"Mer? You okay?"

Izzie's voice seems distant as I walk past her into an on call room. "Meredith? Meredith?" I shut the door to the sound of her voice and press my back against it. Why did Derek have to leave? Why did he have to go just when I was starting to let him in, just when I was starting to think that maybe things were different, that maybe I really wasn't broken?

I slide down the door as my legs go weak beneath me. I miss him. I really, really miss him and I don't want to miss him. I love him too much. It hurts too much. What if I lost him? What if he is gone tomorrow? Where would that leave me? With a broken a heart.

I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and dial Derek's number, tears blurring my vision. He picks up on the second ring. "Meredith?" he says and the sound of his voice is so lovely, so comforting.

"Derek..." I gurgle, my words partially swallowed up in my tears.

"Mer? What's wrong?" he asks.

I shake my head into the phone and then realize disjointedly that he can't see me. "I'm a mess," I manage, before breaking down into tears.

"Okay," he says, his voice soft. "I'm just going to hang out here for a while."

I squeeze me eyes shut and take a couple of deep breaths, trying to steady my breathing. I suddenly wish so badly that he were here that I actually feel a pang in my chest. "Derek, please," I say, a sob in my voice. "Please don't ever..." I swallow and let out a breath. "Don't ever die."

"I'll do my best," he says on the other end.

"Good," I say, my breath evening out. I take a couple of deep breaths. "I'm okay now."

"Okay," he says and his voice is pained.

"Come back soon," I say.

"I will. I promise."

xxx

I knock on Christina's apartment door, barely able to keep my eyes open. I'm exhausted. Not tired. Exhausted. I can't ever remember being this drained, even in those first few weeks as an intern, even after staying up for days, even after standing up for days in the OR. I look at my stomach accusingly as if the baby growing inside me is at fault for my exhaustion. Well it is, I reason. Kind of.

Christina opens the door and furrows her brow at the sight of me. "You look like shit."

"You're not so hot yourself," I reply, moving past her into the apartment. I walk over to her couch and fall backwards onto it, letting out a long sigh. "I'm think I'm dying," I tell her dramatically.

"Uh-huh," Christina says, clearly unimpressed by my pain.

I look up at her. "What about you? What're you going to do with Burke?"

She shakes her head and walks over to the couch, sitting down at my feet. "I don't know. I should probably just meet him and kick the crap out of him."

"You could do that," I say. "Or not."

"What? You're not actually suggesting that I forgive him, are you?" I raise my eyebrows slightly. "No, it's out of the question," she says before I can even open my mouth. "I couldn't do that...I wouldn't..."

I sit up on the couch, folding my leg underneath me. "Maybe not forgive him. But you know...you could maybe...give him a second chance."

Christina looks at me like I just told her I'm having Jimmy Hoffa's love child. "What?"

"A second chance."

"No I heard," Christina replies, making a face. "It's just weird coming from you."

"Oh shut up," I tell her, trying to act offended, but knowing she has a point.

"I guess," she says, leaning back against the cushions. "Maybe you're right."

"I am right," I say.

She turns towards me and scowls. "Whatever, I'll think about it."

I nod and shrug. "Wanna go to bed?"

xxx

The next day as I'm filling out a chart at a nurse's station, I feel someone's gaze on me. I look up into the blue eyes of Derek, and my breath catches in my throat. I smile slightly as he makes his way over to me.

"You're back early," I say.

I see him falter for a response and I know he expected a warmer reception. "I was...I was worried about you," he says, furrowing his brow.

"I didn't ask you to come back early," I say. But as soon as I say it I wish I hadn't.

He stiffens slightly at my response. He shakes his head and furrows his brow. "I know," he replies, his tone steady. "It was my choice."

"I'm fine," I say. "I told you that. I don't need you to save me."

He is silent for a while and then gives a slight nod. Within moments I watch as the openness drains from his eyes. "I never wanted to save you," he tells me quietly, his mouth set in a straight line. "I just wanted to love you."

And then he turns and walks away from me. I did what I wanted, didn't I? I carefully put the distance back between us so that he couldn't hurt me. One step forward, two steps back. I can't lose him now, because he's already gone. Two steps back. He can't hurt me now. I made it so that he can't break me anymore. Two steps back. It's better this way. It is.

But then why do I feel this way?

xxx

I step onto the elevator and press the button for the psych floor. I close my eyes and keep taking deep breaths. I can do this. I can. I know I can. The elevator dings open and I step off of it.

I have always believed that therapy is for weaklings, for the people who can't solve their own problems, so the very fact that I'm doing this proves how desperate I am. And I am. Desperate, I mean. I have proved to myself over and over that I am in fact quite incapable of solving my own problems.

I remember one psychologist who I referred a lo of patient's to over the years. On a whim, I knock on her door.

"Come in." I push open the door, but don't walk in. The psychologist, Dr. Williams, turns in her chair and smiles at me. "I said come in."

I open my mouth, close it. "I'm not even sure I should be here," I blurt out.

She considers me for a second and then stands up. "Well I happen to have some time, so why don't you come in, take a seat and we'll figure it out."

I move hesitantly to the couch and sit down. There are a lot of plants in the room. I remember hearing somewhere that plants are soothing.

"So," Dr. Williams says. "Let's start with you name."

Easy enough, I think to myself. "It's Meredith. My name is Meredith."

"And I'm doctor Williams," she says with a smile. "So what brings you here today Meredith?" she asks picking up a clipboard from the table.

"Oh I don't think you'll need that," I say. "I won't be here long."

"Oh I just use it to doodle," she says.

"Really?"

"No."

I nod and look into the corner at a ficus. Then up onto her desk where an african violet is sitting, basking in the light of a lamp. Finally, I look at my hands and there my gaze stays. "Not much for talking, huh?" Dr. Smith says.

I look up at her. "Uh, no," I reply.

"Well then this is going to be pretty hard," she says.

"Yeah," I say.

"Well, how bought we start off easy?" she says. "Where are you from?"

"Here. Seattle."

"A local," she says, nodding. "What do you do?"

"I'm a doctor. A surgeon," I reply.

"A surgeon, eh?" she says, leaning back in her chair. "I don't get many surgeons in here. They tend to be the no-it-alls. Think they can figure out their own problems."

"Yeah, well," I say. "I'm kind of desperate."

"So what is it?" she asks me. "Family problems? Work problems? Boy trouble?" I glance up at the last one and I know I gave myself away. "Boy trouble. Okay."

I focus my gaze on a particularly interesting patch of carpet and keep it there. I wait for her to say something. She doesn't. I heard about this. It's this trick that therapists use. They sit there, not saying anything, knowing that the silence will get to you sooner or later. And even with this knowledge, it's working. I've never liked silence. "There's this man," I say suddenly. "And he loves me and I can't seem to let him."

To my dismay, she still doesn't say anything and I don't know what else to do. "Okay," she says. Thank God. "Now we're getting somewhere. Why do you think that is?"

I tear my eyes away from the carpet. "Why do you think what is?"

She smiles slightly. "Why do you think you can't let him love you?"

I shrug. "Isn't that why I'm here?" She leans back in her chair and considers me through slightly narrowed eyes. "I mean, if I had all the answers do you think I would be sitting here?"

"And what? You think therapists have all the answers?" She raises her eyebrows. "High praise."

"No, I don't think...that..." I stumble. "I just...Well aren't you supposed to help me?"

"I'm trying," she replies. "I've known you five minutes."

I stand up abruptly. "You know, this was a stupid idea." I walk towards the door, before turning over my shoulder. Dr. Williams is watching my hasty getaway knowingly. "I'm sorry I wasted your time."

So Meredith is pretty messed up. When I started writing this, I wanted to acknowledge this fact. She can't let Derek love her. That has been proven over and over on the show. In writing this fic, I wanted to figure out a way in which they could legitimately end up together. So sit tight. They will end up together, but they can't just fix all of their problems in like two seconds. That would be no fun to write!! Lol. So this is my take on the whole therapy thing. I wanted to go in a different direction than the show did. Anyway, please review!! I really do love hearing what you guys think!