Author's Notes: Well, here it is. The big 5-0! Thank you so much for being patient with me on this one. Life has been a little crazy lately.


The bathroom in Derek's trailer was woefully small. Meredith wilted over her knees, sitting on the fuzzy blue toilet cover, the little stick clutched in her hands between her ankles, and her head nearly brushed the far wall. Twelve inches of clearance. Maybe. Bad for people who were freaking out and needed to curl up on bathroom floors. That was one thing she would miss. A bathroom needed a good floor and a big tub. Not that she was freaking out.

She scrunched up her toes, staring at the indicator window intently, as though that would make the results happen faster. The soft, shaggy threads of the blue floor mat caught in the grip of her toes. She shuffled her feet, watching as she plowed through the weave, feeling the yarn grow harsh against her skin as it scraped instead of lightly caressed. Her focus traded between the rug and the indicator, back and forth, back and forth. The stick blurred in and out.

Three minutes. The line would show up in three minutes. The line. Because two lines was bad. Bad, bad, bad. She inhaled softly.

Derek thumped past the door. The floor underneath her feet vibrated through the carpet, and she clutched the test so hard it began to hurt. This was the last one. Four weeks of negatives. She'd been taking them every other day as soon as she'd hit the fourteen-day point past unprotected sex act number one. Shower sex.

This was the last one. Four weeks of negatives was enough, she'd decided. Conception at two to three days after sex, detection as early as eight days after conception… Really, this was overkill. But Derek humored her. And it wasn't like she hadn't bought enough tests to do this. It wasn't like--

He knocked softly, but the noise might as well have been a cannon. She pitched forward, startled, and reached out to catch herself against the wall, only to end up scrabbling against the fluffy blue hand towel and the shiny metal rack. She felt a little like a cornered sardine in a can. She panted, wincing as the thump of her hand plowing forward onto the wall through the towel reverberated in the small space. And she clutched.

Clutched.

Two minutes.

"Mere, I put your clothing boxes by the closet for you to sort," Derek murmured. His voice caught, hesitant, unconfident, and strangely not like Derek at all. "Your other stuff is on the table. I'm finished."

"Okay," she replied. "I'll be out in a sec."

For a moment, silence twisted the space between them into a tense, writhing mess, and she could feel him standing there, his head pressed against the door, silent, breathing. "Are you okay, Mere?" he asked.

"Sure," she insisted. "Sure, I'm okay."

Another long silence filled the air. "Okay," he replied, his voice low and lost and tired. His footsteps receded. She exhaled in a rush that ached deep into her straining diaphragm and closed her eyes. A hot splotch of sunlight landed on her from the tiny strip window at the top of the wall. She didn't know what had possessed her to do this now. To take the last one now.

Derek knew she was waiting for the results of one last test to proclaim herself not pregnant, and he was being really great about it, despite the fact that she realized every new test she took sparked a little glimmer of hope in his eyes that she subsequently crushed. Negative. Negative, negative, negative. No matter how many she took and how much less likely it became that there would be a positive, he'd get that little glimmer, and then he'd lose it. He'd shrug it off with a smile, a smile that he did mean, a smile that said he was happy for her and for them and with their future, but she knew he wasn't exactly fine with it, no matter how much he said he didn't want her to be pregnant.

He knew there was one more to go. He just didn't know she'd chosen to take said last test while he was busy lugging in all her crap from the car. She wasn't really sure why she'd done it, either. But she'd carried in her toiletry bag and just… Bam. She'd had to pee and…

They were moving into the trailer. Moving in. Not permanently, yet. They were planning to spend nights and days when she was off work there. Derek would stay at her mother's house the rest of the time. Derek couldn't drive, and him being out in the middle of nowhere at the trailer alone was not really conducive to her having peace of mind when she was at work. Not that she'd said anything about it. Mother hen. Bad. Bad, and she knew he hated it. No, he'd actually been the one to suggest the back-and-forth schedule, though he'd disguised it as letting her decide if she would really like to live out there before they fully committed. She'd let him think she didn't realize he was trying to save her some worry, all the while dripping with relief that he hadn't insisted or argued with her that he'd be fine alone.

The point was that they were moving into the trailer. It felt like a new chapter or something. A new… something. And she desperately wanted to close out the old one.

She wasn't an intern anymore. She was happily, publicly engaged. She had a borrowed-mom who called her on the phone and discussed plans with her. Wedding plans. She had a fake-mom who made dinner dates with her and didn't pressure her to get to know Thatcher, though she was thinking about trying harder on that front. And Derek…

Derek had gotten better in leaps.

He only had to take one nap a day instead of two or three. He had a thick carpet of hair that she loved to run her hands through. Despite it being short, it seemed to make him feel a lot better that he didn't have to wear the cap to hide the scar. He rarely had any headaches, though, every once in a while, he'd get an awful one that laid him up in bed for a while. But those were seldom.

He lifted things, like heavy boxes crammed full of her junk. And her. He made a point of lifting her a lot. In the shower, up the steps, and in a casual, spinny way that made her laugh sometimes when they were out on walks. He lifted things, and his movement had grown fluid and sure again. His strides had stretched over time, from walk to walk to walk, until what had been hesitant and stilted, looking more like a strain than healthy exercise, returned to the smooth, athletic grace she hadn't realized she'd been missing.

She caught him reading books more and more often. He had to do it in short spurts, but he could read, his focus was improving, and it reflected in his whole demeanor. His temper had evened out, and his tendency toward rapid mood swings seemed to have died with his ever-expanding freedom and improved well being, which was a serious relief to her. She'd been praying he hadn't developed some sort of mood disorder, and his slow return to equilibrium seemed like a big indication that his problems had been related to the situation, and not to screwed up chemical production.

His eyes were the best things, though. The thirst and thrill for life his gaze had always seemed to reflect prior to the ferry accident had returned in full, and she often found herself staring at him, grinning ear to ear until he'd turn to find himself the object of her scrutiny, quirk a grin back at her, and ask, "What?" in that low, playful, dirty tone he reserved for sex and other naughty things.

She blinked herself back into the tiny bathroom. She'd been daydreaming, caught in the comforting lilt of his sexy laughter and the ghosts of his fathomless stare. Something tight in her chest loosened, and she leaned back against the seat with a sigh.

She had it bad, all right.

Her gaze slipped down onto the pregnancy test in her hand, but the fact that it was one stripe for negative instead of two stripes for pregnant barely even registered at that point. Because everything was great, and she was already thrilled. The only extra thing that the test brought her was relief. She and Derek would have time to be just Derek and Meredith for at least a little while.

She really did have it bad. Really, really, really.

She grinned and stood on wobbly legs, grasped the door latch, and shifted out into the hallway.

"Derek, I—" she began, breathless, pregnancy test in hand, only to halt. "Oh."

It was as though he had stood at the foot of the bed, decided he was tired, and fallen forward into sleep before his body had even hit the mattress. The only detail that suggested he had planned this particular slumber was the placement of his shoes, which were shoved in the corner of the room by a stack of her boxes, far enough away from his feet to suggest they hadn't simply fallen there.

He lay flat on top of the bedspread, his head turned to the side. His fingers curled, and his palms faced the ceiling by his hips. A v-shaped sweat stain, starting at his shoulders and tapering off at the small of his back where the slope of his muscles and spine became a valley, darkened his indigo shirt into a dusky, post-twilight color. His lips were slightly parted, and the deep, even sounds of his breaths fell against the bedspread, ruffling the hollow bulge in the fabric by his mouth with each exhalation. Rivulets of sweat dotted his brow by his hairline, damp and prominent, and the more than half-inch of hair that time had managed to return to him had gathered into a darkened, wet forest of short spikes. His face, mostly slack with the innocence of sleep, twitched and ticked at the corners of his lips. His eyelids fluttered.

He dreamed.

She glanced around. Four big boxes sat stacked on the dining table. Big, heavy boxes that he'd lugged inside for her. No wonder he'd collapsed. She'd packed a lot. She'd been a packrat. Well, not really a packrat. She was pretty sure she wouldn't ever be moving back to the house. A house, maybe. On a certain beautiful lake. But not her mother's house. And, once she'd started trying to put her life into boxes? Her life had seemed a whole. Lot. Bigger. They were going to be making a lot of use of Derek's luggage compartments, she was fairly sure.

He'd teased her. We're only sleeping at the trailer every other night at most. Do you really need to bring your entire sock collection?

Yes. My feet. They get cold.

I can warm your feet.

You can, she'd replied with a grin.

Then he'd peered inside box number two and pulled out picture frame after picture frame. Knickknacks? Meredith, I didn't even know you owned knickknacks.

Maybe it's a new thing, she'd said. It could be. I want it to be.

He'd slipped off the protective towel and flipped over the first silver frame to find himself staring back through smudged glass. She'd gotten the New York pictures printed. Not the naughty ones. The Times Square ones. And…

Oh, he'd said softly. He'd turned and pulled her into an embrace. Well, I guess we can find a spot for them.

Her phone shrieked, tearing her from daydream number two, and she nearly dropped the test as she squeaked and tripped backward in surprise. She thumped into the wall. Derek moved and made a groaning noise, but he didn't rise from his slumber. Instead, his hands found his pillow, and he burrowed underneath.

The second ring spurred her into action. For a moment, she stood by her purse on the sofa, staring at the pregnancy test. She didn't want to put it down, but… After a few comical, jerky motions, she managed to free her phone from her huge tote. She stared at Derek, but aside from a snuffling breath that shuddered through his whole torso, he didn't move again. She bit her lip, hoping he hadn't worn himself out too badly doing the moving thing. That was another thing that had slowly corrected itself. He usually slept lightly, to the point that he'd had to resume using his earplugs to stay in the same bed with her overnight without going insane.

She retreated outside onto the deck beside his trailer. The door slammed behind her, and she winced, waiting for Derek to thump up like a sleepy, lumbering beast and ask about the racket, but the innards of the trailer remained still and silent. She imagined him groaning again, burrowing under another pillow, and receding further into slumber.

She flipped the phone open before ring number three was more than a chirp. "What?" she hissed into the receiver.

"Am I interrupting sex?" Cristina replied.

"What?" Meredith said, collapsing onto one of Derek's deck chairs. It was covered in pollen dust and dirt after months of neglect. The armrests felt gritty against her elbows. "No, you're not interrupting sex…"

Wind spread fingers through the grass in front of the deck, and the trees around the clearing swayed. The soft rustle of leaves, a cadre of chirping birds, and the noise of surrounding wildlife wrapped around her. In the shade of the trailer, the air was cool and comfortable and breezy, but the atmosphere was clear, and the sky was cloudless that day. Out by the car and away from shelter, her skin had felt like it was baking when she'd braved the sunshine to drag inside the duffel bag she'd filled with her bathroom things.

"Wow," Cristina said. "Seriously? No sex?"

"No sex, Cristina."

The sound of a harsh breath buffeted Meredith's ear, and she winced. "You moved into McDreamy's trailer of lust in the middle of nowhere, and you're not having sex?" Cristina asked. "Meredith, the thing has got to have, what? Like fourteen square feet? And I bet half of it is bed."

Meredith frowned. If it was that small, why did she feel like she could breathe again? Because it wasn't small. The trailer was small. But the situation? The whole thing?

Big.

She glanced to the left. The clearing wrapped around the rear of the trailer, but there were no trees to the left. The grass dipped away, and she could see the deep blue of the lake crowning the horizon. A large grayish bird with a long neck swooped down over the water and disappeared into the distant reeds. She leaned back against the dirty chair with a sigh. Her grip around the negative pregnancy test loosened, and it fell out of her hand to rest on her thigh, almost forgotten.

"Why does everyone think all Derek and I do is have sex?" Meredith said. "Seriously. We do stuff."

"Like what?"

"Like read," Meredith said. "And talk. And walk. And… surgery. There's always surgery. Or, well, there will be. Eventually. And stuff."

"That's a really sad list, Meredith," said Cristina. "You sound like candidates for a retirement community."

"And stuff!" Meredith insisted. "Other stuff. We'll do other stuff once we, you know… figure out what that stuff is."

She had a feeling that, when left to his own devices in his own element, Derek would probably find a bunch of nature-y hobbies for them to share. He wasn't a clubber, and he didn't like a lot of the loud attractions Seattle proper had to offer. It was as if leaving Manhattan had flipped off some sort of city love switch. She'd never realized it before, but she wondered if perhaps him moving into her mother's house had been what'd truly stunted his starting over initiative. They rarely had more than a day off at a time that intersected, which meant if they weren't already out in the middle of it, they probably weren't going to go out and do anything, at least not anything fun. Now, they were. They were out in the middle of it. It. Nowhere.

Which was essentially a big old blaring neon sign thing that said… Opportunity.

"I'm hobbyless," Meredith continued. "I have no hobbies to share because I was a jobless, partying, dark-and-twisty freak, and then I was an intern with no time. But I'm sure I'll find some, soon. Hobbies. I really do sort of like the whole nature thing. It's… Nature-y. And quiet. Quiet is nice." She looked out at the lake. "Hey, maybe there's boats. I like boats."

"Boats," Cristina said, her voice flat with disbelief.

"We're surgeons," Meredith said. "I was an intern. We don't have time for hobbies or whatever. Or we didn't. Now, we probably do, seeing as how the getting there part of the nature-y equation thing is gone. And I'm working on the fishing thing. I might be adding fishing to the list. Fishing could be a new couple-y activity. And boats. What's it called with the little pointy boats? Kayaking? Or row boating. That's less sporty, but still very boatish."

She sighed, trying to picture her and Derek in a boat on his lake at sunset or something. It fit. It really sort of fit.

The whole area was beautiful and earthy and... Very Derek. Well, very Derek 2.0. Or would that be the return of Derek 1.0? Whatever. The point was, she was a little in love with it, a lot in love with him, and…

And now she lived there. A little and a lot in love. And it was nice.

"Right," Cristina said with a snort.

She'd enjoyed watching Derek pause when he'd gotten out of the car. He'd leaned against the side of the door, closed his eyes, and just inhaled. Inhaled the wet scent of grass and water and earth. And then he'd smiled as though he were returning to a long lost friend.

Hello, life. Nice to see you again.

He'd tossed his keys in an arc over the roof of the car to her and smiled like a little kid opening the biggest Christmas present under the tree as she'd caught them with a surprised clap. I'll get the first box. Will you prop open the door?

And what exactly did Cristina know about that? She and Burke cut hearts and slept together. Really, it was a pot kettle situation.

"Yeah, well, what do you and Burke do together that's so freaking noteworthy?" Meredith snapped. "And why is it that you have to do something with somebody else just to enjoy their company? I mean, really. What the hell do we even do together, Cristina? We jog. Sometimes."

"We don't jog. I don't jog."

"Well, there was that one time."

"And it was awful," Cristina said.

"Okay, well, yeah, but we jogged that one time!"

"No," Cristina said. "We drink."

"True," Meredith agreed. "We do drink. Well, used to drink. I'm not really sure I have a lot of reasons to be drinking anymore. But—"

"Now that we've established how sadly little we actually have in common… I need a drink, Meredith."

"What?" Meredith said. "What for?"

"Mama," Cristina replied, her voice low and flat.

"Mama?"

"She glares at me all the time," Cristina said. "You'd think I had the audacity to shoot her puppy or something."

Ellen had called Meredith a week before, and she'd had been happy to pick up the phone. Happy. Meredith, dear, how are you and Derek doing?

Oh, we're fine. Dr. Weller finally cleared him to lift things and do housework, and now my whole house is clean, my lawn is mowed, my dishes are always done, and my laundry... That man can do laundry. It smells all mountain-y fresh just like the commercial. Oh, and my front door isn't jammed anymore. Which is neat, really. I didn't think he'd be very big on the Mr. Fixit stuff after what you told me about his cooking skills. But he is.

Ellen had chuckled. He sounds miserable.

Oh, he totally is. I think he's bored to tears. I just wish there was something I could… Her voice had trailed away as the idea had struck her like a cartoon piano over a building, squashing her on the pavement below. She'd been really, really dumb. Really dumb. Derek had been bored. There hadn't been a lot he could do when he was chained to the house the way he had been. Except… There'd been no need for him to be chained to the house. He could have been… Trailer. Stupid. Dumb. Really dumb. She'd sighed, and the final word had cracked out from her vocal cords, barely escaping. Do.

Ellen had laughed softly. Well, I'd offer suggestions, but it sounds like you just had a flash of inspiration on your own.

I think I might have, Ellen. Thanks.

Listen, dear, I just wanted to let you know I'm sending you a list of civil celebrants and nondenominational ministers in the area. I wasn't sure which you'd prefer…

Meredith blinked. "Your mother?"

"No, Burke's mother," Cristina said. "Mama Burke. Burke's Mama. Meredith, I thought mama's boys were supposed to be sniveling little freaks who cry all the time. Burke is not a sniveling little freak, but he's the worst mama's boy I've ever met."

"Um…" Meredith stuttered.

"I just want to spend my five minutes before the justice of the peace in peace. No Mama."

"Five minutes?" Meredith asked weakly.

If there was ever a time when Meredith found herself unable to relate with her person, it was then. Right then. With the bad Mama thing. And five minutes. How did someone get married in five minutes? It was marriage. It was… Big. Over the past four weeks, Meredith had come to the conclusion that, while she wasn't sure if she wanted to do the whole virginal white dress thing with a Swiss bell choir, twenty layers of cake, an organ fanfare, and doves, she was pretty sure she wanted to plan. And make it perfect.

She wanted to take her time.

I can do slow. I can do incredibly slow.

She shivered at the fleeting ghost of Derek's lips on the crook of her neck and lower, and then she shook the picture away. Naughty. Bad thoughts.

"Maybe ten," Cristina continued, oblivious to Meredith's inner tangent. "Ten with no Mama telling me I have to wear a hideous necklace that looks like it fell off a chandelier. And I like my eyebrows, Meredith. I like them. They're staying on my face. If she comes at me with tweezers again, I'll scream. I'll… No. I'll commit matricide. Mama matricide. Matricide, Meredith. I'm in Hell. I hate Mama. Help me. I need liquor."

"Oh…" Meredith replied, breathless. "Okay. Now?"

"Yes, now," Cristina said. "Meet you at Joe's?"

Meredith stood from the chair and reached behind herself to brush off the pollen and crap that'd stuck to her knit pants, only to realize the pregnancy test was sliding to the ground. She made a grab for it. The phone tumbled to the deck, but she rescued the test. She bent down and picked up the phone, panting. Her life in her left hand. One bar. Her best friend in the other.

"What was that?" Cristina said.

"Nothing. Look, Cristina, now is really not good. Maybe after our next shift?"

Cristina snorted. "Not good? Not good! It's tequila, Meredith. Jose Cuervo! You always like tequila."

"Cristina," Meredith said, taking a small, short breath of preparation. "I'm in the middle of Derek's trailer of lust. Well, not really in the middle, more to the side and slightly…" She shook her head. "Whatever. Derek is sleeping, I'm staring at a pregnancy test trying to decide whether to cheer or… Something else." Like explode or just wilt with relief. "And, if I left, Derek would be stuck here because he can't drive." Not that he'd exactly mind, but… But… She wanted to stay. With him. And do stupid non-things. "I really think I'd just like to stay at the trailer right now and do all the boring geriatric couple things you hate. Okay? Because… lust. Trailer of lust. Except I'm not feeling lusty, it's decidedly not lusty, and it's nice. And quiet. And my head is spinning already. It's a non-lusty trailer of lust. It's more… grassy. And… Treeish or whatever. And I don't need tequila at one in the afternoon on my day off."

For a moment, all she heard was Cristina's soft breathing on the other end of the line, and Meredith stood there panting two breaths for every one of Cristina's, staring around at all the green stuff around her. She paced. A swarm of birds upset from the reeds and went flying in a spiral of color into the air, screeching. Something splashed. They resettled, and peace fell around her again. A breeze rustled through the clearing, and the distant water sparkled like broken glass on a blacktop. She looked back down at the pregnancy test and huffed a breath.

Definitely a new chapter or whatever.

"Negative, huh," Cristina finally said. "Is that the last one?"

"Yeah," Meredith said. "I think so."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

"That is good, right?" Cristina prodded cautiously.

"Yeah."

"Okay," Cristina said. "No McBabies, then."

"No. Not yet."

"Not yet?" Cristina exclaimed. "God, Mere. What has he done to you? You used to be so… So…"

"I don't want them now."

You want them. You want them. You want them.

"Emphasis on the now. It implies there'll be a future positive. Meredith…"

No, but yes.

Meredith sighed as she sat back down. The chair creaked in protest at the sudden, slamming weight. Her pants scraped against the dark, pollen-covered wood. "You're doing a crappy job at being tolerant, Cristina."

"I…" Cristina said, but her voice cracked and fell away. She huffed a breath. "Fine. Sorry. Just don't make me godmother, or I'll hurt you."

Meredith laughed. "I wouldn't dream of it. And you're not my maid of honor, either. Or my matron of honor. Or whatever."

"Good," Cristina said. "So long as we're clear."

"Crystal."

Cristina sighed. "Look, Meredith, I have to run. Mama found my hiding spot. She's not coming to the wedding, though. I put my foot down."

"That's… good?"

"You and me and Burke and McDreamy," Cristina said. "My foot is down. Her evil glaring won't change it. Burke's pouting won't change it. Mama or marriage. Not both."

"Right," Meredith said. A split second later, the line went dead, and all that was left was the sound of the leaves and the birds and the lake and everything else, blessedly silent, and yet… Not.

"Right," Meredith repeated to dead air, shaking her head. She hoped Cristina would be happy. She dearly hoped Cristina would be. But… "Right."

She stared down at the pregnancy test and stood as she flipped her phone shut. She paused. At the door of the trailer, she paused again, and she breathed, trying to find the scent that had had Derek so enamored as he'd leaned against the car. No car exhaust. Nothing stale or recycled or garbage-filled. Just water. And ground. And grass. She'd found it.

She sighed. A grin ripped across her face, and the clean air swept back against her throat. She pulled the door open with some judicious fumbling of her elbows and some nudging with her hip to keep her hands free. Derek still lay at the back of the trailer, oblivious to the world, but the smile on her face didn't go away.

Definitely better than tequila.

She tossed her phone onto the table next to her stack of boxes and thumped to the back of the trailer. She set the pregnancy test down on the nightstand for him to find. She didn't have the heart to wake him up. Not when he was so tired. It wasn't like this was the first test. Or even at all surprising at that point. But she didn't have any desire to hide it, either.

The sweat stains on his shirt had dried a little, evening out with the shade of the rest of his shirt, and his skin no longer glistened. His breaths came deep and even and rumbly, almost snoring, but not really. She pulled off her dirty pants and shirt and settled next to him, sighing at the musky scent of sweat and man and him. He didn't wake, but his arm snaked around her, finding her even in dreams. She rubbed his forearm with the tips of her nails, marveling at how his light, soft curls caught against her fingers. She stared at the sunroof, absent, letting her focus wander. His breathing stayed even and deep, and she let it soothe her. She watched the shaft of sunlight piercing the small bedroom from the window overhead slowly shift with the passing of minutes.

"I love you," she told him. He grunted. His arm flexed around her torso and went lax again. Somewhere in the haze of coming down off the high and dipping into the relaxation of being near him for no particular reason other than to be near him, she drifted off, far away, and yet closer than she'd ever felt before.

When she woke, he was gone, and in place of the pregnancy test on his nightstand, she found a small, yellow sticky note that, in his distinct, barely legible, doctorish script, said, "Lake." She sighed, breathing in and out, trying to blink away the grogginess of sleep. She sat up slowly. The sunlight cascading in through the windows kept her skin warm and she fought the lazy urge to fall back asleep despite his absence.

When she registered the pregnancy test poking out of the small waste bin on top of a bunch of other refuse from the move, she came awake like a shot. Damn it. She'd left it out for him to find. She suddenly wondered if perhaps that had been a little insensitive. Who'd want to wake up to their dreams getting crushed five inches from their face? Damn it.

She threw her dirty clothes on, not bothering to dig out clean stuff, and plodded out of the trailer onto the deck. His fishing poles and tackle box were all still stacked up against the side of the trailer, which left her puzzled. Lake. What was he at the lake for if not fishing?

She tore out into the weeds and headed toward the lake along the mud-caked, flattened path of grass that would, with time and hope, become a legitimate trail. The path spilled onto the dock without warning. She'd discovered that the first time she'd been there and found him drinking and fishing from a lawn chair. The lawn chair was still there, its patchwork of color sun-splotched and dirt-streaked. A pile of clothes sat folded neatly next to it, and a towel had been slung over the back.

But there was no Derek.

She frowned, only to be distracted by a loud, flopping splash. A splash too big for a little fish or a bird. She focused on the pale curve of his hip and the flick of his foot, pale alabaster against the near black of the lake, before he disappeared under the water. Shimmers of sunlight replaced the disruption, and, for a moment, she wondered if she'd been imagining things, until he surfaced about twenty feet farther out. He swept his hands back through his sopping hair, sending water flying everywhere. A soft, coughing sputter carried across the breeze, and then he dipped underneath the surface again.

He appeared again to the left, and didn't seem to have any particular destination in mind. She settled into the chair, leaning against the back of it, a soft smile caressing her lips. Two weeks ago, he definitely wouldn't have been able to do this. Not for any length of time. She watched the way the sun glistened against his back, the way the water sluiced down the line of his spine between the bunches of his muscles.

"Hey," she called softly when he looked over and stilled, though she doubted he could hear her at that distance. He was very small against the choppy expanse of the lake. Small and humbled.

He treaded water for a moment, staring at her, his expression unreadable. He dipped under the water again, reappearing once to catch his breath, and then a second time just below the dock. The water wavered along the slopes of his shoulders, though he seemed to have stopped treading, instead choosing to hang onto the thin, metal ladder at the edge of the long, wooden walk.

"Hey," he called up to her.

She bit her lip. "Derek, I…"

"I know," he said. He smiled brightly at her, water dripping from his hair and everywhere. Tufts of short hair stuck up in all directions, the tint of dark water making it appear black instead of raven brown. He looked sort of like a drowned rat. A cold, bluish, shivering drowned rat. But a happy cold, bluish, shivering drowned rat, and that was…

"I'm sorry," she felt compelled to say, but he shook his head. Water droplets flicked onto the surface of the lake by his shoulders.

"No," he said. "You're not allowed to be sorry. Not to me. You didn't want it yet, and you have nothing to be sorry for."

"No, but…"

"Mere, it's okay," he assured her. "I'm okay. Really."

"Which is why you're swimming naked in a freezing cold lake?"

"Well, no," he replied sheepishly. "I'm swimming naked in a freezing cold lake because I woke up next to my very sexy, nearly naked fiancé who looked like she needed the sleep."

She grinned and stood from the chair, shifting her position so that she lay flat against the dock, her chin propped against her hands and elbows as she stared down at him. "There are showers for that, you know."

He shrugged. "I haven't been out here in months, Meredith. It's going to be too cold soon."

"You're kind of blue, Derek," she said. "It looks like it's already too cold."

"Want to warm me up?"

"I'd love to," she said. "But not in the lake."

"Why not in the lake?"

"It's cold," she said, reaching down to touch the surface. Icy chill snaked up her fingers. She swept her fingers to his shoulders and then his cheek. Also icy. And bluish. He leaned into the touch, though she was surprised he could feel it at all when he looked nearly frostbitten like that. "And there's probably… mutant frogs or something. Newts. Whatever."

He looked down at the water and then back up to her with a quirky grin. "They're friendly newts."

"They're probably carnivorous."

"Oh, c'mon," he said with a low laugh. His fingers shifted on the ladder. "They're cute."

"Newts," she said. "Newts are cute?"

"Very," he said, giving her a serious nod. "You know, you didn't have this problem last time we were in here."

"Last time we were in here, you pulled me in, and I didn't have a chance to protest," she said.

The skin around his eyes crinkled, and he smirked as he shook his head, spraying water droplets everywhere. "So, you're more of a can't beat 'em, so I'll join 'em type of person."

"Yes," she said with a nod. "Very."

He frowned. "You should join me anyway. It's very lonely in here with just me and the newts."

"You just want to see me naked in freezing water," she said.

He winked. "The thought had crossed my mind, yes."

"I'm not perky enough on my own?"

"Oh, you're perky," he said with an approving smile. "You're very perky. But you could be perkier."

"We do have an outstanding fishing bet, you know. That doesn't require being in the water, does it? Couldn't we do that?"

"Right," he said. "We do have that."

"I was thinking maybe today," she replied.

"Hmm, we could." His brow creased as he considered it, which looked strange considering the fact that his whole body was shivering with cold. How much was there to really consider? She inched forward over the edge of the dock, creeping along like she was ducking underneath a warzone, and dipped down to kiss him. It was a freezing kiss.

"We definitely could," she said, breathless as she pulled an inch away.

He raised an eyebrow. He paused for a long, long moment. His fingers squeaked against the dock ladder. He dipped down a little, though she had no idea why. Further into freezing. Crazy. Ridiculously crazy. Waves lapped over his shoulders, and she stopped watching him for a moment to peer at the sun-kissed water instead. Sun-kissed looked warm. Just looking at Derek was making her shiver.

Another one of those long-necked, gray birds flew down over the water. It settled into the shallow water by the reads and started stalking along the far edge of the lake. She was about to ask him what kind of bird it was when he interrupted her thoughts.

"Charts for a month?" he asked.

"Charts for a month," she said, nodding.

He smirked. "No, I think I like this better."

For a brief moment, she had no idea what was happening. His height rose as though he were catapulting from the water via a cannon or something. The water level, which had been at his collarbone, became even with the creases of his skin where his groin turned into legs. Water slipped down against his pale skin, gleaming in the sunlight. His fingers found her waist, her pants dragged along the dock for a moment until he gathered enough leverage, and then she was sailing through the air like a lobbed melon.

The water plunged around her as she flailed and choked. Sharp, icy fingers slapped her skin and soaked her clothes. Clear air became indistinct, murky, muddy greenish-gray, and the shock of the sudden change and the soft pull of gravity left her sinking, sinking, sinking into the water. She goggled like a fish for a moment, her mouth opening, closing, opening, closing. Her feet found the bottom of the lake, which was silty and soft. Bits of weeds and other things squirted over the sides of her flip-flops and between her toes as she scrunched them, and then she jetted up to the surface, five feet above. She broke it, water spilling around her like the unfurling petals of a flower as she gasped, spitting water and hair and bits of plants from her face.

She reached up and brushed her eyes with her fingers, shivering, cold, shocked, only to have her blurry sight resolve on him. He treaded water about four feet from her, a quirky, devilish grin on his face. Her teeth started to chatter.

She ran her hands back through her hair. A wet, slopping sound chucked across the water as remnants of her dunking sloughed away with the motion, and she glared at him, sputtering. His evil smile faltered for a moment, and they stayed there, him treading water farther out, her standing neck deep in icy, murky lake water, her toes communing with who knew what on the muddy floor of dirt and caked… things. Her fingers, she noted, were already turning fleshy and blue as she lifted them to brush away more water from her eyes.

He started to shiver, and she realized. This was the first time they'd been in the water like this since… Since she'd drowned. He probably hadn't been thinking about it when he'd tossed her. She certainly hadn't.

And now they both were.

It could have been a moment.

It could have been.

Instead, she smiled, trying to ignore the trembling shivers racing through her bones as she reached under the water to yank her sopping shirt off. She tossed it back toward the dock.

"You bastard," she hissed playfully through her teeth. She dunked under the water to pull at her shoes. When she broke the surface again, she found him still there, the same spot, treading water, but the mischievous gleam had returned to his eyes.

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "The water's not so deep by the dock there."

"You freaking bastard," she repeated as her flip-flops landed with two solid, mucky thunks behind her on the boards of the dock.

He laughed, low and rumbly. Water spluttered from his shivering lips. "Are you going to join me, now?"

"No, I'm going to beat you!" she said as she yanked her pants off. Finally, she had freedom of movement. They landed behind her with a sucking thump. "Lemons into lemonade, my ass."

She darted forward, pumping with her feet, trying to get some momentum, but he slipped away like a dolphin, deeper into the chill. When she stopped to tread and rest, the echoes of his laughter curled down her spine, and she growled in frustration. He waggled wet eyebrows at her and sprayed water in a fan from his mouth. She darted forward, only to get left behind in the unfurling waves of his wake.

"Since when do you swim like that Thorpedo guy?" she spluttered.

He laughed. "Thorpedo guy?"

"I watched the Olympics for five minutes. And you're changing the subject. Since when, Derek?"

He shook his head. "I'm not changing the subject. You're the one that brought up Olympic swimming."

"You're so changing the subject!"

"Am not."

"Are, too!"

"Am not."

"Are, too!"

He kicked up a plume of white, frothy water as he arched his body forward and slipped under the surface. The water settled into stillness, and she kicked, treading, trying to figure out where he'd gone. "Derek?" she said.

She shrieked as his hand found her ankles, the world tilted, and suddenly she was over his shoulder, hands slipping along his slick, wet back and lower. He roared with laughter as he overturned her and sped away, pausing only to cop a feel. The water plunged around her again, and all she managed was a vague grasp at his toes before he torpedoed out of reach. She spun around, coughing against the influx of water as she righted herself and broke the surface.

"You naughty, dirty, mean, MEAN man," she growled, kicking after him.

"Want to know a secret?" he said as he back-kicked away from her, effortless.

She spat water into the lake, breathless, her heart throbbing with the effort of keeping up, and though she felt the chill, it was long gone from her immediate awareness. She laughed anyway as he taunted her along. "I don't know. Do I?" she said, panting as she doggy paddled after him, trying to conserve some energy.

A breeze lapped softly over the surface of the water, evaporating the water on her face and from her hair quickly, which sent shivers all the way to the tips of her submerged toes. A flock of aquatic-y birds spilled out from the distant reeds as Derek laughed, loud and throaty and… perfect, but he never got a chance to answer her. She shrieked as something slimy brushed against her foot.

"What?" he said, frowning as he closed the distance between them.

"A newt!"

"Newts are the size of my thumb, Meredith…"

"A mutant frog!"

"Meredith…"

"Maybe a fish…" she conceded.

He chuckled. "More like a weed. Fish won't swim up to you. They're shy, and they don't like noise."

"Whatever," she growled as he swam away again. "So, what's this secret? And, so help me, Derek, if a mutant frog fish newt hybrid… thing eats me…"

He chuckled. "I swam varsity in college," he admitted. "I sort of let you win the last time."

She stopped, spitting new bits of freezing water from her mouth. "You… You what?"

He winked. Water spilled away from him in rolling, smooth waves with the circular treading motions of his hands. "Oh, come on," he said. "You already thought I was an arrogant prick. I didn't want to show off even more."

"I still do think you're an arrogant prick," she said, laughing, amazed to realize he'd actually considered not showing off for her as a way to get her to like him more. "Except, now I have naughty, bad, bad, scary images of you in Speedos and it's just... It's wrong, Derek. Why? Why would you pick the one sport where spandex isn't cool?"

"There're sports where spandex is cool?"

"I don't know. Stuff."

"Stuff," he repeated, his eyes twinkling. "Olympic stuff, or just intramural?"

"Definitely."

The world blurred for a moment as she tried to hold it all in. She failed, and she found herself chortling and choking, drops of water flying everywhere as she struggled to keep afloat amidst the torrent of humor assaulting her.

"What are you laughing at now?"

"You." She snorted, barely able to breathe. Another laugh dribbled out after she forced some air into her lungs, and then another, and another. "Oh, I just thought of you. With little goggles and a cap to protect your perfect hair, and it's just…" Another heaving guffaw ripped through her frame. "Can't..." she stuttered. "Lycra." For a moment, she forgot to kick her feet, and as she sunk and sputtered with laughter, bubbles tore out from her mouth and water splashed everywhere. "Breathe..."

"You're mocking me."

"Derek!"

He slid up behind her, his fingers lightly grazing her hips. "I set state records, you know," he said, his voice low and growly against her clavicle.

"In little Speedos," she replied, giggling. "You set state records in little..."

She shrieked when he dunked under the water and found her feet. Birds went flying everywhere, startled at the horrendous noise, and she laughed, laughed, laughed as he dipped and darted like a fish, attacking her wherever she turned, trying to escape. Her eyes started to burn, and she sucked down air, trying to keep up with the spasms of choking laughter and shrieks. When she kicked, he caught her and tortured her more, and just when she thought she would burst at the seams, he stopped, swum an acrobatic, otter-like lap around her, just under the surface of the water, and popped up in front of her, grinning fiendishly as he pulled her close.

"Yes, but now?" he said, grinning. "Now, I'm naked."

"Mmm," she nodded, leaning into him. "You are."

"You're naked," he added.

"Mmm. I am."

"I'd say it's win-win," he said.

"I'd say it's just cold," she deadpanned.

His lecherous expression broke into a wide, amused smile as he shook his head. "Shameful," he said. "Just shameful. No sense of adventure."

"I have a sense of adventure in the tropics," she said. "Honest."

"Hmm."

"And you really are kind of a bastard, I hope you know. Really. I'm freaking cold."

"You love me for it," he said.

"I do. I really, really do."

"I love you, too," he replied. He disappeared underneath the water again, and she prepared herself for another tumbly Jaws moment, or a tickly one. When twenty seconds passed, she even began to hum the theme, trying not to let her muscles tense up. She glanced around, but the water was murky, and she'd lost track of him.

"Just when you thought it was safe," she muttered as her teeth started to chatter, but when he found her again, he gently slid up behind her. He was freezing, too, but somehow, everything seemed warmer when his arms wrapped around her waist. Her breathing eased as he held her up.

She turned around to face him. He panted softly, and from the look in his eyes, she knew they'd have to stop soon, or he'd wear himself out again. But in that moment, she let him support the both of them, and everything seemed perfect. She smiled.

"Well, I suppose the swimming thing helped you save my life," she said softly, breathless, "So, thank you."

His wet hair had flattened against his scalp, and it looked thick and full and sopping. Water dripped down his face, his shoulders, his neck. His skin shivered with chill. And, yet, he'd never looked happier. His fingers flexed against the small of her back. "Just returning the favor," he said, his lips quirking into a soft smile.

His lips parted, he inhaled, his fingers slipped away, and he disappeared under the surface of the water again. She started treading to keep herself from sinking after him, and watched the surface of the lake for his return. The sun had sunk toward the west horizon, and it hung low and tired orange over the tree line, proclaiming it was late afternoon, even for those not lucky enough to have waterproof watches. Like her. Slivers of light reflected off the murky, freezing, blue water, sharp like lightning, or a whorl of Christmas lights, or something.

She kicked forward one foot, two feet, three. A splash, distant and to her right, drew her gaze toward the dock. She watched Derek climb out of the water onto the dock by the chair where he'd piled his clothes and the towel. He was drenched and dripping, naked, glistening in the golden light. His torso heaved with breath after breath, and he looked a little thinner than he had been before the accident, still toned, but leaner and a little less healthy. She found herself biting her lip anyway, unable to tear her eyes away. He was hers, and that was enough to make her breathless.

He dried off and sat down on the dock, wrapped in the fluffy blue terrycloth, his feet dangling over the side. "Don't stop on my account," he called, and his voice hit her soft and distant over the breeze.

She smiled and tilted back into the freezing water, doing a sort of flip that no doubt gifted him with a rather graphic view of her full body. When she surfaced again, she found him watching her with rapt attention. She paddled toward him. "I'm not stopping on your account," she said as she approached the dock, breathing hard. "I'm stopping on the account of me being freezing and terribly out of shape or whatever."

He smiled, reaching down to help her out of the water. He lifted her as though she were nothing, despite his deep inhalation of breath and the slight shiver of his muscles that said otherwise. Water sluiced from her toes, and a puddle formed at her feet when he set her down next to him.

Even though the air itself was comfortable, the water on her skin was still very cold, and as it evaporated in the breeze, her entire body started to shake and twitch. She rubbed her palms against her forearms, trying to create friction, only to find herself buried in Derek's fluffy blue towel, his stomach pressed against her back. His skin had recouped some heat, and he felt like a furnace against her body. She rested her wet head against his shoulder as he rubbed her front, turned her, rubbed her back, turned her again, and wrapped them both back up, enveloping her with the cool, clean scent of him.

"Better?" he said as the shivers subsided.

She smiled. "Yeah. Mmm, Derek?"

"What?"

"That cold bath in the lake didn't work so well."

Derek chuckled, his palms sliding over her bare skin to cup her breasts. "Yes, it did."

She moaned as he rubbed her, leaning back into him, letting the friction warm her up. "I meant on you."

He shrugged. "Hmm," he murmured against her ear. He kissed her earlobe, pressing up against her. "I hate to break it to you, Mere, but you always do that to me."

"Oh."

"This is why scrubs being loose is a good thing," he said.

She swatted his arm. "Okay, now you're making surgery porny. You can't make surgery porny. Too many things are already far too porny."

"I think you have that backward," he commented. "And, really, can you have too much porn?"

She snorted. "You're such a guy."

"Well, yeah."

He relinquished the towel into her keeping, his palms coming to rest on her shoulders for a warm, still moment. She curled up underneath the warm terrycloth, but it wasn't nearly as adequate as he had been, skin-to-skin with her. She sighed, licking her lips as she shamelessly watched him collect his clothes from beside the chair.

He put them back on, letting her keep the towel because her things were still sopping. They walked back to the trailer. He made her coffee while she put on dry clothes, and then she sat at the small dining table, feeling spent and achy. Her eyes burned a little when she blinked, and inertia drove her to remain sitting, relishing the relaxed, sleepy, quivering feeling in her muscles that told her she'd exercised. A lot.

Derek, however, barely paused. He took three sips from his steaming mug, set it on the counter, and started rummaging around the trailer, gathering odds and ends from this cabinet, that cabinet… He pulled an old, ratty backpack from underneath the dashboard in the front.

She watched him with curiosity while he collected a flashlight, some blankets, and a few wrapped granola bars that crinkled as he mashed them together into a stack, and then packed them into the beat-up nylon backpack. He dumped the leftover coffee from the pot into a thermos and shoved it in with the rest of the things he'd just crammed together.

"What's that for?" she asked as she sipped on her coffee. Warmth spread tendrils into her chest with every swallow, relaxing her into a dull stupor of comfortable post-exertion.

He looked up as he stuffed a little compass into the bag. A compass? "I really want to show you something if you're up for some walking," he said. "Not far. Just… It's the perfect sky for it."

She regarded him. Walking? With a compass? A compass implied there was a possibility of getting lost. Didn't it? Wasn't that more like hiking? And Derek… he'd been swimming all afternoon and lugging boxes and… But he stared at her, his eyes twinkling with such rapt excitement that she couldn't bring herself to say anything other than, "The perfect sky?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "Yes. You'll like it. I swear."

"Is it cold? I've met my daily quota on frozen limbs."

He laughed. "No. Well, it will get chilly when the sun sets. But…" The zipper on the backpack snarled as he pulled it closed. "Please?"

She eased onto the sofa and took another sip of coffee. Her body ached from all the exercise. Her bones still felt cold. But the way he was staring at her, practically bouncing with excitement… She hadn't seen him so lively since… Well… Months. Just before George's dad had died, before the whole who-will-be-Chief mess had blown up around them, she'd seen the last hint of it, and, really, not in full since before Addison. And… Nature. She'd said she wanted to try the nature-y hobby stuff. No chickening out, Grey, she told herself. Absolutely not. She brushed her pants off, standing as she emptied the last of her coffee cup.

"Okay," she said, unable to hide the reluctance in her voice. Derek didn't seem to care. He told her to put on old stuff. A sweatshirt. And so she did, and within an hour, she found herself trailing behind him as he led her into the wilderness, the holey backpack slung over his shoulders almost haphazardly.

He certainly hadn't decked himself out with piles of preparation and readiness like the hikers in disaster movies always did. They were seriously not prepared for any particular eventuality other than finding north and dealing with ravaging granola cravings, let alone every eventuality. She suspected that his embarrassing secrets ended with Speedos, and not in a Boy Scout uniform. But the point was, there were trees. And grass. And no path. Or map. Or anything. It was freaking wilderness. Well, maybe not entirely wilderness. She caught glimpses of radio towers over the tree line, and she knew the island was only so big. Well, miles. And miles were pretty big when there were trees and bears and rotting logs and grass in the way of point A to B. But…

She glanced back woefully as Derek's nice little trailer slipped from sight.

"We should keep doing this," he said as they plodded through the field. Thick, wet grass stalks slapped her knees and elbows, and she couldn't help but imagine the sweat trickling down her spine was a bug, creeping…

"Walking?" she said, panting. Two poorly equipped hikers were found, rotting corpses in the bush today, a spokesperson for the park rangers said. Yes, a real shame. We hear they were supposed to get married in Connecticut.

"Yeah," he said. He stopped to smile at her. "Maybe get another dog."

"A dog, Derek?" she asked. They resumed, and the thick clots of tall grass turned into woods. "Are you sure you know where you're going? It's getting kind of dark."

The surrounding sounds grew muffled and quieter, somehow, in the thick canopy of leafy trees and overgrowth. She gripped at a sapling, catching her balance, only to have her hand come away covered with brown, wet bark particles. Something snapped in the distance. Like something large. Moving. She glanced that way, but Derek seemed unperturbed. She sighed. Well, there was nobody she'd rather be a bleached corpse with, she supposed. She looked up, and could see the deepening blue of the sky through the gaps in the trees overhead.

"I love dogs," he said. "And, yes, Meredith, dark is the point for this. And we're not lost. I swear. I've been this way a thousand times." His feet snapped on the dead twigs below their feet, and he pointed to a tree with a spray-painted red X on it as they passed by the trunk. "See? I knew that was going to be there."

"I love dogs, too, but," she said. "You're sure? A thousand times? It seems kind of overgrown for you having been through here a thousand times."

Maybe he would be all Tarzan to her Jane. They'd get lost, and he'd be like, Arrr, I hunt!

She shook her head.

No.

"I'm sure," he replied. "So, what's the problem with a dog?"

"It's just…" she said, finally letting her mind drift from predictions of doom.

She bit her lip as her drifting landed her mind's eye on thoughts of Doc. He'd been a sweet, happy dog. She'd made a horrible mistake getting him, because she hadn't been able to take care of him, and he'd been an attempt by her to fill the void left behind in Derek's absence, which was not a good reason to get a pet. In the end, he'd been Derek's dog. And that… She'd…

Their dog. They'd never shared a dog before. Only traded one. And it was silly. Silly that she was letting her eyes twist up with tears over the prospect of sharing a freaking dog. But they tore up anyway. Particularly because it wouldn't be filling any sort of void. Just adding to the family. Family. Derek was her family, now, too.

"You want to get a dog?" she said. "Together? Together, together? As in our dog? Not your dog or my dog, but… A dog that's ours. Really?"

"Sure," he said, pushing forward through the trees. "Why not? I have space, and my hours are a lot more flexible than yours. If there was an emergency or something, I could deal with it."

The darkness thickened around them, and it seemed like they were stuck in a maze of saplings and leaves. She'd lost track of the field behind them and certainly had no idea where the hell they were, though, they couldn't have gone that far from the trailer. They'd only been walking for about twenty-five minutes.

She was about to ask again if he was sure he knew what the hell he was doing, when, suddenly, the trees stopped. She gasped as they stumbled out into a small clearing, and the darkness brightened into sharp oranges and pinks of sunset. Dry, dead tree-trunks spiked up like pillars in an altar for the sky, which was a dusky dome of darkening blue spilling out overhead. To the east, it plunged behind the line of green where the trees began again, thick and midnight-touched. To the west, it turned into fire against a lone strip of puffy clouds.

"Here we are," he said.

Short, lush green grass spilled across the clearing. A small pond glimmered in the waning light, ending in a copse of low brambles and thicket before disappearing into an even thicker sprawl of taller trees. Lily pads and flowers covered the surface of the water.

Derek wrapped his arms around her as she stared, wide-eyed. Eyes glittered in the distance. Two deer rose up from the grass and scattered, crashing into the thicket, gone before she even had a chance to flinch and wonder what she was looking at. Their parting left behind only the clear, sparkling burble of the pond water as it spilled into some stream she couldn't see from there, the low croak of frogs, and the rasping sound of insects and life all around them.

"See?" he whispered, low and rumbly against her neck.

"Wow," she agreed.

"It gets better," he said. He set the backpack down against one of the shorter stumps and unfurled one of the blanket's he'd crammed into it. He spread it out against the damp ground. "Lie down," he said.

She was about to do as he asked when he stilled, staring in the distance toward the opposite end of the clearing.

"What is it?" she said, low and worried. Bears? Maybe cougars. Or something else with teeth. Did wolves live there?

"Shhh," he said, waving a hand absently at her. On his face, she didn't see any hint of fear. His lips curled with a small hint of mirth, and his eyes sparkled with glee.

She turned to peer in the direction that had captivated him. A small, dim light sparked in the distance and went out, leaving only the fuzzy outline of thicket and a mess of grass and trees behind.

"What?" she asked, whispering. For some reason, this place seemed to demand reverential respect. "I don't see anything."

"Look," he said, pointing sharply as another light flashed on and off like a beacon in the waning daylight.

"Lightning bugs?" she said.

"Fireflies," he replied. "I've never seen them here before."

"Let me guess," she said. "You were one of those kids who caught them and stuck them in old peanut butter jars. And they're called lightning bugs."

"Fireflies," he corrected absently.

"Lightning bugs!" she insisted before tromping toward the pair of lights dancing by the line of trees. In that moment, she forgot all about the horrible things that could jump out and eat her.

"Where are you going?"

She laughed. "They're no fun if you don't catch them."

"I thought you were just scolding me for putting them in jars," he said. He caught up with her, his feet whispering against the grass as they tore through it.

"So, you admit it," she said, smirking as she closed in on her quarry. "So mean. You're a mean, mean man. And I didn't say anything about jars."

She followed the closest glowing dot and reached out with her fingers, swiping the bug into her grasp, imprisoning it between her palms. The insect landed on the flesh of her hand. Its little feet tickled as it wandered, trying to find a way loose. She giggled as she peered into the small gap between her thumb and the roof provided by her index finger.

"What are you…" he whispered, looking over her shoulder. "You're torturing it."

"I am not," she said as the space between her palms lit up with a soft, yellow glow. "He's cute."

"How do you know it's a he?"

"I don't know," she said. "He looks like a Bob to me."

"Bob," Derek replied, chuckling. "A firefly named Bob?"

"Lightning bug," she said.

"Firefly."

His arms slipped under her knees and around her shoulders, and the world tilted backward as he pulled her off the ground into his embrace. The little firefly flew free, buzzing off with a soft, on off glow.

"Derek!" she shrieked as he carried her back to the blanket. "What are you doing?"

He grinned, his eyes sparkling in the dusk. "Catching a firefly," he replied. He set her down on her back against the blanket. Rocks and sticks and little things dug into her back, but as he surrendered to the ground on top of her, it didn't seem to matter much. His warm body settled against her, his warm breaths softly laving her in the dim.

"Lightning bug," she whispered as he leaned down to kiss her.

"Definitely lightning," he agreed, and then he took her breath away.

Her knee came up to rest against his hip, and he thrust against her. The sounds of the pond and the frogs and the birds and everything swelled up around her and faded into a rush of heartbeats and thunderous panting. She tore her fingers through the short, straight tufts of his hair, moaning. His hand slipped under her shirt, and it was only when she arched back and found herself staring at the clearing upside down through the slits between her eyelashes that she paused, breathless, shivering with desire. Awed.

"Derek, stop," she whispered, patting his ribs gently with her palm. "Look."

He pulled away, breathing hard and glistening with sweat despite the slowly chilling air. His eyes were creased with frustration, but he did what she asked and looked up.

There weren't just two. There were dozens. Yellow dots winked on and off in the dim blur of the day becoming night, drifting lazily like flotsam in a lake or maybe seed pods on the breeze. They hovered over the grass, tangoing, finding each other and parting in an intricate, patternless dance.

Derek flopped beside her and propped his chin against his palms as he watched. "Those things aren't supposed to be this far west," he marveled. "I've never seen one out here before."

She grinned, tearing her gaze away from the silent spectacle to peer at him. "There's a first time for everything," she said with a smile.

He cocked his head to the side, a pleased-looking shiver ripping through his body. "There is," he agreed.

They watched the fireflies until the world at last plunged into night, and they were alone in the black of the clearing. "So, what else did you want to show me?" she asked softly as she settled against his body and rested. "What's the sky perfect for?"

"Look up," he said.

She did. She gasped at the whorl of stars overhead. "Oh," she said dumbly. The pale band of the Milkyway was actually visible. She'd never seen it before, but she'd heard it was possible. The stars winked and twinkled like a carpet of the fireflies that had just departed, and she sighed, relaxing into his embrace. His palm caressed her hip.

"Neat, huh," he said. "I found this place by accident."

She smiled. "I think I like it here."

He turned to her, his eyes glittering in the darkness. "I tried to get Addison to come once, but she wouldn't."

She shrugged. "I'm not Addison," she said.

"Nope," he agreed, his voice short and clipped and light. "Definitely not." He squeezed her, and she sighed as she stretched against him. "Are you cold?"

"No," she said.

"Good," he replied.

They cuddled up and watched the stars in silence.


Notes: I think i got the idea of Derek as a swimmer from another fic, but for the life of me, I have no idea where. I just wanted to say thank you to whoever thought of it first. Thank you :)