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Derek's Point of View

"Mer, we have to talk," I sigh, walking into her room. She can't keep doing this. "I…God…Are you okay?" I ask her, feeling my heart beating faster. My eyes instantly go from her pale complexion to the irregular beatings on the monitor, then to the fact that she can barely keep her eyes open.

"She's fine sweetheart," I hear my mother murmur as I sit on the bed and take Meredith's hand in mine. She still looks so pale and then she's…

"Why is her hair wet?" I demand, turning to see me mother in the bathroom doorway but quickly turn back when I hear Meredith groan. "What did you say Mer?" I ask, much more softly.

"Shower," she mutters, with difficulty from behind the mask.

"You gave her a shower?" I turn and ask my mother as she gives me a stern, warning look.

Uh-oh.

"Derek Shepherd, watch your tone," she warns. "You have no right to snap at me. And for your information, no, I did not give Meredith a shower. The nurses did. Meredith was keen to have one so I asked Dr Altman and her physical therapist if it was allowed and Dr Altman signed off on it. She did warn us that it would weaken Meredith significantly but after an hour or so on the oxygen and she will be fine," My mom explains calmly.

"You should have waited for me," I tell her as I turn back to face Meredith to see her smiling behind the mask, even though she still looks ill. "What?" I ask, aware of how surprised I sound.

"Something's never change," she murmurs and Mom and I laugh before I lean down and give her a gentle cuddle. As I pull back, I see the strain on her face and I know she is in pain.

"Pain?" I probe gently, aware that she can still be as stubborn as ever at times. She shakes her head only proving she's still as stubborn as ever.

"Sweetheart," we hear Mom murmur in a warning tone. I smile at Meredith as she smiles back at me, aware that if she doesn't admit to being in pain then Mom will most definitely have a point to make.

"A little," I can hear her confess.

"I'd say much more than a little if the grimace that's over your face is anything to go by," I smile, ignoring the worry I feel. "I'll go get the nurse. You need something stronger than just morphine and tramadol."

"Der…"

"No arguments Meredith!" My mother and I say at the same time. My Mom and I share a small smile before both turning and staring Meredith down.

"I'm being ganged up on," she mutters, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting, like a petulant child in a mood.

"It's for your own good," Mom assures her, as I watch her take the seat by Meredith's bed.

"I'll be back in a moment," I whisper, enjoying watching them both sit so close to one another. I've never seen Mom looks so happy and relaxed. Everything is finally falling into place.

Mom and Amelia are acting as if all their Christmases have come at once, with Meredith being home. I'm just not so sure that Nancy, Kathleen and Sophie will be the same. Thankfully, they're not my priority. They're Mark's and it is up to him to keep them away from Seattle for as long as possible – at least until Meredith gets home. Poor Mark. It is not a task I envy him taking on. It's the last task I want to take on right now.


Meredith's Point of View

Ugh… I hate this. I hate this feeling when the drugs have knocked you out and you're just coming round. It's like having the flu without dealing with all that green gunk.

Literally.

I suppose the good thing is that my chest doesn't feel so tight. I hate that I only had a shower and it was enough to make my whole body weak. I shouldn't feel this weak but I do and I really should be used to it considering how weak I became, living on the streets.

"You okay?" I hear Derek whisper by my side.

"How do you know I'm awake?" I ask, feeling myself smile, not bothering to open my eyes.

"Your breathing," he breathes and I can tell without looking, that he is smiling.

I open my eyes and turn my head slightly to see him sitting on the chair by my bed, smiling at me. Oh, how I missed that smile.

"Are you feeling okay?" He asks gently, standing up to lean over me and pull my oxygen mask off my face.

"I'm fine," I assure him.

"Can I get you anything?" He asks, fluffing my pillows.

"You're hovering," I state the obvious as Derek finally pulls back to look at me.

"I'm just trying to take care of you Meredith," he sighs, sitting on the bed, facing me.

"I know you are," I whisper, taking his hand. "Are you okay? Is something bothering you?"

"I'm fine," he smiles at me but I can tell he isn't as his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes this time.

"What's wrong?" I push, feeling my concern grow within me. "Is it Rachel?"

"What? No," He shakes his head vehemently. He seemed surprised when I mentioned her name. "Derek," I sigh. "You know you can talk to me about her," I assure him. I'd rather not hear her name ever again. Especially from Derek's mouth but I can't exactly say that to him.

Strangely enough though, I don't want him talking to anyone else about her. I want him to confide in me so if it means that I have to hear her name then I will because I really want to be the one he turns to.

"I know," he nods. "But I'd much rather talk about you."

"Me?" I stutter out, feeling myself blush slightly. I hope he doesn't notice.

"You okay?" He asks me, looking concerned. "Your cheeks are rather flushed," he states.

Shit.

"Uh…It's just…it's very hot, in here," I splutter out, using my hand to fan my face.

"Really?" He questions, looking skeptical as he uses the back of his free hand to feel my forehead and cheeks. "You feel a little warm," he whispers. "I'll go get a thermometer," he smiles at me, getting up from the bed.

"Derek," I grab his hand. "There's no need. I'm just a little warm," I insist, feeling myself lose my patience. I'm sick of being treated like a baby.

"Mer, please," he pleads. "Just let me do this. I don't want to take any chances. I'll be back in a second," He assures me, squeezing my hand before letting it go and walking out of the door.

I hate the hovering. I absolutely detest it but I know I have to allow him to. After all, I was the one who left him behind. I owe him this.

"Got it," he smiles, coming back into my room, thermometer in hand.

"Okay," I nod as he comes round and sits on the bed again, leaning forward to put the small probe in my ear.

After a minute, he seems relieved. "Normal," he smiles broadly at me as he checks the reading after it beeps.

"Told you so," I murmur. "Derek," I sigh. "You really don't have to worry."

Silence.

Derek's face has suddenly become serious in such a way that it sends a shiver down my spine. He doesn't look mad thankfully but there's something about the serious look on his face that I don't like. His eyes are set on mine showing that he is determined.

"I do," he mutters seriously, standing back up again to move towards the window. "I really do," he insists.

"Derek?" I question hesitantly.

"You were fucking homeless Meredith!" he snaps making me flinch. "You have just had heart surgery. You've barely spoken about what happened and even when we try and talk about it, you focus on me and avoid every question about you…"

Oh, he noticed that.

"…You have fired three nutritionists within the space of five days Meredith! You have…"

"I don't need a nutritionist," I argue gently. I'm trying to remain as calm as possible which isn't easy when he is snapping. Sometimes, I used to be convinced that Derek and I were born to fight.

"Homeless Meredith," he mutters, watching me closely.

"I don't need a nutritionist Derek," I repeat for emphasis. Okay, I have fired three of them and I'll keep firing them because I don't need one.

"Homeless, Meredith," he repeats again, continuing to stare me down, making me wince once again.

"Why do you keep saying that?" I snap.

"I want to hear you say it," he whispers, with a determined glint in his eye. "I want to hear you say those words."

"What?" I ask, stupidly. I know what he wants me to say but how can I say it? The moment I say it out loud, I will have to then face it and that is the last thing I want to do.

"I want to hear you say 'I was homeless…' " He whispers softly but I can tell by the look on his face that he isn't going to drop it.

Shit.

"Why? Why do you need to hear me say it?" I demand. "What's the point?" I slip out.

"What's the point?" he repeats my question, appearing shocked. "The point is Meredith, is that it happened and you need to acknowledge it if you ever stand a chance of fully recovering and moving forward with your life."

No. No way.

"I can't," I mutter, staring at my hands. I can't look at him because I could swear I see a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

"Why not?" he prods, much more gently, as he sits across from me on the bed.

"I don't need a nutritionist, nor do I need a physical therapist," I whisper, changing the subject. "I'm recovering from heart surgery not from a severe case of encephalitis. They're not necessary."

"Oh, they're necessary," he argues softly, pissing me off. "You're malnourished…"

"I am not…"

"Homeless," he interrupts me. "Say it," he demands.

"Derek, I swear…"

"Say it," he interrupts again.

He can't be serious. How the hell doe's me saying it help him?

"I can't," I confess.

"Why not?" he asks gently, taking my hand but I'm quick to pull it away. That was stupid, considering I now sense his hurt but it was an automatic reaction.

"I just can't," I whisper, shrugging my shoulders.

"That's not an explanation Meredith," he pushes, in his typical Derek style. "Why can't you say it?"

"Just because," I shrug my shoulders again, aware I was probably coming across like a petulant child. Real smooth Meredith.

"Come on Meredith," he whispers, trying to be encouraging.

"You're aware what you're asking me to do right?" I ask him, finally making eye contact and I can see his facial expression change from one of concern to one of contentment.

"I am asking you to face what has happened," he smiles sadly. "I know it is big and scary. I know that you don't want to…"

"I…"

"You'd rather hide under your banner of avoidance," he chuckles, knowing what I was about to say. "I know," he assures me. "But you have to do this."

"Why? Why do I have to do this?" I persist.

"Do you want out of this ICU room? Do you want to be discharged? Do you want to try and build your life again?"

"No," I whisper adamantly.

"Really?" he questions sarcastically. "I suppose you don't mind nurses having to give you a shower and then ending up in bed with an oxygen mask over your face because the little energy you had was used for taking a shower? I suppose that doesn't bother you?"

I shrug my shoulders, unable to find my voice to argue with him. What does he want me to say?

"Meredith," Derek warns. When is he going to drop the issue? Why does he have to push this? Is it really such a big deal to him?

"Fine," I sigh. "I went away and now I am back," I smile mockingly. I look at Derek and I am surprised to see him fight the smile that's forming at the corner of his mouth.

"Very funny," he shakes his head. "Meredith," he breathes, taking my hand once again, much more hesitantly this time, though. "Where did you live?"

I mumble it so quietly so he can barely hear me.

"Meredith?" he groans loudly.

"I-lived-on-the-street," I spit out in detest as I feel tears build in my eyes.

Crap

"Thank you," he smiles at me, standing up and moving round to sit by my side and pull me into his arms. "Thank you," he repeats in my ear.

"Why are you thanking me?" I question.

"Because you've just done an incredibly brave thing Meredith," he whispers, holding me close to his chest and I can't help but sink into him. "You are so brave Meredith and I am incredibly proud of you."

"I'm not," I whisper, feeling defeat sink within my chest.

"Oh, you are," he murmurs. "I'm here Meredith. I'm right here," he assures me and right now that is all I need to know.