**Trigger Warning: This chapter contains mentions of self-harm. If you are sensitive to this topic, please read with caution or skip to the last scene.**
Nicole's A/N: We're back for our bi-yearly update (really, has it been that long?) We keep saying we're going to update more frequently, and we plan to. Once we start writing and talking about this story, I get excited. It still holds a special place in my heart, even though life gets in the way preventing more frequent writing and updates. Thank you to all our awesome readers, new and old, who are still with us. We truly enjoy reading your feedback, on this site and Twitter. Please keep them coming!
Chapter 37
Early August
As nice as the previous day with Meredith, his family, and the brand new cats have been, Derek is happy to be back to work today. His brain needs to poke into other people's brains to completely recharge. This brain tumor is exactly what he needs to start his day right.
"Annie Logan," Derek says, walking into the patient's room.
She is a teenager, barely sixteen, and she has a good chance to fight through this tumor. Derek's knife is only the first of many steps for this young woman, but Derek has a feeling she's a fighter.
"Hey, Dr. Shepherd," Annie replies. He can see the worry in her eyes, so he tries to put her at ease.
"How are you doing?" he begins. "Any headaches? Anything weird you want to report?" he asks, grabbing her chart and scrolling through it. Her vitals have been stable, nothing out of the ordinary has happened, and he's pleased. Smooth sailing means the surgery will probably be smooth sailing, too.
"Fine. Nothing weird."
Annie is definitely on edge, so Derek decides he can do the preliminary checks himself instead of sending in an intern, probably as nervous as Annie.
"Good. I'm just gonna quickly check your vitals before I send you up for pre-op, alright?"
"Can you wait for my parents to come back? They're just grabbing coffee."
"Of course," he says, smiling. "This will only take up a few minutes of our lives. So, what do you like to do, Annie?"
Annie sighs, as he grabs his stethoscope and listens to her heart. "I love painting. Abstract, mostly."
"I'm hopeless with a brush," Derek jokes, giving her a smile. "What's your secret?"
"I don't really know, it just helps me cope. Clears the clutter in my brain."
"I understand that." Painting is her surgery, and he wants to make sure she can get back to that as soon as possible. He holds up her wrist to check her pulse, and he notices a few old scars there.
His brain immediately jumps to conclusions. His eyes start roaming over the rest of her arm, where more tiny scars are visible, and then he is tempted to pull the covers off her and check the skin on her legs. He knows it will be inappropriate, but he can't help himself. Thoughts of Meredith doing the same to herself keep popping in his head, and he can't stop them.
"I'm sorry, I know this is not an appropriate question, and I apologize, but I would like some advice." Annie looks puzzled as Derek stands back from the bed, hooking the stethoscope around his neck, taking a deep breath. "The scars on your wrists…"
"Self-harm," Annie says, before he can make even a bigger fool of himself.
"Why?"
The question lingers in the air for a while, and Derek knows he has pushed this too far. He should have kept his tongue in check.
"Because I didn't know about painting yet, and cutting cleared the clutter." Annie's voice is low but sure. She comes from a point of awareness, of unexpected strength and resiliency, and he wants to know her secret.
"So why did you stop?"
"My parents found out, I started therapy, the rest slowly came together. It wasn't easy, and sometimes it feels like the easy way out, but it's not anymore."
Derek nods.
"It was never about dying. It was about making the pain go away, stop the heaviness of the world from crushing me."
"I...I understand."
Before he can ask any more questions he hears a knock on the door and turns around to see Amelia, a frown on her face.
"Dr. Shepherd, can I steal you for a minute?" Her voice sounds neutral enough that Annie has no clue, but Derek knows he's in trouble.
"Of course. I'm going to be back soon. I'll send a resident to bring you up. I'll see you in the OR, Annie. And thank you for your insight and sharing your story, I appreciate it."
Annie nods, and Derek leaves the room, dreading what happens next. He follows Amelia down the hall to a cluster of chairs slightly more secluded than the open hallway.
"What was that about? What the heck, Derek, are you her psychologist or her brain surgeon?"
"I…" Derek shakes his head. He doesn't want to say too much, but he knows how bad it looks.
"What's going on?"
At least Amelia can see his distress. Yet, he's still reluctant to talk. "How's the move, so far?"
"Derek, don't change the subject. Why are you asking so many questions? Personal questions!"
"I think Meredith is cutting herself."
Amelia's face morphs into many different expressions, before it settles into a snort. Of course she doesn't believe him.
"I'm serious, Amelia." Yet, her face is still amused.
"Why would you think that?"
"She has so many cuts and bruises on her arms. Something is going on."
Amelia sighs. "Then why don't you ask her?"
It's Derek's turn to sigh, louder and slower than Amelia's. "We're still not in a good place, Ames."
"I figured. With the whole suitcase and the divorce papers you mentioned."
It feels like a lifetime ago, when he thinks about it. "We're better. That part is a little better. The cats helped."
Amelia smiles. "The strays? Meredith really has a way with taking in people. Or animals, in this case."
"Yeah." It brings a smile out of Derek. Meredith's heart is really always open to make room for more people – or animals – when needed. It's one of his favorite traits about her, but also one of the most frustrating. Mostly, everything that makes Meredith, Meredith is lovable and frustrating. "I'm afraid they're staying. Callie is taking two of them since Sofia wanted them, but the others are staying."
"Aw, I never pegged you for the cat type, Derek."
Derek chuckles. "Me neither. Sometimes the best things are unexpected, Amelia."
The conversation with Amelia keeps swirling in Derek's brain as he drives home. He's not sure what to expect when he gets there, since he knows the kids are having a sleepover at Callie's. He's not sure what Meredith is up to, but he's almost looking forward to some quiet time to talk to her.
He's still trying to figure out how to breach the subject of self-harm with her. Nothing has ever prepared him for this conversation.
Derek is welcomed home by a long, hard, yellow stare from Sunny Wyatt.
The cat is standing in the hall, almost frowning at him, definitely staring him down. Derek smiles, amused: she already thinks she owns the place. This cohabitation will be interesting.
"Hey there, Sunny," he greets, a chuckle escaping him when she meows back her own version of a greeting. Maybe a cat to come home to is not so bad, after all.
He crouches down to pet the cat and then he notices a tiny splatter of red on the floor. At first he's not sure what it is exactly, but he stops guessing it's tomato sauce when he sees the splatters making a trail in the direction of the master bathroom.
Derek curses under his breath. He was right, damn. He was more than right.
He hurries in the direction of the blood splatters, ignoring the cat, ignoring everything else. His only focus is on getting to Meredith. She's probably bleeding out in their bathroom and he hopes he's not too late to save her.
He holds his breath as he tries the door. And of course it's locked. Derek jiggles the handle, trying it again and again, panic rising faster.
The door is not budging.
Derek sees only one possible solution, then: breaking down the door. That's what fire rescuers do in emergencies, right? He's definitely not mad to pay for a new door if it means he can save Meredith's life.
He holds the doorknob as he leans into the door, giving it a jab. Yet, nothing. Not enough force. He tries another time, putting his full weight and then some into it, and the door flies open with a crack.
Yet, Meredith is not dying in a pool of blood.
Meredith is standing stark naked in front of him, her bath towel pooled at her legs, her eyes wide and scared.
"Shit, Derek!" she yelps, bending quickly to retrieve the towel. Fear and surprise have been replaced by anger as she looks up at him.
Derek is too busy holding his throbbing shoulder to feel the glare, or see her birthday suit. His shoulder is on fire. Not the best decision, now that he thinks about it. Especially considering the fact that Meredith appears to be fine. More than fine.
"What the hell, Derek! You could have knocked!"
"I…" He moans, grimacing as he straightens and pain flares through his tendons. "I saw a trail of blood and I got worried, I…"
"Jesus, Derek. I'm not dying!"
"I didn't think so at the time," he says through gritted teeth.
Meredith walks closer, her towel hiding her body again. He feels her wet hair drip on his bare arm as she puts her arm around his shoulder and probes it. As much as it hurts, her hands are gentle and soft on his injury.
"What were you thinking?" she murmurs under her breath. "You clearly weren't," she adds, only for her to hear.
"I jumped to conclusions," he admits, shame coloring his cheeks. Meredith looks at him sideways, clearly demanding an explanation. Derek sighs. "I had this patient today. Brain tumor."
"Okay?" Meredith prods, skeptical. Derek hisses as she maneuvers his arm and more pain shoots through his nerves.
"Also, former self-harm. Tons of scars."
Meredith brusquely pulls away from him. "And you thought I was cutting myself? Really, Derek? Really?!"
He cannot face her. The accusation in her tone is worse than whatever crap Amelia threw at him. He feels awful for even jumping on that train in the first place.
"I started seeing scars on you, too, Meredith." His voice is barely above a whisper, but she hears it. Meredith jumps away from him and starts pacing the floor in their bathroom.
"Jesus!" She pinches the bridge of her nose, and he knows he's in deep shit.
"Meredith…"
"Get out, Derek!" she growls.
"I'm –"
"Get the fuck out!"
He doesn't let her repeat that. She's so worked up her cheeks are red. He knows he's in deep trouble. He's not going to come out of this unscathed, and not just his shoulder will be injured.
She throws on the striped T-shirt and khaki shorts that she set out for herself to wear. Meredith has never been much of a shorts wearer; she hates her skinny legs showing for the world to see, but this summer has been gruesomely hot for Seattle, too hot for pants. Usually she doesn't have to worry about what she's going to wear, since she doesn't have to wear clothes long before changing into scrubs.
Meredith doesn't bother drying her hair; she prioritizes checking on Derek, to make sure he's not in need of surgery. Deep down, she's hoping he's injured; he had no right to barge in on her. He wouldn't be undeserving of an injury. Maybe it would teach him a lesson, but probably not.
The thought of stepping foot inside the hospital makes her uneasy. Every time she goes there for therapy, she tries to avoid eye contact with her colleagues, but she senses their eyes on her - especially the nurses'. She knows they're talking about her, speculating about what the hell brought her in today. Rumors float, that's for sure. Not that she cares; she has bigger fish to fry.
She doesn't have to go far to find Derek. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, looking like a sad puppy. She almost feels bad for him, but the feeling dissipates when she remembers what he did. Then it returns. She tries pushing it away, but it keeps returning. When he looks so sad, it's hard not to feel bad for him. She doesn't know why he has that effect on her, but she hates it.
"Are you okay?" she musters, meeting eyes with her puppy dog faced husband.
"Yeah. Fine."
"You sure?" she asks, knowing how stubborn Derek can be. She sees him still holding his shoulder. "Maybe I should take a look?" She barely touches his shoulder and he instantly flinches.
"Ow," he grunts.
"That hurt?" she asks, raising a brow in concern. If her barely touching him hurts that bad, her husband is definitely going to need X-rays. "Derek, we should go to the hospital to make sure you didn't break anything."
"No, really, Meredith. I'm fine. Just a little bruised."
She crosses her arms. "Derek … "
It didn't really hurt when she touched him. At least, not bad enough to say ouch. If anything, his heart hurts worse than his shoulder.
"You should get an X-ray, just to make sure you didn't break anything." When he hears those words come from Meredith's mouth, he feels a slight tinge of guilt. Her hand brushes his back; his heart reacts with a flutter. He doesn't want her to stop touching him. He'll do anything to spend time with her.
"You're right," he relents, the words escaping his words with ease when they never would have before. His stubborn ego would never allow him to admit to her that she's right. And, in this case, he doesn't want her to know he's faking to be close to her.
He lets Meredith open the car door for him, which is something she's never done for him. He's always believed in chivalry, as in it's his job to open doors for her in spite of Meredith's frequent insistence of being perfectly capable of opening a door for herself.
She drives, another uncommon occurrence when they're in the car together. He knows she hates driving, and would prefer to never do it given a choice. However, she also has a thing about never letting her friends drive her car. Something about how Alex has had a dozen speeding tickets. He doesn't know how Alex still has a driver's license if that's true. Also, according to Meredith, you'd be safer with a monkey in the driver's seat than Cristina. She trusted his driving, apparently, because she was always quick to get in the passenger's seat when they were in the car together.
His eyes gravitate to her arms as he studies his wife's composure in the driver's seat, her eyes intent on the road. "Where are the cuts from, Meredith?" he asks out of concern. "You can't tell me those cuts are from shaving."
She rolls her eyes. "It was supposed to be a surprise," she sighs loudly.
"What was supposed to be a surprise?"
"I've...I've been taking cooking lessons...with your mother over Skype," she replies.
"You've what?" He stares at her, point blank, trying to figure out if she's cracking a weird joke, but she looks insanely serious.
"I thought it was time I learned to cook, you know, since I never bothered before. Now that I have all this free time, I might as well."
"What's happened to all the food, then?" He's still not sure he's buying his wife's excuse.
"The kids eat some of it. What they won't eat, Alex, Maggie, Callie, and Amelia come over and eat. Let's just say they're my taste testers," Meredith replies.
"Wait, all these people know that you're learning to cook, and I didn't?" He feels hurt, remembering his conversation with Amelia from earlier about his concerns. Why hadn't Amelia said anything to ease his nerves? If Amelia had told him, that would have prevented the events to follow. He and Meredith wouldn't be in the car together now.
He suddenly feels grateful that Amelia didn't tell him.
"Like I said, I wanted to surprise you," she says. She rolls her eyes. "But you just had to assume these burns and cuts were intentional. God, Derek, I can't believe you actually think I'd hurt myself intentionally."
"I'm sorry," he says, finally believing her story.
"Are you, really?" she says. "Because I'm not so sure."
"Of course I am. I was just worried about you," Derek responds.
"Well, stop. Stop worrying about me. I'm not your child. I'm your wife, and I'm a grown up," she says.
"I know," he says. "But grown ups need to be worried about sometimes, too." She scoffs, not responding. "Just like you being worried about me and my shoulder. It's the same thing."
"Not quite," she argues.
"How is it different?" he asks.
"I saw you hurt your shoulder. You never actually saw me hurt myself," she says.
"Okay, so if I don't see it, it doesn't exist?" he asks.
"Correct," she says.
They leave it at that.
"What are we going to say happened?" Derek asks, and honestly Meredith hasn't put an ounce of thought into that. She doesn't have the time or energy for petty rumors, which she knows will fly regardless of the story they concocted.
The only orthopedic surgeon Meredith trusts with her husband's life has the night off. Callie has their kids, after all, and the last thing Meredith wants is ruin Zola and Sofia's perfect sleepover, so for the love of God, she hopes Derek's shoulder isn't actually injured.
It has been ages since Zola and Sofia had been able to have a sleepover, with all the madness that had been surrounding their lives. Just once, she needed not to be the reason for her kids' messed-up childhood, which will cost them millions in therapy later in life, unless of course America figures out how to make mental health a priority. Meredith is fully expecting Zola and Bailey's inheritances to go mostly to therapy bills.
Of course, she can't blame herself for Derek being an idiot and busting down the door. If he would just freaking trust her not to be stupid, then they wouldn't be in this situation in the first place.
Sometimes she wants to strangle him.
But then his concerns might be valid, and she can't strangle him. Not with those heartfelt blue eyes, and that puppy-dog expression on his face when he knows he's wrong and he wants her to forgive him. How can she not love him? How can she not forgive him?
He's pretty hard to stay mad at, but she's stubborn. She's not letting him off the hook that easily, not ever.
The scowl on Meredith's face worries Derek. He's expecting her to blow up at him with some sassy remark as an answer to his question. He's been running countless theories over and over again in his head about how to tell the colleagues about the cause of his injury. Maybe he should have suggested they go to another hospital to have his shoulder looked at.
His shoulder is already starting to feel fine, but he doesn't want to tell Meredith that just yet. This might be the longest they've spent together alone in who knows how long. He doesn't want to jeopardize this time together. Besides, if Meredith even gets an inkling that he's faking pain, she'll been even more furious than she was about him breaking into the bathroom to check on her.
Disappointing to Derek, Meredith drives him straight to the emergency room, never answering his question. The silence adds to the tension.
He's hoped she would park and they could sneak in a back door. He's looked forward to her assistance, preferably without drawing a huge scene.
She parks off to the side, still leaving room for an ambulance to pull up if needed, and she bursts out of the driver's seat and pulls open the passenger's door. "Come on, let's go," she tugs gently on his legs, helping him to move toward her. For a moment, he forgets his shoulder is supposed to hurt, but he remembers in time to let out a delayed grunt. He hopes it's convincing enough to show he's still in pain to Meredith, but he can't tell from her face; she still looks annoyed.
The emergency room isn't swamped when they arrive inside. Nurses have time to stop and gawk. Owen approaches them, his eyes falling on Derek.
"Is something wrong?" Hunt asks, and Derek feels a rage boiling inside him.
"Derek hurt his shoulder. We just need to get an X-ray," Meredith explains.
"How about you take a seat, Derek, and I can take a look at it?" Owen offers.
Derek's blood boils. "You're not going near me. I'll take Kepner."
"Oh, come on, Derek. Is this still about Amelia?"
"You know very much this is not about Amelia," Derek seethes, still blaming Owen for everything that happened this summer.
"Look, Derek, I know you've been through a lot these past months, but you can't blame me. It's easy to push the blame on someone, but come on, Derek. We've always got along," Owen says.
"You'd better shut your mouth, Hunt, before I have more words to say to you. Because believe me, I have plenty. Now, get Kepner." Derek's voice rises, loud enough to grab the attention of all the eyes in the ER.
Meredith's face burns. She offers Owen an apologetic look. "Owen, you need to get Kepner." She mouths, "I'm sorry."
His face falls. "I can't."
"Why? Are you incapable of paging your doctors, too, not just keeping it in your pants?" Derek's sharp tone reminds Meredith so much of their endless fights, she knows nothing good will come out of this.
"Derek…"
"Kepner left early; she had to get Samuel from daycare. He had a fever, probably teething. She's not available."
Meredith sighs, a sharp twinge in her heart telling her Eli will never need to be picked up early from daycare because he's teething. She can't believe their ER trip is turning into a nightmare, with Derek livid and growling at anyone, and Owen who is trying to do his best.
"You are not touching me," Derek says sharply, his eyes staring Owen down. "Get me anyone else."
"Derek, I only have an intern down here, everybody else is in surgery." Owen exhales loudly, shaking his head.
"Then get me the damn intern! I can read the fucking scans by myself anyways."
Meredith's cheeks are burning even more now, with embarrassment for Derek and a growing anger at him. This is not an acceptable behavior at all, especially since she knows Derek is not this guy, deep down. If she was able to forgive Owen, she can't fathom why Derek cannot forgive him, too.
"Fine," Owen relents, an apology in his gaze as he leaves.
"Fine!" Derek yells back, turning more heads in their direction.
Derek is still stewing as he sits on the gurney, a deep frown creasing his forehead as he stares at his lap, his hand still holding his bicep and shoulder still.
"Derek, –" she begins, but he swiftly looks up and freezes her reply with an icy glare.
"Don't get into this, Meredith. Don't."
Meredith deflates. She was angry, so angry at him, but it's mostly gone now. Derek has enough anger for both of them combined tonight. She doesn't want to be angry anymore, even though her anger flares up sometimes. She doesn't want to be sad, or angry, or depressed. She simply wants Eli back.
The intern that shows up looks like he's twelve. He has pimples on his forehead and deer-like eyes when he realizes who his patient is.
"Hello, uh, Dr. Shepherd. I'm...Dr. Kramer. I will...I'm going to be treating your shoulder tonight."
"This is great." Derek groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Dr. Kramer, please, just take Derek for some x-rays and then we'll be gone. I'm sure it's nothing." Meredith stamps a polite smile on her face before glaring at Derek. He's being the worst patient ever. He's being one of the patients she would like to slap silly instead of treating, and he's aware of it. Unless he just enjoys being an asshole, which might be his new trend as of late.
"Of course, Dr. Grey." The intern nods quickly, unlocking the gurney to wheel Derek to x-rays.
Meredith follows them, ignoring protocol, knowing that Derek will keep biting the intern's head off if she can't contain him. She studies how the intern slowly sets up the x-ray machine, how he preps Derek equally slowly, and after two minutes of this, she can't take it anymore.
"Move," she orders, making the intern jump. "I'm not getting any younger here, Dr. Creamer."
"It's Kramer." He squeaks, like a newborn bird, and it grates on her nerves. Derek though is smirking, clearly enjoying the demeaning of the intern.
Meredith manhandles Derek in front of the x-ray machine, then she's the one taking the scans and studying them, the intern looking over her shoulder, almost mesmerized.
Her annoyance disappears as she takes the pictures of Derek's shoulder, then studies them, as all her Ortho medical knowledge comes back to her. It feels good that she can still do medicine. Even if it's terrifying to be in the hospital again, this part feels good.
Derek's shoulder is perfectly healthy though, and that makes her blood boil again. She reels herself in, but a twinge of anger rises to the surface again.
"You big baby." She turns to Derek, and he looks guilty. "Your shoulder is perfectly fine."
"Oh, good!" The glint in his eyes is proof he already knew. The nerve of her husband will never cease to surprise her.
"Dr. Kramer, get out."
"Yes ma'am!" the intern says, then scrambles away as quickly as possible, closing the door behind him.
"Derek, what the hell?!"
Derek sighs as she growls at him, and she needs to take a deep breath not to yell more obscenities in his face. "Mere –"
"What? You had me drive to the ER in the middle of the night for a stupid whim? For some bonding time? What the hell is wrong with you? Clearly not your shoulder! Should we do an MRI since we're here? Check your head? Maybe you're missing some neurons! Haven't we spent enough time here lately? Wasn't that enough? Because I'm fucking sick of this place!"
Every feeling comes flowing out of her, her verbal diarrhea stunning Derek into silence. By the end of her rant she's panting, and she feels spent. Her whole body uncoils from the rage, but her nerves are still taut, ready to strike again.
"I had my suspicions I was okay, but I wanted to be sure. I'm not going to pretend I'm not in pain until I can't lift my shoulder anymore. I'm happily wasting money for x-rays instead of coming in on the brink of death. Give me unnecessary tests any time of day instead of being almost dead. Like you were."
And that's the underlying issue. That's what it all comes down to. She almost died, again, and he can't take it anymore. Hell, she can't take it anymore either. She's tired of almost dying. She wants to go back to when she was pregnant and complaining. She blinks slowly, staring at Derek and all his deflated anger. He's sitting on the gurney, staring at his feet, his shoulders hunched, his hair a mess.
"Do you want me to get you a sling?" she asks, changing the subject, as a peace offering.
"No." His voice is a croak. He swallows the lump in his throat, and she feels tears brimming her eyes. "You know this is probably the most time we have spent alone since Eli?" he murmurs, and it breaks her heart.
"Derek…"
"You were being so gentle with my shoulder, even if you were mad. I missed it. I missed you."
She sighs, her vision blurry. Derek is now a blob of dark hair, hunched over his gurney. "We spent half of the night yelling at each other, Derek."
"I know." He sighs.
"Is this going to be us forever?" Her voice cracks at the end. Because she doesn't want this to be their ending, but she doesn't know how to fix this mess either.
"No." Derek's tone is firm, sure. It has all the strength she might be lacking right now. "Love each other even when we hate each other, remember?"
Meredith nods, tears brimming her eyes. "I hate you," she says, then she sees him get up from the gurney and walk towards her.
Before she fully realizes what's happening, Derek's non-injured arm is around her shoulder, and her nose is buried in his chest.
And finally, she feels at home.
Derek has taken a day off work to regroup and rest his sore shoulder. He uses his time to fix the hinges of their bathroom door, careful not to strain his shoulder too much, then he spends the rest of the day playing with the kids.
He always tries to be in the moment when he's with them now, knowing how fragile and fleeting every second is, and by the time they're sitting down for dinner, his belly hurts from laughing so hard.
"Oh, Mommy, mac and cheese!" Zola squeals as soon as she sees the food on the table.
"Nummy!" Bailey echoes, grinning.
Derek studies the casserole dish in front of them, then turns to the over, seeing that it's on. He frowns.
"Mer, did you make this?"
Meredith sighs, her cheeks reddening a bit, then she nods. "I'm sorry if it tastes horrible."
Derek studies the plate she puts in front of him, his eyes widening a little when he realizes it looks and smells exactly like the one his mother makes. He's clearly not a mac and cheese fan, but he makes an exception for the one from his childhood.
He tries a bite and he's even more surprised to realize that it tastes almost exactly like his mother's, too.
"Oh, wow," he says, shoveling another forkful in his mouth eagerly.
"Good wow?" Meredith asks, biting her lip. She looks adorable.
"Great wow. Have you tried it? It's really good!"
"Best ever, Mommy!" Zola pipes in, digging into her bowl eagerly.
"Oh." Her voice cracks as she sits down, a slow smile spreading on her lips.
For a moment she only watches them eat, her own plate forgotten, and he stares back, amazed again by his wife. The kids get second helpings, and for once so does Derek. Meredith gets thirds as well, and he's really happy to see her eating with joy again.
Lately, everything she did seemed a pure survival mechanism, but tonight is the first night they are actually enjoying a meal together, and it feels good. The hole at the table where Eli was supposed to sit is still there, but it's a good night tonight.
The kids are disappointed when there's no more mac and cheese and they can only eat the vegetables, but they do not complain about it too much. They even thank Meredith for the meal without being prompted, which is another first, as well as the fact that he and Meredith had a civil conversation for hours without fighting or snapping at each other even once.
"Derek, are you going back to work tomorrow?" she asks while they're clearing the table, the kids already off to squeeze the last few minutes of play before bedtime.
"Yeah. My shoulder is just bruised." She seems almost disappointed. "Would you like me to stay home longer?"
"No, of course not." She's too quick to answer and he knows she's probably lonely. He hates being by himself these days, when he has time to think.
"Do you want to come with me?" he asks, knowing he's upsetting the precarious balance they have reached tonight.
Her face changes quickly. "What?"
"Do you want to come back to work, too?"
Meredith fidgets with the kids' cups for a moment, not meeting his eyes. "I'm not ready yet."
"Are you feeling okay, now? Should we worry?"
"No, it's...my body is fine." She exhales loudly. "I don't think I can be in the hospital, Derek."
"You were there with me yesterday."
"And I was on edge the whole time. I don't have the energy for a full day of that." Her voice is curt, almost snappy. He should have kept his mouth shut, except they need to talk about this, even if it triggers the umpteenth fight.
"How about half days?"
Meredith shakes her head. "No, Derek."
"You were the perfect doctor for me, yesterday."
"But you're you. You were not even remotely dying."
Derek sighs. He doesn't want to ruin tonight but he knows they have to revisit this conversation. Soon. Maybe he can bring it up tomorrow night, when he comes home after his shift. At least he has planted the bug in her ear, maybe she'll come around soon. Meredith is a surgeon, and while she's turning into a decent cook too, it breaks his heart to see her talent wasting away like this.
He needs a plan to bring Meredith back in the OR, but for now he will enjoy the homemade mac and cheese and try to be happy for what he has, right in this moment.
Eli taught him at least that.
Irene's A/N: Well, some talking is happening. That's good, right? Well, at least Meredith learned to cook mac and cheese, that's a plus, right? Still, there's still an ocean to cross before they are fully okay, but we plan on crossing this ocean with you guys. Thank you for reading and sticking with us even with the scarce updates. This story is fun to write, but you make it even more fun with your feedback and your enthusiasm!