Chapter 2: Second Strike of Lighting

"Mer!" Cristina waved at her from the threshold of the inn. "You didn't come over last night. The phones were down. I thought you were abducted by aliens, bitch!" Fearing alien abduction was equal to worrying in the innkeeper's vocabulary.

"Sorry," she sighed apologetically and shut the door of her jeep. "I came back late from the Ramirez. The labor went on and on."

"What did that woman push out of herself this time?"

"Boy again, a healthy strong boy."

"Crap," grumbled Cristina. "Another stupid loser with a penis. That makes 79 total of them."

"Speaking of losers," smiled Meredith, relaxed, closing her eyes to bask her face in the morning sun. "You just won't believe what happened on my way back."

"You saw the light moving across the sky," quipped Cristina.

"I'd wish," said Meredith with a roll of her eyes. "Even for an army of aliens. But no, I picked up a guy from the road."

Cristina slapped her on the back in the gesture of appreciation. "Just when I think you're boring, you rise!"

Meredith decided to ignore the insinuation. "It was a real downpour, I was taking the shortcut, when a guy jumps practically in front of my jeep. A guy in Versace suit and some slick sports car!"

"Seriously?" Cristina cackled with laughter. "You're a magnet for weirdos."

"Tell me about it," she groaned. "He wanted me to drive him here, so I thought - why not? He looked harmless except the stick up his ass. Only later he called this place a goddamn hole and practically said he wouldn't say no to a good old roll in the hay with me."

Cristina laughed so hard she pressed her palms on her stomach. She knew well enough any attempts to romance Meredith would have to end up bad for the so called culprit. "Gosh, he dug his own grave. Get to the good part already and tell me what you did to him. Spare no details."

"I left him at the gas station thinking he was going to get lucky, kicked his precious baggage in the rain and drove away."

Cristina went on laughing. "You left him 30 miles away from here in the dead of night? In the raging storm?"

"Sure, I did," answered Meredith proudly. "Hopefully that will teach him some lesson."

"God, I'd love to see his face," she bit her lips shaking her head and suddenly fixed her eyes on the car that halted on the other side of the street and the man who just got off. "How did he look?"

"How did he look?" Meredith scrunched her face pensively. "Ugh, not too ugly-"

"Too much black hair? About 5 ft. 9? Crooked nose?"

"Yeah, how do you…"

"Behind you," pointed Cristina.

Meredith whirled around almost expecting to bump into him, but he was at a safe distance across the street.

"That's him?" inquired Cristina.

"Yup, that's the asshole," she murmured, the evil grin returning full force.

"Yup," nodded Cristina. "That would explain that disheveled look… as well as the death glare."

Laughter erupted in Meredith's throat. Those were the little moments in life to relish... Derek the-big-city guy looked like he'd just spent the worse night of his life.

"You sure it was Versace on him?" asked Cristina with a hint of pity.

"Positive. Saw the tag."

"Well, you wouldn't even wipe a table with it now."

Derek was all covered in dust, his shoes in dried mud, his hair was wild and unkempt, and he gave an impression of general exhaustion. Apart from that, he managed to sport an utterly murderous scowl directed specially at her.

Meredith faked a little bow as though after a performance and prompted Cristina inside the inn.

"Come on, I'm starving," she said, her voice sparkling with amusement. "I haven't had breakfast yet."

"You haven't mentioned he was a hot piece of ass," remarked innocently Cristina laying the table for her friend.

"Ugh, is he?" asked Meredith.

"Please, Mer. You might be all righteous but not dead. Your denial intrigues me actually."

"Don't you think I have a constitutional right to deny that? He practically came all over me."

"I think he's still coming," said Cristina, her eyes again over Meredith's shoulder.

"Not again!" she groaned.

"I presume you're Cristina Yang?" his voice sounded close beside her. It bore none of its energy and suaveness from the previous night. It was rather strained and harsh, like its owner tried hard to keep his anger at bay.

He knew since the beginning the damn trip was a horrible idea. He'd fire his incompetent lawyer on the next possible occasion. Last night was just too much. He could survive roaming for hours, lost around Rachel. He could even survive a night in his car surrounded by a storm. It wasn't even about waiting for a good four hours at the gas station for another car to stop by, being driven 10 miles at the back of a truck and then hitchhiking another car. Really, it wasn't only about that. The worst was the feeling of humiliation the wicked witch named Meredith inflicted upon him. She had the body of an angel, but the most sadistic of characters. She played him and this morning, she gloated about it. How he craved to wipe that smirk off her face.

He would. He was going to stay here a couple of days anyway. Not now, not in the next five minutes, but he would find a way to get back at her. First, he wanted, scratch that, he absolutely desired, to have a shower. He needed to scrape that dirt off his body. The driver left him in front of the diner, which was also the only inn in the town. Unfortunately, that was also where the witch disappeared with her friend. He felt like falling to the floor kicking and screaming when he was pointed into the direction of the inn's owner… sitting at the table with no other than the Meredith witch.

"Cristina Yang, I presume?" He gathered all his self-restraint and patience.

The young Asian he addressed exchanged looks with her friend and asked, "Why?"

"Why what?" he barely stopped himself from snapping. He was not in the mood for mind games.

"Why do you presume I'm Cristina Yang?" she looked at him as though he was an idiot.

He clenched his jaws, damn female solidarity. "I was told one Cristina Yang was sitting here."

"But there are two of us…" she stated making a sad face.

He closed his eyes briefly counting to ten backwards, but they shot open when a stifled chuckle reached his ears. Her stifled chuckle.

"Since I know that…" the word witch almost rolled off his tongue, "that she is not Cristina Yang I assume you have to be."

"That works," nodded Cristina. "So, what's up?"

"I'd like a room." His breathing eased out, maybe he was getting somewhere.

"Ohhh," cooed Cristina and the sad face returned. "I'm soo incredibly sorry. We're full."

Murder, his fingers just itched to commit one, or two. He turned back towards the reception where he saw a row of keys hanging peacefully. "What are those then?"

"Oh, the guests are all in town."

"At… This early in the morning? Doing what?" he spat realizing he didn't have his watch on his wrist.

"No need to be so obnoxious, sir," Cristina folded her arms over her chest.

"Look, I'm from New York, like from the state of New York, like east coast-"

"Look, we're not stupid or naive, sir," Cristina cut him across, deadpanned. "No, sir, we're not."

He passed his hand through his hair in frustration. Where was he going to sleep? Not to mention eat or maintain a proper level of hygiene. Also, he had no bloody idea how to get the Lexus from the desert…

Suddenly, as he absentmindedly peered out of the window, he was illuminated. They wanted to play dirty? They would play dirty. With a smirk forming on his lips, he hurried out of the inn tugging his battered suitcase behind him before the Sheriff drove off.

"You rocked, bitch," approved Meredith after he was out of earshot.

"Insulting both my person and my home? He had it coming."

"This is absolutely ridiculous!" snorted Meredith impatiently ten minutes later, shaking her head and exchanging looks with Cristina, between Derek the asshole and Wayne Rigsby, the Sheriff. "And I don't have time for this."

"You see yourself, sir," sighed Rigsby to Derek. "I told you it couldn't be her. You must be mistaken-"

"Oh, I am not mistaken," insisted decidedly Derek. "She is quite unforgettable. And I don't think it's very professional to believe in everything the suspect says."

"How dare you!" shrieked Meredith. "I am not a suspect! Really, Wayne, this is too much! It's slander!"

"Now, sir," Rigsby once again addressed Derek. "You must calm yourself down."

Derek was speechless for a second. He should have known the locals sided with the locals. "She's the one who's hysterical. And she stole my watch. I can prove it!"

"I'm not a thief, you moron! Wayne, I'd like to make a complaint too!"

Rigsby scratched himself in the head. "You want to report a theft, doc?"

"No, a sexual assault," she gritted though her teeth, ignoring the fact the Cristina was all shaking with barely contained laughter, and pointed her finger at Derek. "He harassed me!"

"Woah, that's a serious crime," Rigsby shook his head and grabbed Derek's arm. "You've got to come with me, sir."

"This is ridiculous, this is ridiculous!" shouted Derek. "I haven't even touched her! I wouldn't if you paid me!"

"That's a good one!" snorted Meredith. "I could swear you it was you talking about pleasure yesterday, you perv!"

"That is quite enough," said Rigsby. "Sir, please, refrain from resisting-"

"I'm not resisting anything," spat Derek. "But I didn't touch her! She has no proof! Whereas, I can prove, I can prove, she has my watch. I can describe it to you! It's a silver Rolex with my name engraved on the back. I got it when I was nominated head of department!"

"It's slander! Just slander!"

"Look, Sheriff Rigsby, you're not going to take my words seriously, I'll pull the strings and you can say goodbye to your uniform for neglecting protocol!" said Derek desperately. In reality, he was catching at the straws. He was almost peeing in his pants by now. Getting arrested for sexual assault and his career and reputation were over. Apparently, Meredith was a tough adversary. Somehow, every word of her was taken as the absolute truth. "Check if she has the watch, just check… her car for example!"

"When and where exactly did you meet?" asked Rigsby, his head starting to throb painfully.

"Last night, when he harassed me!" argued Meredith.

"Yeah, last night, when she stole my watch!"

"Okay, last night. Where?"

"I was the kind helpful person I always am and picked him up on the way to Rachel. In the storm! What an ingrate!"

"You see, she admits," Derek latched onto her last sentence. "Check her car, just check her car!"

"Doc, mind if I take a look?" Wayne looked utmost apologetic.

"What? This is outrageous!"

"I know," he assured her quickly. "It's just a formality. Let's just have a look and I take him with me."

"Okay," she smiled. "Let's have a look. You'll find nothing."

Derek prayed that the watch would still be where he put it last night when he was trying to dry himself in Meredith's car. Because if she had disposed of it somewhere… he was royally screwed.

He watched in tension as Meredith opened her car to let Sheriff Rigsby inspect the interior. Even if he was scared shitless not to mention furious with her, his brain somehow still registered how sexy and fresh she looked this morning. He didn't want to think that she was attractive, but hell, he couldn't exactly help it.

"Oh." A muffled sound came from Meredith's car.

"Ha!" Derek smiled in triumph. And relief. His ass was safe.

"What oh?" asked Meredith with a frown.

"Is this the watch, sir?" Rigsby stood up to his full height with a wristwatch he found in the little compartment on the door.

"As a matter of fact, it is!" laughed Derek. "I told you!"

"I… Oh, come on, Wayne! You don't think I'm a petty thief!" she shrieked, red on the face despite her best attempts not to. "He probably planted it in there himself! Besides, let's be reasonable, how would I struggle that watch from a piece of man like that?"

The cocky wiggling of his eyebrows told her the last part didn't come out exactly as she intended. She did her best to ignore the bastard. She was sure he was imagining her wrestling with him, probably panting and… Stop! She just didn't think that!

"I have to agree with the doc, sir," Wayne agreed with her immediately. "She's a little woman."

"Who's still pressing assault charges!" she reminded them.

"And I'm pressing the theft charges! The proof was there. We have witnesses."

Meredith's eyes swept around, taking in a dozen of passersby blatantly staring at the event. Great, the asshole made a public sensation out of her.

"Okay, maybe we should all cool down," proposed Rigsby. Even he started to think that maybe the whole affair was a big misunderstanding. "I don't think anyone really wants to press any charges here. Sir, did you see this woman stealing your watch?"

Derek sighed audibly. If he lied, he would have stepped into even a bigger shit. But gracious God, he was tempted. "No, I didn't."

"Good. Doc, did this man hurt you in any way?"

"No… not really," she sighed. "Although he is an asshole like you wouldn't believe! Is there a charge for that?"

"You're one little-"

"Stop! Stop that!" Rigsby put his arms in the air. "Doc, weren't you in a hurry? It's almost nine. And you, sir, walk away, sir."

"Fine," nodded Derek and grabbed his suitcase whereas Meredith got inside her jeep with a last vicious glare sent in his direction.

"Just one more thing," Derek stopped Rigsby. "I need a room. That woman said everything is booked but she's lying-"

"Sir, I think you should walk away," the Sheriff stated with a grim finality in his voice.

"Fine, fine… I'm going… Sheriff Rigsby?" asked Derek suddenly. "Why did you keep calling her doc?"

"'Cause she's a doctor," replied Wayne with an obvious shrug.

"A doctor? Wasn't Doctor Shepherd's practice the only one in town?"

"Sure, it was," agreed Rigsby. "But Doc Shep, rest in peace, owned half of the practice. She owns the other half."

"What's… what's her name?" he asked, feeling his excitement rising once again.

"Doctor Meredith Grey."