A/N: I'm out of town for 3 weeks, but hope to wrap this up by 9/27. Just picked that date out of thin air, yessirree. A big thanks for this chap goes to AriaAdagio and apodiform, both of whom helped me get into Derek's head a bit. Also, a hat tip to the Mer/Der, Somebody Pick Somebody thread at TWOP, who helped me get Derek as well, even when I got a bit annoying. Because in all honesty, post-Desire Derek lost me. I hope I portrayed him as fairly as I wanted. And as always, big hugs to sarsunshine who betas--and sometimes alphas--with a keen eye for the nits to pick. Lyric by Damien Rice, suggested by apodiform. I pulled back on the lyrics, but felt that this one added.

Volcano

Don't hold yourself like that
You'll hurt your knees
I kissed your mouth and back
But that's all I need
Don't build your world around volcanoes melt you down

"Just let me know when Derek gets here, or if you want to get started without him," said Susan, poking her head out of her office door. Sighing, Meredith tilted backward to try to see around the corner to the elevator.

"He's coming," she whispered to herself, and then cleared her throat. Louder, Meredith said, "Derek's coming. But we can go on and start, I guess." She settled into her chair, clutched her pillow. Susan hadn't blinked an eye when Meredith had told her Derek would be coming this session, and hadn't given much more of a reaction now that he was late.

But now what do I do? The first few visits with Susan had been ramble-filled; she'd talked about events and her year, immediate crises the priority over any deep thought. But this visit had a purpose, or would have, if Derek showed up. When he shows up. He is going to be here.

Suddenly, before the door shut, Meredith heard him speaking to Margaret, being told to go on in. He stood in the doorway, breathless, running a hand through his hair. But there. And he had never looked quite so wonderful to Meredith as he did in that moment, showing up.

"Hey," he said softly, and his little-boy grin charmed her to her toes. She grinned back.

"Hey," she said. "You came. Thanks." He nodded and sat, then looked at Susan, stretching out his hand for her to shake.

"I've been seeing your husband. I'm Derek Shepherd."

"Susan Burson, and yes, Jack's my husband. Although we've consulted about you, nothing you've told him will come up in here unless you choose for it to." Derek looked slightly surprised, and Susan continued, "That's just the standard line, you and Meredith control what comes up in here."

"I don't have any secrets from Meredith, so whatever helps us in here, that's fine," Derek said, as he sat down.

Susan flipped a page of her legal pad and made a note. "Well, then," she said, "let's get started. Meredith, when you invited Derek to today's session, what did you have in mind? Did you have any specific goals?"

Meredith glanced at Derek, unsure. "I didn't; I mean, I need to, we both need to talk. About the things. Because at first we didn't need to, but things got complicated. But goals? I don't know. Do we have to have goals?"

The smile Derek gave Meredith was tender. "Can I set some goals?" She nodded, and he reached for her hand and gave it a small squeeze before he turned back to Susan.

"I have goals," he said firmly. He waited for Susan to nod, and continued. "It's been a hard year, for both of us. We've both made mistakes. I just. . .Meredith doesn't let me in. And I need to know that she's in this."

"That she's in this?" Susan asked.

"Right. That's number one." Derek raised his index finger. "Meredith needs to show me that she's actually in this relationship. Does she love me? Does she see a future for us? Number two is communication," he continued, raising another finger. "Meredith builds these walls, she shuts me out. She wants me when she wants me, and then wants me to disappear. I need more than just physical intimacy, but she shuts me out and goes to her friends."

Meredith pulled her hand back from his and wrapped her arms around her chest. It's me. I'm the problem here. She watched Derek's hands, as he gestured, his fingers, deft from hours of surgery, tabulating her flaws.

"And number three," Derek said, holding up a third finger. "I need to know she won't leave again. I pulled her out of Elliot Bay. She was there, she was right there at the stairs to the dock. She can swim. She could have pulled herself out, but she didn't. And I can't keep going, keep watching, keep waiting, keep worrying she's going to. . .that something is going to happen."

Still clutching herself, Meredith looked down at her shoes, letting her hair fall to cover her face. He's miserable. I make him miserable, I'm the problem. I'm at fault. And the office faded away, became another office, Susan became another therapist, Derek wasn't there but her mother was, and it was her mother's voice she heard.

I'm at the end of my rope. She's out of control, sullen, angry. She doesn't speak to me, refuses to talk to me when I have opportunity to be with her. When I'm working she pulls outrageous stunts. Like that party. I was called at work to pick her up from the police station, but I couldn't leave. I'm a surgeon, not a bail bondsman. She got angry because she had to wait, and destroyed her room when we got home. Honestly, I don't have time for this. The memory faded and she realized that Susan was looking at her, had asked a question.

"Um," she cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Susan smiled reassuringly. "I asked if you had any reaction to what Derek said."

Meredith shook her head. No. No reaction. None. If she'd had a reaction, she was sure that the reaction would be the end, that Derek would leave. That he'd figure out just how dull and lifeless, how damaged she was. In Cristina's words, how fucked she was. And then it really would be over. No more fairy tale for Meredith Grey.

"Meredith." Susan's voice interrupted her. She looked up, and her face showed the hostile 16 year-old girl she once had been.

"What?" she snapped.

"You have a reaction. Tell him. Tell Derek how you feel about his goals?" The therapist's insistence kept Meredith from going back inside herself, from finding the space that she called fine.

"Mer?" Now Derek spoke, and she felt him reach toward her. "You've got to tell me what's going on." Something inside Meredith crumbled as she heard the memory of her mother's voice.

The Meredith I knew was a force of nature, passionate, focused, a fighter. What happened to you? You've gone soft.

The hell she had. She had fought her way back, come back to her life, chosen to live. You son of a fucking bitch. You want reaction? You want to know what's going on inside? You say I don't let you in? I'll let you in, and when you're crying to be let out again, tell me then that I'm the love of your life. Then I might believe it. A sudden rush of anger pulsed through her, and she fought to stay seated, to keep from screaming.

"You want to know what's going on with me, Susan?" Not just anger, but bitterness and tension strained her voice, and it cracked as the words tumbled out. "Because Derek and I don't keep secrets? That's a rich and terrible joke coming from him, don't you think? I'm impressed he kept a straight face as he said it. I'm even more impressed that I didn't bust a gut laughing. I'd think a wife was a bit of a secret, wouldn't you?" She fought for control, tried to breathe deeply.

"Mer, I meant since. . ." Derek wore his pain on his face, and she heard it as he spoke, but she couldn't bottle the words, couldn't even try.

"And then, after she showed up, he wanted to keep dating me, said I was rushing him when I didn't want to." She laughed then, a hard bitter laugh.

What I am to you is not real
What I am to you you do not need
What I am to you is not what you mean to me
You give me miles and miles of mountains
And I'll ask for the sea

"Meredith," Derek started again.

"Don't Meredith me," she said, directing a glare his way. "You told me, that night at your trailer, you told me that the crap like your taste in music and books was all I'd earned." She looked back at Susan. "I guess two months of fucking him hadn't earned me the priviledge of knowing his wedding band was stuffed in his sock drawer." She was crying now, the jagged edges of her anger snagging each breath.

"And I let him in. I'm not the one who goes to the trailer, ignores phone calls. How many days was that, Derek, two? Three? And what about the night he was supposed to show up with dinner? Wait, I must be confused, because he always shows up. Except since I'm so new at this, I just didn't know about the escape clause. That you didn't need to show up when you were tired of breathing for me."

"I was trying so hard then, when Susan and Thatcher were here. I told you what was going on with me. And when I needed you, you weren't there."

"Meredith, I did show up. " Derek was angry now as well, she could tell. "I showed up and before I went inside, I saw you taking shots of tequila with your friends. You didn't need me. You ran right by me in the hospital after your father—"

"He's not my father," Meredith snarled.

"Fine, after you told Thatcher about Susan, you ran right past me," Derek snapped. "And when I got to your house, you were hanging out with friends. Why would I go in, when you so clearly don't need me?"

"Stop. Right. Now." Susan's clear voice cut through their arguing. The tone in her voice pulled Derek back decades to the old Connecticut farmhouse where he grew up. He and his four sisters tormented each other, giving no mercy. Whether he'd been poking Nancy as they rode rear-facing in the very back of the station wagon, or solemnly asking Katherine's dates their intentions regarding his older sister, or if the girls were squabbling over who had borrowed whose clothes, their mother quieted them with the very same tone of voice; they'd dubbed it the Mean Mommy Voice. Not quite mean, only firm, but they knew it meant business. Even when she didn't use our middle names. Derek closed his eyes against the wash of nostalgia; he missed his family. Missed being around the people who loved him, who needed him just as much as he needed them. I need my family. He looked at Susan as she began speaking again.

Don't throw yourself like that
In front of me
I kissed your mouth your back
Is that all you need?
Don't drag my love around volcanoes melt me down

"You are both in pain, but you're missing each other. And you're talking to me, for the most part. That doesn't help. You have to talk to each other, not to me." She waited as Meredith leaned over to grab a tissue from a conveniently placed box. "I don't see many signs that you're listening to each other, either."

"It's hard to listen when she doesn't tell me anything," Derek said, remembering the shock of finding out from George that Meredith had panicked during her exams.

"Derek," said Susan, "don't tell me. Tell her. But first tell her how you feel, because that's the important part." Derek pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaled, and began again.

"Meredith, I feel like you don't tell—" and he was interrupted by the therapist.

"Like you don't tell isn't a feeling, Derek. Come up with a word to tell her how you feel." He was glad her voice remained neutral; he felt lectured enough. I don't have time for a lesson on how to talk, I've been doing it for a few decades pretty well.

"Fine," he said brusquely, and began again. Susan pointed at Meredith, and he turned to address the woman he loved. "I feel forgotten."

She had been sitting this whole time with her head bent down, sheaves of blonde obscuring her face. She looked up, using one hand to pull back the hair so she could see him. Tears still on her face, she looked at him with her eyes crinkled in confusion.

"Keep going," prompted Susan gently. "I feel forgotten when you. . .what?"

"I feel forgotten when you go to your friends with problems and I don't find out until hours after the fact," Derek growled and clenched his jaw shut.

"And I would like you to. . .?" The therapist's voice was soft.

"And I would like you to come to me as well." Derek's eyes were on Meredith's, and he silently begged her to respond. She drew in her breath, but before she could, Susan spoke.

"Wait. Don't say anything in response yet." Meredith looked at her, confused. "First, repeat back to him what he said. Put it in your own words if you want, but you need to tell him what you heard."

Meredith rolled her eyes. "Seriously?" she asked.

"Seriously," Susan replied.

"Okay, then. He said—" Susan interrupted her with a reminder to talk to Derek, and Meredith started over. "You said you felt forgotten when I shared things with my friends, and that you want me to share with you sometimes," she rattled out.

Meredith looked up at Derek. His lips twisted in a shadow of a smile as he nodded at her. Not nearly as complicated as remembering the primary symptoms of TIA, Derek. But she felt her own lips twitch, tempted to return the almost-smile.

"Now, Meredith," came Susan's soft prompt. "What's your reaction? Tell Derek how you're feeling."

"Um," she whispered, flicking her eyes to Susan and back to Derek. "How I'm feeling. I feel. . .confused. Overwhelmed."

"Now tell him something he does that contributes to that feeling, if you can."

Blue-green eyes stayed fixed on bright blue as Meredith spoke. "I'm not used to opening up. It's always just been me. Cristina kicks me out of bed. The other night she kicked me down the stairs to meet you at the trailer." She glanced at Susan, who only nodded before she spoke.

"Meredith, can you give Derek a pointer to help you to open up?"

Meredith blinked. "He's. . .you're asking me to do something I've never done. And I'm trying. Derek, I'm trying to open up." She shoved her palm across her cheek to catch a tear.

"Meredith, it's not as if you told me you needed me. Or that you loved me." Ignoring the therapist, Derek spoke directly to Meredith.

"I just, I do. I do need you. And I love you. But I'm not there. I'm trying to do that, be that person. I trusted you before. . ." Meredith's voice trailed off, and Derek heard, knew what was unspoken. I trusted you before and Addison showed up.

Derek kept his eyes with hers, fighting the urge to close them, to bury his face in his hands and weep. Suddenly he was back in the locker room, and Mer was in her bridesmaid's dress.

If you want to break up with me so you can see other women, just do it. He remembered the beaten expression, the sadness, the faint smile responding to his soul-baring confession, and the return to pain as he had continued his speech.

He moved forward, taking her hands in his.

"Meredith, we can go slow. Okay? I'm in this. No, look at me." He stopped and touched his thumb to her chin, forcing her to look back up. "I made mistakes. Some big ones. And I didn't get it. You've got to tell me, though. Tell me when you're scared. Give me the numbers again, maybe. Like we did for your mom." She nodded. Derek glanced at Susan, and then focused back on Meredith. "We'll get there. You told me the important parts. That you're trying. That we're both in this."

"I'm trying. I can't flip a switch and be that person. I don't know how. But. . .can you try? To be there with me, let me be quiet if I need to be?"

He nodded, and moved his hands down to grasp hers. They sat for a moment, silent.

"Meredith? Derek? I'm really proud of you. Both of you. I wanted to get to a stable place before finishing, we went a bit over." Susan reached behind her into a file drawer, and pulled out two papers, handing one to each of them. "Here's a sentence map for you guys to use. It's what we worked with today. Make another appointment with Margaret, okay?"

The three of them stood, and they headed to the door. Susan watched the couple head to the elevators before giving herself kudos for a good session, one that could have gone much worse.

This is nothing new
No no just another phase of finding what I really need
Is what makes me bleed,
And like a new disease she's still too young to treat
Like a distant tree
Volcanoes melt me down
She's still too young
I kissed your mouth
You do not need me