July 11th, 1994
Dear Derek,
Hi. It's me. Meredith. I guess you know that, from the envelope. Mom let me go to this science camp that my chemistry teacher found for me. So they encourage us to write home or whatever, and I thought, they're not going to read the letters or anything. And then if you write back I can just tell Mom that the letters come from a friend at camp. Bet you wish you thought of it… or I guess… if you want to bother with me….
It's okay here. The others are nice, but the girls go on about stupid boyfriends. They're always together or breaking up with someone and falling into what they consider deep, dark depressions only to be fine the next day. I could tell them a thing or two about dark. Do you want to hear all this? I wouldn't, but I guess you can just throw this away.
After you… were forced to leave by Ellis (so not even 'Mom' any more) I didn't speak to her. I still don't really speak to her. Just got her to sign the form to let me come out here. I… stopped again. I didn't want to tell you that. But the school stuff… it just seemed stupid. And, really, nine more years of school or seeing you? Which one do you think I'd pick?
So I just didn't… my chemistry final was my first one. And I showed up, because Ellis insisted on driving me, and I just sat there. And Mrs. Davis noticed. And she made me stay after, and she said all these things about me being 'promising' and something to the effect of she knew my mother was a bitch (okay…so maybe not those words) and then I just… I just told her. All of it. And she listened, and did not treat me like I was twelve and stupid. And she let me retake the final. And I did really well. A ninety-three. An actual A. And then she decided that camp would be better than sitting in my room and moping and crying and yelling at my mother. So yeah. Here I am
They're trying to make us go do physical things now. like rock climbing. At least everyone else agrees with me and would rather be doing the non-stupid stuff like being in a lab. I mean, really, a bunch of nerds (And there are nerds here. They rival you) to rock climb?
Gotta go. I love you,
Meredith
/
July 15th, 1994
Dear Meredith,
Meredith. Oh Meredith. How in the world could you think that I would not write you back? How did you find my mother's address by the way? It was really fun to explain to her who the letter was from when I had not gotten mail there in years, by the way, thanks.
I can't believe how long it has been since I saw you. Since I held you. I hate that you had such a hard time. I want to thank that teacher of yours. At least someone in Boston is sane, besides you.
Since you told me the dark stuff, I guess I'll tell you mine. I didn't want to, but I figure this is like our midnight conversations and honest is good. Mark came out to Boston to help me pack up. More than once he had to physically restrain me from getting up and getting you. To get me on the plane home, he got me drunk. He filled out all the transfer papers for me, got me back in at Manhattan General and made me show up for work. And then I think I lost it. I spent every hour at the hospital. I literally never left. I got in on a lot of great surgeries (a hemispherectomy! Amazing!) but they did not matter (well, except that one). When I was not on-call I slept at Mark's. On his couch. I cried a lot. (I admit that only to you). Mark honestly didn't know what to do with me, and he kept having to fight my mother and sisters off. They were glad to have me home, wanted me to come right back into the fold. But I couldn't take them or their happy
It really did not change until I got your letter. Until I realized that I could still talk to you, in some way. Reading your words was like hearing your voice. I've missed it so much. So for that reason I'm ending this here. Because it means I will get a letter from you sooner.
I love you,
Derek
PS. Addison Montgomary is one of Mark's friends. (She actually has not been dragged into bed with him yet) she said she went to science camp at your age, so that's my cover-up.
/
August 3rd, 1994
Dear Derek,
Okay. We're writing. And you miss me. And… I kind of can't believe that you were as devastated as I was. Because, you fixed me. And you were already perfect. But okay. If you say so. I start school in a few weeks. It's going to suck. Just so you know. I have one more year of the hell that is Boston Preparatory High School. I don't even have not-friends anymore. All I have is a burning need to get the hell out of here.
Do you think it would count if I went to NYU or Columbia and just happened to run into you..? Yeah… I know. My mother wouldn't let me. She's pushing for Harvard, but I think that's too much for me. Maybe Dartmouth? I don't know. I doubt you want to hear all of this.
I hate being back in Boston. I see things, they remind me of you. Last week I wandered into the bar we used to go to, just for fun. The same bartender was there and he told me to disappear, I was obviously underaged. I feel so much more like a kid without you. And not like me.
I'm sorry. This was going to be upbeat, and 'cheer Derek up' and… it wasn't. I think angst-ridden is kind of an axiom in my life right now (look, SAT word.)
I love you,
Meredith
/
November 15th, 1994
Dear Derek,
Okay asshole, you said in your last letter you knew a fail-safe plan for writing college application essays. Fess up. I have no idea. "Your biggest inspiration in life?" um… my twenty-seven year old boyfriend. "A turning point in your life" the day i got suspended and bailed out by an intern on a motorcycle or the day I showed up drunk at a hospital and my mother forced my boyfriend to leave. I could write about my favorite book, but considering I have not had one of those since I was small enough for Paddington, that doesn't help either.
Anyway, that's my life right now. College applications and school and ignoring the dirty looks from Sam who still seems to think he should own me. Really.
I love you,
Meredith
/
November 30th, 1994
Derek,
Um… you okay? It's never taken you two weeks to write me back before. Are you mad? Or… wait… I guess you probably met another girl or whatever. One who doesn't have a wicked witch locking her in Boston and can have a fairytale.
Write back. Please?
/
December 7th, 1994
Derek…
Even if there is another girl. I need you.
Meredith
/
December 15th 1994
Dear Meredith,
So, I'm not Derek. I'm Mark. Nice to meet you. Derek says you're very pretty. Any friends you would care to introduce me—
Okay, sorry. Derek's over my shoulder as I write this. He says to tell you not to be so stupid, in the best way possible. There will never be another girl.
I'm sure you're wondering why I'm writing this and not your devoted lovebird. My genius best friend managed to crash his beloved motorcycle last month and break his arm, as well as getting knocked in the head. Severely. I told him the way to become a neurosurgeon was not to become the patient of one, but he apparently was not informed.
He's fine now. He told me to tell you this emphatically, so there it is. He's fine. He will write you with more protestations of love in two weeks when he gets the cast off of his arm. If I were you, I would be glad that you did not have to deal with him now, because when he cannot scrub in he is an ass. More so than usual.
Yours,
Mark
PS. College essays? Two words: "sexual favors" they would probably work better for you than they did for me and Derek.
/
December 18th, 1994
DEREK, YOU IDIOT!! How the fuck did you crash your bike? You better have been wearing a helmet, you asshole. If you had died I would have resurrected you to kill you, got that? Never, ever do that again.
There, now that that's done. It's finally vacation which means… well, nothing. Sitting around the house trying to figure out if I could jet to New York without my mother noticing. Oh. And my early decision letter came in from Dartmouth. I got in.
Love,
Meredith
/
December 20th, 1994
Dear Meredith,
I finally have my arm back! And don't worry; I'm done with motorcycles. Will you be sad that I am no longer the leather-wearing motorcycle-riding man you love?
I finally got to scrub in again. Dr. Lawson is not Ashland Davidson, but he will definitely get me started in Neurosurgery. Richard Webber, one of the attendings here, also has a lot of contacts and I think he's fond of me.
Oh, and by the way. MEREDITH GREY, HOW DARE YOU NOT OPEN THE LETTER WITH 'I GOT INTO DARTMOUTH'? that is a much bigger deal than my…incident. I am so proud of you, Meredith. I wish I could tell you in person.
I love you, so much, my star
Derek
/ / /
"Hello?"
"Derek?"
"Meredith? Oh my God, Meredith. Where have you been? How are you calling me? Oh Mer…"
"Yeah. It's me. I...um… I'm on my roommate's phone. It's a one-time thing because she doesn't really like me, but I needed to hear your voice."
"It's wonderful to hear yours… but, Mer? Is something wrong?"
"No…not exactly."
"Then why are you crying?"
"I can't do it! Okay? I just can't!"
"Can't do what?"
"This. This whole thing. This whole college thing. I just can't. Six months here and I'm the old Meredith. The one nobody likes, who drinks and sleeps with inappropriate guys and wastes potential."
"Sleeps with—"
"I didn't want to tell you! It just happened, and you'll hate me and… I just wanted to hear your voice."
"Meredith. Mer…. Breathe with me, okay? Just breathe. We'll figure things out, but first you need to be breathing regularly, can you do that?"
"Talk to me. About something."
"Okay. Well, let's see. My interns are idiots. One of them intubated a guy down the wrong pipe today. But then I had to drill into a guy's skull bedside. All of the other neuro people were in surgery and so I was the only person who had seen it done. It was…amazing."
"Wow. Der, that's amazing. I'm proud of you. You're doing so well."
"You're breathing."
"Yeah. You caught me. Okay. Talking?"
"Meredith, you have nothing to be sorry for, or ashamed of. It's college. Bad stuff happens; bad decisions are made. Bad pictures are taken that Mark will undoubtedly show you one day. Just keep trying. You want to do well, and that puts you miles ahead of where you were in high school. Okay? And no matter what, I always want to hear from you."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Same goes for you. You haven't been telling me about your surgeries lately. Or the antics of Mark and Addison. Or your sisters. Did Kathleen have the baby?"
"Yeah. And get this, she's pregnant again."
"Seriously?"
"Yup. Addison and Mark finally slept together, but they say it doesn't count because they were drunk. I disagree, but there you go."
"Yeah. Okay, Allison, hold your horses. Derek… I have to go. But I'll write you tonight. I promise."
"Good. I love you. Good night, Meredith"
"I love you too. Good night Derek."
A/N I really think that, even in this universe, if they had not had some way to keep talking through this time, Meredith might have broken more than she was before. Scary. Sad. Also sad that she has to be broken at all, Derek can't be there to fix her, but in no universe can Derek just fix her anyway. Okay, rambling about my writing, not something I do often… so review!