Chapter Thirty-Seven: That's What I'm Waiting For
"We could go out tonight."
Meredith looked at her boyfriend and frowned.
"What? I did promise I'd take you out one of these days," he reminded her.
"Yeah, but does it have to be tonight? I'm exhausted and probably smell gross. Can't we just go home, order take out and watch the Office?" she asked.
"Okay for one thing, you smell amazing. And for another, we're supposed to be dating right now. Not married and boring."
She laughed. Though it had been a few weeks since Mark and Derek's fight in the halls and they'd been together almost constantly since, their relationship had yet to take on a more serious, regimented path. Or a more public one.
Sighing, she thought of Izzie. Who had never exactly picked a fight with her, but who had managed to barely speak with her since her breakup with Mark. And of George, who somehow managed to ignore the obvious fact that Meredith was sleeping with Mark and had slept with Derek.
"It's going to be okay," he said, sensing her worry. She smiled and intertwined her hand with his.
"It hardly ever is," she said jokingly.
He stopped abruptly and she turned in to him and they kissed, slowly, outside of the entrance of the hospital for the world to see.
"Hey," he said, pulling away so that their faces were inches apart. "It will be okay. I promise."
She reached up and touched his cheek.
"You're so sweet. Like I always knew you could be," she said.
"You and no one else," he agreed. She kissed him again, he sighed and held her close to him. "I love you so much."
She took his hand and led him to her car. He pressed her up against as they reached it.
"So where to? Want to get some food? The Office?" he asked.
"We are going to be neither old nor boring tonight," she said flirtatiously.
Miles away, on a cramped bed in the back of a trailer in the middle of an otherwise empty field, Derek Shepherd was making love to his wife.
Not, of course, that either would dare to address it as this. Even the mention of the word could be enough to send their fragile, newly rebuilt world tumbling to the ground it had rose up from.
It was not the first such encounter, nor would it be the last. It was far from the first time that Derek or Addison had mentioned at some point throughout the day that they should sleep together that night, or the next. It wasn't the first time that they had magically turned on their willingness for such activities and pretended like they were being intimate with Meredith, as was Derek's case. And Mark, as had been Addison's case until he'd been more recently placed with another man, one younger and more sincere.
As they finished and Derek bit his lip to keep himself from uttering his ex-mistress' name, Addison was at once desperately glad that Meredith was sleeping with Mark and no longer wanted her husband, that she'd at long last given up on her childhood fantasy, that her Joey Potter like addiction had finally been transferred to her Pacey.
Derek rolled off of her and onto the bed.
"Thank you," said Addison half-heartedly. Derek kissed her cheek.
"It'll get better," he said, half to himself.
"That was amazing."
Mark looked sideways and smiled at the woman lying next to him, slightly flushed, breathing heavily, barely covered by her duvet.
"You were amazing."
She propped herself up on her elbow to lean over to kiss him again. He resisted the urge to tell her, again, how much in love with her he was, but she saw it in his eyes and smiled.
"Tell me a story," she said abruptly.
"What?" he asked in amusement.
"Seriously. Please?"
"How about the one where I scared away your vet boyfriend for ten years?" he suggested playfully. She rolled her eyes.
"Come on, you've got to have one better than that," she said.
He thought.
"You know, actually I do."
New York, 1996
Meredith shrieked in alarm as strong arms wound around her and lifted her into the air. Her shriek turned to delight when Mark swung her around before setting her back down again.
"I wish you'd stop that."
Surprising her again, he lifted her up by the waist and swung her around once more.
"No you don't," he teased, sliding an arm around her shoulders and leading her out of the airport.
Looking out the window, she grinned. It had been a year since she'd been in New York, for Derek and Addison's wedding. It had been nice to get out of her house, away from her demanding yet absent parents and her clingy eight year old half-sister.
"How's residency treating you?" she asked Mark. He shrugged.
"Kind of like a soap opera with actual medical practicing. It's interesting. Derek and Addison are... Do you want to know?"
Meredith shrugged and he took it as a sign to continue.
"Doing well. Not really over the honeymoon stage."
She reached a comforting hand toward him. It landed awkwardly, on his thigh, her fingers indecently close. She slowly inched it down, not wanting to appear juvenile.
Not being able to help himself, he took the opportunity to glance sideways at her. He pacified himself, saying that so many young models, actresses, girls designed to be desire worthy were her age. She was grown now, it wasn't gross. He would never, ever, be able to touch her, but it didn't make it gross.
"So where to, gorgeous?" he asked her. She rolled her eyes. Though Derek's wedding had been just the two of them, they almost never failed to go to bars together and do all manner of things that Ellis and Richard would never permit.
Mark flinched slightly when, an hour later, Meredith appeared out of the spare room door, dressed in skin tight jeans and a black halter top. As she twirled around, he realized in alarm that the top laced up the back, and that her back was covered only by strings and no fabric.
"Does that even qualify as a shirt?" he asked. She laughed and slipped her feet into her high heeled boots. He glanced at her again, taking in things he'd missed at first glance. Her blonde hair, down on her shoulders, a thin gold chain around her neck.
"Please, the boys at the bar will wonder how you got so lucky," she teased. He walked toward her and offered her his arm.
"Like I could ever be that lucky," he teased back.
The crowd at the bar was dense. Mark easily parted the crowd and she trailed behind him, her hand encased in his. They stopped just before the bar.
"Want me to get you a beer?" he asked.
"No. I hate beer. Get me something else," she demanded. He sighed dramatically but ordered her a shot of Tequila.
"Be careful with the stuff, it'll get the job done quickly," he warned. She giggled and drowned it with ease.
A few moments later she noticed a pair of eyes on her and turned sideways to the guy in his mid twenties who had been eying her.
Reluctantly, Mark wandered off for his own pursuits.
He returned a half hour later to find them considerably closer, and Meredith considerably more inebriated.
"Hey, it's time to go," he said, putting his hand on hers. She pulled hers out.
"I was thinking I'd go home with my new friend Patrick," she said, indicating the guy with a giggle. Mark frowned.
"I'm thinking not," he said.
"Dude, what's your problem?" asked Patrick.
"My problem is that she's seventeen," replied Mark. He latched his hand around her upper arm and pulled her toward him.
"Sounds legal to me," said the other man, smirking. Mark resisted the urge to smack him.
"And a virgin. And drunk, and I'm going to have to refrain from kicking your ass. Come on Mer."
Compliantly she followed him, stumbling slightly in attempt to match his longer strides.
She stopped abruptly once they'd left the bar and laughed.
"What?" he asked in annoyance.
"Were you jealous, Mark?" she asked.
"Just looking out for you."
"And what was that virgin thing? Please."
Mark's face darkened slightly while he waited to continue, knowing she would.
"Me and George. A few months ago. It was awkward."
An image of her best friend, George O'Malley, floated into his head and he would have laughed had he not been so consumed with...
"George? Seriously?" he asked. She nodded.
"Uh-huh. We decided we'd rather do it together than waste it on some random," she explained. He frowned.
"Like that guy in the bar."
Meredith nodded, giggling and smiling at a group of guys who passed by, leering at her. Mark walked toward her, wrapped a possessive arm around her shoulders and pulled her in to him, using his other arm to flag a taxi.
Meredith blushed as he finished his story and curled up closer to him.
"I didn't know you knew that," she admitted. He shrugged.
"It kind of threw me for a loop."
Meredith concentrated for a moment and then shook her head.
"I don't even remember that. Thank you, anyway. For saving me from that creep," she said. She paused. "You were jealous?"
"In a way. Not like now."
"But you wanted..?"
He kissed her head.
"You've always been beautiful. It took me about ten years to notice and when I did I spent another ten years trying to blot out the thought, but it's been there for a while," he admitted.
"Addison had a right to be jealous," realized Meredith regretfully.
Derek Shepherd didn't notice when his wife of nine years slipped out of bed late that night, hours after their lackluster attempt to make love. She silently dressed, tiptoed out of the trailer, her tears only erupting when she was alone in her car.
She drove into town, away from the slightly desolate trailer grounds. She knew her destination because she'd been invited there but had never had the courage to go.
He answered the door when she knocked and stared for a moment.
"Hello," he said uncertainly. Suddenly fearless she walked over the threshold and put her arms around him.
"I'm sorry. My marriage is over, I didn't know where else to go," she admitted. He cautiously wrapped his arms around her waist.
"It's okay," he murmured.
"I'm not here to... manipulate you, or make anyone jealous, or use you. I just needed to be somewhere other than there."
Alex nodded and led her into the small apartment.
"You can sleep here. I mean George is with Torres and Izzie will know you're here when she wakes up, but..." he trailed off uncertainly. She noticed that he was wearing plaid pajama pants and no shirt, and that on his face was his rare look of vulnerability and compassion.
"I don't care."
They progressed into his bedroom. She sat on his bed and wiped a tear from her cheek.
"Stop it. You'll be fine," he said comfortingly, squatting in front of her. She nodded.
"Thank you. I needed a friend right now." He wiped another tear from her cheek.
"I think I did, too," he admitted, before joining her on the bed.
Author's note: Seeing as we're nearing the end, I was wondering if any of you would like to request anything. Scenes or whatever I've missed, I'd be happy for your input.
This scene (the flashback in particular) was requested by a reviewer (sorry, forget the name. Review again and I'll source you next time) who wanted a flashback to indicate how long Mark and Derek have been having more than platonic feelings for Meredith. Quite a while, as it happens.
The metaphor in this chapter is EXTREMELY important, and is also an indicator of things to come. It happens early on, I think many of you will know what I mean.
I'm sort of thinking of writing a sequel, but once I resolve my love triangle I don't know if there will be any point. Thoughts? Opinions? Ideas?