A/N: So I know it's been a while since I updated, but I've been really busy (all of my teachers have decided to heap tons of assignments on me and the track and field season has started, so I've got meets and practices every other day) and I really wanted to make these last two chapters really good.
I thought that this was going to be the last chapter, but as I was writing, I realized that it would be too long to just put it into one chapter, so I spilt it into two. The other chapter is almost done (I actually wrote both chapters simultaneously. I don't normally write like that, but I just started to think of these moments that I had to get down before I forgot them.) Anyway, the last chapter will definitely be up by tomorrow at the latest.
Also, for the last two chapters, not everything is going to be told from Meredith and Derek's perspective. I've tried to keep it strictly from their perspectives for most of the story, but there are just some moments where I have to let the other characters take over. There are a bunch of these in the next two chapters, just because I think there are some really important moments that need to be told from other people's perspectives.
ANYWAYS, that was a really long A/N and you all probably want to get to the story. So I'll just let you read.
The elevator seems to crawl. Derek watches the floors slip away, trying to contain his anxiety. She can't be dead. She just can't be. He's finally realized how important she is, how much he needs her, that he can't live without her, and that being the good guy and trying to make things work with his wife just isn't possible. If she dies before he can tell her everything he knows now, everything he's known all along but refused to admit to himself—she just can't be dead.
"Don't do this to me, Meredith," he mutters to himself. "Don't you dare leave me like this."
Memories of Meredith fill his head. All those times they were together come back to haunt him as he waits for the elevator to climb down to that fateful floor. He can remember vividly the way she came into the scrub room right before he went into surgery to tell him that she loved him, that it was up to him, but that he should choose her; the way she looked when he saw her after, with the IV bag of fluids hooked up to her arm, trying so hard to convince Bailey that she was sober; the way she wandered around with that lost, longing look on her face for days after he told her that he had to choose Addison.
Pick me. Choose me. Love me.
He should have chosen her. He had just thought that after everything he and Addison had had that maybe there was a second chance for them. Her words had filled his head when he made his choice. Maybe I'm still the love of your life. How could he have not known, when Meredith came and made her speech, that the love of his life was standing right in front of him? How could he have been so blind? She had been right there in front of him the whole time, and he thought that he owed it to Addison to try and make it work. He told himself he was being selfless, that he was thinking about other people, but what about Meredith? He hadn't been thinking about her, because he assumed that she wasn't in love with him. He assumed that she would be fine on her own, that she hadn't really been into the whole relationship idea anyways, that she wasn't as committed as him. He was wrong. He hurt her then, and he still hurts her now. Every day, when she sees him in the halls, when they are working on a case together, when they are riding the elevator or eating lunch in the cafeteria, he hurts her. And he hurts himself too. Seeing her only reminds him of what he could have, of the life that could be his had he chosen it.
He's not going to make that mistake again. He's made a choice, the right choice this time, and he's going to stick to it. No matter what happens, he's not leaving her again.
The elevator lurches to a halt, sending Derek's heart flying up with it. There's a pause, and then the doors open, revealing the desolation.
The OR hallway is unrecognizable. The whole end of the hall has been completely blown away. There are bits of paper and wood still flaming on the floor, and a thick veil of smoke hangs over everything. The floor is littered with debris. The door to OR4 is gone; not even the hinges remain. There is no sign of anyone from the bomb squad, which makes the horror of what happened all the more real. There had been two men with the bomb, and they were gone completely. Not a single trace of their existence remained. Terror rises in Derek's throat. If Meredith had been anywhere near the bomb….
Cristina is right. There is no sign of Meredith in the hallway, but with all the debris and the massive filing cabinet tipped over on its side, she may not have been able to see. Meredith has to be here. She has to be okay. She couldn't have gotten close enough to the blast to be killed; the bomb squad never would have let her.
Derek tries to look carefully, but the panic is beginning to spread. He needs to find her. Now. "Dammit Meredith!" he cries in frustration. She isn't here. She's gone. Dead. He's lost his chance to confess his true feelings for her. Maybe he shouldn't have told Addison the truth so soon; at least then he would have had someone to go back to. But that doesn't mean you'd be happy, the little voice at the back of his mind whispered. Besides, it isn't fair to Addie to keep her chained to a man who doesn't love her that way anymore. And what if Meredith is still alive? He wouldn't be able to kiss her or hold her or tell her how he feels without feeling a certain degree of guilt. And would she even believe him if she knew that he hadn't ended things with Addison? He's already lied to her enough.
The defeat is crushing. Derek feels like he's drowning in sorrow, shock, and disbelief; the emotions overwhelm him, threatening to crush him under their weight.
His knees shake as he turns back to the elevator. He can feel that shaky, Jell-O-like sensation spreading through his legs; he doesn't even know if he can make it back to the elevators. His stomach churns nauseatingly, and his head spins. He knows what this is: it's grief. It's like when his father died, only about a hundred times worse.
He can't breathe. It's like his rib cage is shrinking rapidly, squeezing his lungs into nothing. He has to stop for a moment because the dizziness, the breathlessness, the agony like someone has plunged their hand into his hest and ripped his heart out is overpowering. It's then that he notices it: the flash of blue, so uncharacteristically bright amid the wreckage.
Derek freezes. It's not just any blue; it's that blue: the standard issue powder blue of scrubs and surgical gowns. He never noticed it before because it's inside an OR, but now that he has, hope wells in his chest. Can it be?
"Meredith?" he whispers tentatively, stepping into the OR.
It's her. It's definitely her. He can't even see her face, and yet he knows her body so well that he is certain it's her. She's still wearing her surgical gown and flak jacket, so it's not until Derek can see her face and notices all the cuts and bruises, that he realizes she hasn't escaped this unscathed. But how did she get here? The bomb blast wouldn't have thrown her this far, would it have? The trail of blood on the floor, unnoticed before, tells him two things: one, Meredith has some kind of serious wound, and two, she must have dragged herself from somewhere else, which would explain why she's in here and not in the hallway.
She isn't moving, and for a second all he can do is stand there and stare, terrified that she is dead. Then the rational, medical part of his mind wakes up again, and he is beginning to move. She isn't necessarily dead, he tells himself rationally as he bends down to check for a pulse. She could just be unconscious. Thankfully, there is a pulse. It's faint, but it's there. She's alive. There's a deep cut on her forehead, which explains the blood. Her eyes are closed, and she looks, well, peaceful, like she's sleeping.
"Meredith?" He shakes her gently, trying to wake her. "Wake up, Meredith."
She doesn't respond, and the hope, the relief he had felt knowing that she was alive began to dissipate, desperation rushing up to take its place. The doctor in him begins to list all the things that could possibly be wrong, all the injuries that the eye can't see. She could be bleeding internally, or she could have any number of head injuries: a concussion, or a brain bleed, or worse. Her brain could be swelling right now, bringing her closer and closer to a permanent vegetative state, and he won't even know until it is too late to do anything. "Dammit, Meredith, please," he whispers, touching her shoulder, wanting to grab her and shake some life into her, but terrified of causing more damage. "Don't die on me, Mer. Not now."
He's about to give up, looking around wildly for something, anything that he can take her downstairs on because he is terrified of killing her if he tries to carry her himself, when she stirs slightly. The movement is faint, barely noticeable, but Derek can feel her shift slightly underneath his fingers.
"Meredith?" He crouches over her, watching her face hopefully for any sign of life. She's moving. This is good. It means she's not paralyzed or anything. Her eyelids flutter and Derek's heart leaps. She's okay. She's alive. She's waking up. She's going to be fine.
Meredith mumbles something incoherent and Derek can't help but feel more relieved. She's talking, or trying to. This is good, and yet the panic returns quickly. What if she's trying to tell him that something's wrong?
"What is it Meredith?" he asks gently. "What's wrong?"
"Ouch," Meredith mumbles.
"You're okay, Mer, you just need to stay still. Don't try to move," Derek soothes, placing a hand on her shoulder to try and keep her from trying to get up again. He can't risk her getting more injured than she already is.
"D-Derek?" she whispers. There is confusion on her face, confusion and pain. "What..."
"The bomb went off, Meredith. The shock wave hit you, but you're okay. You're going to be okay." Derek brushes a piece of hair that has escaped from her scrub cap away from her face.
"What-what are you doing here?" Meredith blinks, barely able to keep her eyes open.
Derek smiles sadly. "I promised I would be there, didn't I?"
"Mmm." He's losing her again. Desperately, he shakes her shoulder gently. Meredith gives a small moan of discomfort.
"What hurts?" he asks, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice. She can't go now. He won't lose her.
She scrunches up her face, trying to think. "Unh...everywhere hurts."
"Is there anywhere specific?"
She tries to think again. "My head...my head really hurts."
Her head. Shit. "Do you feel any dizziness? Nausea?"
She nods. "Yeah." A faint smile crosses her face. "You're spinning, Derek."
"Really?" He smiles weakly, playing along, but secretly worried. She definitely has a concussion. She's going to need a CT to check for any bleeding. He needs to get her out of here now, get her downstairs where he can better assess her injuries.
"He was there," Meredith slurs, eyelids fluttering again.
"Who was there?" He needs to keep talking to her, keep her awake.
"Young. He was there, and then he was just gone. Like I had imagined him."
"Meredith," Derek sighs. She's not going to get over this easily. "I'm going to take you downstairs so we can fix you up, okay?"
"Okay," she mumbles.
"But you need to stay awake for me, okay Meredith? You can't go to sleep," Derek whispers, slipping his arms underneath her and scooping her up. She's like a feather; even with the flak jacket on she weighs next to nothing.
"Mhmm," she mumbles, resting her head against Derek's shoulder. He can feel her drifting off already; the head injury must be pretty serious.
"Talk to me Meredith," he begs quietly. "You need to keep talking."
"But my head…it hurts."
Derek sighs and bends forward slightly, brushing his lips quickly against her forehead. The bitter, coppery taste of blood mixed with the charred taste of ash fills his mouth instead of the sweet, floral scent that normally perfumes Meredith's skin. "I know," he whispers. "I know it hurts, Mer, but you need to stay with a little longer, okay?"
She doesn't say anything, but turns her head slightly, and catches sight of what's left of the OR hallway. He can hear her breath catch. "I blinked," she whispers.
"What?" Fear clenches Derek's stomach; is this strange babbling a bi-product of her head injury? Is she delusional?
"That's all it took." Her voice is hoarse, feathery; he can barely hear what she is saying. "I blinked, and he was gone. His whole life, everything he had worked for, obliterated in a split second."
She's in shock; he can see her beginning to retreat inside herself the way she always does when something bad has happened to her. He can't let her close off about this; she needs people to help her. She needs to let him in this time. This is going to be a long road to recovery, and she can't do this alone.
Meredith hurts. Her whole body feels like it's been run over by a ten-ton truck. Her head is the worst: it throbs. She can feel the blood pounding in her brain, and it makes everything fuzzy. She just wants to sleep, to close her eyes so that the pain will go away and when she wakes up, everything will be better. Looking at things makes her nauseous. Everything is blurry. The important thing though is that she's okay. It's over. She's made it. Everything is going to be fine. She's going downstairs, away from the chaos and the rubble that reminds her of everything that's been lost, to somewhere safe and warm, where she can be taken care of. Derek will take care of her.
Derek. Meredith still can't believe that the love of her life is here, holding her, carrying her downstairs. This was the moment that she had been imagining for weeks, months, ever since Addison came to Seattle, but this is not at all how she had pictured it. She doesn't want him to be holding her because he feels sorry for her or because she almost died, but because he loves her and because they are together again. He's arrived to save her like a knight in shining armour, just as she's always wanted him to. He's going to take care of her, and while he does, everything will be okay. Then Addison will reappear and reality will come crashing down and crush her again.
They're in the elevator. Meredith can hear the faint sound of the machinery moving, as they climb the floors, but the sound seems to come from very far away. The navy blue blur in front of her that is Derek's scrubs begins to fade, blackness coming in to take its place.
"Meredith." Derek shifts his grip on her slightly, and she feels a flash of frustration. She just wants to let go. She wants to sleep, but no, Derek has to be here, all worried, trying to protect her. It's nice to have him here, so nice to be in his arms again, but she wishes he would just let her heal.
The dinging of the elevator echoes in Meredith's pounding head, and she wants to cover her ears to block out the noise, but her hands are tucked up against Derek's chest. The doors open, and there is light; it is bright and blinding, and Meredith turns her face deeper into Derek's shoulder to try and lessen the burning sensation in her eyes.
Everything is a blur. Meredith can hear people talking, familiar voices saying things, but she can't make any of it out. Someone is yelling—Cristina maybe?—and then all of a sudden everyone is talking at once, whether it be to her or to Derek or even to each other she has no idea.
"She's going to be fine." Derek's is the only voice she can make out and even his sounds like it is coming from miles away. "She has a head injury, probably a concussion, but we'll have to do a CT to make sure there's no bleeding. She's got some minor cuts and bruises, and the one on her forehead will probably need stitches. She's also probably got a sprained wrist, though it could be a minor fracture. You might want to page someone from Ortho to look at it." He is all business, in full doctor mode, and Meredith relaxes a little bit more; she's in good hands.
Hands are touching her, hands that aren't Derek's. She can feel herself being lowered onto something, and Derek's arms are beginning to slip away; he is letting go of her. She clenches her fist around his scrubs, trying to grab as much fabric as possible. Her wrist throbs painfully with the movement, but there's no way she's letting go of him. While she is in his arms, everything is right; it's easy to maintain that illusion that they are in love and happy and that words like wife and Addison were not in her vocabulary, but as soon as he lets go, reality will come swooping back down. She's not ready for the heartbreak just yet.
"Meredith," Derek's voice whispers gently, "They need to take you up to CT. You need to let go so that they can help you."
Meredith shakes her head. No way is she letting go now. "Please, Derek." She can't say anymore. Can he not do this for her? After all the pain he's caused her, can he not give her this?
The hands disappear, and Meredith knows that she's won.
There's something in Addison's chest, or rather, there's something around Addison's chest, something that is squeezing her ribcage tighter and tighter so that she can barely breathe.
Derek went up there. Derek told her that Meredith was the love of his life all along and then he went upstairs to look for her. The bomb went off, and Burke and Cristina came downstairs without Meredith, and then Derek ran up there to look for her. For all she knows, both he and Meredith could be dead. And there's nothing she can do about it.
She shouldn't care so much anymore. She lived with Mark for two months, loved Mark for two months, maybe even more, and only came looking for her husband because Mark had finally given in to his true nature and slept with someone else, so she shouldn't care that her husband is up there looking for the love of his life. She shouldn't feel the icy tendrils of panic creeping up from deep inside of her at the thought of Derek up there, up there where a bomb just went off. She shouldn't feel like someone's punched her in the gut after learning that Derek really was in love with Meredith, especially when it wasn't news to her but rather something she had known for a long time. She shouldn't feel sick to her stomach at the thought of Derek up there, frantically searching for another woman. But she does.
When the elevator dings, announcing that someone is about to get off, Addison forces herself up off the chair in the waiting room where she's been lounging, unable to stand any longer. Other people are moving too: Cristina; Izzie; Alex; the Chief; Adele. They all want to know who it is. They are all hoping it will be the same person, or rather two people, but no one knows for sure.
The elevator doors open, and everyone breathes a momentary sigh of relief. Derek is standing there, holding something in his arms. As he exits the elevator and comes closer, Addison can see that it's Meredith, still wearing full operating gear, including gloves and a scrub cap. She's even got a flak jacket strapped to her chest. Her face is covered in blood and grime, and her eyes are barely open. The way Derek holds her, like she is the most important thing in the world, makes Addison sick to her stomach, so much so that she has to turn and walk away. She's relieved that Derek's alive, but she doesn't want to stick around and watch him take care of another woman with more love and tenderness than he ever showed towards her. It hurts too much, and she can't do it right now because seeing Derek holding Meredith introduces Addison to her new reality, the one where their marriage really is over and he has found another woman to love and cherish the way he once promised Addison he would her. And she's not ready to face reality yet. After everything she's been through today, she can't deal with this.
They rush Meredith straight to CT. Derek gently removes the flak jacket and tries to remove the surgical gown, but Meredith bats his hands away. Since the CT scan won't be harmed by any of her clothing, he lays her down gently on the bed and tries to pry her fingers off of his scrub shirt so that he can cover her and they can get the scan started.
"Meredith," he murmurs. "You can let go now."
"You won't leave?" she mumbles.
"I won't go anywhere," he promises.
Reluctantly, Meredith relinquishes her hold on his scrubs and he drapes the blanket gently over her small form. He nods at Cristina, who is in the booth with Izzie, and presses the button on the machine.
"Derek?" Meredith's voice, faint and afraid, echoes off the inside of the CT machine.
"I'm here, Meredith," he replies calmly, taking hold of her feet. "See? I'm not going anywhere."
"Okay," she sighs, and he sees her eyelids flutter shut.
Even though she is bruised, bloody and barely conscious in a CT machine, Derek still finds her beauty breathtaking. He rubs her feet gently between his hands, marvelling at how small and perfect they are. He glances at the ridiculous navy blue Converse that she always insists on wearing even though they're so bad for her feet, which have been left on the floor by the door, and can't help but smile. She's probably the only surgeon he knows who wears Converse all day, but he thinks it's cute. She's cute. And sexy, and funny, and he can't live without her. He knows that now.
He remembers Tucker as they are taking Meredith out of CT. Sure, the surgery was a success, but Tucker is still his patient, and besides, there are some things that Meredith needs that he can't give her. She needs a shower, she needs some girl time, and these aren't things that he can give her. So, ignoring the overpowering need to stay by her side at all times, he hands Meredith off to Cristina and Izzie.
"Her scans are clean. It's just a concussion." There is no concealing the relief in Izzie's voice.
"But it's a serious one. Grade III." As usual, Cristina can't look on the bright side.
"Right. Well that's good." It's nice to know that there's no bleeder, that there won't be any surgery. It's just a concussion. He can deal with a concussion. "Listen, I have to go check on Tucker. She needs to get cleaned up." Derek hopes that Izzie and Cristina will understand what he can't say: She needs you now. There's nothing more I can do.
Cristina nods. "We'll take care of it."
"Good. I'll be back to check on her when I'm done." Derek knows that he should head off and check on Tucker now, but his feet are rooted to the ground. It's not until Izzie and Cristina have lead Meredith off towards the locker room that Derek finally turns and heads off towards Tucker's room.
Reviews/constructive criticisms are much appreciated!
