Derek does his best to be the same father he used to be to his kids.
It was amazing. Everything about it was amazing. Meredith, generally, was amazing. But there were other things too. The length of tension. The length of release. The way she generated said tension and the way she made him release. The things she said. The places she went. The things she touched. The things she kissed. The way that, although she was tentative at first, she completely threw away any consideration of the fact that he was, physically, a completely different person.
She did everything right.
Which was why he felt so bad.
"So?" She breathed when he didn't reply, presuming he was just too busy trying to get his heart from his exploding and his lungs from collapsing. She placed a hand flat against his chest and smiled. "Round two?"
His eyes finally stopped the way they were bobbling around in his head, staring at the ceiling. Their eyes met. He swallowed. "No."
He could see the abrupt drop in her mood. She wasn't expecting that. "No?"
"I...I mean- it...it was- god, Meredith you know what it was but I-"
"Don't want to go again." She finished for him. He didn't seem to be distressed in any way. He just...didn't want a round two. That was fair enough. "That's fine."
"You sure?"
"Of course I'm sure. That was...plenty of-" She swallowed. There was no word to describe what had just happened. Magic? "You uh- wanna snuggle now then?"
He smiled as he sat up. "Mmm. But uh- I need to go to the toilet first. Might need some pyjamas bottoms too so I don't uh, you know-"
Meredith chuckled. "Yeah. Good point."
She was staring at the bedroom door. She had been for a while. Seven minutes, to be exact. Seven whole minutes. And that was only since she started paying attention to the time.
She had no idea why he needed the bathroom. It could be to do with what they just did. It could literally just be that he needed to relieve himself. Both. Neither. It could be anything. But she couldn't think of a single thing that took a minimum of seven minutes to complete. Well, not even complete, considering the fact that he hadn't re-emerged.
She slid off the bed, taking a blanket with her. She paused when she reached her destination, fist waiting patiently just a millimetre away from the door. She counted to twenty, just incase that's how long he needed, and knocked.
No reply.
"You know, if you changed your mind about going again, you could just say. Unlock the door and let me in. I could take over and we coul-"
"I'm not- that...No." He tried. Each word was a hesitant, staccato stab. He sounded so...lost. But he definitely wasn't lying.
She swallowed. He wasn't doing the one thing that, now, she kind of wished he was doing. At least then it would make sense. At least then she wouldn't be so worried. "Are uh- are you okay?"
"Mmm. Yeah."
"Are you sure?"
He swallowed. "Sure."
She pushed off the door so she could walk back to their bed. She sat down with a sigh. "Okay."
She was okay. But she had no idea if he was. She had no idea why he had left or how long he was going to be gone.
Did she hurt him? Was she too physical with him? Was he taking pain-killers now? Was he waiting for it to stop hurting to talk to her?
Or was it something else?
Did his SCI screw up his system after all? She didn't think that one was a possibility, seeing as she didn't notice anything go wrong and there was no way she could have just totally missed something like that happening, but it brushed her mind.
Was he embarrassed? Sad? Worried? Overthinking and overanalysing every move and noise and murmur he made?
Was he freaking out about what he looked like now? His scars? The atrophy of his legs? The fact that he didn't physically respond in the exact same way that he used to?
The very fact that he had just had sex? The very fact that his wife had just had sex with a man in a chair? Did it only just hit him?
But then the door clicked. And opened. And he was smiling like he was eight minutes ago.
"Hey Mr Muscles." She greeted, shoving positivity onto herself. He was fine. Probably. Maybe.
"Dr Muscles." He corrected as he pushed himself to her side, pausing just as their knees touched, but before they actually hit into each other's.
"Mmm. I think Dr Muscles should never wear a t-shirt again." She murmured. He didn't put on a top, and the light from the bathroom gave her an excellent view of how sculpted he was.
"I think that would get him fired from work."
She beamed and kissed him, hands resting on his legs. "Nah. He's far too hot to fire."
He swallowed as her hands slid across them to his knees. "Mmm." He hummed after a long moment, eyes no longer on her.
"You wanna- uh, snuggle now?" She asked, ignoring the fact that he had just talked right the way though something that had clearly dampened his mood or...something.
She had no idea what that was.
One second, he was smiling and joking, and the next he was saying as little as possible, gulping, and avoiding eye contact. What the hell did she just say or do that just made him want to curl up in a shell like that?
"Mmm. Yeah." He smiled. It was forced. Again.
What. The. Hell?
"Hey, what you doin'?" Meredith inquired as walked down the stairs, catching sight of Derek pulling his coat on.
"Me and the kids are going to play catch." He explained as she played with his hood, fixing its previous mangled confusion of fabric.
"Mmm." She hummed, fixing the front of his coat now too.
"Don't look at me like that." He instructed as their eyes met.
"Just be careful."
He smiled. "I will."
"Daddy catching now?" Zola questioned as she came barrelling down the stairs, meeting her parents by the door.
"Yeah!" He exclaimed with a smile. "You got the ball?"
"I has 3, just in the case." Bailey said as he joined his sister, presenting them to him with a smile.
"In case what?" Zola inquired curiously, looking at the foam balls he held in his hands.
"In case you chucks super far and lose. You terrible at catch!" The boy exclaimed, turning to his sister.
"Oi! That's not very nice, is it?" Meredith scolded, frowning at him. "What do we say?"
"Sworry Zozo." He apologized, turning to his sister with a frown.
"That's okay." She returned with a quick nod before exclaiming, "Smelly!"
"I am not the smelly!" Bailey exclaimed as he chased his sister out of the room, almost running into the door before deflecting her brother and sprinting around the lounge a couple times, leaping from sofa to sofa.
"Okay, okay. You two, calm down." Meredith demanded to the two bouncing children.
"If you don't stop I won't okay catch with you." He threatened.
They stopped almost immediately before stepping down from the sofa, looking a little guilty. He wasn't really expecting it to work so well, but he was glad it did.
"Now, shoes." She instructed, pointing to their wellington boots by the door. The pair followed her command, Bailey putting on his green dinosaur wellies with care while Zola practically jumped into her baby blue pair.
"That was a terrible throw!" Zola exclaimed as she fumbled with ball as it scraped just two of her fingers, the red ball almost being soiled by the light patch of mud she was standing in.
"No! That was terrible catch!" Bailey exclaimed in return, eyeing the ball carefully, ready for Zola to chuck it unexpectedly in the hope to catch her off guard. Of course, she did but he was ready, his tongue poking out at her as he caught it with ease before chucking it at his father.
He was thankful that they were careful with their throws to him, although he couldn't quite escape the feeling that it was supposed to be the other way around. It was always supposed to be the parent's job to make easy throws to their kids so they could succeed.
"See, that good throw. Daddy good at throw." Zola expressed as she caught the ball from him, smiling as it practically landed straight into her hand without a single movement.
"Thank you, Zola."
Bailey frowned. "But Daddy's old. He supposed to be good."
"I am not old." He retorted, offended.
"Older than Momma." Zola pointed out.
"Okay, that is true." He confirmed pointedly.
Zola smiled mischievously, knowing the mild offence she was about to cause to her sibling as she eyed him. "At least you not smelly like swomone!"
"Zola! Don't sa-" He barked, planning to tell her off before Bailey took over that job for him.
"I am not smelly!" Bailey shouted back. He had never heard the boy scream so loudly. Well, minus when he was a baby. Back then, he screamed and screamed and screamed because he was a baby.
He launched all of his anger into the ball as he chucked it not at his sister, but at his father. He was the person he was planning to throw it to until Zola decided to irritate him so much. So he was the one who received the ball. The ball that was flying far, far too high for him to grasp.
Derek was determined not to be the first one to miss the ball, despite how obvious it was that he was going to miss even with completely outstretched arms.
He made the attempt anyway, not calculating how impossible it was to catch the ball as he reached for it with one hand. He grabbed and tugged at one wheel with the other. He shoved hard with the latter hand, skewing his path slightly, seeing as he was only using one hand. That was the mistake. He didn't notice that he had pulled himself into a patch of marsh-like mud on the field until it was too late.
He was doomed.
But he had committed.
He had moved.
And he had failed.
It was a mistake. A stupid, ignorant, I'm-the-same-Derek-Shepherd-as-I-was-in-2014-right? kind of mistake.
The problem was, he wasn't. This was 2015. And he couldn't do stuff like that anymore. Anything like that anymore.
But, most probably, the sky was blue and cloudless in 2014 on this specific date too. A good blue, considering the fact that he didn't like light blue.
And right now, staring up at the sky, he got a perfect view of one of his least favourite colours.
He was in shock for a second.
Where did the kids and the lawn lined by trees go? Why in the world was his vision now just blue and white? Why did his back hurt? Why did his head hurt?
"Daddy?" Zola questioned as she ran over, looking down at her father on the floor. "Daddy okay?"
It didn't hurt. Well, it did. But he could tell it was a pain that would fade within a couple of seconds and even if it didn't, the degree it was sat at wasn't even bad enough to make him grimace.
"Oops." He murmured as he sat up, looking from his daughter to his son. His body had slid back a little at the fall, his waist upwards on the muddy ground and his legs still half resting on his chair. Although, they were collapsed over the seat, not where they were supposed to sit on the footrest. "That was- god, that was definitely a throw and a half Bails."
"Sorry Dada, didn't mean to." Bailey apologized; eyes wide with fear.
"I know baby. It's okay. Daddy is fine." He smiled at the boy reassuringly, trying to convince his face to relax before looking back to himself. He put one hand under his right leg, lifting and placing the leg in an almost folded position before doing the same with the other, almost making himself sit cross legged.
Had he been anywhere else, he would have just put his palms on the floor, lifted his body a little and pulled himself back. But he wasn't. He was on a patch of very muddy grass. Mud that was extremely contagious to anything that touched it. That would be his jeans and the backside of his coat, his hands and the back of his chair.
"Daddy really okay?" Zola asked, looking at his now half-overturned chair. He didn't look okay.
"Yeah. Just a little accident. Now I just need to get up and-"
"Derek!" A voice called from behind him, cutting him off.
He turned his head to see a very unnerved wife, shoes barely on her feet and an apron still on, rushing towards him.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, got a nice view of the sky in fact." He said, wincing a little as he looked back to his hands, caked in mud. He wasn't quite sure whether he should wipe it in his jeans or his coat, both items already covered in mud anyway, settling on just holding his hands out awkwardly as Meredith continued to fuss over him.
"But you're okay? You didn't hit your head or hurt your back when you hit the floo-" She continued to fret, despite how visibly fine he appeared, his biggest problem the fact he was now covered in mud.
"No, I'm fine Mer." He interrupted before she could continue to panic. "Just- might need some clean clothes. Maybe a bath too."
"Okay, okay. If you're sure." She finally settled a little, letting out a deep exhale.
"Really Mer, you shouldn't panic so much." He told her as he finally decided to wipe his hands in his coat, deciding it was the least expensive of the two options. Despite the light way he presented his answer, he frowned as he saw her tense at his return to her dismay. He decided not to say anything else, now just wishing he had responded with something a little different as she refused to calm. "I'll come inside now."
"But Daddy..." Bailey moaned as he watched his father pull his chair back upright from the floor, ignoring the mud he was getting all over it.
How he hadn't noticed the danger zone of the grass, he had no idea. There were only a select number of places on the neighbouring field besides their house they could go to avoid both travelling too far away and into the bushes, and he pulled evidently pulled the short straw – the extremely short straw – by placing himself in an area that was both muddy and had a slight slant downwards.
"We'll try tomorrow if it doesn't rain overnight, okay? I promise."
"Okay." Zola sighed. She knew it wasn't his fault it rained, nor that it was his fault he couldn't play on pre-rained ground. Besides, they had gotten in a good five minutes beforehand.
"Well, I know someone who might have bought two little people a nice new toy set to build."
"Is it for us? Is it? Are we the peoples?"
He winked obviously at them, holding the one eyelid closed for much too long before releasing it and saying, "No. No, Zola. Of course not."
Bailey wouldn't stop asking him if he was alright, scared he hurt his father after the catch-accident. He told him again and again that he was fine and that it wasn't even his fault, but the four-year-old was still not completely convinced. He built the set he had brought them pretty contently, although he did ask yet again if he was alright when Derek had finished assisting with the set and transferred back to his chair to get breakfast.
He did come up with the ingenious idea of using the very same office chair that his mother had used to demonstrate the concept originally just before he came back home. Their conundrum was that he needed to get into the house, to get changed, but he also needed to clean off the mud he had gotten literally everywhere. It could have been fine. He could have just had to wipe it off the rubber tyres. But then he fell over backwards and dumped the whole back of it in a massive pile of sticky, gooey mud. Hence, the transfer to the wheelie office chair. It was a smart move – plus it meant Bailey and Zola had a chance to pull him across the living room and down the corridor, which they found exceedingly entertaining for a reason unknown to him.
He supposed it was that thing: the fascination some people had with his chair. He wasn't sure if it was just curiosity of what it was like but Kate had told him about her colleagues asking to try it out. He didn't get that so much; all his friends were doctors, and patients, unsurprisingly, weren't so interested in having a go. If they were, they could probably find one in the hall anyway.
He was sat beside the microwave, watching his bowl circle round and round as it heated when she walked in the room. The sound of Meredith opening the fridge pulled his eyes away from his porridge instantly.
"Hey."
"Hey." She greeted. She smiled for just one second before it dropped and she looked back to the fridge. "Noticed the porridge this morning."
"Amy ate what was left. Made her buy me some more."
"Mmm. Nice of her to buy you a whole packet."
"Yeah." He said shortly. There was a horrifyingly strong awkwardness between them that neither of them could quite smooth out.
She settled her phone down on the counter to start preparing her own food, only for it to ring.
"Can you check who that is?" Meredith requested, her hands full.
He picked it up but frowned as he unlocked it. "It's not a contact, looks like a sales call."
"If it's a real person, they'll call back." She said with a shrug.
He nodded as he selected the red button and almost put it back, only to pause. It just so happened that the last screen she had open on her phone was Google. Specifically, Google with the search tab selected. "Uh- Meredith?"
"Mmm?" She hummed passively, only to turn and look at him gawping at her phone. She realized why he was so concerned now. "Holy shee-ba." She corrected, knowing the kids were nearby as she ripped the phone out of his hands and slid it into her pocket. "You were- you won't supposed to see that."
"Evidently." He said, eyebrows creased with concern over his wife.
"I just- I was interested in one thing. And then I started finding article after article and searching more and- I just- something was wrong last night. And I have absolutely no idea what it was." She confessed. She had wanted to blurt that for hours and hours now. "So...so I thought I could figure it out. With the power of Google."
"You mean-"
"Yes Derek, I mean after the s-e-x we had for the first time in half a freaking year." She confirmed extraordinary bluntly. "Why do you think I'm freaking out?"
"Why did you search...d-y-s-f-u-n-c-t-i-o-n?" He asked back, ignoring both her statement and her question.
"I know you didn't. You were-" She swallowed. Before he scurried away to the bathroom? Perfect. Like nothing had ever even happened. Like they had sex two days ago. It was abso-freaking-lutely perfect in every way it was supposed to be. Definitely not dysfunctional. "I just...I started by reading about other people's experience. Then articles. Then proper medical studies. Then...I was just looking at the relationships between SCIs and...s-e-x."
"And the last one you searched?" He asked tentatively. It didn't matter that the serial position effect told the world that, in theory, he would remember that one the most because of the rules of memory, he wasn't sure he could ever forget those words ever again. It zapped around his cortex in a single nanosecond.
She swallowed. "I know you said that you were okay-"
"You think that I didn't-" He swallowed, the questioned bouncing around in his head. "-want to do it?"
"I don't know what happened. You were happy. During...and after. And then you said no and, really, that was fine with me." She replied, her voice expressing how earnest she was being. "But then you went and hid in the bathroom. And came out all awkward and I- I don't know anything and you're freaking me out and I just...what did I do to you?"
His eyes pulled a little wide as he witnessed her mentally collapse in front of her. He pushed himself forward so he could hold both of her hands at the closest position they could get to face-to-face when he had lost so much height. "You...Meredith, you didn't do anything to me."
"Then why do I feel like I just ra-"
"Don't!" He exclaimed, gesturing with his heads to the lounge. That's where their extremely young children were sat, in their own little world of dinosaurs and zebras. They may have been there now, but enough shouting would pull them out in an instant. He would not be explaining what that word meant. "I...Meredith, I promise you, you did nothing wrong. It was perfect. You were perfect. You did what I wanted and you...I just- something else...happened."
"What? What happened?"
"It doesn't matter." He sighed.
"Well, it does. It clearly really does freaking matter when that is a word that I just considered saying! When it's a word that I keep thinking about!"
He couldn't say anything. He just sat there, mouth hung open uselessly, unable to form a single word.
"Do you want to do it again? Anywhen? Not now, not tonight, just-" She gulped. "Would you do it again?"
"What is this? A hotel review?"
Now he was using defence mechanisms, she observed. Great. So she did something similar. Hers wasn't a loss for words, but she was still silent. And she would remain that way until he answered her.
He sighed. "Yes. Yes, Meredith, I would do it again. I will do it again. Tonight, even, if you want me to prove it. But I- I can't tell you what happened because...I just can't. But now everything is going to be all horrible and awkward and-"
"Kissing…kissing is good." She interrupted. She had no idea why she was accepting his silence. They had been working on communication...forever. But she had also learnt that, sometimes, he needed a minute to process something himself. Like when he was told that he wasn't going to walk again. So she gave him a chance. For a day. Maybe two.
"What?"
"I like kissing. Just kissing. If you...if you have this mystery again and you run away and everything-" She paused to collect her thoughts. "Kissing is good."
"It's not as good though, is it?"
"You don't like my kissing?" She pouted, offended.
"No- of course I do. You're an excellent kisser, I just-" He sighed. "I would feel bad."
"Well you should." She smirked, most obviously kidding. "Don't you know that's what people get when they just decide to be hit by a truck."
He grinned. "Well when I get asked by the what-do-you-want-to-do-today? fairy tomorrow morning, I'll remember to tell it to stop adding 'get hit by truck' to its daily schedule." He rolled his eyes.
Then, suddenly, there were lips on his, interrupting his display of sarcasm.
She stayed an awful lot longer than she first expected, thanks to his glad acceptance. A hand trickled fingers across his jawline before settling just behind his ear to play with a few curls at the base of his hair. She pulled away a little after a couple of seconds, although their breaths still fought each other from how close they still were. "See-" She smiled, pressing a breath against his skin with the humoured kind of exhale. "-I am very good at kissing."
"Mmm. You are very, very good at kissing."
"We-" She kissed him again. Shorter, but there was no less love. "-are good at kissing. Each other."
"I have no one else to compare it too. So I suppose, just each other."
"What about the kids?" She asked, looking over to where they were by the sofa, zooming space ships into each other and making fake explosion and gun noises. As much as Zola loved playing with animals – specifically her lion, Nala, and the new toy she had got from the Zoo after the whole event with the little boy and his lion tooth – she was partial to a good old space ship. Her parents had to buy her whatever toy she wanted after that abrupt and frankly terrifying experience, although she seemed to enjoy it enough. "They like to give you some fabulous kisses sometimes."
"They're more like spit-monsters when they kiss." He corrected. "Or try to at least…"
"Mmm. I see that." She agreed, looking back over to them, just as Bailey leaped off one of the sofas, almost running into his sister as he made quiet noises along the lines of 'pew, pew' for the Naboo Starfighter in his hand, the traditional noises of a gun which they both knew guns truly didn't sound like. Zola had stolen his X-wing and she wasn't quite sure who would win that fight.
She sighed. "Is it...was it- piping that, you know, was the problem?"
"I'm not playing Guess Who with you but...no."
She wasn't expecting that. Unless he was lying, of course. Malfunctioning pipes and systems seemed like the most logical answer to her. "Somewhen, are you going to tell me what was wrong?"
He swallowed. "I...I don't know."
Derek was on the floor.
They were playing catch. They stopped. Zola and Bailey seemed to have some kind of conversation. Bailey threw the ball.
Now Derek was on the floor.
The freaking floor.
She didn't have time to think. Running wasn't a reflex. It wasn't like a doctor hitting your knee with a hammer or your hand pulling away in the presence of pain physiologically. But, in that moment, it was. She didn't even think.
They split from their spoon when Derek's back decided he had been in one position for long enough. He tried to resist it but there was no way he could manage a whole night of holding her like that. He had to move. And apparently, according to her belly, she did too. So they split. Sadly. But for the benefit of both parties.
Derek knew she wasn't asleep. It had been hours since they split and she could still hear that she was awake from the way she breathed besides him. He had had plenty of experience listening to her sleep, listening to her breaths to check they were even and constant after the drowning incident all those years ago. And the plane crash. And the shooting, even though she wasn't the one who had been shot.
"Did you look out the window?" He asked before opening his eyes, tilting his head towards her slightly.
She almost jumped at the question, clearly taking his closed eyes and steady breathing as signs of him being asleep. "Huh?"
"This morning, you said you looked out the window and saw me and the kids." He elaborated.
She hesitated a second, still a little surprised as she noticed the distinct lack of sleepiness in his tone. However long she had thought she had spent awake alone; she was wrong.
"Yeah. I looked out the window, watched Bailey get mad, then chuck the ball a little too hard at you. I rushed out when I saw you fall or when your chair tipped backwards or- whatever happened, you know what I mean. If I wasn't looking out the window, how would I have seen you otherwise?"
"But-" He started.
She sat up quickly but Derek didn't bother to pull the blanket back over him as she accidently shifted it with the movement, concluding that he too would sit up some when in their conversation anyway. "What are you really trying to ask me Derek?"
"Did you just so happen to look out the window or were you just watching us?"
"Derek, why is this important?" She probed.
He sat up a little, pushing himself up with his palms. "Well if it's the latter, then answering it shouldn't be a problem." He insisted, frowning as she made no answer. "Look, either you just so happened to look out the window at the exact second and you can just tell me that with no problems or you were watching us from the moment we went out there because you're still losing your mind with worry."
Meredith swallowed, eyes focused purely on her hands as she wrung them together uncomfortably, facing away from him completely now.
"Meredith." He pleaded, one hand trying it's best to work its way into hers, still conjoined half on her lap and half against her stomach.
"I am worried. So what? I- I can be worried. I'm allowed to be worried." She insisted, refusing to let his hand into hers although she did look at him to speak.
"Of course you are." He reassured her, pulling her into his arms carefully. "I just- I don't want you to be worried. You don't need to be worried."
Her body stiffened at his touch before she let herself be soothed by the embrace, head dropping a little into him. He was so warm and his presence was so comforting.
"Okay." She muttered quietly, burying herself into his chest. "I just...I want you to be alright."
"I am alright." He pledged, one hand stroking her hair slowly. "I promise."
"What about what's been going on this week?"
He sighed and paused the soothing motion. Somehow, this was the first time she brought it up. "I overworked. And I paid the price." Then it continued.
"You scared me."
"I Know, Mer, I know. Honestly...I kind of scared myself too."
"I thought you were going to die."
"But I'm here. And I'm fine. And it was just a migraine, okay? Not even me-almost-dying-then-being-fine thing. It was just a stupid, annoying post-TBI side effect, okay?"
"He won't give you your job back if you screw up again." She pointed out.
"So I won't. I won't be an idiot. I will take my meds. I will rest when I have the chance. I...I know it must have been difficult to convince him to let me stay."
She nodded. "Need to get in his good books somehow. And soon. But-"
"Without overworking myself and ending up sedated in a CT scanner, yeah, I know Mer."
She sighed. "Is it going to stop?"
"Is what going to stop?"
"You being in pain. You going to hospital. Your emotions exploding because life is so freaking hard. When is life going to stop being so freaking hard all the freaking time?" She asked rhetorically, tears slipping out of her eyes. She sniffled them. "I just- Derek, I can't keep doing this."
"I know, I know." He kissed her cheek. "But I love you. And I really hope that helps you, just a little."
"I love you too. And I really want that to be enough. But I just-"
"Want me to be able to walk."
She swallowed. "No. No, it's not that."
"It can be that, Mer. That's allowed. If that is how you feel, you're allowed to say it. You're allowed to talk about it. You're...Meredith, it's okay if you still haven't got used to the idea."
"You have. The kids have. Amelia has. Everyone at the hospital has."
"And when you drowned, I was mess when you were waltzing about with all your perfectly happy friends. Some things you just...you don't just get over them in an hour or a day or a week, even though everyone else does. And that's okay."
She shoved the back of her hand against her left undereye to force tears off of her cheek before they got a chance to slide to the pillow. "Really?"
"Yes, really. You take all the time you require. And I will be here, the whole time, supporting you. Loving you. And doing my best not to end up in hospital."
"Does that mean you're gonna let me put anti-tippers on your chair?"
He smiled. "I would love to say yes. But yesterday, the kids discovered that wheelies exist."
She snorted a laugh. "Can't wait."