Chapter 44: Go Away.

"I want to go home."

"I don't."

"Seriously Christina," Meredith sighed and looked at her friend who was pushing the door open. "I'm not in the mood."

"Too bad."

"WHY are we doing this?" Meredith asked as she followed Christina into the bar. "You're nauseous. You're not drinking anything anyways."

"I know," Christina sighed with a dark shade in her eyes. "But you can. And you're going to."

"Am not," she argued, nervously fiddling with her hair as they sat at the bar. "I feel like shit."

"You look like shit."

Meredith rolled her eyes but knew it was true. Her hair was unwashed, her skin flushed and her clothes ruffled and stained. Which was exactly why she shouldn't be doing this.

"Hey," Christina said motioning for Joe to come over. "We look good even when we look like shit."

Meredith's mouth corners turned upwards at the strange compliment; practically praise coming from Christina.

"Chris, Mer," Joe greeted them in a lifeless voice as he wiped his brow with his shirtsleeve. "What can I get you two?"

"You okay, Joe?" Meredith asked, slightly concerned to see his complexion look so unhealthy.

"Just a busy evening," he shrugged and smiled gently as he rubbed his temple with a slightly trembling index finger. "No need to go all doctor on my ass… It's not like you look all bright and shiny yourself."

"Which is why we're here," Christina explained before Meredith could do more than roll her eyes.

"Figures. What can I get you?" Joe asked again. "Still on the water wagon, Mer?"

"No," Meredith shook her head and looked at Christina. "But she is."

"It's true," Christina told the disbelieving bartender in a tragic voice. "I'll have a ginger beer. And she'll have a bottle of tequila."

"Christina!" Meredith protested as a tiny glass and a big bottle was put in front of her. "I have a marathon shift in 7 hours."

"Do it for me," Christina snapped and poured tequila and ginger beer.

Meredith just stared at the glass.

"Chris…"

"Look; it's easy. You seriously need to drink. I seriously need you to drink. Do it."

Meredith stared at her friend; and behind the annoyed frown and the tightly pinched mouth, she saw a pair of truly concerned eyes.

Christina was trying to help her, the only way she knew how.

"Fine," Meredith sighed and lifted her glass. "Just one."

Both women lifted their glasses in a casual toast.

"So," Meredith said after relishing for a couple of seconds in the soothing, numbing liquid tickling down her throat. She needed distraction. "Morning sickness."

"You have no idea!" Christina moaned, instantly catching on to Meredith's need to think of something else. "Of the two of us, I bet my life sucks the most."

Meredith just smiled bitterly and rolled her eyes.

Trust Christina to make a competition out of their misery.

"I mean," she went on, "All of a sudden, I can't stand the smell of blood. Blood, Meredith! I'm a surgeon. It's not funny."

"I'm not laughing," Meredith savoured the careless, anaesthetized feeling that went with the alcohol, a feeling she needed right now.

"So," Christina aggressively and with pride in her tone announced. "I win."

"You win," Meredith softly agreed.

Then all of a sudden was a loud crash directly behind the counter in front of them.

The bar turned oddly quiet as everyone turned to see what was going on.

In a pile of broken glass lay Joe, bleeding from glass cuts and trembling uncontrollably.

"Okay, maybe Joe wins," Christina blankly said to no one in particular.

Nobody reacted for a full second of clarity. Then, suddenly, everything sped up; for Meredith it seemed to go by in a blur.

Janice, the young bartender started screaming as people started to gather around the bar counter.

"Help! We need a doctor over here!"

Christina and Meredith's natural instincts kicked in; they got up and climbed their way over the counter.

"He's seizing!" Meredith said in a voice that sounded a lot calmer than she felt.

"Janice, call 911," Christina sharply ordered and kneeled beside Meredith, who was trying to roll him over. Together, they managed to get him on his side; Christina quickly stood up again after taking in a large cut on Joe's forehead.

"Blood…" she muttered, barely audible. "Damn."

"You okay?" Meredith asked.

"I'm okay." Christina stubbornly muttered as her jaw locked. "Pupillary response?"

"I can't see anything down here!"

Christina saw a flashing light outside the bar. "The ambulance's here."

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Meredith and Christina both drove with Joe to the hospital; Christina had her brave face on and her natural charm prevented anyone but Meredith to get close enough to see that her best friend indeed wasn't feeling very well.

"You need to lay down."

"No, I need to keep going," Christina snapped. Her always porcelain complexion was almost see-through in the cold ambulance light.

"Are you going to throw up?"

"No," Christina answered in an angry tone that didn't convince Meredith one bit.

"Christina, it's me; why can't you just admit that you're unable to take a patient right now?"

"I just…" Christina paused and looked at Meredith with an odd, unreadable expression. Still, she didn't move.

"Come on! You can let me handle this one patient without falling behind…"

"It's not about me, it's about you!" Christina snapped as the ambulance came to a halt in front of the hospital.

"What about me?"

Christina was about to answer when the ambulance doors opened and an all too familiar voice, though tired and sulky, spoke into the night.

"What have we got here?"

Meredith instantly froze, unable to move a single muscle in her body. She met Christina's worried eyes and knew why her person wanted to spare her from this one.

Why, oh why, did HE have to be the on-call attending?"

"What have we got here?" Derek Shepherd asked again, only this time slightly more urgent and annoyed than the first. Meredith took a deep breath and turned around to face him.

For a split second, the only thing Meredith could decipher in his face was blind worry; then, upon seeing that she indeed was not the injured, his eyes turned the darkest, dullest shade of blue she could imagine.

Just seeing him like this made the suppressed misery she had carried in her stomach-knot all day rise to the surface.

He quickly looked away and didn't meet her eyes; it was his harsh voice that brought her back to reality.

"What have we got here?"

Meredith cleared her throat; she hadn't realized how dry it was until she tried speaking up.

"Um…"

"Yang?" Derek asked, shifting his stony gaze to the woman beside Meredith; apparently hell-bent on not looking at her.

But Christina was clutching her mouth and stomach, her face a light, unpleasant shade of green that didn't look healthy in any way.

"Derek," Meredith calmly stated and he stiffened; but he didn't look at her.

"Derek, it's Joe."

Derek looked at the motionless man on the gurney; Meredith swore she caught a glimpse of concern in his eyes – if so, it was gone as sudden as it came.

"Dr. Grey," he addressed her, still without looking at her, in an icy voice that sent shivers down her spine, making her flinch. "What is wrong with this man?"

"He…" She hesitated. "He had a seizure. On the bar floor."

The look on his face, still not looking directly at her, made her feel tiny and insignificant.

"Has he been conscious since?"

"No. But he's stabile."

"Okay," he sighed. "Let's get him in."

Christina moved forward, still clutching her stomach, sporting a slightly repulsive facial shade.

"I'll take this one," she whispered to Meredith. Unfortunately, this was the moment her stomach decided to empty its content out on the ambulance floor.

"Dr. Yang," Derek snorted, "Go lie down before you throw up on the patient."

Christina sent Derek a deadly glare and Meredith a sympathetic expression, which she tried her best to return with a calm smile, before she left the ambulance.

Derek and Meredith rolled Joe out of the ambulance and into the hospital in awkward, unbroken silence.

Only when they reached the elevator and were alone – if you didn't count the sleeping man on the gurney -, Meredith dared to really look at him. And that's when it happened; when he finally really looked back at her.

She saw so much in his eyes; was it pure imagination or was his eyes devouring hers like her eyes were his, like they could not get enough?

He looked like he could no longer stop himself from letting himself get lost in her eyes, from allowing her to see into his eyes and soul.

She saw everything. She saw behind the cool façade he had been putting up around her and it was like a breath of sweet, pure relief; like she had been holding her breath without realizing it and could now finally fill her lungs with air.

They stood there for hours; or mere seconds, or years for all Meredith knew.

And then the elevator came to a halt, the doors opened and the moment was gone as sudden as it had appeared; had it been there at all? To Meredith it felt unreal, dreamlike.

He was still staring into her eyes; but the warmth was gone, replaced by sadness, broken, exhausted sadness that made her want to cry.

People were waiting for them to get out of the elevator so they could get in; Meredith was aware of this in a corner of her mind that really couldn't care less.

When she finally found her voice, he found his, too.

"I…"

"Go." He merely said, in a hoarse whisper that sent chills down her spine; not necessarily all bad ones.

"Derek?"

"Please just… go."

"But…" Meredith whispered back, still looking him straight in the eye. "Joe…"

"I'll take care of it." Derek's voice was getting rougher by the second; like he was going to cry.

"Derek…"

"Go."

"We need to talk…"

"Meredith," Derek said, loudly and almost aggressively, making people look curiously in their direction. "Go away."

"I…" Meredith felt her eyes water and briefly wondered how many more tears she would have to cry over Derek Shepherd.

"Go away!" he shouted.

Conversation in hearing distance from them abruptly died out.

Meredith was still not looking away from his eyes; but they were dark and blurry, immeasurable.

That's when she turned around and walked away.

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