Hey, everyone! I'm so sorry this update took so long. This was a tricky chapter to write, and real life kept getting in the way. It is a long chapter though, so hopefully that helps make up for it a little. Also, an important thing to note, this chapter has a long flashback worked into the middle of it. Since it's so long, I didn't want to italicize the whole thing, and I think it's pretty obvious that it's a flashback. But just in case, it's also marked off by handy little * symbols, so if you see those just know you've found the flashback! That's about it. Thanks to everybody who took the time to share their thoughts on the last chapter! I really appreciate it!

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Derek felt ragged as he made his way into the hospital, like some tattered sail shred by a storm. He scanned the lobby, searching for Meredith. She wasn't there. He entered the elevator full of a strange kind of hope that sunk in his gut like a stone, but she wasn't there either. His fingers twitched with nervous energy, and he had to fight off the urge to page her. She would start a fight if he did. He wasn't certain of much after the morning, but he did know that. She was as snappish as a cornered animal and apparently caring was still the wrong thing to do. Worries plagued him, and Derek found himself in the locker room without ever making a conscious decision to walk there. It was a small, handsome room, meant only for the heads of the various surgical departments, and Derek breathed in the silence and the calm as he changed into scrubs.

The door banged open as he was pulling on his lab coat, and Derek glanced up, doing a double take when he spotted one of his neurosurgical residents standing in the doorway, a heavy folder in hand. The resident was a gangly young man with oversized ears who Derek recognized immediately as Edward Hess.

"Dr. Shepherd," said Hess, taking a step into the room. "I'm sorry to bother you here, sir, but it's urgent." He spoke quickly as if trying to get the words out before he could be blamed for barging in.

Derek felt too weary for smiles, but he managed a small, polite one for the resident's sake. He liked Hess. The man was sharp and quick with a definite knack for neurosurgery. "What's the matter?" he asked.

"An unusual new admittant," said Hess. "I tried to reach you last night to get your approval, but I don't think my page went through."

"No," said Derek stiffly. "I was…unavailable then." He closed his eyes for a moment only to see Meredith standing under the freezing shower, a lifeless shell of the woman he loved. Derek jerked himself from the memory with a sharp shake of his head and frowned at Hess. "You're in your final year of residency," he said. "I trust your judgment. You want to sign a patient into my department, go ahead and do it. You shouldn't need me to hold your hand."

"I signed her into the department, sir," protested Hess. "It's just like I said though. There were unusual circumstances." His long fingers fluttered against his lab coat and he gave an apologetic smile. "A clinical trial patient has shown up, and only you can sign her into the trial. There are still several forms down in admitting that need your signature."

"A clinical trial patient?" echoed Derek, freezing halfway to fastening his pager to his scrubs. Disbelief washed over him. "The trial isn't set to start for another three weeks."

"I know, but the patient has experienced a dramatic increase in seizure activity over the past forty-eight hours. I originally had her surgery scheduled for…" Hess opened the folder he'd brought with him and flipped through the pages, "for the ninth," he read. "But her oncologist has suggested we move the date up if at all possible."

Derek nodded slowly. When he'd offered Hess Meredith's old job of tracking down and enrolling patients in the trial, he hadn't been prepared for how strange this would feel. It had seemed like the perfect solution at the time; the new hospital policies didn't leave Meredith with time for all the busy work, while Hess had jumped at the chance to get in on the groundbreaking surgeries. But, standing there listening to Hess rattle off facts about the trial, something felt off. That was Meredith's job. Meredith's trial. His throat felt dry and the room seemed to be closing in on him. Meredith's trial. This wasn't supposed to be happening today. Not when she'd spent the night before reading her mother's suicide note and experimenting with new ways to catch hypothermia. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "How frequent are the seizures?" he asked.

"She was admitted a little after midnight, and since then she's had five full blown, tonic-clonic seizures," said Hess. "She's also presenting with focalized numbness in her right lower extremity, which her parents say is a new development."

"Her parents?" asked Derek. He walked out of the locker room and gestured for Hess to follow. "How old is the patient?"

"Ah…" Hess glanced down at the open file. "Sarah Roche is six years old."

Derek came to an abrupt halt. "Six?"

"Yes, sir," said Hess quietly. Derek nodded, still standing motionless in the hall, disrupting the flow of traffic. He closed his eyes for a moment and let the people pass by. Something heavy settled over his shoulders. She was young. So young. "Um…" continued Hess, clearing his throat. "I had an intern take her up for a CT, but she should be back by now. Her parents would very much like to meet you, if you have time. I told them I'd let you know as soon as you arrived."

"Right," said Derek, forcing himself to focus. Children got sick and died all the time. It was just one of life's many bitter facts. He shrugged off the sorrow and nodded to his resident; he had to think like a doctor here. "Lead the way, Dr. Hess," he said.

The walk through the hospital felt treacherous. This was the part where he was supposed to stop a passing nurse and ask her to page Dr. Grey, but every time he thought to speak, Meredith would flash into his mind with all the biting brilliance of a lightening strike. Sometimes he saw her staring blankly at the wall as the water beat down around her. Sometimes she was red-eyed and sobbing, carving his heart out with the sound. And sometimes she gave him a haunting smile and fell into the bay. He wanted her, but the words never came. They stuck somewhere in the back of his throat, leaving him dry mouthed and uneasy. By the time they stood outside the patient's room he felt her absence everywhere, but Hess pushed the door open, and Derek's feet took him in without her.

The room was bright and cheerful with a parade of zoo animals marching round and round the walls, but the young man and woman standing sentry on either side of the bed looked like ghosts. They both glanced up at the sound of the door, but the little girl they guarded didn't. She was a tiny, frail thing, dwarfed by the bed and the sea of tubes feeding in and out of her, but she didn't seem to mind. Her focus was the pad of paper in her lap, her tongue sticking out a little past her teeth as she wielded a blue crayon furiously back and forth across the page.

"Mr. and Mrs. Roche," began Hess, stepping further into the room. "This is Dr. Shepherd, the neurosurgeon heading the trial."

The woman leapt up and hurried towards them. "Olivia," she stammered, sticking her hand out. Tears lurked in the corners of her eyes. "Call me Olivia, Dr. Shepherd. You'll be able to fit us in, won't you? I know we aren't scheduled until next month, and this is incredibly short notice, but Dr. Hess assured us you could do…"

"Olivia," said Derek, taking her hand and cutting her nervous stream of words short. "I'm going to do everything I possibly can for your daughter. I'm happy to move the surgery if that's what we need to do." He squeezed her hand and she smiled at that, but the tears stayed put. "And this is Sarah?" he asked, moving towards the child. Sarah looked up at him with large, arresting eyes but said nothing.

"That's Sarah," said the man seated beside her. "Mike," he added, stretching his arm out across the bed to shake Derek's hand. "Thanks for taking us on like this. We, uh…" He glanced down at Sarah, his voice catching. "We really appreciate it."

Derek nodded. "Of course," he said.

Sarah had gone back to her coloring, but Mike gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Sarah, do you want to say hello to Dr. Shepherd?" he urged his daughter. "Remember, Mommy and I told you about him. He's going to make your head all better."

Sarah sighed heavily but stopped coloring to stare up at him. "'Cause you're a surgeon?" she asked at last.

"I am," agreed Derek, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

"And you're gonna surgeon my head?"

Derek smiled. "That's right."

"Okay," she said, looking down at her paper again. Her hair was a mess of unruly curls that hid her face when she leaned forward, but she let out a little hum of concentration and resumed her furious coloring.

"What are you drawing?" asked Derek as he followed the progress of her tiny hand back and forth across the page.

Sarah stopped again and tilted her picture towards him. It was an endless, all encompassing scribble of blue. "The ocean," she said simply as if this was an obvious truth.

"Hmm…" said Derek, his voice gentle. "I know someone who likes the ocean."

"I get to go after you surgeon my head," said Sarah. "Mommy and Daddy promised. We are going to build ten sandcastles and have hotdogs and ice cream and popsicles. And I can stay up as late as I want! Do you get to stay up as late as you want, Dr. Shepherd?"

"Sometimes," said Derek.

"I get to at the ocean," said Sarah. She added another streak of blue to the page. "So you should hurry up and surgeon my head right away, kay?" Olivia let out a tiny, shivery gasp at that, and Derek looked up to find her turning away, swiping the back of her hand across her eyes.

"Sarah loves the beach," said Mike, speaking over the sound of his sniffling wife. "Don't you, Sarah-bear?" Sarah just nodded, still working on her picture. "We were planning on taking her there in two weeks. A special treat before she had to, before…" He stroked his daughter's hair, smoothing her messy blonde curls back into place. "Now we think after the surgery will be better," he said in a voice that sounded strong. His eyes gave the lie away. "Isn't that right, Sarah?" he asked. The little girl was silent.

"Something to look forward to," said Derek quietly as he got to his feet again. "Mike, Olivia, I need to review Sarah's CT scans, and I'm going to have a resident take her up for some lab work."

"And then the surgery?" pressed Olivia. She sounded hoarse and full of tears. "Today?"

Derek shook his head. "A lot of preparation goes into this procedure, and as Sarah's arrival was unexpected, it's going to take at least twenty-four hours before…" He glanced down at the child as he spoke and stopped abruptly. Something was off. Sarah was no longer coloring; the crayon rested limply in her hand. Her shoulder twitched once and then he knew. "Dr. Hess," said Derek, his voice changing registers. It stopped informing and simply commanded.

"Dr. Shepherd?" answered Hess.

"Locate the Phenobarbital," he said even as Sarah's whole body went rigid. A strange, grinding moan forced its way out past her clenched teeth. The sound wasn't human. It wasn't even animal. It was something alien. Harsh and heartbreaking. Olivia gasped as Sarah began to jerk and shake, her limbs flopping wildly. The blue crayon rolled off the bed and hit the floor while the ocean was lost beneath the girl.

"The Pheno, sir," said Hess.

Derek moved quickly, administering the drug with a steady confidence he'd spent years building. Phenobarbital worked fast, but he looked down at Sarah in the moment between action and relief. Her blonde hair was a mess and her skin was starting to match the sea. She shook and shook until it rattled his heart. She was so small. In the next moment, the seizure faded away, drugged into a lapse a lot like sleep. She looked peaceful, and it made his eyes sting. She was so very small.

Slowly, slowly Sarah came back to consciousness, her breathing normal again as her eyelids fluttered open. "Welcome back," he said. Sarah just blinked at him, drugged and disoriented. "You're okay," he added, his voice gentle. He glanced down at the sodden sheets and straightened up. "Hess, get a nurse in here to change the bedding," he said before turning to find Mike and Olivia. They stood huddled in the doorway, wrapped tightly in each other's arms. Derek gestured to them with a tilt of his head, stepping back to let them soothe their daughter.

"Please," said Olivia as she rushed to Sarah's side. She looked up at him with hollow gray eyes; the part of her that would die if her daughter did was already preparing to go. "Please fix this, Dr. Shepherd," she said. "Bad things shouldn't happen to children. Please, if you could just…" Her voice shook. "Please…"

Mike reached out and grabbed her hand. "He's gonna do everything he can, Liv."

Derek nodded, his sole success with treating this type of tumor suddenly feeling like nothing at all. A fluke. A miracle. A one hit wonder. "Everything I can," he agreed as Sarah stirred, reaching weakly for her mother. For all he knew, he couldn't do it again. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to smile at the family. "Someone will be back soon to take Sarah for her labs," he said, heading towards the door as the nurse bustled in with an armful of fresh linens. Mike and Olivia only nodded, their eyes on their child.

"The CT scans, sir," said Hess, accosting him with a manila envelope the second he made it into the hall. Derek grunted his acknowledgement and led the way to a nearby room. His footsteps echoed too loudly inside his head. Sarah was small and beautiful as a doll. He pinned the scans to the backlight and flicked the switch, illuminating her brain. Sarah loved the ocean and colored it blue. He stared at the size of the glioma eating up her parietal lobe, and the force of the image hit him like a truck. Beth's had been smaller when they'd beaten it, less advanced. The odds were stacked differently this time, and he didn't know if he could do it again. If he could save her. If it wasn't already too late. Sarah was dying in a matter of days.

Derek slammed his hand against the backlight, rattling the glass. "Damn it," he muttered. The glioma taunted him and he turned off the light, hiding it in darkness.

"Dr. Shepherd?" asked Hess. "Is everything alright?"

"This shouldn't have happened to her," he said, his voice hoarse. He felt rubbed raw within. "She's only five."

There was a pause, and then, "…Six."

Derek looked up. "What?"

"Sarah is six, sir," said Hess quietly.

"Right. Six," agreed Derek, shaking his head. "She's six." He yanked the scans down and passed them back to Hess. "Get her started on her labs. I want a full work up. Page me when the results are in." He felt frayed around the edges and walked out of the room without waiting for a reply. The hallway was cold and uncaring, and he longed for Meredith. She was the one who overflowed with enthusiasm for the trial. She was the one who gave him hope when he had to cut into the brain of a dying child with nothing more than a single success under his belt. He wanted to page her, and yet he couldn't. Doubts kept his hands still and the pagers silent. Every step was harder to take than the one before it.

The journey to his office seemed to take a lifetime, but once inside, he quickly slammed the door. In the silent emptiness of the lonely room, all his fears came flooding back. Derek began to pace just to have something to do with his body; inaction felt suddenly criminal. On the fourth lap past his desk, he caught sight of the clinical trial forms requiring his signature. They waited for him right beside the computer. He groaned and sank down into his chair, pulling them towards him. He didn't have time to pace. There was a viral cocktail to prepare. A six year old to save. A girlfriend busy unraveling at the seams.

He signed the first form and promptly dropped the pen. Even the motion of his wrist across the page felt like some sort of grim betrayal. This was her trial, but all he wanted to do was send her home. Keep her safe.

Derek turned from the forms to the picture of her he kept on his desk, staring at it intently as if it could tell him what to do. It was old. Well, somewhat old. It was hard to have an old with Meredith when the time he'd known her was just this tiny sliver of his life, even when sometimes it felt endless and like it was all he'd ever known. But it was from the old them, back when the memory of New York was still too fresh and the only thing that took it away was her. They'd been riding the ferryboat back to his land, and she'd looked so beautiful with her hair blowing all around her caught up in the wind, her eyes bright with this unbridled joy he hadn't felt since… Since ever, really. It came with her. She'd taken his breath away, and he'd wanted instantly to capture the moment forever. The smile in the picture was teasing and amused, she'd been humoring him while he'd fiddled with his phone and chose the angle and finally captured her there against the bright blue of the sky, a smidge of the water just visible over her shoulder. And then she'd scooted close to him again and gone back to watching the waves, dangling far over the railing in a way that hadn't bothered him then, but would have him fighting the urge to pull her back if she tried something like that now.

He remembered that day so clearly. He had to. It had led to that night in the water by his dock. He almost wished he didn't remember. If it had never happened, the day she drowned could've been some freak accident for all he knew. And her mood this morning could just be a bad one, something to worry about and puzzle over, but not the sort of thing that made him feel physically ill and drenched in dread. But Derek remembered; Meredith could swim like a fish. She loved the ocean and colored it blue. He sank back in his chair, staring at the picture. It had been warm that day. A perfect day for fishing, and he was going to take her. He closed his eyes and saw her smile.

* * * * *

"So," said Meredith, letting the word stretch out until it felt as lazy as the day. Derek glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and smiled. He'd been longing to take her here; the small private dock that came with his land had been one of the biggest selling points for him. They sat side by side, the waves leaping out infinitely blue before them. She had pulled off her shoes and rolled up her jeans the moment they'd got there and was dipping her toes in and out of the water, creating countless little splashes that he was sure had to be scaring all the fish away.

Derek raised his beer, taking a long swallow. "So," he echoed. She just smiled, staring down at the perfect, glassy water. It glittered like jewels under the late afternoon sun. "You're bored," he said when she didn't answer. He wanted her to like fishing, and he'd done his very best to keep her entertained, explaining the purpose of the rod and the reel and going over a wide variety of fishing knots. The improved clinch knot. The arbor knot. The bimini twist. He thought, as a surgeon, she might at least find those interesting. She'd seemed happy to listen too, even if she did have a hint of a smirk playing around the corners of her mouth most of the time.

Meredith shrugged. "I'm not bored," she said. She looked up from the water and stretched her arms high overhead before collapsing onto her back with a sigh. She'd stripped off her jacket well over an hour ago, and her shirt was riding high, revealing a thin strip of skin he longed to touch. "I'm not," she repeated gently when she caught him staring. "I'm happy, Derek." Her voice was quiet and truthful, and it reeled him in. Everything was blue. The water, the sky, even her eyes seemed more blue than green today. Derek leaned closer, happy to lose himself in the deep, dizzying blur of blue. Meredith met his gaze, laying flat on her back and staring up at him, soft and languid beneath the beating sun.

Silence held them close and immobile even as something seemed to change. Meredith blinked once, twice, and then it rolled in. There was a sudden, staggering openness to the way she stared at him. He felt it like a fishhook caught deep in his gut, yanking him towards her. It was undeniable; they were looking at each other like it meant something. Something more than I like you. Something more than lust and want and desire. Her fingers feathered over his cheek, and they stared. What he saw was treacherous and exhilarating. It made the ground roll like the waves. He could fall in love with her. She could fall in love with him.

But Meredith blinked again and it was gone. The openness that had invited him in vanished as quickly as a dream. Derek felt disjointed as he watched her roll away and sit up. He shook his head to clear it. He'd been imagining things.

"It's just I've been wondering," said Meredith, tucking her knees to her chest. "What's the point of this?"

Derek raised his eyebrows, twisting to look straight at her. "This?" he croaked. Them? She'd felt that too?

"Fishing," she said as she flung a hand out towards the water. "Why do you like it? You haven't even caught anything."

"Oh. It's relaxing," he said with a shrug. "You could use some relaxing."

Meredith frowned, looking miffed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"How long was your shift again?"

"Thirty-six hours," she said.

"Exactly." Derek grinned at her. "You need relaxing."

"Hmm…maybe," said Meredith, returning his grin with one of her own. She bit her lip, and he stared unabashedly. He wondered if she'd get that look back if he kissed her. That incredible openness that sent him freefalling. "I think you just wanted an excuse to show off your rod," she teased, and when he glanced up again, the look in her eyes was one he knew well. Lust and want and desire. This was how they stared. "Your fishing rod, I mean," she said lightly.

Derek chuckled and let himself leer. "What, Mer? You wanna hold my rod?" He loomed over her, following her down to the dock. "All you had to do was ask," he said, his voice low.

Meredith rolled her eyes but arched up against him, kissing him hard in the same breath. His fishing rod clattered forgotten to the dock, and he pushed her shirt up, sliding his palm over warm skin. She was everything soft and good. The way she wound her legs around him to pull him close, their bodies rough and fumbling from all the clothes, built up friction that made him groan and her pant. She watched him with heavy lidded eyes gone dark with lust, and Derek found himself missing that strange, wide-eyed vulnerability he'd glimpsed before. It should be there for this, painting the future with possibility. He could fall in love with her. He stroked her cheek, trying to draw it out.

"Meredith," he said. He liked the way her name felt on his lips. He said it again and kissed her softly. His hands traced her face as if committing her to memory through his fingertips. She had gone still beneath him, but he looked at her wonderingly, brushing the hair out of her eyes with a sweep of his hand.

Meredith giggled, her laughter quiet and unsure. Just a nervous fluttering against her throat. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Trying to make love to you," he murmured, his mouth finding her throat and kissing all the way up the smooth column of skin. He checked her eyes again for that openness he craved, but it wasn't there. If anything, she seemed further away.

"Oh…" The word was barely more than a puff of air, and her hand pressed against his chest in a way that came dangerously close to pushing him off her.

"What's wrong?" asked Derek, trying to mask the hurt in his voice.

She flashed him an abrupt smile, widening her eyes too much. "Nothing's wrong," she said quickly. She slung an arm around his neck to pull him back.

"Something's wrong," said Derek, resisting the weight of her arm. She bit her lip and looked away. "What?" he pressed.

Meredith shrugged, scrunching her face up in an awkward grimace. Derek just waited.

"Characters in trashy romance novels," she blurted out, her cheeks tinged pink. "You know, the ones you find on a big plastic rack in a gas station off a freeway. They make love. But real people? Come on, Derek…" She trailed off with a sigh, and the sound was a breath away from sad.

He rolled onto his side, lying next to her on the dock. They were both silent, and the Grand Canyon suddenly seemed to span the foot between them. Her lips twitched so much he couldn't tell if it was meant as a smile or a frown.

"You have a better way of putting it?" he asked at last.

"You want to fuck your intern?" she said with a nonchalance he would've found sexy at any other moment.

Instead he shook his head, feeling lost and frustrated. "You don't think that's a little crass?"

"You do?"

And then they were just staring at each other again. It was wide eyed and uncertain, cautious at best. The space between them was still its own entity.

"Sex is just sex, Derek," she continued quietly, her teeth worrying at her lower lip. "Be factual. We're doctors. We like facts, right?" Her voice shook a little, and she ducked her head.

He rolled onto his back, staring up at the sky. It was so blue. "So, just to be clear, this is just sex to you? That's all that we've been doing?"

"No," she said at once and promptly looked embarrassed. "No. I don't…" She sat up again, twisting her hands together. "It's just, what is…" She trailed off, leaving her question incomplete. He stared at her, not knowing how to answer. What is this? They hadn't defined it yet, but it was possibility. Great, swelling, overpowering possibility. He could love her. She had to feel it too. Meredith cleared her throat, hopping suddenly to her feet. "Beer," she stated. "We need more, so, um… I'm gonna go and get more. Beer, that is. From the trailer." She pointed back the way they'd came, her cheeks flushed dangerously pink, and took off at a walk that bordered on a run.

Derek groaned and watched her go, his body keenly feeling all the disappointment that came with wanting her but not having her. He wanted to be angry but he just felt confused. He lay there thinking about Meredith and Addison, all of the ways they were different and none of the ways they were the same. He thought about it until he felt dangerously close to a liar and had to stop. She was taking a long time. It was a decent hike to the trailer and back, but still, she was taking a long time.

The sun was starting to set when he finally heard her footsteps and turned to see her coming back to him down the length of the dock. She'd forgotten the beer she'd run off for, but they both knew that wasn't why she'd really gone. The way she was walking now though, it lacked the nervousness that had marked her steps when she'd hurried away from him. Her hips swished as she walked and he let himself stare. Meredith smiled at him and his first impulse was to smile back, but he held off and frowned a little.

She stopped beside him but didn't sit down. "Couldn't find the beer," she said, flipping over her empty hands and holding them palm out. "Have you caught any fish yet?"

Derek shook his head. "Not yet." The fishing rod lay abandoned on the dock.

"Still?" Her eyebrows arched and her smile turned into something that was a little too dark to be sweet. "You really have a thing for delayed gratification, huh?"

He had gone back to staring at the water, but his head jerked up at that. "What?"

Apparently they weren't going to talk about anything at all because Meredith just shrugged and peeled off her top. Her bra was black, and he lost himself in the contrast between her breasts and the fabric that gripped them.

"What are you doing?" he finally managed to ask. Desire was still coiled tight from before, and he felt himself start to harden as she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra.

"Indian summer," said Meredith lightly. She undid the button on her jeans, moving her hips in this entrancing little shimmy to get them off. "You don't waste nights like these." She hooked her thumbs under her panties and bent in half as she slid them all the way down her legs. Her nose touched her knees, and Derek swallowed hard. It still thrilled him to see how flexible she was. He could push her legs wherever he wanted, and they would just…go there. Meredith straightened up as if that was nothing and smiled at him.

"Mer…" Derek reached out, smoothing his hand up the back of her leg as high as he could go. He wanted to reach that little dip in her lower back right above her ass. Meredith gave a shake of her head and sidestepped him, moving out of reach.

"Delayed gratification, remember?" she teased. "Like all that fishing you've been doing. Stay here. I want to try something." Without waiting for him to reply, she left him on the dock again. A rock jutted out just to the right of them, shielding the dock, and the land sloped easily enough up to meet it. She walked to the very edge of the ledge, where ground gave way to air several feet above the water, and he could only stare. Her skin was rosy and radiant, burnished by the setting sun.

Meredith bounced on the balls of her feet once, twice light as a feather and then bent her knees deeply, swinging her arms with the motion. Her body curved like a crescent moon as she left the ledge and jackknifed in the air. In the blink of an eye, she was a straight line again, slicing past the surface of the water and disappearing with an effortless grace that made his breath catch. Like she was some sort of…swan. Derek leaned forward, shaking off disbelief. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He looked out over the water, hungry for the sight of her. When she resurfaced, she was a good ways out from the shore, but she simply turned over, swimming back to him with lazy strokes.

"Hey," said Meredith when she reached the dock. She beamed up at him, treading water to stay afloat.

"Hey," said Derek, smiling back. "That was fancy."

Meredith just wrinkled her nose. "Would've been a lot better with a diving board."

"Hmmm…" said Derek, thinking back to the elegant precision with which she'd entered the water. He had a hard time imagining anything much better than that. "You dive?" he asked curiously. There had been a practiced ease to it that seemed to speak of much more than summers simply spent at a beach.

"Um…" Meredith ducked underwater for a moment and resurfaced, smoothing her hair back from her face. "Used to. A little…when I was a kid. Extracurricular activities were a strict requirement when I was growing up, and there was a pool near us, so I spent a lot of time there," she said. She sounded apologetic, as if she needed to explain away what she could do.

"So you learned how to dive," said Derek. He found the idea fascinating. "In college too?"

Meredith snorted. "No. Definitely not. I'd moved on to, uh…different extracurricular activities by then."

"Oh? Like what?" He leaned forward, suddenly wanting to know everything about her. Every little thing she'd ever done. Every last detail that had shaped her into who she was.

"Look, I'm naked here," said Meredith, her tone of voice clearly indicating that she was changing the subject. She pushed out to float on her back, and the water that had hid her body from view became completely translucent. Derek raked his gaze slowly down her skin inch by inch; the heaviness he still harbored deep in his heart damn near disappeared whenever he looked at her. "Now are you gonna come swim with me, or do you want to keep trying to catch fish?" she asked.

He tried to smile in a way that didn't scream the things she did to him so loud and clear. "Well I can't fish now," he said, forcing himself to slowly, casually begin reeling in his line. "You've scared them all away."

Meredith grinned at him and he felt giddy. "Yeah. I did that on purpose. To save your ego."

"My ego is just fine," he said as he set his rod to the side and unbuttoned his shirt.

She hummed softly as if considering the possibility, her eyes sparking at him. "Whatever you say."

She pushed away from the dock, and he stripped off the rest of his clothes as he watched her swim. The setting sun painted the water red, and the vast emptiness of it dwarfed her, but she looked fearless. Something strange stirred in his heart at the sight of her. He thought again that he could love her.

She had vanished from view by the time he got in, and Derek swam out a bit from the dock, searching for her. "Meredith?" he called.

As if in response, the water stirred beneath him, slender fingers grabbing at his toes. She popped up in front of him, grinning wickedly.

"Oh, so we're playing dirty, huh?" said Derek. Meredith just flipped onto her back and kicked, splashing water in his face. He caught a flailing ankle and yanked her towards him. "You're going down now," he said, teasing his fingers up and down her sides. She thrashed wildly in his grasp, shrieking her laughter to the night sky, and he had to fight to keep a hold of her. Finally, he sought for the bottom with his toes and found it, his feet settling into the muck and giving him the leverage he needed to lift her out of the water.

"You can stand?" cried Meredith, twisting around in his arms as she found herself suddenly airborne. "Not fair. Not even remotely fair." Derek pressed his lips to the tip of her nose before kissing her firmly on the mouth.

"Hey, not my fault you're a shrimp."

"But it's cheating," she protested, still squirming in his arms. "And I am not a shrimp!"

"How is this cheating? I wasn't aware that the water had rules."

"Oh, it has plenty. You just don't understand them," she taunted, dropping her voice to something slightly lower and more seductive. He had her pinned, but she craned her head back and kissed her way up his neck, scraping with her teeth. A sudden waterfall of sensation poured out from where she licked and sucked and teased. His grip loosened a little, and she was gone.

He groaned and reached out for her. "Who's cheating now?"

Meredith only shrugged and began to swim away from him. It was a lazy backstroke that had him hypnotized by the way it moved her breasts. She smiled when he caught up with her. "I was going to let you win the race because you didn't catch any fish," she said. "But that's so not happening now. I'm kicking your ass." And then she rolled over onto her stomach and really began to swim. He followed after her. Always chasing.

She was faster at first, but he was stronger; she won the first lap, but he had her beat by the second. They stopped not far from the dock, both more than a little bit breathless. Derek let his feet find the bottom again, and Meredith twined her arms around his neck. He could feel her legs kicking lazily on either side of him.

"That was fun," she murmured, pressing her forehead against his. Her chest rose and fell with each breath. She was dripping wet and glowing like the night sky.

"Mmm…" Derek captured her lips with his. "You really do like the water," he observed.

"Yes," she said quietly.

"Maybe I should get a diving board."

She pulled back a little, quirking an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"You know…a board. For diving off of."

"I know what a diving board is. Why would you possibly want one?"

"So you can show off," he said, remembering how beautiful she'd looked before she hit the water. Like she was flying. And she'd been downright giddy when she resurfaced; he wanted to keep her in a perpetual state of joy. "So long as you're naked," he added with a smirk. "Only naked diving is allowed off my board."

She laughed out loud and the sound was beautiful. "Derek…while I'd love it, summer's ending. It's only going to get colder. Tonight's a total fluke."

He shrugged. "It'll get warm again."

"What?"

"That's how seasons work, Meredith. They go from hot to cold and back again."

"I know that," she said, rolling her eyes. "It's just…next summer's a long way off." He heard the questions hidden beneath her words when she didn't quite meet his gaze. A lot could change in ten months.

Derek shrugged. "I like diving boards," he said simply and she smiled at him as if she understood. All he knew was that in ten months he'd still want her in his arms. He wanted more of her. He always wanted more. This was how he felt alive.

Meredith brushed the curls back from his forehead. She wrapped one around her finger, toying with it.

"Derek?" Her voice was soft and questioning, and he didn't quite trust what he saw, but there was a glimmer there in her eyes of that openness he'd seen before.

"Yes?"

She pressed down against his shoulder, raising her body out of the water enough to meet his mouth. Her kiss was soft and gentle as her voice, and he slid an arm around her waist, holding her close. When she pulled away, that openness was still scrawled across her face. Her hands slid underwater, raking over his chest, his stomach, his thighs. She wrapped her fingers around him and his breath hissed past his teeth. Derek leaned into her, living in the heady, hungry world she created with her touch.

"I want to…" she said, sounding suddenly uncertain. Her hands stilled, and he choked back his protest. She shouldn't stop. She should never stop. But Meredith just hummed under her breath, looking over his shoulder towards the endless expanse of black water. There was no daylight left. "I mean, I think we should, uh, that we should maybe…" She stammered towards nothing only to trail off again, looking frustrated with herself. Before he could figure out what to say or what was going on, she launched herself at his lips, kissing him with none of her previous softness. Her mouth was warm and demanding, and he let her in.

When Meredith pulled back a second time, she sought out his eyes with her own before flitting away again just as quickly. She glanced at him and away, at him and away until he was close to frustrated and aching for her hands.

"Mer?" he asked.

She licked her lips and met his eyes with all the confidence of a frightened animal. He listened to the waves lapping against the dock and the heavy way she breathed. She placed her hands against his shoulders; the gesture was a question. "We should…" she whispered tentatively, and then he knew. This was her concession. Her apology. Her gift. Derek didn't know what to call it, but he said he didn't want to just fuck his intern anymore, and so she offered him another piece of herself.

"We should," he agreed and kissed her back.

Her mouth was soft and familiar as he slid his tongue against hers, but she touched his shoulder like he was a stranger. More of a stranger than he'd been the night she didn't know his name. Then she'd been demanding, putting his hands exactly where she wanted them, showing him just how to make her come hard enough she'd scream. Now every touch was fleeting and feather light. Her smile was shy when they kissed again, and her hands fumbled against his skin. He didn't want to fuck his intern anymore, and he'd never seen her so uncertain.

He let his lips slide away from hers, brushing over the soft skin of her cheek until he reached her ear. He breathed against her and watched the shivers run down her spine. He was tightly wound and aching, but she was so hesitant. So unlike herself. He caught her earlobe with his teeth and tugged. "Look at me," he said, his whisper sounding rough against the silken way she moaned, all melted butter and golden light. "Look at me."

Slowly, Meredith pulled back enough for him to see her face. She met his gaze through a flutter of eyelashes, looking small and shy and exquisite. Moonlight threw her into stark relief against the vague and shadowed night. Beads of water lay like jewels, illuminated against her skin. She rippled through his mind and left him wanting. Lust felt like religion and desire a science.

"Don't close your eyes," he ordered as he traced the curve of her ass, smoothing his palm down and around, following her body to its center. He stroked her folds with a single finger, opening her to him. She was slick and wet as the water that cradled them. The feel of her brought back a sharp, aching hunger that started in his gut and burned its way out until even his skin felt molten. He wanted to pull his hand away and thrust up into her. To lose himself in slick, wet heat. Again and again and again. But Derek kept his hand in place, pulling little, breathy moans from her with feathered, teasing strokes. He kissed her throat and found her clit, drawing circles that made her sigh. "You're beautiful," he murmured, telling her shoulder and her spine.

"Oh…" Meredith said the word like it was a question. Like it might be up for debate. She was panting, her nails scrabbling against his skin like all the world was sliding away. She bowed her head again, and he mourned the loss of her eyes.

"Beautiful," he said again. Beautiful and entirely his. She had to realize how much he wanted her with her eyes wide open and her secrets exposed. He snaked one hand through her hair as she ground against the other, clutching him with her thighs. The strands were heavy and waterlogged, lying limp against her back. "Look at me, Meredith," he said quietly, grabbing a fistful and pulling. Desire thrilled its way through him like an electric shock when her head jerked back and their eyes locked. She went where he wanted with a ragged gasp, floating in front of him, her breathing labored and full of senseless, whimpered sounds. He watched her pupils dilate to his touch. Her eyes were black and green and gray. Liquid colors beckoned him. He could lose himself in there.

Meredith clung to him, trapping him against her body, hard against her soft skin. He groaned as he worked her into a desperate, panting mess, and this time she didn't look away. She stared back, daring him, begging him, needing him. He was the freaking king of the entire world as he brought her closer. He could see it in the way her eyes glazed. Could feel it in the way she gripped his fingers, clenching, trembling. Close. She writhed against him, sweeping away coherency like it was little more than dust. So close. The stars spun in the night sky. He wanted to push up into her, ramming home to finish fast. Right with her. Derek fought desire until it felt like his skin was peeling away. He was rubbed raw and starving when he brought her to the brink and watched her fall. Her voice was a shiver of sound, a thin whine that grew and grew, swelling until it seemed to scrape the sky.

Desire was a growl born low in his throat, and he wanted her with an intensity that was ravenous and overwhelming. She would be all his. Always. He could love this woman. He already might. Already. Always. Her hips were smooth under his hands and he gripped her flesh, pushing up as she came down. He slid up, up further. In. He was lost in a wash of pleasure. He could love her. He already did. Two lines blurred into a single reality: Meredith. His.

He dipped his tongue into the hollow of her throat and kissed her again, slipping up, up, up her skin until he was plunging his tongue deep into her mouth. She twined her arms and legs around him like he was a tree she wanted to climb, and Derek leaned back, hoisting her higher as he drank her down.

He rocked into her as the water rocked them until it wasn't enough. The urge to forgo restraint and hammer into her had him with all the lure of a black hole. He needed to loom over her, push her down and take her, take her, take her while strange new things unfolded behind her eyes. The dock was a promise, and he moved her towards it. Her hands were everywhere, petting and caressing. She was lovely. She was his. He had to get there. Had to have her on the dock, spread out beneath him like a feast. All his. When he pulled out, his mind howled at the loss of her.

Meredith blinked at him in glassy-eyed confusion. "What…?" she gasped. "Don't. Don't stop."

"Dock," he grunted. Eloquence was overrated. He missed her warmth. He needed to be inside again. Again, again.

"What?" She didn't understand.

"Trust me," he said, and he slid his hands under her armpits and lifted. For a moment, she was overhead, displacing the sky. He looked up, and water rained down on him from her skin. Her eyes were wide and unafraid. Trust him. She already did.

She hit the dock and tumbled backwards. Derek hoisted himself up after her. He hoped he hadn't hurt her. He should've been more careful, but she didn't seem to care. She looked fine. Better than fine. Better, better. She lay back on the dock, reaching out with a hand as her legs fell open. Inviting him in.

"Here?" she asked. The dock was rough against his skin after the water, but he scrambled towards her, barely caring. Here. He pushed in again without preamble, ramming in to the hilt. Meredith grunted and grabbed his hand. Their fingers locked. Every muscle was taut and tormented. He was rock hard and filled with the chaos of a splintered mind screaming go, but Derek sought out her eyes and forced himself to hold still. To wait. He'd thrown her onto the dock. He should've been gentler. A gentleman. Addison flashed into his mind and his insides curdled. He wasn't a fucking gentleman anymore. He clamped down on the thought and shoved it far, far away. Meredith was his. He could love… Did love. He feathered kisses all over her face. Gently. He didn't want to hurt her.

He touched her cheek. "Are you okay?"

"I'm good." She breathed the words against his skin and her heels dug into his back. "Go."

And so he did. He lost himself in a new, faster rhythm, wild and unrestrained as he pumped into her again and again. She was slick and wet inside and out; water sluiced from her skin to puddle on the dock. One hand stayed locked with hers, an anchor while the other one roamed over every inch of her, to tug on her nipples and coax new sounds from her parted lips. Meredith undulated beneath him, arcing up to meet him again and again. Rise and fall. Rise and fall. Like the tide. Her eyes were truthful in a way he'd never seen before. She was sinuous and sublime, and she chanted his name. Here were all the layers to the green of her eyes. All the truths she'd so carefully hid. He could have her if he wanted. Love her if he wanted. Whatever he wanted, she would give it. That was the secret he finally saw laid bare across her face, and it was delirium. A blissful madness that made him go, go, go. The tiny hand caught in his was the one pinprick of sanity still afforded him. He had to love her; there could be no choice. She was the only sane thing left amongst the feeling.

He still had her hand when she came. When her eyes glazed over and she moaned, quieter than usual. Delicate and fluttering, her whole body alive with tiny shivers. She clenched around him again and again until it pulled him under too. He surrendered with a groan, a senseless shout. The world was in freefall. She was beautiful, and he was lost. He loved her; there was no choice.

*****

Derek raked his hand back through his hair as the memory faded and the clinical trial paperwork slid into focus again. He never did get her that diving board. Addison had shown up, and he'd had to watch as all the trust and all the adoration bled from Meredith's eyes. He scrawled his signature across the line marked for the treating physician and tried not to hate himself for that. Her eyes had changed. He had been back to the dock since then, but never with her. Only to fish, never to swim. The next time Derek had held her in the water, she'd been a breath away from dead. He didn't want to know how his own eyes had changed after that.

He signed the next three forms in quick succession, feeling nauseas. She could swim like a fish, and she hadn't. She could swim, and an ugly voice inside his head said it could happen again. Maybe not in the water. Maybe some other way. But he knew the things her mother did to her mind, and it scared him. He wasn't supposed to know what it was like to hold her corpse.

Derek turned to his computer, trying to force it all from his mind and prepare. He opened the file that held the data from the first round of the trial. Did he want to tweak the viral cocktail? Did he even have time? Sarah's next seizure could easily be her last. He stared at the screen until the numbers blurred, finding no solace there. It would be a long night. He hadn't even solved the problem of paging Meredith or letting the case slip by without her notice. His gut twisted with something that felt like guilt, but he shoved it away. It was just one case; she shouldn't even be at work today. It couldn't hurt, and if Sarah died… Meredith shouldn't have to see the child die. What if that was enough to do it? That fucking proverbial straw that broke the camel's back and left her for dead. It could happen again. Derek slammed his hand down against the desk and stared blindly at the picture of his lover's face. What was the measure of enough? He had to find it before she did.

He gathered up the paperwork and left his office. Meredith flashed into his mind with the rhythm of his footsteps. He saw her diving into the water like a swan. He saw her dead. He saw her senseless in the shower. In the tub. Dead. All of this had happened before. Derek felt lost inside a screaming, hideous pattern. All of it was happening again. He was a shell of himself when he reached the nurses' station, collapsing under the weight of slick, nauseating fear.

"Here," he muttered, thrusting the forms at the first nurse he saw. He forgot to smile and forgot to say her name. Or thank you. Or anything else that marked him as the sort of civilized, polite person he generally took pride in being. He forgot to care too.

"What's this?" she asked with a glance down at the papers.

"Clinical trial paperwork," said Derek. He wondered if his voice sounded as hollow to her as it did inside his head. "There's a new admittant." He shrugged. "It needed my signature."

She nodded and hurried off with the papers. Derek was about to turn away when he heard someone to the right of him clear their throat pointedly. He glanced down to find Bailey at his elbow, her arms folded over her chest.

"Clinical trial paperwork?" she echoed.

"Um…" Derek blinked, filling up quickly with an inexplicable dread. "Yes."

"I was under the impression that wasn't starting for a few weeks," said Bailey.

"It wasn't. One of the candidates has been worsening drastically though, so…" He shrugged again. Everything felt heavy. "It's been pushed up."

Bailey nodded, her brows drawing down in a frown. "Well, I had her prepping my bowl resection, but one of her interns should be able to handle that."

"What?"

"Grey," said Bailey. She rolled her eyes. "The Chief has made it very clear to me that she is grandfathered into the trial under the old rules."

"Oh…that," said Derek weakly.

Bailey made a soft, scuffing sound, full of disapproval, clearly misinterpreting his response. "Yes, that." She scowled up at him. "You'd think the man would be a little less keen on the old rules since he cites them as the reason for everything wrong around here. The number twelve ranking. Dr. Burke leaving. I'm sure he even blames the flood damage on the old rules! But, apparently you refuse to get on with the business of making medical history without her by your side, so…Grey's all yours. Let her know I okayed it," said Bailey, turning to walk away.

"Wait," said Derek, feeling as if the ground was crumbling out from beneath his feet. Bailey looked back at him, and he was caught in the crossfire. The words slipped out before he could stop them. "She can stay on the bowel resection." Or go home. She shouldn't even be here today. His breathing was ragged, and he tried to smile like it was normal.

"What's this nonsense?" asked Bailey. "After all the times you've requested that girl, I take time out of my busy day to do you a favor, and suddenly you don't want her?" Her eyes narrowed skeptically. "Is this some lovers' spat?"

"No," said Derek. He shook his head, his eyes suddenly stinging with the threat of tears. "It's not that." His voice was rough and wounded. Bailey just looked at him, her head cocked slightly as if to say go on. Elaborate. He swallowed hard and tried to breathe. His fear had him like the jaws of a garbage truck, crushing the air out of his lungs in one long, wheezy note. "I don't…" He scrubbed his hands up over his face and back through his hair. "I don't know what to do," he admitted.

"I'm to understand there's a problem here?" asked Bailey. Derek gave a weak nod but stayed silent. Bailey exhaled loudly, her hands finding her hips. "With Grey?" she pressed, using a tone that made him feel like a scolded child.

He stared down at the ground only to find the tile held no comfort for him. He tried the ceiling and found nothing there either. When he risked Bailey's eyes, they were softer than he'd expected and he managed a tense little jerk of his head. "Yes," he said quietly, trying not to notice how much the word felt like a betrayal.

"Okay," said Bailey, frowning at him. She paused, but Derek stayed silent. "Care to elaborate? There's a problem with one of my residents that I need to know about?"

"No, it's not…. I don't know." He hesitated. There were no rules for this. He didn't know what to say.

Bailey shifted her weight from foot to foot. He could feel her growing impatience. "If you have a problem with your little girlfriend, the two of you need to work it out yourselves. If you want me to know something about one of my residents, you've got about thirty seconds here."

Derek moaned, casting a nervous glance around the nurses' station. "Miranda, it's complicated."

She snorted. "It's always complicated with you and your women."

"Woman," he corrected automatically. "There's only one."

"These days," said Bailey. Her eyes narrowed. "That what this is about? You been sniffing someone new in the elevator?"

"What?" Derek shook his head, feeling alarmed. "Meredith's the only one I've been," he wrinkled his brow, "…sniffing." He took a deep breath. Bailey was about to walk away, and he'd be left just as lost as he'd been all morning. He looked down at the ground, steeling himself to speak. "She shouldn't be here," he said at last. "She shouldn't be working today."

"Right. I don't have time to play twenty questions with you," said Bailey. Her voice was brisk and businesslike, but there was a hint of something kind in her eyes. "Care to tell me what's really going on?" Derek shook his head, staring down at the ground. He didn't know what to say other than she shouldn't be working. She should be home and safe. She shouldn't have to worry about anyone else's life. Not today. "I've seen Grey," said Bailey when he stayed silent. "She seems okay."

"Yeah." Derek laughed bitterly. "She's good at that." He jerked his head up to look at her and the words came spewing out, tasting foul to his tongue. "She seemed okay the day she drowned too and look how that ended."

A strange, dark look passed across Bailey's face. "This is about Meredith drowning?"

"It's…" The sound of her first name weakened his resistance, and Derek gave an anguished nod, pushing a hand back through his hair. "The morning before she drowned, I knew she wasn't okay, but I let her go to work anyway."

Bailey was silent and watchful, and he was afraid to meet her eyes. When he finally did, she just nodded, and everything else came tumbling out.

"Only that morning doesn't hold a candle to last night," he said in a disbelieving rush. "I was scared, Miranda. I was actually scared out of my mind. She was so…" Derek exhaled loudly, throwing his hands up in there. "And now I don't know," he said with a pitiful laugh. "I'm supposed to pretend not to notice. That's my job apparently. It's what she likes, pretending everything's okay. Only the last time I did that, I almost lost her." His voice trembled a little, and his vision blurred with unspilt tears. "I can't make that mistake again. It'd be unforgivable."

He fell silent, looking at Bailey as the full force of what he was admitting hit him hard. Her eyes were solemn and unreadable.

"Now, I don't…" he started to stammer. He turned away. "I should get going."

"Come with me," said Bailey.

"What?" Derek glanced down to find her hand on his elbow. "That's not really necessary," he said, but she ignored him, simply leading him away from the nurses' station and down the hall. "Dr. Bailey," he protested, a little louder this time, but before he could say anything else, she'd hedged him into a conference room and was shutting the door behind them. She let go of his elbow and he turned to face her. "What is this?" he asked, his voice heavy with impatience.

"There's a lot of big ears out there," said Bailey. "You want to start questioning your girlfriend's mental health, your girlfriend who works in this very hospital, do your relationship a favor and don't broadcast your doubts to the entire nurses' station."

Derek gave a defensive shake of his head. "I wasn't questioning her mental health," he said.

"You were." Bailey crossed her arms over her chest. "You think that girl drowned herself."

"I…" Derek dropped into a chair, feeling a weight far greater than his own body push him down. "She says she was knocked in, and I believe her. I do, but I've seen her swim, and she's… She practically grew up in a pool. She shouldn't have had any trouble making it to the dock, but she didn't even try." He shrugged, staring bleakly down at the checkered blues and browns of the conference room carpeting. "She just gave up."

There was a sudden squeak, and Derek looked up to see Bailey taking the seat across from him. She nodded, encouraging him to continue. If she was shocked, she hid it well.

"It's her mother," he said, finding an unexpected relief in saying these things out loud. It gave the fear somewhere else to bounce around other than inside his head. "Her mother did things, said things. Things I can't talk about. Meredith wouldn't want me to say…"

"I wouldn't ask you to," interrupted Bailey gently.

Derek nodded, taking a deep breath. "I think she thinks she's worthless. Sometimes. When she gets like this, and I don't… I don't know how to help her."

Bailey frowned and leaned forward, her hands clasped tightly together. "Do you think she's an actual danger to herself?" she asked, her voice cautious.

"No… I don't know." He started counting the checks on the carpet. There were thirteen between his right foot and his left. He moved his toes over a little. Fourteen. Fifteen. "I just think she shouldn't be running around being a doctor right now," he muttered, still counting the squares. "She should maybe…" He moved his toes again. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. He took a deep breath and blurted it out, "She should maybe talk to one herself." He chanced an uncertain glance at Bailey only to find her nodding, her expression intent. Derek rocked back in his chair. "I can't do anything about it though," he said with an unhappy shrug.

"You're here boss," said Bailey. "You know as well as I do that there are forms you can fill out, ways to request a psych consult if you really think she's a danger to her patients."

"She'd never hurt a patient," said Derek instantly. "Never," he repeated, anger flickering through his veins like hot little flames. But he hadn't put her on the trial, hadn't trusted her with that, and the anger burnt out far too fast. The room was perfectly still, but he felt like it was reeling. "And I couldn't," he said quietly. "I'd be taking everything she finally trusted me with and throwing it right back in her face. That's all she'd see."

Bailey stayed silent, watching him. He tried to smile but it fell apart, and he buried his face in his hands instead, laughing bitterly.

"You know, normally I don't have any trouble being her boss and her boyfriend. Normally, I'm proud of how good we are at having two different relationships at the same time, but…not with this. I can't be both for this." He drew in a shuddering breath and straightened up, bleary eyed and brokenhearted. "She's made that very clear," he said quietly. "I get to sit back and wait."

Bailey just shook her head, holding out a hand. "Maybe you can't be her boss with something this personal, but you can be her boyfriend. Don't sit back and wait. Be with her. Help her."

"Meredith doesn't want any help," said Derek.

"Does she know how frightened you are?"

"What?"

"Does she understand? Have you talked to her about how much this is worrying you?"

"No, ah…I don't want to bother her," muttered Derek, looking down at the ground. "She has enough to deal with."

"But she's not dealing with it," said Bailey. "Not according to you. Look, whatever happened to her? Isn't there a chance that she's used to it hurting? That she doesn't need to deal with it because that's just the way it always is?"

Derek gave a weak nod. "Yeah…" Always. Since she was five. Plenty of time to get used to the pain.

"If you make her see it's hurting you too, that girl might start to change her tune."

"But what do I do about work, Bailey?" he asked as she stood up and straightened her lab coat. "What do I do?"

"Hey, I have no problem being her boss," she said with a shrug. "I'm not sending her home for you, but she can supervise the interns in the pit. If she's distracted down there, it won't be the end of the world."

"Thank you," he said, looking up in a rush of relief and gratitude.

"You're still going to have to have a conversation with her about the trial," said Bailey. "I'm just buying you some time. And not much time at that. You know how fast gossip travels. I wouldn't count on more than an hour before Grey knows that patient's here."

Derek chuckled dryly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. "Yeah," he agreed.

Bailey walked to the door but stopped with her hand on the doorknob, glancing back at him. "I'll keep an eye on her too, Derek," she said. Her voice was gentle, and she gave him a reassuring smile.

"Thanks, Miranda," he said quietly. He watched her vanish from view, lost to the constant chaos of the hospital, before dragging himself to his feet as well. He had to think of what to say to Meredith.

-----

So, yeah. This chapter is very much about Derek worrying and worrying and worrying. He gets to work still upset about how things went with Meredith that morning and immediately finds himself having to deal with the clinical trial and a patient that really, really needs him to go ahead and operate now, not three weeks from now. Three weeks from now would be much better for him and his relationship with Meredith, but Sarah doesn't have three weeks. And he desperately wants to save Sarah because bad things shouldn't happen to children and here's this tiny little girl who's dying. Sarah is very close in age to the Meredith who watched her mother slit her wrists, and, while his mind isn't connecting the two in any outright way that he's aware of, it's definitely there in his subconscious. Saving Sarah feels a lot like saving Meredith to him. Impossible but absolutely necessary. But, the one person who is basically the heart and soul of the trial, the one who kept him going the first time he did this…he can't bring himself to page her. Because while it's great he was there for her when she was falling apart, it was also incredibly terrifying for him. Because he's swam with her, and he knows there's no way she should've drowned. All of this feels like a repeat of what happened before to Derek, and he really believes that something's wrong with her. He ends up spilling it to Bailey because he had to let it out. Keeping all of his fears bottled up inside was getting to be too much. He was doing it to keep from burdening Meredith, but it was starting to become physically painful for him. And he trusts Bailey and her opinions, and, well, now she knows too. And yeah, that's about it for this chapter. Thank you for reading!