do this," he said as he stitched up the last deep stab before moving on to the bullet.

"The bullet has damaged his diaphragm and hit a rib," the scrub nurse said, raising the X-ray for Doctor Burke to see.

Preston nodded, working double time to fix the damage. "Push in a dose of epi. Make sure his stats stay the same," he ordered, his mind trying to focus on the task at hand.

His hands expertly wove its way through Derek's insides, trying to repair the damage on his diaphragm. If he wasn't careful, he could lose his power of speech, or worse, die. And that was something out of the question.

"Dr. Burke!" Meredith cried, alarmed. "His stats are dropping rapidly! BP's crashing!"

"We're losing him," Karev warned, the remark sending everyone on edge.

-

The ambulance roared through the night, pumping Anthony's heart and controlling the bleeding on his pelvis.

"Ruptured pelvis, possibly his spleen, too," the man said through the phone, trying his best to bandage the wound.

"How are his stats?"

"They look normal now," he said, hearing the rhythmic beating of machine, waiting for any sign of discord.

"Have you dosed him?"

"Just local anesthetic," he remarked. "We don't know if he has any allergies. I mean, he's old."

The man on the other end of the phone nodded, taking down notes. "How long til you get here?"

"Give us 3 minutes. Be ready for him."

-

The loud flat line echoed across the place, the team scrambling to get the patient's heart beating again. They did every trick in the book, dosed everything they could, pumped in all they could think of, and charged the patient up to 400.

All of them frantically repeated CPR, started stitching up and administering more blood, refusing to give up. The head of the team dosed everything he could, eyeing the wary and frightened expression of the person right before him.

But it was no use. The patient simply wasn't responding anymore, not to the CPR or to the drugs, or to the blood transfusion. And in a moment, the cold feeling of death settled into the place, the team's breaths hitched in anticipation for the call.

"Time of death, 20:16," he declared, his voice somber in complete devastation as he stared at motionless body before him.


Sooo? What do you think? I know, not my best. My head's been buried in chemistry books these past days so yea. :) Tell me what you think and thanks so much for reading! :)

- I own nothing, by the way.