A/N: Thanks to Mandyg67, Patsy, Pat (or zPat?), Harryfan626, Guest, roganjalex, ntlpurpolia, tinuviel21 for all your comments on last chapter. Also many thanks to all those who have faved and followed this fic! It really means a lot to me!
To busybee, thanks also for your comment about the book! So glad you read it and found it insightful! I'm rubbing off on people!
Breaking 100 000 words with this chap! The size of a paperback! Whew! Also broke 10 000 views for all my stories last month, which is incredible. You Guys Are Incredible! Frankly and honestly, having been struggling to find a job these last few months, posting new stories and chapters and recieving your comments has been one of my greatest JOYS.
Now onto the story:
Warning: Mild porny stuff below. Hardly porny. Barely... Just saying.
Four months before the Tsunami:
Meredith.
"It's done." I sighed happily, handing Derek my tablet.
Derek pushed himself off of the doorframe he was leaning on and reviewed the tablet. "Mm." he said, a slow-spreading smile on his lips.
"Well?" I asked. Five years of research and dedication was on that tablet. Five years of consultations and trials and labs intermittent with a Neuro Fellowship and brain surgery, as well as keeping up with general.
"Meredith- this is- wow! Fifty percent effectiveness rate?" The admiration in his voice was unmistakable, and filled me with pride.
"Yes," I nodded, beaming like a kid in a candy store. The drug had shown positive results for thirty percent of the patients in the trial. It was huge progress in the land of medicine.
"Fifty percent," he said again... shaking his head."Unbelievable. He stepped into the cramped lab and put the tablet on the counter. A strange look appeared on his face.
"What?" I asked. I wasn't familiar with this look. Although the way his eyes crinkled probably meant it was a good thing.
"I'm proud of you Mer," Derek said as he dipped his head to kiss me. He trapped my lips with his and sucked lightly.
"Oh," I panted. God I missed him.
"I missed you," he said, reading my thoughts. We hadn't gone anywhere. We hadn't been apart... just preoccupied. Busy with work and the kids and... life. While I toiled in the lab, he toiled in the OR, teaching new interns and residents, as well as running a few classes of his own.
The only time we were together alone lately was in the bedroom, and too often it was with the sounds of my snoring and not the sounds of our lovemaking.
I missed the lovemaking.
"We should celebrate." Derek mused, "there's that new place Jackson always raves about... I could make a reservation- Oh!" he grunted when I pulled him further into the lab, kicking the door closed.
"I don't care about reservations," I replied as I yanked off his lab coat. "How about first come first serve?" I pulled him closer to me, the scent of him filling my nostrils, his hard chest under my palms.
When our lips crashed together, there was no holding back. Months of pent-up sexual energy was now ready to be released. I had not a care in the world about anything else but My Husband.
He reached under my blouse, his fingertips brushing up alongside my hips, to my back. There was a small click as he undid my bra, and I felt the material fall away under his ministrations.
My Husband, who had first fought my decision to do this because of the tremendous commitment it would take. Family was everything to him.
We pulled away from the kiss only so I could wrench his scrub top over his perfectly tamed hair. I lined kisses down his trapezoid muscle, revelling in the salty taste of his skin. His breath was hot in my ear, and his stubble scraped my cheek lightly as he he moved to kiss me there... there, and there. He fumbled to unbutton my blouse, exposed to cool recycled air, I shivered with goose-bumps.
My Husband, who finally gave in when he realized that this was as close to a second chance I could get to saving my mother as I could.
His hands gripped my waist and he lifted me onto the counter. A counter that was supposed to remain sterile, but who cared now? I pushed the tablet and papers and files further back before wrapping my arms around Derek's neck. Once again, I plunged my tongue through his beautiful perfectly ready lips.
We were panting, breathless and half naked in a dingy lab in a tiny corner of the hospital. For a moment we paused, our sweaty foreheads touching. My hands rubbed his shoulders while he pressed his palms on my thighs.
"Derek?" There was something I needed to know... I needed to make sure I heard.
"Yeah?" He looked at me, his eyes hooded with desire.
I just needed to hear him say it again, "You're proud of me?"
He pulled back just enough so I could see his expression. There it was again, that look. His grin wide, the thin crows-feet lines crinkling upward again, and something about his eyes... there was so much surety there. "I'm proud of you Meredith," he said. "I am so proud of you... You- I-"
That was all I needed to hear.
My Husband, who believed in me. Who made me extraordinary because we were together. And that was all we had to be. We just had to be together.
I pulled his pants down further as he did my own, our desire for each other so deep and so... needed. Skin pressed on skin, our arousal grew and when I was ready I spread my legs and let him in. For the first time in months, it meant more than just a quickie as his length filled me.
We were together, connected. Extraordinary.
August 2034
Seattle
Meredith.
I took another sip of my mocha latte as I stared into the microscope and sighed. No change. The small group of brain cells I had extracted from the mice still showed plaques and tangles consistent with my disease. "Mouse X, no change," I said into my voice recorder. I pulled the slide out from the plate and set it back into the file.
"Mouse Y." I said, reaching for the next slide. We'd been following the progress of a treatment involving injecting brain cells, so far the progress had been slow. A holding pattern. The problem was not about the brain cells themselves, but how to integrate the cells to be effective without being rejected. We had to tell the cell what kind of cell it was supposed to be... That was the most difficult part. I pushed the slide under the microscope. I viewed it and compared it with last week's slide. Damn. No decrease in the amount of dead cells that were hanging around there, a clear indicator that plaques were forming. "Mouse Y, slight growth." I said as I noted the measurements on the screen.
I pulled back from the scope and rubbed my eyes. This was exhausting. "Bailey, can you hand me the journal please?"
A thick white book slid in front of me and I ran my finger down, T, U, V, W... I followed my highlighted marks. I stopped at X and my pencil hovered over the square. I licked my lips. X... My brain stalled. X... X X-ray, Xylophone- X Y Z, E... What was I doing? "Mouse X..." I repeated, "Um..." I looked up at Bailey and he looked back at me, encouraging me with a nod.
You can't fix me. Please don't try to fix me.
"Mouse X," I breathed, "No change." and scribbled a zero into the square. I picked up the highlighter and slid it across the page, the fluorescent yellow imprinting on my brain. Y was next. Y. Why? "Mouse Y..." Surely I knew this one. Under the recently painted yellow line, I scribbled in a zero. Stared at it, turned the pencil around and erased the number. Squinted. Wrote zero. Ugh. No that wasn't right. I paused. Five percent increase. How do I write five again? Somehow muscle memory took over and a funny looking S appeared in the square.
S. S T U V. I ran my finger down the sheet. S was done. Oh. I picked up the highlighter and ran it across the Y line.
"Mouse Z?" I said, holding out my hand for the slide. Bailey wordlessly handed it to me and I slid it onto the microscope plate. I didn't want him here, but he insisted.
Trials are... can be heartbreaking. I really don't want you to see-
Mom... please. I need to know.
xxx
"Mrs. Thompson?" I called looking up from my clipboard. An elderly woman stood up from her seat in the waiting room of the clinic. I smiled at her to put her at ease. "Please come this way, we have a bed for you..." I looked around at the beds. Which bed? I looked back at my clipboard. Luckily I had a cheat sheet. The word Thompson was written at a bed in the diagram. Bed five. "Over here."
She sat down on the bed, leaning her cane against a nearby chair. Patient history. That was my job. "Okay Mrs. Thompson, my name is Meredith, I'm an assistant here. I'm just going to ask you a few questions-"
"Oh, you're not the doctor?" she asked.
I shook my head with a sad smile, "Um... I'm just a volunteer, the doctor will see you shortly. You said you've been coughing a lot lately?" I asked looking at my clipboard.
"Yes, it started two weeks ago."
"Dry or wet cough?" I asked.
"Oh, I've seen some phlegm.. I got worried when I saw red spots." She said.
I checked the list. "What colour was the phlegm?"
"Green," she said.
"Okay," I picked up the thermometer and checked her temperature. Mild fever. I checked another box. "Are you a smoker? Any history of athsma or allergies?"
"Oh, I quit smoking twenty years ago. I'm allergic to cats, but haven't been around one recently." she replied before coughing. I offered her a tissue and double checked my notes. Something concerned me about her cough, she was breathing heavily. I wished I still carried my stethoscope.
"I was hoping it would just go away," she said, "but it's still here."
I offered her a faint smile. "Well Dr. Sullivan will be here in a moment to see you, and he'll take a closer look."
She nodded, "Good," she said.
"Do you mind if I-?" I reached for her wrist to check her pulse. It was pretty high.
"For a volunteer, you seem very professional."
"Oh," I sighed. "I've just been... around the block a few times." Technically, I still had a medical license, but I didn't dare announce that to the world. I carefully wrote a few more notes on her chart. "Just lay back, he'll be with you soon." I detached the sheet from my clipboard and affixed it to the sleeve by her bed. Then I made my way back to the desk where I checked the intake list.
Janice Thompson had already been highlighted off, so I looked at the one underneath. Michael Lewis. "Michael Lewis?" I called.
A young man stood up clutching his arm. "Right this way," I said, leading him to bed four. He sat down and I began my history with him as I looked at his arm. It appeared to be a simple fracture. He just needed an X-ray and a cast. But I wasn't a practising doctor. I smiled and assured him that it was an easy fix and it would be a few minutes. As I applied a fresh ice-pack I heard Dr. Sullivan at the bed beside me.
"Well Mrs. Thompson, according to your chart, I'd say you have bronchitis. There really isn't much needed for treatment here... it should resolve soon with-"
Bronchitis? I sincerely questioned that diagnosis. Did he even listen to her breath sounds? "Excuse me!" I interrupted, swinging the curtain open on bed five.
"Uh, Meredith?" The young doctor asked looking up with shock. Sullivan was new, a fresh faced first year ER resident, and It was clear he didn't give a damn about proper medicine.
"Are you sure it's bronchitis? Did you check her breath sounds? Bronchitis doesn't usually present with fever- you should-"
"Meredith, I'm the doctor here," he said, pulling at the lapel of his white lab coat.
"If you are a doctor you should know to do an actual physical exam, instead of relying on the chart! Her pulse is elevated, she has a borderline fever- those are also indicators of pneumonia."
Sullivan smugly shook his head. "Excuse me, how long have you been here? Three months? Did you spend two-hundred-thousand dollars on med school? Excuse her, Mrs Thompson, she's new." He went to make a note on the clipboard.
The urge to punch him in the face was almost impossible to quell. Instead of punching him, I snapped the clipboard out of his hands. "Dr. Sullivan, I think you should take that back." I gritted.
He scoffed. "Just who do you think you are? You're only here because of Zola."
Now I really wanted to punch him in the face.
"Do you really think it's pneumonia?" Mrs. Thompson asked me.
I was ninety-eight percent sure. I could never be a hundred percent sure until the tests were done, but- "An X-ray of your lungs will be able to tell for sure, but yes, I'm positive."
"Mrs. Thompson, I don't think an x-ray is necessary-" Sullivan interrupted.
I turned on the young doctor, how could he be so careless? "You know what's not necessary? You. You're not necessary," I snapped. "Who am I? Seriously? I'm a freakin' doctor with more than thirty years experience taking people apart and putting them together again. I was the chief of surgery at Grey-Sloan.
"My name? Meredith. Fucking. Grey, "I snarled. "See the badge? So Sullivan, did you check her breath sounds? You'll probably hear a little fluid in there. If you don't want to take my word for it, take her for an X-ray. But really, you are dripping incompetence like a leaky faucet. Fever? Check. Elevated pulse? Check. Blood in phlegm? Check.
"Pneumonia, Sullivan. Don't believe me? Read your five-hundred dollar medical textbook, and while you're at it, read the acknowledgements and you'll see my name listed there as a thank you for my part in writing the anatomy section...
"Can you recite the hepatic vein structure of the liver? How about the steps for an appendectomy? Oh wait, you're an ER resident, you don't perform surgery. How about the ABC's then? Because that's what you should be brushing up on. Airway, Breathing, Circulation... you should know this in your sleep!" I shoved the clipboard back at the red-faced doctor..
Sullivan gulped and stared. The patient clutched her purse and looked at me with shock and... admiration? The other patient in the bed beside me cleared his throat nervously.
The room spun, I panted. My heart thud thudded in my chest going a thousand miles a minute. Around me everyone was staring, the patients, the staff. A cleaner walked by, rubbernecking as he passed.
"I think I should have an X-ray." I heard the lady say, but I didn't stay to wait for the response. Instead I walked away, out of the clinic.
xxx
I barely felt the rain as I stormed out. Breathe, I told myself. Just breathe. Stupid fucking resident, who did he think he was? A physical exam was a basic principle, and just because he was working in a clinic, not a- a-a... Stupid fucking resident... how dare he talk to me that way! I am the Chief of Surgery. The Chief! I should give him a piece of my mind!
A sudden giggle escaped my lips. I probably should keep as many pieces of my mind as possible... my brain was shrinking. Everyday, a few thousand brain cells were dying, forming plaques and tangles in my brain structure, blocking off connections to my memory... right now, my hippocampus probably looked like a sponge, small holes everywhere, gaps where-
What was I doing? I stopped, I was at a street corner. What? Where was I? I looked around, trying to get my bearings. The street was familiar but... I didn't know where I was supposed to go. I felt in my pockets for my phone, I should call someone... Zola. I should call Zola. But my phone... it was gone.
I waited in a line. A coffee shop or a cafe or something. The person in front of me ordered something, paid, and moved along to wait for her order. Automatically I stepped forward, staring at the menu.
"Hello, what can I get for you?" The perky barista asked. She was blonde, and her cheerfulness reminded me of Izzie.
But the jumble of words above me made no sense. A frappa-cappa what? An image came to mind of a hot sweet foamy drink. That's what I wanted. With the coffee-shot. What was it called? I had it earlier with Bailey. "Umm, I'll have... you know it has that white stuff that-uh comes from a cow- I mean foam and... don't you shoot it with something? I mean inject-"
I couldn't remember. People behind me hummed impatiently. I played nervously with my fingers as I gaped, at a sudden loss of words. Milk. Sugar. Chocolate. Beans. Mixed together, that's what I wanted... but how do I say it?
"Ma'am?" The barista asked. I continued to stare at the menu, hoping something would make sense.
"Mom?"
Someone touched my shoulder. I jumped and turned around. It was Ellis. A sigh of relief escaped me when I saw her. Finally, something tangible and familiar. Still... "Ellis, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in school?"
"C'mon mom, go sit down, I'll make you a mocha latte, just how you like it." She led me to a worn tan leather couch.
Mocha latte. That was it. That was what I wanted. "Oh, thank you. Yes please."
I watched her leave and go behind the counter- what was she doing there? But then I remembered that I needed to pay for the drink and I reached into the pockets of my lavender scrubs for some change, or maybe my wallet, but my pockets were empty. Where was my purse?
Stupid Alzheimer's
My hands filled with heat as Ellis passed me the drink, and I sipped eagerly, thankful for the drink to warm me up. But Ellis seemed worried. Her usual fun-loving blue eyes were clouded with a darker shade of worry and I became nervous. Obviously something happened. I did something.
"Mom, don't you still have another hour at the clinic?"
I looked at my watch, but it was a useless exercise. I didn't even remember what shift I was supposed to be working. "I don't know?"
"Mom?" Ellis probed.
Stupid Alzheimer's again. "I think a few more brain cells died today El," I said with a shaky smile. "Down a few hundred thousand or so..."
"I'm going to call Zo-" Ellis said, reaching for her phone.
Sudden panic filled me, embarrassment, shame. Something happened at the clinic. I said some things, and stuff happened and... it wasn't good, I was sure. Zola wouldn't be happy. I clutched Ellis' arm before she could finish dialling. "Can you just tell her I'm okay? I don't want her to come pick me up right away... I just want to sit here for awhile, please?"
Ellis nodded with unexpected understanding, "Sure mom. Are you okay? What happened?"
"I yelled at someone," I said. Somehow I remembered that. The shocked look on his face, and saying something about being Chief even though now I knew I wasn't and-
"Did they deserve it?" Ellis asked.
I thought about it carefully, trying to backtrack, rewind... I wasn't sure at first, but then I remembered it was about an improper diagnosis, and a patient asking for an X-ray, and the red-faced look on the doctor's face as I upended whatever preconceived notions he had about my medical knowledge. "Yes," I smiled awkwardly. At least I could still remember how to take out an appendix right? At least I could still remember my daughter's face.
Ellis patted my knee and smiled mischievously, "Good." she said.
xxx
A few days later...
I paced the waiting room. It'd been a long day, full of tests and questions and drawing pictures of clocks for some reason, and now Dr. Allan was talking to Zola, comparing notes... she was probably telling him about the time when I ran away, or the other time when I went grocery shopping and forgot my purse and accused someone of stealing it. She was probably saying-
Oh God, Grey, stop with the freaking paranoia already. This was Zola, my daughter. My lifeline.
Stop it.
She was doing the right thing. After my interview with Allan, she had to fill out a questionnaire about how I behaved at home and in other places. It was routine. I knew this, I'd done it with my mother so many years ago.
So I sat down, tapped my foot, stood up again and paced... The only thing that bothered me now is that my score had dropped from last time. Last time, my score was a thirty-two. Pretty good. Now it was twenty-nine. In six months, it had dropped three points. That was more than I wanted.
Bailey would be upset, I knew. He'd probably search the internet for some new treatment for me to take, or to see if maybe now I qualified for something. I sighed as another thought occurred to me, clinical trials were not covered by insurance.
And then, a more troubling thought occurred to me. Insurance. Bills. My finances. Crap. I'd left most of the everyday banking stuff to Zola- but... how much did all this cost?
I paced again. Zola exited Dr. Allan's office, a few words of conclusion exchanged between them. She strode toward me, "Ready to go, mom?" she asked.
"Yes, let's go." I said, walking in step beside her.
"Don't forget your purse."
Purse. Right. I turned back to the waiting room and picked up my purse, slinging it over my shoulder as I followed her out to the car. I pulled out my phone, I had to make an appointment with the lawyer. But wait, according to my calendar, I already did... to appoint Bailey medical power of attorney and Zola financial power of attorney. But still, I had something else to discuss with him, and I had to make sure I remembered what it would be about. I made a note in my phone, and then I emailed the lawyer, asking if I could meet him for lunch after the first meeting and squeeze something in. I shot a glance at Zola, sighed and swallowed. "Zola, I need to stop at the bank."
Stupid Alzheimer's
xxx
The kids were gathered out on the deck that evening as we enjoyed summer barbecue by Bailey. I watched them through the screen for a few moments before joining them with the few items I gathered in a shoe-box.
"And then, apparently she said that Sullivan was dripping incompetence like a leaky faucet!" Zola said giggling.
"Oh my God!" Ellis exclaimed, sipping her wine.
"I can totally see mom doing that," Bailey added. "He's lucky she didn't punch him in the face!"
"Somehow, I don't think her ineffectual fists are that ineffectual..." Zola chimed in.
I smiled, knowing they were talking about me, but I was okay with that because they were laughing. Laughing about their poor Alzheimer-y mother who yelled at the incompetent ER resident what's-his-face about who-knows-what. But it was funny. And it meant that I was still there. I was still Meredith, still their mother.
"Ahem." I cleared my throat.
"Hey mom," they all chorused.
Bailey stood up and grabbed me a plate to fill up with... "Steak?" I asked.
"Yup. Prime rib."
"Bailey, did I ever tell you how much I love you?" I asked, my mouth watering at the succulent expectation of the delicious seasoned meat on my taste buds. Mmmm... It'd felt like ages since I had steak.
He shrugged and gave me a lopsided grin. "Only when I make steak," he teased.
"Then you have to make steak more often." I joked back.
We ate in silence as I devoured the delicious dinner. Steak, potatoes, green things... and yes I did know what the green things were. It was just Meredith-speak in my head. When finally it was done, I pushed the plate away, sated.
The sun was dipping behind a hill, but the light still reflected off the far-away lake. It sparkled.
"Big day tomorrow guys," I said.
"Yeah," Zola said softly.
Crap, now the laughter was gone. "I'm selling my soul to the devil," I said wryly.
"Hah hah." Bailey remarked with sarcasm.
"Serious. Zola, where are your horns?"
"Oh, she left them at work, after she balled out the incompetent ER resident." Ellis added, earning her an eye roll from her big sister.
But this was a serious matter. I was entrusting my life to my children. When or if I disappeared fully into the haze of my disease, they were the ones to call the shots. When I first thought about it, I considered assigning the roles to Cristina, or Alex, or even Maggie... because I didn't want my kids to bear the burden themselves, like I had done. But then I realized that more than my most precious friends, my kids were in this with me.
And honestly? If anything did happen... Cristina, Alex and Maggie would ask the kids what they wanted to do anyway... so it would just be deferred power.
So I just sucked it up and asked them. And they said yes. I selected Bailey as my medical power of attorney, because he was most interested in me medically anyway... and also because I knew he could handle the burden of making a tough call.
My wishes were clear: Keep me alive until it was too painful for them. As long as I was still active and mostly there... I didn't want to die. But if it got bad, and I was in the hospital and things were grim... well I didn't want to be a vegetable.
Zola was responsible for the finances... I had already made all our accounts joint accounts and cancelled most of my cards. The house was paid off already, but health insurance was a nightmare, and my medical bills would be the biggest expense. I had a plan for that, I just couldn't tell them yet.
"Okay..." I breathed. "I- um, have some stuff for you guys," I said as I picked up the small shoe-box, "before I forget..." I chuckled, earning groans from the kids. I picked up the first item, my stethoscope. "Zola, this is for you..."
"What?" she asked shocked.
"You're done your course," I smiled, "You are a Nurse Practitioner! So... wear it with pride."
"But mom- this is yours..." she said, tearing up as she held it.
I couldn't use it anymore, it would be unethical. What if my Alzheimer-y brain heard something I couldn't remember to diagnose? No, despite my still vast medical knowledge... it was only right to pass this on. "It's yours now," I said. "I already got it engraved anyway."
Zola peered at the instrument, on one side my name Dr. Meredith Grey was engraved on it, and on the other side Zola Shepherd's name shone through, Zola Shepherd, NP.
"Mom..." She said, clutching the stethoscope to her chest.
"Use it wisely." I replied, before reaching into the shoe-box for the second item.
My fingers trembled as I felt the soft worn fabric of the piece in my hands, but it was time... time to pass this on. "Bailey," I said, handing the object over to him. "You're the surgeon now."
He held the ferryboat scrub cap lightly in his fingers. He choked back a sob and ran his fingers through his hair. I couldn't watch, so I just looked back into the shoe-box at the third item.
Ellis had been the hardest. I tore up my whole office and my bedroom looking for it. But she needed this. She deserved it. My fingers closed around the worn red notebook. I didn't know what this would mean for us... but-
"This is for you," I said, handing her the book. "All the-um," my voice caught. "All the numbers... all the people I called, trying to find... your Dad. I know you haven't given up yet, so..."
Then I couldn't take it anymore, I pushed out of my chair, and stormed back inside before the dam burst.
xxx
The next day
Meredith
The papers were signed. Everything was done. The lawyer had been thorough and efficient, and I was satisfied.
But there was one more thing to be done. Something I would hate myself for... but it was necessary now. I never thought I would have to do it, but with my inevitable decline I had to prepare for the future. Anything could happen. I could live like this for another ten years or die tomorrow, and I had to make sure that my children would benefit.
I met with my lawyer alone. Zola had already gone to take Bailey to the airport and Ellis to work. I'd be taking a taxi home.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.
I shook my head, "No, but I have to."
"Okay," he nodded as he took the form out of his briefcase. He clearly and carefully read me the declaration, and asked if I understood. When I nodded, he handed me a pen. "Sign here..." he pointed to the line.
I signed slowly, every stroke ached. My fingers shook. I swallowed a lump as I put the pen down.
I had just declared my husband officially dead.
"It's just on paper right?... I mean, only on paper? He could still be alive right?"
"It's just paper." He confirmed.
Right. Paper. But for the moment I felt like I murdered Derek Shepherd, my husband. We should've planned better- this never should've-
Stupid medical bills.
Stupid fucking Alzheimer's.
A/N: Bah! I agree with Mer! Please review!