I always promise to update soon and I always fail.
I'd need 48 hour days to do all I have to do.
Hope you're still with me.
"What are you trying to say?" Meredith finally snapped, unable to bear Weller's ability to avoid a direct answer.
The neuro surgeon swallowed, leaning against the backrest of his chair.
His nails were tormenting his own palms, he felt like drowning.
"The situation has developed in the worst way, Meredith. It's been six days and there are no changes, not in better anyway. We'll keep him monitored and checked up, but I think you should start to contemplate the options"
"Which options?" Amelia barked, painfully aware of where her colleague was heading.
Weller took another deep breath, Webber was silent, he was forced spectator to a nightmare conversation.
"If his condition proved to be irreversible, what would you want to do?" he asked gently.
The day before
Weller sighed entering Shepherd's room.
This had become a sad morning ritual, the worst way to start his day.
Since Webber had asked him a neuro check for the first time, he had been performing them constantly, more times each day. Hoping for an improvement which hadn't arrived. On the contrary, the situation had progressively and continuously worsened.
From GSC 7, they had plummeted to 4.
The patient had reached a level of deep coma, the vital functions were deteriorating into almost nothing.
Shepherd didn't open his eyes, he had never done it after the first surgery.
He didn't talk or produce any sound, he was hooked up to a ventilator which breathed for him.
His reactions to pain had diminished and were now almost not present.
The clear flection he had noticed during the first test had become abnormal after a couple of days. And Weller's blood had frozen in his veins the previous day when the first, clear signs of decerebrate response had appeared.
There was just an extension now and even all the others parameters had worsened.
Pupils had turned from miotic to medium largeness, they hardly reacted to light. The corneal reflex was gone. The ciliospinal barely present, so barely Weller had to squint his eyes to perceive the effect of his ministrations and use much more pressure he usually did.
A little bruise had appeared on Derek's neck where the neurosurgeon used to apply his painful stimuli and Weller had decided to move onto the cheeks. Pupils dilated a bit but the reaction looked to be weaker and weaker.
Thank God at least the oculocephalic reflex was still present.
Weller practiced every morning the test. With shaking fingers, he grabbed Shepherd's head and turned it left and right. His eyes had always kept the focus in the right direction and this left a drop of hope.
The patient's brain looked to be functioning but all the rest was dragging it down.
Muscles were losing tone and there were the first signs of hypothermia.
Temperature had dropped from 98°F to 96.44 during the night.
The ECG had started complaining and showing moments of accelerated activity and Weller had paged Altman stat, he remembered Shepherd had suffered important damages to the heart and these sudden surges could have devastating effects.
Before her colleague arrived he planned to run an EEG. He had already adjusted the samplings on Derek's head and the exam was in progress. It was premature to express a complete diagnoses and analyses of the data, but at first sight the brain activity had drastically and dangerously slowed down.
Weller sat near the bed, observing the machine registering the whole mapping.
He didn't know that to think, it didn't know what to say, he didn't know what to tell to the family.
In other circumstances he would start to recommend a deep and painful consideration on life support, on organ donation and terrible topics he knew families needed days if not weeks to digest.
But this time it was the same for him, he couldn't force himself to talk clearly and openly.
Meredith Grey was her colleague, she perfectly knew what was going on. Shepherd's sister was a brilliant neurosurgeon herself and Weller didn't feel ready to bring the argument on the plate, not until precise and concurring elements would bring his medical opinion into a pessimistic mode.
He looked at his clock and sighed, the twenty minutes of monitoring had expired and he stood, approaching the bed and taking the samples away from the patient's skull.
The hair stuck disheveled, a slight beard peppered his boss' face.
Weller had a really hard time admitting the man lying in that bed was the same who had given him orders in the last five years, the same whose looks were impeccable, no matter what time of the day, night, evening was.
Derek Shepherd was losing hour by hour what had made of him a special person.
His mother made her best to keep him clean and tidy, but the damage was inside his body and there was nothing more they could do, not if his brain had decided everything had been too much.
Keller adjusted the gown on Shepherd's shoulder, fighting the sensation he was somehow violating him and the personal space they had always respected during the long years of collaboration.
He swallowed and tried to gain his composure back when the door opened and Webber and Altman came in together.
"Keller…" Richard greeted him flatly.
"Chief…"
Teddy sank both hands in her coat, sensing the tension and heaviness of that moment. It was clear the neurosurgeon wasn't satisfied of the tests he had performed.
"How did it go?" Webber asked straight, noticing the EEG still beside the bed.
"It's too soon to make any judgment" Keller tried to take time, but Richard glared at him coldly and just one look was enough to suggest him to be more articulated. "I need to analyze the whole draw" he sighed.
"But you have already made an appraisal. So just say it" Webber prodded him, walking closer to the bed and looking at Derek. His heart tightened and he tried to prepare himself.
"The reactions are slowing down… worsening on all levels. I need to schedule more check ups, but, right now, I'm really worried" he admitted, closing both arms across his chest.
"About what?" Teddy asked, needing to hear it loud and clear.
"About the fact this condition could become irreversible" he shot, going back to his usual self "both cardiac and cerebral activities are failing"
"How?" Webber stuttered, feeling the world crushing down on him.
"There are signs of hypothermia, the movements are un coordinated. The brain is giving up its task to manage the system, it's not able to control the temperature and the impulses to the limbs. It can be temporary, but it's the progressive worsening which scares me" Weller sighed.
"And you say this affected also the cardiac activity…" Teddy trailed off, approaching the bed and checking the ECG.
"The rhythm suddenly speeds up. I've noticed at least three or four abnormal traces on the screen. I was concentrated on my labs but I paged you immediately" the man added.
"And I confirm what you said…" she admitted gravely. She fished a pen out of her front pocket and opened the chart, checking the information she had written herself. "I need to take a blood sample to verify the labs…"
"Anything else?" Webber asked, not hiding surprise.
"Not at the moment. I need a complete blood count before making assumptions" she raised her eyes and met Webber's. He was staring at her silently and Teddy felt compassion for him "I think the repairs are holding, Chief. But I need to know if I have to intervene to correct the pressure and compensate the temperature loss"
"Sure…" Richard nodded, swallowing with effort "Hypothermia could raise a great chance of clots" he mumbled, locking eyes with her.
It wasn't necessary, it hadn't been necessary for him to point that out.
She knew it perfectly.
Derek had lost a lot of blood and his body wasn't ready to fight an inner battle, but this was a very possible and consistent perspective at the moment.
"I think I should tell something to the family" Weller breathed out, breaking the silence in the room. Richard straightened up and swallowed, shaking his head lightly, but the neurosurgeon had resumed his normal behavior "I know what you're thinking… but if the EEG confirms my concerns, we'll have to start the protocol"
Teddy walked away, unable to follow this conversation anymore. There was a memory which had knocked vehemently to her brain and she couldn't force herself to say it out loud. As doctor, she knew she had to, but as Derek's colleague and friend, she couldn't.
"How is it going?" Altman asked entering the OR. Everything was quiet and she got the reason. They had a 37 years old on the table, father of two kids, and they were taking organs out of his body like a mechanic would serve himself with a broken car.
"You don't have much time left" Shepherd breathed out. He was in the OR to try to keep the brain oxygenated the time necessary to finish this job. Teddy nodded and prepared herself to remove the heart.
"They are 45 minutes from here…" she added, locking eyes with him "the chopper will be here as soon as I'm done…"
"Good" Derek muttered curtly, not able to hide his discomfort.
"Are you ok, Shepherd?" Teddy asked, her hands deep in the man's chest. She felt his stare moving onto her but didn't say anything and waited for him to talk instead.
"I'm fine… I'm sorry… it's just…" he trailed off, shaking his head.
The whole OR was silent and he silenced, not able to put into words his emotions.
"It feels wrong to do this, I know" Teddy smiled sympathetically behind the mask "It's right but painful. I feel the same too" she paused, raising her eyes to meet his for a brief second. "I think we're both awful surgeons"
"We probably are" Derek chuckled "but every time we do a harvest I feel this way. I know it's an amazing thing, I know this guy is dead anyway… I just need some minute" he smiled sadly.
"We have all the time you need…" Teddy mumbled, focused on her job "so… I take you're not a donor" she said nonchalantly, regretting the question almost immediately. All the doctors and nurses had heard it and were now looking to Shepherd curious, not certainly the kind of attention he expected to have. "I'm sorry… this wasn't appropriate" she stuttered, stilling for a moment "I'm sorry"
The noise of her tools working filled the room and Teddy focused back on her job.
"Of course I'm a donor" Shepherd finally spoke "I know the importance of this… we see it every day, Altman"
"We do… but knowing organs could save people don't mean each of us is ready to sign a paper and let me do what I'm doing here… Unfortunately it's much more complicated than that" she sighed "and you shouldn't feel obliged as you're a doctor"
"And I don't actually. As a doctor I know transplants could save many people we lose every day, I know that a good education and information could make wonders, I know this man doesn't need anything left in his body anymore. And as a person, I know it's the greatest gift we can make to others. How could I not be a donor?"
"Don't know" Teddy shrugged "maybe you belong to some secret and screwed sect"
Some nurse giggled and Derek smiled despite himself. A sudden thought crossed his mind and his face tensed, suddenly anxious. It was the first time he spoke of this topic after his relationship with Meredith had found a solid balance and he had suddenly realized he had never discussed about this with her.
Being doctors totally aware of the importance of donation was a thing, being ready to grant a directive as husband and wife was something else. He sighed adjusting his scrub cap, drawing attention back on his person.
"So?" Altman prodded him.
"Nothing… I've just realized I don't know what my girlfriend thinks about this" he admitted, keeping his eyes on the table.
"Well… death and organ donations are not date dinners topic" she offered.
"And I don't even know what I would feel if she was a donor herself" he whispered, trying to imagine what he would feel if Meredith was the person lying on that table.
"You'd feel right in the same way" Teddy cut him off "losing someone is heartbreaking, Shepherd. But I don't think keeping a person alive despite everything is a better option… Sometimes we just need to let people go"
"And hope we'll go before…" he ended, sighing.
"Ok… enough with these topics… you're giving me a bad mood" she joked, her own voice strangled "and don't worry about that. Grey is younger than you… and she looks like the type who can give you a stroke whenever she wants"
"Thank you" he giggled, accepting her spirit.
"Derek is a donor" Webber said, startling Teddy from her daydreaming and hitting Weller with a moral slap.
"Are you sure?" the neurosurgeon asked, arching his brows.
"Yes… well… he was. I have never checked his directives… he just told me" Richard added, lowering his eyes on the floor.
"I knew the same thing" Altman confirmed.
"I'll take a look later… but at this point, if it's confirmed, I need to start the protocol" Weller said, trying to sound sure.
Webber gave his back to him and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Every time he thought they had hit bottom, something worse happened. The idea to unplug Derek and take his organs was making him nauseous.
"Don't you think we could give him more time?" Altman asked out of breath, sharing Richard's anxiety.
"I'd give him all the time in the world, dr. Altman. But this could kill his organs. And I don't think this decision is up to me or you" Weller added, opening the chart "I'll run other tests during the day and if the cerebral activity doesn't improve in the next 24 hours, I'll start the protocol" he breathed out, sending a furtive glance to the bed "Do you think I can schedule a meeting with the family tomorrow morning?"
"I'll arrange it" Webber sighed, knowing all that Weller had said was correct. The neurosurgeon started to walk to the door but stopped once side by side with his chief.
"I hope it won't be necessary, Chief, I hope it won't be necessary" he mumbled patting his shoulder before leaving.
"Anything?" Bailey asked Hunt, joining him outside Cristina's room.
The trauma surgeon looked like hell, clear sign of another sleepless night.
"She has started to talk…" he sighed, raking a hand in his short and messy hair "just a few words… simple answers... general topics"
"It's good. She's probably opening up" Miranda tried to comfort him.
"She has said nothing about what happened. She hasn't even asked anything about Derek" he confessed, shaking his head.
"She probably needs more time for that, Owen" Bailey sighed, touching his arm with the intention to support him.
"It's been almost a week, Bailey. She doesn't even know if he's dead or alive. And I don't know what to do anymore" he admitted helplessly, giving his colleague a short look. "I was told waiting could help… to let her space to decide her own pace but… I feel like she'll never do any step if I don't try to push her"
Bailey opened her mouth to speak, but she realized she had no idea what to suggest him. She swallowed and sent a furtive glance inside the room, where Cristina was sitting on the bed, her knees against her chest, reading a book. She looked fine, calm. Maybe Hunt was right, it was time to try a different approach.
"You know her better than anyone else, Hunt. And you know what is the best option now" she tried to encourage him. The trauma surgeon nodded and took a deep breath before opening the door and entering the room. Miranda saw him approaching the bed and then walked away, feeling in the way of a private and delicate moment.
"Hey" Owen greeted his girlfriend, kissing her forehead and sitting on the chair near the bed "you're up early" he commented, shivering when Cristina gave no sign of response, interaction, anything. Hunt swallowed and tried to collect himself and his resolution. There was a tray abandoned on the night stand, Cristina's breakfast, and, to his relief, the food was not untouched like usual, there was a good part missing. "Did you eat something?" he asked, trying to keep his voice and spirit up.
"Yeah…" she answered flatly "you can finish if you want". She flipped a page and Owen tried to order feelings and thoughts. He stretched his hand and picked up the remains of the croissant, biting it greedily. He had just gulped a coffee in the morning and he didn't remember last time he had found twenty minutes to sit and have a proper meal. He had spent hours in the OR in the last days and all his free time in Derek's and Cristina's rooms. He was exhausted, physically and mentally. Altman had informed him about the evolution of Shepherd's conditions and the progressive deterioration had pushed him to the decision it was time to face and drive Cristina out.
Meredith needed her, could need her more than ever in the next days and it was the moment to understand if she would be ready or not.
And there was something else torturing his brain, an awful ghost troubling his short slumbers. Derek could not make it and Cristina needed to know, she needed to be aware of his conditions, she needed to say goodbye. And probably thank you.
He drank the orange juice from the plastic glass and trashed everything in the bin.
Cristina was still silent and peaceful and Owen took a deep breath sitting.
"Cristina…" he started cautiously, nervousness flip flopping in his gut "we need to talk"
"About what?" she shot, trying to ignore him. Her body had tensed though, she was already in defensive mode.
"About what happened" he said softly, rubbing his palm on her arm.
Her eyes fell on the place their skins were touching and Owen felt her shivering. He had made a mistake and pulled his hand back "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, I'm sorry" he apologized, stroking his eyes tiredly, his determination sinking to helplessness.
"I just need some time, Owen" she whispered, lying the book on her knees.
"I gave you time, Cristina, I did. But now I feel like I could give you all the time and you'll never talk to me anyway" he admitted, backing against the chair. Their eyes met and Owen saw a fragility and weakness he had never known before.
"I was not… I didn't mean talking" Cristina stuttered, feeling her own voice trembling "I was…" she closed her arms across her shoulders and Owen understood. She had frozen when he had touched her, not because he wanted to talk. His stomach churned but he tried to keep up a brave face.
"I'm sorry… I could help if you told me… at least I could not do things that make you uncomfortable" he breathed out. His girlfriend's brown eyes bored a few seconds into his and then Cristina looked away, wiping tears from her cheeks.
"I can't" she simply said, sounding fragile like never before. Owen's heart broke and he sat on the bed, his knee touching hers, trying not to invade her space. All he wanted was to hold her tight.
"You can, Cristina… Please… I'm here for you and I just want to help" he insisted, moving a strand of hair behind her ear. He saw indecision flickering in Cristina's eyes, the pain he was causing her. "Did he touch you?" he asked so softly he could hardly hear his own voice.
She shook his head frantically, but it looked more like a nervous reaction than a strong denial. Owen had entered the mined field and Cristina was looking for a way out.
"Cristina… I was…"
"He did touch me, ok?" she cut him off, flattening against the bedboard "He did once but…" she trailed off, closing her eyes, reminiscing those moments in her head "I've already told you…" she snorted.
"Ok…" Owen tried to soothe her, swallowing to prepare the next sentence "and Derek protected you" he finished. Several emotions painted on Cristina's face. It was the first time one of them mentioned Shepherd and she paled instantly. Her lower lip quivered and for a second Hunt thought she would break down. His own eyes moistened and he caressed her face tenderly "He didn't hurt you…" he whispered and breathed out in relief when she shook her head. More tears spilled out her eyes and Hunt gave her all the time to rule the conversation.
She had left that damned room with a black eye and many scratches and it was sure Dunn had hurt her, but not in the way they were discussing now. Hunt had been so scared, so stressed in those moments and after, so taken by the events that everything rolled on him like a wave in that moment and his eyes leaked tears before he could realize.
"Owen…" Cristina choked, surprised to see what she considered an iron man break down like that.
"I'm sorry" he sniffled, trying to collect himself, wiping away tears "I was so scared, Cristina. You were in danger and I couldn't do anything… it was maddening…"
He stood, pacing in the room to calm himself down. This wasn't his plan of course, but this speech had become overwhelming for the both of them.
He stopped leaning his back against the window, hands on his hips, a little ashamed of his outburst. Cristina needed a shoulder, bot a burden right now.
"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to unload my worries on you" he said quietly, giving her a small smile.
"It's fine, Owen. I thought it could be a hell even for you…"
"Could be?" he asked in disbelief, arching his brows quizzically.
"Whatever…" she shrugged, but Hunt saw her cheeks flushing.
"Cristina…" he prodded her.
"I didn't know what you felt for me, Owen. We're not together for a lifetime. I didn't know where we were in this affaire" she explained, playing with the hem of her t-shirt.
"I told you what I feel for you and I meant it, Cristina" Owen sighed, trying to relax "I feel a connection with you, something I have never felt before with any woman. I know it's early, I know I'm messed up, but I do have feelings for you" he admitted quietly, relieved to see a little smile lightening up her face "and it's not even an affaire anymore. All the hospital knows about it, I told Webber myself" he chuckled going back to the bed. He sat on the edge, smiling to her. "You have to be the one kicking me away as I won't leave you that easily"
"Thank you" she said sincerely.
"There are a lot of people who love you, Cristina. It's the first thing I learnt in this story. There are a lot of people who love you and need you. Now more than ever" he added, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. He passed his thumb on the back of her hand to give her calm and quiet to process his last sentence. She had perfectly caught the meaning of it and her body had stiffened again.
"I can't talk to Meredith" she blurted out, pulling her hand out of his hold and circling her knees.
"Of course you can" Owen tried to debate.
"No!" she yelled, making him flinch for the intensity of her voice "her life is crumbling down, is falling into pieces and it's my fault" she hissed, her lips trembling.
"None of what happened is your fault"
"You don't know it!" she retorted, shaking with rage "you think I'm blind and I don't know things as I stayed here in some kind of catatonic state. I heard a lot, Owen. I know Derek is one step from dying, I know about the surgeries, I know Meredith stopped by and spent some hour sitting beside me. I pretended not to be awake as I couldn't stand to look her in the eye" her eyes narrowed and dampened with tears she was clearly trying to fight and push back "you don't know what happened in there" she trailed off.
"No, I don't" Owen admitted defeated, looking down to the mattress "I don't know but I want to know as I've been breaking my head for the last six days to understand if we did or said something wrong, to understand how in the hell things ended like that" Cristina looked away but Owen grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight "and I also know that, everything happened in there, is not your fault. You did all you could do and you can't blame yourself for something you could not have done" he took a deep breath; his words were affecting Cristina, she was blaming herself but it made no sense "we are all blaming ourselves, Cristina. Webber and Falks for how they managed this story, Meredith who trusted that bastard in the first place, me as I wasn't there to protect you. It doesn't make any sense and it serves nobody, Cristina, none of us. Dunn just wanted to hurt someone and there was nothing you could have done to stop him".
His girlfriend was sobbing quietly and Hunt's heart broke a little more. But he also felt it was the moment to give the last push.
"Derek could die, Cristina; Weller is monitoring his stats constantly but the situation hasn't improved and there's a real chance he could not make it. I'm sure he'd want you to be with Meredith, to support her as she could need it like never before. Please…" he pleaded her, giving her hand a tight squeeze "there's nothing you can't tell or have to be scared of. Please…" he forgot about her fears and anxieties and pulled her in a firm hug, connecting their bodies as tight as he could. Her passiveness melted in his arms and she leaned her head on his broad chest.
"What if Meredith hates me?" she whispered, her face still nuzzling his scrub top.
"She doesn't hate you, Cristina. We're all consuming ourselves with guiltiness and regrets, but we all need to stay together and support each other"
"What if Derek's family hates me?"
"Mrs. Shepherd is an amazing woman; she's keeping her family together and always asks about you. Everybody is worried about you, Cristina" he pulled back and took her face in both hands, rubbing her cheeks calmly "I know it's gonna be hard for you, it's gonna be painful, but I'll be by your side all the time, ok?"
"Ok"
"When you're ready…" he added, still reading fear in her eyes.
"I don't think I'll ever be ready to relive that, Owen…" she sniffled, rubbing her eyes "but I know I'll have… just let me decide when doing it, ok?"
"Ok"
She backed away and adjusted against the bedboard, picking up her book again.
"Where is my mother?" she asked, noticing the black leather purse on the chair.
"I guess in the cafeteria for a quick breakfast" he smiled, realizing how similar they were. She flipped a page and took a deep breath.
"Is Dunn dead?" she asked flatly, not looking at him. For a brief second Hunt thought he had imagined the question. She had popped it so calmly and randomly he hadn't seen it coming.
"What?" he choked out, astonishment painting all over his face.
"Has Dunn been executed?" she asked again, this time glaring at him coldly.
Hunt shook his head. For what Falks had told him they had postponed the execution of a couple of days to let waters settle. The d-day was the following day though.
"Tomorrow in the afternoon, I think" he answered calmly.
The emotions he had felt in the first hours knowing that man was going to die in a few days had soon subsided. Seeing his corpse wouldn't take Derek back, wouldn't improve his situation. It was just something which needed to be done but didn't affect their lives anymore.
Falks had asked if someone wanted to attend but both Webber and Hunt had refused. The news was on all the daily press, but nobody of Derek's family had commented and Meredith was in too much shock to do it. Dunn was going to slip out of their lives silently.
But unfortunately not painlessly.
"You chose the best spot, dad. You have no secret power to charm fishes" Derek chuckled, seeing the smugness and pride radiating and lightening up his father's face.
"You're just sulking as your old man kicked you ass" Michael laughed, delivering an energetic pat on his son's back. Derek swayed on his legs for the impact and rolled his eyes, amused. "You won't find excuses, son. You'll be my slave tonight" he smirked, starting to whistle.
The sun was falling behind the hill and the air had become suddenly chilly. Derek closed the jacket in front of his neck and shivered in his clothes. The cold seemed to radiate from his bones and he moved his fingers to try to warm them up.
"Cold?" his father asked.
"A bit… it's always like this here" he trailed off, admiring the changing colors of the trees and the reflection of the dying sun on their tops "the sun goes down and the temperature crushes"
"I don't think they call this the Cold Valley for sport, Derek" Michael joked, admiring the surroundings.
"You're right" he admitted, spotting the path leading to his trailer. He pointed it to his father and Michael nodded.
"Do you have mint in your trailer?" the older man asked, making Derek stop on his tracks.
"No" he admitted deflated, disappointed to be ruining his father's victory and plans for the evening.
"I kind of expected this" Michael rolled his eyes "you still have poor tastes in cooking, son. Let's go that way" he said pointing into the opposite direction.
"Where?" Derek asked confused, remembering that trail didn't take anywhere.
"Follow and see" his father smirked, handling him his bucket "and carry this, please. My arm is sore"
They resumed their pace silently and Derek recognized each turn and hollow of that dusty trail. But suddenly, behind a corner and in the middle of a was-empty clearing, he spotted an old and black trailer. He froze on the spot recognizing the vehicle.
"How in hell did that arrive here?" he asked stunned and confused. There were trees all around and no road led there. The trailer seemed to be landed directly from the sky.
"It's always been here" Michael said in a breath, not able to hold his son's stare.
"What?"
The older man ignored the question and walked towards the trailer slowly. Derek realized for the first time how old his father really looked. He followed him silently, still dazed from the last sentence. The place looked exactly like last time he had walked down here, except for the old trailer occupying the central part of it.
Everything smelled like old and abandoned. The little patio in front of the trailer stood defying all laws of gravitation, the floor was consumed by water, rain, energetic cleanings. Derek lied the bucket down and took another look around. It was dark and his father hadn't lit up anything to help them seeing something. He had probably planned to grab mint and move to his trailer. But Derek was curious to see the inside of the trailer. He remembered it vaguely from old photos his mother had showed him. From what he remembered, she had sold it after Michael's death but, once again, he appeared to remember wrongly.
His father was arguing with the keys and Derek approached him shyly, feeling like an intruder. The insect screen had closed against his back and Derek pushed it open. He had to apply more force than expected as the hinges were covered in dust. An alarm bell sounded over his head and startled his father. Michael turned around, facing him.
"Where are you going?" he asked curtly, surprising Derek once again with a scolding tone.
"I just wanted to take a look inside" he said calmly, noticing strange emotions playing on his father's face.
"I'll just take what we need, Derek" he added coldly "one minute and I'll be out".
They shared a brief but intense look and Michael pushed the door open, closing it immediately on his son's face.
The glass was dirt with dust and powder and Derek could barely see the inside of the trailer. He saw the shadow of his father opening shutters in search of something, their spices apparently. He didn't know why he had been interdicted to enter that place but something was suggesting him not to insist. He waited patiently till Michael reappeared on the doorframe, a little jar in his hands.
"Here it is" he said, faking enthusiasm. Something had changed in his behavior and stare and Derek didn't understand why. Their eyes locked for a second till their attention was caught by a leaking sound inside.
"You left the tap running" Derek said quietly "Things never change" he smiled for his father's distraction "I go to turn it off" he took a step into the doorframe but bumped his chest into his father's stretched arm.
"You can't go in there"
Derek raised his eyes and shook his head, swallowing.
"Dad…" he whispered. The feeling to have lost the track of events became certainty.
"You don't get it, Derek. Do you?" Michael asked, taking a step forward and obliging his son to recoil.
"Get what?"
"There's nothing in there for you" he hissed, making Derek cringe.
"It's just a trailer" he spat back, hands on his hips. His father's face stretched in a mask of worry.
"It's not a trailer, Derek. It's a one way ticket" he snapped, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
"What?" his son blurted out "what the hell are you talking about?" he asked, not able to hide astonishment and impatience.
Michael looked to him shaking his head and then closed the distance between the two of them. His strong palms found his son's cheeks and he locked their eyes.
"Don't you remember what happened?" he asked, his voice soft and gentle. His eyes were full of sadness and Derek felt his stomach churn.
"Dad…" he whispered, fearing to see the big picture now.
"Do you remember what happened to you?" Michael repeated, shaking his son both physically than mentally.
Everything exploded in Derek's head.
The pains he had been feeling all day, the troubles breathing.
William Dunn had almost killed him, that's what had happened to him.
Or what else?
He started to fear the answer reading his father's expression.
"I do…" he breathed out, closing his hands around his father's wrists. Michael's skin was warn, he was real.
"You need to fight harder, Derek. You need to fight harder than this"
"I've tried"
"No, you haven't yet" he insisted "I know you're tired, I know it hurts like hell. But you need to give everything you have" he said gently, wiping away a tear rolling down his son's face "don't let that man take away the best of you… fight harder… go back to your life"
"It's too late" Derek said helplessly.
"That's crap and you know it. It's not too late until you decide it. Come on… I'll show you the way"
Michael picked up the bucket and walked down the stairs. He stopped, realizing Derek was still in the same spot, admiring the view and the place they were leaving. The old man sighed, fully understanding his son's thoughts "It looks perfect, Derek. It looks calm and peaceful and all that you need after a traumatic experience. But it goes away immediately. And what is left is the regret of the family and people you have left behind. I hadn't much time to teach you things, son. But let me teach you this, please"
Derek took another look around and followed him.
Meredith watched from the couch while Bailey finished the afternoon medications.
She had obtained to stay there, breaking a good number of rules.
Family wasn't allowed in the room during visits but Bailey had been merciful.
She was checking meticulously all the drainage tubes sneaking out of Derek's body, cleaning and sanitizing the areas to prevent infections.
"Are they clean?" Meredith asked quietly, her eyes lost on the man she loved, lying there in a deep state of oblivion.
"There is some liquid…" Miranda breathed out, keeping her focus on the open wound "and one shows an early stage of infection. I've injected a small dose of antibiotic. It should be enough" she sighed.
"Dr. Weller said the parameters are not improving… his coma is progressing…" she sniffled, wiping tears away from her face.
Bailey straightened up and pulled both gloves out. She was done with the medication and Grey needed a shoulder.
"There are no changes from yesterday, Meredith. That's what he said" she tried to comfort her.
"But yesterday it was worse than the previous days… and I know what it could mean"
"What it could mean is not what it means, Grey" Bailey said firmly, sitting on the couch beside her. She took a deep breath and stilled for a second. She didn't know what to say, she didn't know if it was right to give Meredith hope as the situation was objectively border line. But she was there as friend, and friends and family were allowed to hope. "I know things are not looking good but you need to have faith in him" she said softly taking her hand in her lap and squeezing it "All we can do is talk to him and let him feel he has a load of reasons to fight and come back here… you're the one he needs the most, Grey"
Meredith sniffled and looked up, tears streaming freely down her cheeks.
She was scared, but Bailey knew this was the only way to try to take Derek back from this deep sleep.
"Come on" she prodded her, standing and pulling her up too "sit with him"
"I…" Meredith tried to protest when Bailey pushed her gently towards Derek.
"You can. I just need to check some stat and then I'll leave you alone" she added, inviting Meredith to take the chair near the bed.
Grey obliged, trying to control the nausea raising from her stomach seeing Derek in that state. She scanned his body quickly. A sheet was covering his legs and stopped on his ribcage, to cover the tubes entering his abdomen. Most part of his chest was wrapped in bandages and the gown was lightly open on the front, to allow Altman and all the doctors to check his heart and lungs during their visits.
Meredith knew Catherine had personally taken care of her son's hygiene in the last days. She washed him every evening, she shaved him in the morning. There was a part of Meredith who knew she should have offered to help, but the other one had forced her not to. Catherine loved to do it, it was a private moment and Meredith didn't want to waste it. And then she didn't know how she would react to touch Derek for those reasons. She wasn't ready. And she wasn't even now.
"I'm not sure I can do this" she mumbled, lowering her eyes on her boyfriend's hand, resting still near her knee.
"You can" Bailey smiled, picking up Derek's hand and joining it in Meredith's "Take a deep breath and talk, Grey. I'm sure you can give him a billion of reasons to open his eyes" she went back to her machines and Meredith stared at the warm, soft limb she was cuddling. Her fingers moved shyly tracing the big, soothing palm. They had met a palm-reader once during a party and she had obliged Derek to play that game with her. The old woman had predicted both of them a long and healthy life pointing to the midline of their offered hands. Had she seen William Dunn in the big picture? Did accident and calamities count in the prophesying stuff? She squeezed Derek's hand tighter, not able to accept not to get any answer. The IV stuck in his vein didn't allow many movements and Meredith was afraid to twist his wrist. She simply caressed his fingers and palm, trying to put up a speech or something.
She cleared her throat to speak but froze when Derek opened his eyes.
"Derek…" she choked shaking "Derek… can you hear me?" she repeated squeezing his hand.
"What's going on, Meredith?" Bailey asked, approaching the bed frowning.
"His eyes… are open" Grey said through the lump in her throat. Her chest was beating madly at the sight of blue orbs staring groggily ahead.
Miranda picked up a penlight from the nightstand and shot it in Derek's eyes. She grimaced keeping the lids open when the response proved not to be what she had hoped for. She repeated the test and then put the instrument back on the nightstand, sighing.
"It's just an involuntary reflex, Meredith" she whispered, feeling her heart clench "there is no response to light".
Their painful stares locked for a second and then their eyes moved to Derek's face.
His eyelids closed almost immediately and stilled, peaceful like in the thousand nights he had shared lying beside his girlfriend.
Bailey looked down and circled Meredith's shoulders with her arm.
She felt her own tears bubbling up but tried to repress them.
She had preached calm and what had just happened was normal in patients in coma.
But seeing Shepherd's eyes so blank and blind had shaken the earth under her feet and she knew Grey had to feel ten times worse
So... next chapter I'll have some "encouraging time" for Derek.
And then we'll go back to present times.
I have a plot in mind, hope you won't get mad.
A little bit more of patience to see Derek awake.
Leave a review please!