A continuation of the last chapter's cliff-hanger.

"Excuse me, I need to get on this boat." She called out, her voice a little louder than she wanted it to be as she pushed through the crowd of people around her.

There was a tall man stood by the ramp that led onto the boat in a bright hi-vis vest, making his position of importance clear. He looked stern and unwavering, with a thick, permanently folded brow.

She started to ask again, presuming the man didn't hear her, just as a siren broke through the air. She turned round to see an ambulance pull up besides the docks, two paramedics clambering out at full speed. She had no idea how she beat them there, but she did.

"Please, what happened on there?"

The man shook his head. "We can't declare that. We have a passenger in need of medical assistance and that's all I'm allowed to disclose."

Meredith's stomach dropped further than she could imagine. "Look, my husband- I think he's on this boat. I need to know whether he's the one that needs medical assistance. Please." She pleaded, ripping her ID out of her wallet and giving it to him in the hope it would verify who she was.

"This is useless without his too." He frowned, handing it back to her without any kind of apology in his tone.

"Please, I-" She paused as she caught sight of the back of one of the paramedic's hair as they ran past her onto the ramp of the boat. "Leon?"

The man paused and turned around to the voice. "Dr Grey?"

"Leon- please don't tell me it's a late forties male. Tonic-clonic?" She pleaded, her voice desperate.

He didn't nod nor shake his head, his face already telling her the answer.

"You need to tell them I'm a doctor. And that I work at Grey Sloan." She instructed, her voice somehow getting more distress than it was already.

The man she was trying so hard to convince turned around to look at the paramedic. He gave an earnest nod and the man took it, stepping aside so she could pass.

"What do you know?"

"Like I said, late forties male, suspected to be a tonic-clonic seizure. Diagnosis was changed to status epilepticus after it failed to recede after 5 minutes. As of our last knowledge, he has no pulse but resuscitation is taking place." He listed off.

She wasn't used to hearing so little about a patient. By the time the paramedics arrived at the hospital, she would have a full list of vitals and information about the patient. Cause of trauma. Bradycardic. Tachycardic. GCS. Hypotensive. Hypertensive. Hypovolemic. Suspected injures. This time, she had nothing. Nothing at all.

It was odd to be in the field too. Of course it was a ferry boat. It just had to be a ferry boat.

"Wow. Look, it's water." Meredith said, her voice left flat to express that she was anything but impressed to the man she was with.

He smiled at her utter lack of care, finding it entertaining. She would be a convert by the time he was done with her, he knew that. "It's not water, it-"

"I hate to break it to you Derek, but that is water." She interrupted before finally breaking her eyes away from the water to look at him.

"I mean...it's not the water." He corrected, leaning against the beam. "It's...the whole of it. The water. The boat. The weather. The feeling of being outside and the wind on your skin. It's-" He stopped at the look on her face.

"No, no." The eyebrows that had raised at his list of attributes dropped as she smirked. "Keep going. I didn't know you were such a romantic. I mean, clearly, you love ferry boats much more than me."

He shook his head with a roll of his eyes as he left the side to stand behind her. He wrapped his hands her waist and pressed his body against her. "Close your eyes."

"This is where you get that axe out." She murmured.

"I'm not an amateur Mer. I may be a sadistic mass-murderer but I don't crave blood so much that I'm going to chop you to death in the middle of the water. How would I escape?"

"Maybe you have a friend with a speed boat. Getaway driver." She murmured; voice lost at the feeling of him dropping kisses against her neck. "I don't know these things."

"Where's my axe?"

"I dunno. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you use knifes? Or guns? Lethal injection? Faked your doctorate and credentials so you would have easy access to drugs for that?" She suggested as he continued to purr against her.

The back of her thorax shook a little bit with his hearty chuckle. "C'mon, think. Drowning Meredith, obviously. I kill people by filling their lungs with water. That's why I take my dates on ferry boats and fishing."

"Well, good job I'm never going to go fishing with you."

He smiled. "Good job you're far too pretty to be murdered."

She paused as they reached patient, Leon rushing forward to assist the man who was doing his best to keep the patient alive with heavy pumps to his chest.

Because the man was dead.

Meredith couldn't do the same as him. She couldn't offer help. All she could do was stare at the dark curls and paleness of his bleached, pained face

She gulped and a breath caught in her throat on the next intake of air. "Derek…"

"He's been down for four minutes, twelve seconds after a tonic-clonic seizure lasting at least five minutes, twenty-three seconds. He has no ID or cards; I have no idea about any personal information or history of seizure disorders." He listed off as the second paramedic arrived by the man's side.

Leon nodded. "Do you want me to take over?"

"If you could- that would be much appreciated." He answered, conscious of the fact that the water building on his forehead was more from sweat than the light layer of rain that had been falling all morning.

Leon positioned himself on the opposite side, ready to take over the moment he stopped. They made the swap, and Meredith was pretty sure that the one doing CPR now needed it himself.

"You alright?" David asked as he dropped to his side, previously stood watching the scene unfold. He couldn't do anything else. All he really knew how to do was throw inflatable equipment into the water, despite the fact that heart attacks and strokes and seizures and other medical emergencies occurred a lot more often than someone slipping off of the boat and into the water.

"Fine, I'm fine." He dismissed quickly, palms falling behind him to support his spine as he let out a slow and steady exhale, eyes closed. His back and legs may have finally been out of the excruciating position needed for CPR, but the shock waves were still running.

"You sure? Because, no offense, Derek, but you look like crap."

He swallowed. "I'm fine. Seriously. And thanks for that."

"Haven't seen you in a while." A voice remarked from behind him. It didn't make him jump, but he certainly wasn't expecting it.

It was quiet. Some days, parents took their young children onto the boat so it would be engulfed by the shouts and screams of children. He never complained, considering the fact that he often took his own children – not that they were particularly loud most of the time. The sounds of waves crashing against the side of the boat were rather loud, but not disruptive to the tranquillity. The splashes of water were simply a sound that nature made. He couldn't ever call rustle of leaves in the wind or birds in the trees or water lapping waves over the top of fellow waves noise. That felt wrong. It was sound and it broke silence, but it wasn't harsh to the ears or disruptive to his chain of thought, it was tranquil.

"Been busy." He responded, looking from the man back to water. "You too apparently." He remarked, taking a quick glance back to him for just a second on gesture to the blue cast on his wrist.

"Football with Jake." He sighed, cradling the cast with his other hand for a second before returning it to his side. "So, is it work that has kept you from my boat for so long?" David questioned hopefully, arms crossing over the railings of the boat as he looked out to the sea with his friend. He and Derek had talked about the fact he hadn't yet gone back to work on their last meeting on the boat.

"Yeah." He confirmed, smiling. "Surgery-kind of work."

"No more stupid interns then?"

"Nope. Well- they're still there but at least I get some kind of sanity from at least a few real adults."

Interns were the children of the hospital. The majority of them came out of medical school after acing their exams so expected their learning to be over. It wasn't like they weren't forewarned that internship was anything but the end of their education, but they still often found it shocking that they could possibly not be able to master everything – or sometimes anything – that was thrown their way.

"Ferry boats give me sanity." David replied.

Derek smiled. That was the precise reason they were friends. "I second that."

"I know you do." He remarked through a single laugh.

They had met hundreds of times before they actually exchanged any proper words. David had started their friendship with the sentence, 'you know, I'm sure if you really wanted to, you could just buy your own ferry boat on eBay. It would be cheaper than the thousands of dollars I can imagine you are going to spend getting this same boat'. They both laughed at the joke, exchanged a few more lines and that was it. Until the next day when their conversation expanded by a couple sentences. Then a couple minutes. Then Derek's boat ride wouldn't be complete if he didn't exchange a quick laugh with the man. That, or they would just stare out over the crisp waters and into the city in a comfortable silence, like they were doing in that very moment. Too engulfed in the beauty of the water in front of him, he didn't notice that David had turned round a hundred and eighty degrees, back now resting against the top bar of the border running around the whole boat as he examined his friend.

"Do you want a go?" He offered after a second, eyes flickering up to meet him.

His brows creased, clearly only just realizing that he was staring so intently at the man. "Huh?"

"It's what I say to some people when I'm too tired to come up with some other rebuttal to the apparently MI-inducing sight of a doctor who can't walk."

"Derek." He sighed. "You know I didn't mean it like t-"

"I know. I know you don't mean for it to come off like everyone else does." He interrupted, no need for an explanation from the man. "You're my friend. You're allowed to look at me like that."

"So as your friend, does that mean I get to meet your baby when they're born? I mean, you are going to bring your baby with you on the ferry boat one they're born, aren't you?" He asked, trying to avoid the awkwardness he had created between them.

"Of course." He agreed, not sure what else either of them could say on the previous topic. He didn't want him to say he was sorry for staring at him or sorry that he had to go through what he had. It was a reflex reaction to those kinds of looks more than anything.

"A boy or a girl? Or are you still choosing not to find out?"

"No idea. I though boy at first, maybe I was hopeful. I mean, I love princesses and all, but I am glad when Zola asks me whether I'd like to crash some spaceships into each other instead of put on a plastic, fluffy crown. But now I'm thinking they're a girl. I don't know why…I just do."

"Mari was insistent that Jake was a girl. Obviously, he wasn't."

"What did you think?"

He smiled. "I agreed."

"I know it sounds cliché and most people lie about not having a preference but after the last couple of months I've had, as long as my baby is okay, I really couldn't care about what letters their chromosomes are."

"I reckon you're the one person I actually believe has said that truthfully. You have had a really, really crap time recently."

He smirked a little. "Thanks for that. But- I mean, Meredith has never actually delivered-delivered a baby before. That's just more fun to add to the equation."

"Bailey was from C-section, right?" He asked, forgetting the fact but not sure what else Derek could possibly mean.

He nodded. "Yeah- she tried to deliv-" He started, surprised by the thing that cut him off.

The walkie-talkie strapped to his belt – the ferryboat worker equivalent of a pager, Derek supposed – made a static noise.

Derek rose his eyebrows at the noise, looking to the water. The only time it ever did that was when he got distracted and was needed back to help get the vehicles off the bottom floor, but they weren't near the end of the journey yet.

"Jorge, what's up?...oh…no, I'm not the primary first aid giver but I…wait." He paused abruptly, removing the device from where he held it by his face. "Do you know anything about seizures? Like how to stop them or something?"

"I'm a neurosurgeon David, I know everything there is to know about seizures." He answered, still a little confused by the abrupt end of their conversation.

"Oh- right. Well, you better follow me then." He said as he took a step away from him, gesturing down the boat.

He didn't let his confusion linger any longer as he rushed of, barely able to keep up with the man as he ran from one side of the boat to the other.

"Call an ambulance." Derek instructed as they reached the obvious first aid emergency on the boat. His feet escaped from the foot rest they were balanced on before he pulled on the breaks in the hope that that meant he would fall so abruptly to the floor. Missing that step would never end well.

"We have." He nodded. "We're still on the line."

"Tell them it's a tonic-clonic seizure. Late 40s male." He instructed, pulling the man's arm over, his whole body following the movement to the recovery position.

The man nodded, repeating the words into his phone.

"How long has it been going on?"

"We set a stopwatch, it's been two minutes and three seconds, but we didn't start it straight away."

Derek nodded. It was very uncommon for someone to get an accurate time frame for a seizure. They were so terrifying that no one could ever move. "Anyone have a straw?"

"What in the world do you need a straw for?" David asked, although he did slip off his backpack and take the lid off his own plastic drinks bottle with no hesitation.

He took the lid off the man thankfully, ripping the straw out of the bottle before turning back to the man, a little displeased at his own idea as he answered, "Suction."

"Oh thank god, he's stopped." David sighed with relief as the man became stationary.

Derek wasn't quite as pleased as he scavenged for his phone in his pocket as one hand searched his neck for a pulse. He dropped his phone after a second, not bothering to pick it back up as the other hand jumped to assist in the investigation. This right hand didn't find what his left had failed to. "Dammit."

"What?" The man he could only presume was called Jorge asked.

"Do you have an AED on this boat?" He asked, not bothering to try and keep the wince off his face as he kneeled beside the man. He couldn't remember the last time he had kneeled, legs in half, the tops of his feet flat to the ground and heels into the back of his thighs and doing it reminded him why.

"Derek, you-" David started, mouth dropping open as he started pumping two interlocked hands into the man's chest.

"He's not breathing, do you have an AED on this boat or not?"

"Tell me how to do it and I'll do it instead." He offered, seeing how obvious the pain was to him.

"You have a broken arm, the last thing you want to be doing is this."

"Wrist. I broke my wrist, not my arm." He corrected, crouching on the opposite side of the man and trying to organize his own two hands in the same way as Derek's in the hope that a successful attempt would convince him that he was fit for the job. He didn't succeed straight away, only providing more evidence that Derek was right to deny him. His hands couldn't fit together like a puzzle when was wrapped in half a ton of fiberglass.

He shook his head. "I'm not sure that helps."

"Okay, teach Jorge." He suggested, gesturing to the young boy with wide eyes.

"Jorge looks like he's only just graduated high school."

"Derek-"

"I'm fine." He insisted, although he was pretty sure it was tears stinging his eyes, not the thin wash of rain littering Seattle. "You do this, you risk more damage to your arm. There's nothing actually wrong with me."

Meredith recognized David instantly as she neared the group a little more. He was sat beside Derek, talking to him, but she wasn't sure he was listening. He looked so, so, so tired. "Derek?"

He opened his eyes and looked up instantaneously at the voice, recognizing it as quickly as a reflex. "Mer?" He questioned before his eyes even had a chance to settle on her. "Wha- what are you doing here?"

"I came to find you. I know you went here and then...then the paramedics said someone was having a seizure and I- I thought-" Her eyes drifted to his side.

"Oh god, Mer. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Not your fault." She dismissed, shaking her head. "I mean- obviously, it makes sense why you didn't answer your phone now."

"It's not alright." He denied. "I should have answered your calls."

She sighed. "Do you need hel-"

"I'll do it. What do you need?" David interjected as he stood. Even with his broken wrist, he could offer at least one hand. He stepped towards Derek and wrapped his hands around him. "If I pull now, will that-"

"Should work." He murmured. He hated the idea of him helping him move, but he hated getting off the floor by himself even more.

David tugged. Derek did his best to help. Somehow, he ended back in his seat.

"You wanna go on the rig back home? I could ask." He offered. He didn't want her to get on the rig really. He wanted her to push him – literally, physically push him, his least favourite thing in the world for her to do – to the car and shove a packet of pills in his face. That's what he wanted. That's what he needed.

But it wasn't what she needed. So he offered that instead. Something that would mean she didn't have to be there any longer than she had to, watching as his muscles screamed at him louder and louder and louder.

She frowned, eyes flickering back to the man on the gurney. "What are you going to do?"

"Taxi." He shrugged. "The taxi people love me now. I'm like 50% of all of their customers."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Text me with an update."

"Okay." She nodded. "Will do."

He would be lying if he said he didn't sit outside the hospital for a good ten minutes after the taxi drove away. He needed the time to breathe. His range of motion was alright if he focused on the movement of the joint – which he most definitely didn't have time to do when he folded his legs in half, weight distributed unfairly to the bottom half of his legs. Plus, his lungs still weren't quite up to standard. So, he wasn't alright.

The sound of the siren from a passing ambulance shook him back to reality.

He had got lost looking to a one-legged bird, hoping around the walkway splitting the carpark in half, pecking at littered pieces of food. He even tried a dead leaf which, even to a bird, he couldn't imagine was particularly appetizing. A European Starling, he believed. Identifying fish was the one thing he could do when it came to animals – he wasn't sure he could identify a breed of dog as well as a type of fish – but he had seen the species quite a few time on the lawn on his trailer. The yellow bill along with the green and purple iridescence certainly pointed to the variation on the starling.

But it flew away at the siren, stomach only slightly less empty than when it landed.

He looked to his phone before going anywhere. There was a text from Meredith that she had sent seventeen minutes ago, proclaiming that they had finally resuscitated the man in the ambulance. That was something.

He slipped his phone back into his coat's pocket before finally deciding to move from the space he had placed himself in, entering the hospital.

"Shepherd." Bailey called before he even got through the ER doors.

He paused in front of her, watching as she tied on a trauma gown. "Yeah?"

"Meredith was looking for you beca-" She started before being cut off.

"Meredith found me, don't worry." He confirmed with a quick smile, no need to hear the rest of her sentence. "Have you got a guy here – John Doe, I don't know his name, but he had a status epilepticus tonic-clonic seizure."

"You know him?" She asked.

"I was giving him CPR on the ferry boat when Mer found me." He elaborated, his tempo halving as he saw her face shift.

"Oh." Her mouth dropped open a little. "You were that doctor."

"That doctor?" He repeated, confused by her emphatic tone.

"He's Amelia's patient now, obviously, but I'm sure I could go and request for you to find out how he's doing."

"Thanks." He said, shooting a quick smile. "But what do you mean by 'that doctor'?"

"Well, you know, lots of people die from status epilepticus. No one ever knows what do to cause its so alarming to see someone seize for so long and the guy- well, he didn't die. Also heard you made suction out of a straw, impressive."

"You know I don't let people die Bailey, it's my specialty."

"Derek, you can't just page me to talk to me, I have patients to-" Meredith started as she walked into the exam room she had been paged to, only to find her husband sat there with no patient in sight.

"Two minutes Mer. Just two minutes."

"I've got-" She tried again, only to he cut off.

"I'm sorry." He apologised, pushing himself forward a little so he was closer. "I just want to say that I'm sorry. And that I was wrong. For...for a lot of things."

She frowned. "Derek-"

"I hated the chair to start with because of what it was. Now I don't hate it, I hate people, okay? I'm not the same and I never will be. I know that. I get that. But when people are so insistent that I'm now broken and...I can't control the world or the people in it. I can't control what they do or what they say. I can't control if someone wants to dump their child in another country with a brain tumour and the fact that that girl is so damn persuasive. I can't help the fact that our own kids didn't understand why I couldn't sit on the floor so I felt myself needing to do it anyway so I wouldn't disappoint them. All I can do is try my best with what I've got left. And that's what I'm doing. I'm trying. And, I'm putting a taboo on the letter D with a C after it. I hate it. You hate it. We know each other hates it-"

"Derek, I know you're not proud of that time but if I-"

"What about the trial?" He interrupted.

"What trial?" She asked, confused.

"You, honestly, ruined me. Our family. Zola. I was a freaking mess, but I don't bring that up." He reminded her. But he didn't say it in a threatening way that was trying to spark an argument. He was just saying it, his voice blank and unaccusing. "So, make a deal with me. No DC mentioning, no trial mentioning."

She looked at him, lost for a minute.

"Mer? Do you-" He tried, pausing when his attempt prompted her to speak.

"Fine. No DC. Unless strictly, strictly necessary. Which will not be in arguments."

He smiled. "Cross your heart?"

"Oh, yes. I'll cross my heart. Pinkie, even." She said with a grin as she walked further into the room and sat on the gurney. "You know, I'm not mad."

"You're not mad?" He repeated in disbelief. How wasn't she mad about that? The very thing they had been screaming about.

"I-" She swallowed, and she abruptly found her lower eyelid giving her a feeling that she hadn't received in a while. A tear. "I've never watched you before."

"What?" He asked, not quite understanding where she was going with the idea.

"While you...while you do something like that. I mean- I've seen you operate but...Derek, you were doing CPR. You...you were doing CPR on someone else and- and a few months ago, it was someone else doing it on you. Like ten times in a row. And it was so obvious that things weren't the same as they used to be but...that was okay. I don't know why but-"

"So...you're not mad because-" He prompted when she ran out of words.

"I'm proud of you. I'm not mad because I...I am too busy thinking about how freaking far you've come."

He swallowed. That was not what he was expecting. That was, somehow, further away than a polar opposite. "Oh. Right."

"I'm sorry for freaking out. I should have...I should have trusted you about it. To know your limits."

He smiled. "But I should have trusted you to know that you were right about my behaviour because- uh- CPR and paraplegia are not a good mix."

Her lips curled for a second before looking away. "You know, I used to look at you and wish the accident never happened." She said abruptly.

"Uh...okay?" He said slowly, dumbfounded. "I'm glad you didn't hate me so much that you wanted me dead?"

"No- I mean, yes. I definitely didn't want you dead but ...I know it sounds kinda obvious but..."

"What are we actually talking about here?"

She swallowed. "I'm apologizing."

"You didn't do anything wrong."

"I...I used to sit and prey for some miracle. And I don't mean when you were in hospital fighting for your life, although I did do an awful lot of preying then, I mean- when you were in physio. I prayed that you'd magically heal because...honestly? I knew your back would never get better. I knew you'd never walk again. But I..."

"You?" He pushed, despite the fact she had given him much more than one truth already.

"I pretended. I told myself it was for you...because you needed some bright and shiny in your life. But really, it...it was just because I didn't want to have a husband in a wheelchair. It wasn't that I didn't want you to have to live like that. It was that I didn't want to have to...deal with that."

He sighed. That was...not what he was expecting to hear when he paged her.

"So I want to apologize for that. Even if you didn't know that. And also...also, I told you that so you'd know that you've got to stop being an idiot. I can't handle that. It makes me hate it again, and I stopped hating it. I was happy - proud of myself, even - when I realized that I'd accepted it. But I- I also don't mind now...now that I...I saw you actually do it and- I- oh, my god-" She sighed, placing a hand over her eyes and sighing.

"Hey, hey- it's okay-" He reassured her, taking her other hand off of the bed and squeezing it. He didn't know what was okay, nor not okay, but that was not a requirement in the manual of comforting.

"I'm such a mess."

"You're allowed to be a mess, okay? That's allowed, you know that. Especially with hormone central here-" He pointed out, his other hand cupping the side of her stomach.

"Why is this so hard?"

"Why are you surprised? When you were told that I'd shattered my spine into pieces, did you think life was going to be easy? Ah, yes, brain damage and paraplegia, my favourite asymptomatic disorders."

She looked at him emotionlessly for a second before bursting into laughter. She couldn't help it, even if he wasn't at all funny.

"Do you...do you think it's time?"

"Time to..." She pushed. Now she was the one shoving their conversation on now.

"Stop-" He swallowed, knowing what was he was going to be met with when the words dropped from his mouth. "-working."

"Maternity leave?"

"Mmm mmm."

"Ma-turn-a-ity leave?"

"Yes, Meredith-"

"Maternity! Leave!" She repeated yet again, even louder than before.

Derek sighed. He was going to be here for a while. "Yes. I think we want to talk about you taking a break from work for Baby."

"Materni-"

"Okay, don't you dare say that word again." He interrupted with a slight demanding tone, despite his smile.

"You were the doctor on the ferry boat, weren't you?" Amelia questioned, no need to have the same exchange he had just had with Bailey. Considering the conversation that she had had with Meredith about his consistent obsession with the mode of transport, there was no way it wasn't him.

"How many other doctors ride the ferry boat?" He asked rhetorically, answering her question with a quick grin.

"Probably quite a lot, if you think about it. Just because you're the king of ferry boats or whatever."

"Stop ruining my fun." He joked before his face turned abruptly serious. "How's he doing?"

"Good, actually. Came round about ten minutes ago. Epilepsy but he hasn't taken his meds in a couple days, couldn't afford the prescription."

"Poor guy, he's alright now though?"

"I paid for a months' worth, hopeful he will be okay to save for the next month's lot."

"With your own money?"

"Well it's not like I'm paying for my own place to stay or food, seeing as I've practically joined your marri- wait, that's a little weird."

"Just a little." He agreed with a grin, swerving away from her jokingly a little as if he was avoiding her.

"You wanna meet him? I've got check up on him anyway." She asked as she paused outside a room that he could only presume the man was.

"Sure."

She pushed open the door, not needing to linger her hand on it, like she did often. She had never paid attention to which kinds of doors in the hospital closed by themselves before, but now, it was a skill of hers. Derek slipped in behind her and before closing it himself.

"Jonathon, how are you feeling?"

"How I always feel in postictal. Terrible." He returned bluntly, following her pen across his vision with a look of boredom on his face.

She nodded, satisfied with his attempt. He was stable and, considering the fact that this was most definitely not his first, she supposed he was mentally ready to be discharged.

He blinked a couple times after Amelia practically blinded him with the pupil dilation test, eyebrows creasing as his eyes settled on the man reading his chart. "Do you let patients look in charts now?" He inquired, looking from him to, unbeknownst to him, his sister.

He looked up from the chart, folding the front cover back over as he exchanged a look with her. As he could, unfortunately, admit, it was the word 'patient' that raised his head, not 'chart' as he wished it had been. He was just so used to that, especially before he got changed into scrubs.

"Dr Shepherd is a neurosurgeon too." She explained, taking the chart from the place he had left it on top of his table and scribbling in it quickly herself.

"You have the same name." He said pointedly.

"He's my brother." Amelia clarified, hoping that throwing some light on him would make the man stop what she knew he was about to say. Or at least, the topic of what he was about to say.

"So you got him a job here and you, what- split the benefits?" He inquired, finding a new direction anyway.

The pen almost slipped out of Amelia's hand at the comment. She paused before she wrote something a little less profession in the 'other' box of his chart, dumping the chart back down with unapologetic slam. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, you gotta have some perks, right? Extra days off, paid hours for medical appointments, no one cares if you're late. Bet you get good parking spaces too."

"You're suggesting that I got him a job here for benefits, despite the fact he has been a surgeon much longer than me? Despite the fact he one of the best surgeons in the whole of the US?"

"I- look, I'm sorry. It just seems like you-"

"Well, it just seems I've figured out a lot of things here too. Your prescription, sir. Hope you leave soon, and get better as well…more so I don't need to see you here again, but feel free to go be ill and die in someone else's hospital." She said as slammed a piece of paper on the side of his desk before leaving the room.

The man watched the door as she almost pulled it off its hinges before the snap of the door being propelled with such force into the door frame almost made the pair jump. It wasn't that they were surprised that she slammed it, more that neither of them were aware that a door could make such an ear-piercing bang.

"Dr Shepherd…"

"Listen to my sister. As we both know, I'm not my own human being anymore, simply a fake doctor here to provide her with a free parking space." He scorned before pulling open the door himself.

Amelia didn't get very far. She stood beside the side of the door that didn't contain a window, head dropped against the wall.

Their eyes met for just half a second before he turned the other way.

"Derek!" She called, following him down the hallway. She caught up with him quickly with a light jog, walking by his side. "Are you okay?"

"Do you think if I told him I was the one that did CPR and, literally, saved his life, he wouldn't have been so rude?" Derek inquired, not a hint of the sadness she expected in his voice. It almost sounded like he was smiling as he posed his question.

"I- I don't know." She answered quickly, wanting to get back to her question. "Are you alright?"

"I held that man in the recovery position for five minutes, performed CPR for four and that was the thanks I got." He let out a humoured sigh, borderline laugh. "It's moments like that that make me wonder why I didn't go into psychiatry like Kathleen to study the mind of idiots."

"So- you are alright?" She reinquired as he pushed on the handle of an on-call room and entered. The room was, surprisingly, empty. She followed him in, holding the door open a little so light spilled in from the hall. She wasn't sure whether or not he had entered that particular room in the search of a bed or simply because it was a nearby room to duck into.

"I'm fine." He nodded, pausing at a slight angle to the first bed to his right. The former then, Amelia presumed.

"So you're hiding in an on-call room because-" She promoted, hoping he would finish her sentence.

He didn't answer for a second, sliding himself over before pushing at the heels of his shoes and removing them from his feet. "Doing CPR hurts like hell and lying down is much more comfortable than sitting in a chair."

"Oh." She sighed. The authenticness in his voice surprised her.

He picked up one pillow, placing it in the mid-point of the bed besides him. That would be where the curve of his back was when he lied down, Amelia could only presume.

"So you really are okay?"

He nodded as he settled a little on the bed, hair ruffling against the single head pillow, even shooting a quick smile. "Yes, I'm fine. Just give me ten minutes."

"Right…"

He was so happy, given the circumstances. He just didn't mind. At all. He never used to be overly vocal each time he got a strange look or comment – or at least each time Amelia was aware that he got a strange look or comment – but there was always something in him that changed for just a few minutes, presumably as the words rung in his head. She wasn't quite sure what it was. A different posture or a slight dip in tone or just a general downturn if his lips. One of those things. All of those things.

But he had stopped doing those things. Which was good, since he was used to it. But also bad, because it meant he was used to it.

He had no shift in mood. None of the tell-tale signs she normally saw in him when he was silently hurt by someone else. It at least appeared that the man's comments didn't affect him much. But she couldn't help but worry. "Would more rest or a surgery make you happy?"

"What are you offering?"

"I dunno yet. I did a neuro workup in the pit and told them to page me when they'd finished the CT. I haven't got it yet, but you can wait. Take a wild card? CT scanner 3."

"You sure know how to make your brother smile, don't you?"

"I thought you said you were okay." She reminded him, worried that he had put on such a convincing masquerade that he was alright.

"I am." He agreed before giving a cheeky smile. She hadn't even been walked into a trap. She set it up, and she stood in it. Just because she wanted to be a nice sister. "Thanks for the surgery anyway though."