You Might Die Trying
AN: So. It's August 6th. And this is up as promised. I'm sorry that this took me so long. Real life takes over sometimes. Big thanks to all of you who've reviewed this story. I really do appreciate every single one of your comments. And, you know, thanks for sticking through this. I know the updates aren't very frequent… but I'm working on it. I hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Chapter 18: Fast Car
"You got a fast car,
I want a ticket to anywhere;
Maybe we make a deal.
Maybe together we can get somewhere."
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The elevator doors opened and Mark stepped off. He gritted his teeth as he made his way towards Derek's office. A paper. He had left his best friend alone to go find a stupid piece of paper. And that wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was that he knew what would happen when he walked out of that hospital room. He knew that the minute he left, Derek would be up and moving, and in pursuit of Meredith. And he couldn't help but wonder if that little voice that had been inside of his head since Derek had left New York was right; if he really was a shitty best friend.
He turned the corner and continued to make this way towards Derek's office, where he had to find a piece of paper amongst many. His feet stopped suddenly when he saw the office door already open. He waited for a sound, for any noise that might tip him off as to who was inside. And then he heard it.
"One of you had better start talking," Bailey's voice boomed from inside.
He walked into the entrance of Derek's office. Bailey stood in front of him, her hands on her hips. The three interns stood rigidly in front of her, none of them responding to her demand.
He took a step forward and moved to stand beside Bailey. "What's going on in here?"
Bailey turned and looked up at him. Her lips were pursed together in frustration. "I caught these
three snooping around in here."
He glanced at the interns and watched as Stevens and O'Malley exchanged a questioning look, while Yang remained absolutely still. She was holding her hands loosely behind her back. He eyed her suspiciously. "Yang, what are you holding?"
"Nothing that concerns you," Cristina snapped.
Mark's eyes narrowed. "That's where you're wrong, Yang." He took a step toward them. "Give me the paper that you're holding, Yang."
Cristina jutted out her chin in defiance. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I wouldn't play games with me right now, Yang."
"How do you know I'm holding a piece of paper?" Cristina smirked.
He took another step forward. "Derek sent me here to look for a piece of paper. A piece of paper that might save Meredith's life." He glared at Cristina. "Do you want to be responsible for Meredith not being found?"
He knew it was a low blow, but he was running out of options. He needed to get that piece of paper and get back downstairs before Derek did something stupid.
"Dr. Shepherd's awake?" Izzie asked.
"He's awake," Mark grunted. His gaze remained trained on Cristina. "And he's looking for a piece of paper." He extended his hand towards Cristina. "Give me the paper."
"Yang," Bailey snapped. "Give Dr. Sloan the paper or you'll be on scut until you take your intern's exam."
George turned towards Cristina. "Give him the paper, Cristina."
Cristina sighed and let her hands drop back to her sides. She reached out and placed the piece of paper into Mark's hands. "I think it's a list of names that McDreamy thought might be doing this."
Mark looked down at the paper and read the list of names. The only two that were circled were Finn Dandridge and Dr. Harold Taylor. "Who's Dr. Harold Taylor?"
"He was the old head anesthesiologist here," Bailey informed him. "Got fired a few months ago for drinking on the job."
Mark shook the paper in his hand. "So why is he on this list?"
"Dr. Taylor fell asleep in Dr. Shepherd's OR," George explained, his memory of that day still vivid. "Dr. Shepherd kicked him out, told him to get his act together."
"The Chief fired him a week later," Bailey added. "Said if he cleaned up his act he could come back."
"Which he obviously hasn't," Cristina huffed.
Mark fiddled with the paper in his hands. The room was silent and tension was running high. He folded the paper and put it in his left hand. "I have to take this to Derek."
He turned to walk out the door, but a hand on his upper arm stopped him.
"You have to take that to the police," Izzie breathed. "They might know something we don't."
Mark ripped his arm out of Izzie's weak grasp. "I will. But first, I'm showing it to Derek."
He moved to walk out the door, but the pager at his hip stopped him dead in his tracks. A second later Bailey's pager went off. Mark swallowed. The interns' pagers weren't going off. Something was wrong.
He grabbed the pager from the side of his pants and pulled it up to his face. It read, "911 … Meredith Grey." His breath caught in his throat. He needed to get to Derek before he did something stupid like leave the hospital. His eyes drifted towards Bailey, who was standing in front of him looking shell-shocked. He knew then that she had just received the exact same page.
"What's going on?" Cristina demanded.
Bailey snapped her pager back onto her scrub pants and looked at her three interns. "Do you three think you can manage to follow orders just this once?"
George's brow furrowed in concern. "What's happened?"
"I want you three to go downstairs and go into the intern's locker room," Bailey directed. "Do not
come out unless I come get you. Do you understand me?"
No one responded.
"I don't have time for this," Mark growled. "I have to go find Derek."
"Find him? Where did he go?" Izzie asked, startled.
"Knowing Derek, he probably tried to go looking for Meredith." Mark shot Bailey a look. "I'll see you downstairs."
His feet propelled him forward without thinking. The paper that he still held in his hand now felt insignificant. Meredith was coming to Seattle Grace. Now, all he had to do was find Derek.
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Every muscle in his body ached, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered until he found Meredith. Somehow, he had managed to get himself out of bed and down the hall to the resident's lounge. He knew that he was being ridiculous, some might even say insane, but it didn't matter because Meredith was gone. Taken by a man with some sick vendetta against him. And he was the only one who knew who it was. Dr. Harold Taylor. Alcoholic. Anesthesiologist. And psychopath.
He needed to get out of here. But before he could do that, he needed to find something better to wear than a hospital gown. He started opening lockers and pulling out scrubs. Looking for ones that might actually look like they should fit him. It took him 6 lockers before he found ones that would be good enough. He yanked off the gown and pulled on the scrubs harshly, not caring that every movement made him sick to his stomach. He grabbed the tennis shoes that were sitting on the bottom of the locker and pulled them on. They were too small, but they would work. And without another thought, he walked out of the resident's lounge and into the hallway.
The hallway was swarming with people. Nurses were darting from room to room, and doctors weaved in and out of the patients and other doctors that were casually moving through the hall. The lights were brighter than he remembered. He had to squint to stop the pounding that the light was feeding to his headache. Derek pressed himself up against the hall, not wanting to be noticed. He needed to get out of here without anyone realizing that he was gone.
With a slight push, he moved off of the wall and began to walk down the hallway. Each step he took was with effort. Every part of his body was not ready to be doing this. It was focused on repairing itself, not on walking. But, he couldn't stop. His stomach churned and his head pounded like he had a million drummers in his head, but he couldn't stop. Not now. Not when Meredith
needed him. Because this time… this time he wasn't going to let her down.
No one stopped him as he continued to stagger down the hallway. He tried to appear as normal as possible, but there was only so much he could do to stop the physical effects of what was happening inside of him from showing. He only hoped that he didn't end up vomiting in the hallway.
As he passed a patient's room, he grabbed the chart, and opened it. He pretended to read it as he continued to walk in hopes that no one would stop him. The words on the page wobbling in front of him as he moved made him feel sick. He felt like he was spinning. Without hesitation, he reached out his hand and placed it on the wall, using it to support himself as he continued to move down the hallway. The chart fell from his hand, his one arm not strong enough to hold it by itself. In the distance, he saw the elevator. That was his goal.
He stopped for a moment, his body resting up against the wall. He took three deep breaths and then pushed himself up. There was no time for anymore. Every second that he wasted was a second that she could be dead. The thought alone made him want to die. He could not be responsible for her death. Not when she was his life.
His body felt more and more strained with every step he took. The hallway spun round and round like a carousel at an amusement park. It wasn't until he tried to take another step that he realized that he was no longer standing. He was resting against the wall, his body stretched out across the floor. Embarrassed, he tried to push himself back up, but only stumbled back down. He was too weak.
A nurse passing by stopped and kneeling in front of him. She gasped when she realized who he was, and immediately yelled for help. He didn't know who's hands were on him, holding him, checking for his pulse, or who helped him into the wheelchair. It didn't matter. Not when he had failed Meredith again.
"Meredith," he moaned, his head swaying from side to side as he was pushed back towards his hospital room.
The nurse patted him on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Dr. Shepherd. She'll be okay."
His heart stopped. He wanted to get up and shake her. To tell her that Meredith was missing. She was gone. Taken by a madman who had probably no intent on letting her live.
"She's gone," he whispered. "He took her."
"She's on her way here right now, Dr. Shepherd," the Nurse said softly.
"Don't lie to me," Derek spat. He weakly slid his feet off of the wheelchair and let them drag on the floor in attempt to stop their movement.
The nurse stopped pushing. "I'm not lying to you, Dr. Shepherd. We just got the call. She's on her way in as we speak."
He didn't know how he did it, but he was suddenly standing. The room swirled in front of him, but he didn't care. The lies were going to stop. He took one step to the side and turned towards the nurse, stumbling only slightly.
He gritted his teeth. "Stop lying to me."
"Dr. Shepherd…" The Nurse's voice trailed off. She stared at him with nothing but sympathy. "I know that you're confused. Please just sit down and let me take you back to your room."
He didn't know how he was still standing but he was, and he wasn't about to give that up. "If she's on her way in then I want to see her."
"You really need to get back to your bed," the Nurse frowned. "You've just had surgery. You need to be in bed."
"I know I need to be in bed, but I'm a doctor. I know my limits." His breaths were becoming more and more rapid. "Now, take me to her."
"Dr. Shepherd…" The Nurse sighed.
"I'll take him," his best friend's voice said.
Derek turned back around and saw his best friend standing behind him with a familiar paper in his hand. "You found it."
Mark raised his hand. "This?" He stepped forward and grabbed Derek's arm, easing him back into the chair.
"We have to get out of here," Derek breathed, his body recovering after his latest stunt.
Mark moved and turned the wheelchair around and began to push them towards the elevator. "No."
"Mark…"
"She's coming, Derek," Mark said softly. "She should be here any minute."
His breath caught in his throat and he strained to take a breath. "What?"
"I just got the page."
Derek closed his eyes. "Is she alive?"
"I don't know," Mark said, as he reached out and pressed the elevator call button.
"I need to see her," Derek swallowed. "I need to make sure she's alright."
Mark nodded. "That's where we're going."
Derek fought against his heavy eyelids, not willing to give in to what his body needed until he saw Meredith for himself. He needed to see the steady rise and fall of her chest. He needed to touch her, to make sure that she was real; that she wasn't just a dream. No, he would not rest until he had made sure that Meredith would be right there beside him when he woke up.
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All at once the darkness disappeared. Her eyes opened with a jolt and she stared up at the unfamiliar faces that were hovering above her. She strained against the hands that were pushing her back down, confused. Her eyes darted around her surroundings, taking in the medical bags and the equipment that surrounded her. She pressed her hands down against what her body was resting on. The fabric of the sheets she laid on was soft against her palms. A lone tear trickled out of her right eye and down the side of her face. She was safe.
"Meredith? Can you hear us?" One of the paramedics asked.
Meredith reached up and grabbed the oxygen mask that was covering her mouth and nose. Her head moved from side to side. "What…"
"My name is Greg, Meredith," the same paramedic said. "You're safe. The man who abducted you is in custody. We're almost at Seattle Grace."
"Where…" Meredith's voice trailed off. "I need… Derek…"
"Derek?" Greg asked.
Her throat was dry. She needed water. And her entire body was aching. She swallowed past the large lump that was sitting in the back of her throat. "Derek…"
The ambulance slowed as they approached the ambulance bay entrance to Seattle Grace. Greg moved the oxygen mask back over Meredith's face. "We're almost there."
Another tear escaped from the corner of Meredith's right eye. The pain radiating all over her body was immense, but it was nothing compared to the smoldering ache that was rapidly spreading across her head. She felt dizzy. She felt like she was going to be sick. A moan escaped from her already parted lips. She reached up and pulled the oxygen mask down from her face again.
"Help…" she whispered.
Greg moved instantly, turning her on her side before she vomited up bile. When the last heave was over, he moved her back onto her back and brought the oxygen mask back over her face.
Meredith's eyes fluttered shut; the throbbing in her head was getting to be too much. She wanted to stay awake. She needed to. She needed to talk to her friends. She needed to make sure that someone had found Derek; that he was alive. The ambulance doors popped open and Greg stood. The other paramedic began to pull on her gurney as Greg began to push her out. She was finally home.
This chapter was not easy to write, mainly because I wanted it to be perfect, but because there is just so many ways this could've happened. I wanted this chapter to be more about everyone else. That's why we don't see too much of Meredith in this chapter… well, at least not until the end.
I know it's an evil cliffhanger. I know. But, more is coming. Soon. Like next week. It won't be long.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading.