x –
Derek cuts into line behind her in the cafeteria, tossing a sandwich onto her tray.
"Do you like baseball?" he asks entirely of the blue.
He snags a grape from her fruit cup, and she eyes him suspiciously. For all she knows this is some kind of test, a joke, his idea of a come-on. She can already hear all the baseball-sex analogies.
"Why?"
"I got tickets for tomorrow's Mariners game," he says. "I wanted to take you."
Meredith smiles, feeling strangely pleased.
"I love baseball."
He nods.
"Good. It's a date."
His pager goes off then, and he darts off to some emergency or another, but not before he grabs his sandwich and leaves her to pay the bill.
He makes up for it the next night, though, when he plies her with hotdogs and peanuts and cold foamy beer at the game. He even tries to feed her wisps of sticky-sweet cotton candy, but she's reached her limit by then.
She can't remember the last time that she was at a baseball game, and the whole night seems strangely sweet, with clear black skies above and a pleasant chill in the air. She finds herself rooting for the home team, though she only knows a few of their names, and meticulously keeping score in her program.
Derek watches her closely, and smiles.
"You know, I thought you were just being a good sport when you said that you loved baseball," he says. "I didn't expect you to be this fanatical."
She shrugs.
"My father lived and died with the Red Sox when I was a kid. I guess I picked up the habit."
He sips at his beer, nodding.
"Yeah, I've mostly been dying with the Mets for the last thirty years, so I have a kind of masochistic love for baseball myself."
On the field, the Mariners' second baseman throws a routine ground ball away, and the go-ahead runs scores. Boos rain down from all over the stadium, and Derek laughs quietly.
"This reminds me. I used to play," he says. He gestures toward the field. "I was a third baseman in high school."
"Really?" she says. It is vaguely pathetic, but she is charmed by thought of him in tight baseball pants and cleats. "I didn't know that."
He nods slowly.
"My junior year, we were one out away from going to the State Championship game. It's the bottom of the seventh inning, and we're up by one run. They've got guys on second and third, and of course the guy hits the ball right at me." He smiles ruefully. "All I've got to do is catch it, and we're in. But the ball bounces off my glove, scoots into left field, and two runs score. End of game. It took a long time for me to lose the 'cracks under pressure' reputation."
She smiles.
"I would think that becoming a well-respected surgeon is a pretty effective way to shrug off that label."
"Yeah, but imagine if I had to do it down there." Derek points out toward the field. "With 55,000 screaming people watching…"
"You'd be amazing and you know it," Meredith says.
He grins at her, silently finishing his beer. Sometimes she wonders what it is exactly that draws him to her so strongly. She has the average self-esteem issues that many women do, but they're not crippling. Still she's never quite understood being the focus of his single-minded, dogged pursuit – there were and still are times when she wants to turn to him and ask, You seriously think I'm worth all this trouble? Even now, when she's more than given in to him, he always seems a little bit thrilled to be with her, as if he's lucked out somehow.
There must be something that he sees in her, something that she makes him feel, something that he hasn't gotten from anyone else in a long while.
She just wishes that she knew what it was, so she could do it on cue -- the way he looks at her in those times would make it more than worth it. With his arm around her now, smelling of beer and soap, Derek suddenly seems worth so many things. It's like a revelation in the crowded baseball stadium.
Meredith digs deep, hoping she gets it right.
"I once dated a guy who played minor league baseball," she tells him. "When I was in college."
He gives her the look that she's after, somewhere between jealous and intrigued.
"In the three months we were dating, his batting average went from .263 to .309."
Derek smirks in his pretty way, and shakes his head.
"I bet it did."
Meredith stretches over to kiss his smart mouth. He tastes like mustard and beer.
"You know," he starts to say, his mouth still lightly touching hers. "It's probably a good thing that you and Mr. Baseball didn't last. Not only would you not have met me, but you'd have to worry about groupies all the time. You know, girls dropping room keys in his lap, waiting after for him in the parking lot…"
She laughs.
"I've got news for you. Good-looking, successful surgeons are pretty high on most women's wish lists too."
He smiles ridiculously.
"Really? Were you wishing for me?"
"Before we met, I didn't know that men like you really existed."
"I'm not even going to think about that one," he says, sipping at his beer. "I'm just going to assume that it's a compliment."
She nods.
"It is. Mostly."
Derek smiles again, and then turns back at the field. The Mariners are in the midst of a rally, trying to piece something together out of nothing. Above, the sky is still wide open, blue-black with only a few visible stars. It makes Meredith feel like she's part of something larger, and she lays her head on Derek's shoulder, absolutely grateful.
x –
Of course there is a problem.
It seems that other people -- other nosey, meddling people -- may have noticed that Dr. Shepherd sometimes looks at Meredith in a way that could maybe, if you have an overactive imagination and lots of time on your hands, suggest something more than a fling, certainly something more than professional interest. Izzie and Christina are both smirking at her more often than usual these days, almost always after Dr. Shepherd has been around, and it's enough to make her feel like she's become the comedy relief among her friends.
She knows the looks in question well, and can admit that there is something to them. It just isn't what Izzie and Christina think it is. She can't possibly allow herself to believe that.
Late on a Friday night, they sit in an empty hallway, trying to catch ten minutes of quiet time. Meredith is reading the latest JAMA and sipping a Diet Coke. For once, she is not thinking of Derek, but instead of her mother, who she hasn't been able to see in a few days.
Izzie interrupts with her trademark lack of subtlety.
"You know, Meredith, I may have accused you of falling for him but I've got to tell you…" she says, delighted. She's eating an apple, looking like the epitome of innocence. "Shepherd's got it bad for you. So very bad."
Christina laughs haughtily.
"Poor McDreamy," she declares. "Falling in love with one of his interns. It's kind of sad. I mean, sex is sex, but love is just such a cliché."
Meredith glares at both of them. The mere mention of that four letter word, in any context involving her and Derek, makes her want to jump out the nearest window.
"First of all, nobody is in love with anybody, okay?" She slams her magazine down on the gurney. "And secondly, what would make you think such a ridiculous thing? It's crazy. It's insane. It's the product of two hyperactive imaginations, that's what it is. God."
Christina and Izzie exchange a look, and then dissolve into fits of laughter. George appears at the end of the hallway, smiling warily as he takes in the display.
"What's so funny?" he asks.
Meredith sighs, refusing to answer. Izzie grins evilly.
"We were just discussing how ridiculously obvious it is that Dr. Shepherd… Derek … has fallen for our lovely little Meredith here."
George frowns, looking contemplative.
"You mean because of the way he's always looking at her?"
Izzie and Christina laugh once more. They are having way too much fun with this.
"George!" Meredith yells. "I thought you'd be on my side."
He shrugs, sitting down beside her.
"The truth's the truth," he says simply.
"And this is true," Christina says. "It's actually kind of sweet, in a pathetic, pitiful way. His face lights up like a damned Christmas tree whenever he sees you, Meredith. Like the other day…"
Meredith tries to imagine what she's possibly alluding to, but how many moments have they looked at each other for just a second too long, a second in which an observer could see anything that s/he chose to see? She imagines what Derek would say if he were here, listening to all this, and she's pretty damn sure he'd be laughing along with them. Unlike Meredith, it's pretty difficult to rattle him.
"The other day," Christina continues. "He was sitting outside that gliosarcoma patient's room, going over test results which all pointed to the fact that there were no real surgical options for the guy. So naturally poor McDreamy's all upset that there's nothing he can do, and then you come around the corner, looking a little worse for wear to be honest, and he freaking beaming, like all was right with the world because there you were. I half-expected violins and doves or something."
Izzie nods emphatically, biting into her apple.
"Or yesterday, when they were having dinner," she says to Christina. "He looked at her across the kitchen table like they were in kindergarten and he wanted her to be his Valentine. He's watching her with these big ol' puppy dog eyes, like he's thinking about carving her initials in a big heart on the skull of the next guy whose head he cut open."
George and Christina both chuckle, and Izzie grins, thoroughly pleased with herself.
"Wait a second," Meredith says, jumping off the gurney. "You're acting as if he wanders around like some kind of love sick idiot. That's not him. I mean, that's so not him I can't even tell you…"
Christina and Izzie nod skeptically, clearly humoring her.
"I'm serious," Meredith continues. "I had to threaten to withhold sex just to get him to tell me what his favorite novel is! We're barely in a relationship!"
No one says a word; they all just smile in a way that makes it clear they don't believe any of what she's saying.
She's desperate now to convince them, convince herself, convince anyone who'll listen, that this thing with Derek is something she can control. Or at the very least, something that neither of them is truly invested in.
"For all I know," she tells them, as calmly as possible. "I'm not even the only woman he's seeing. There could be—"
George snorts in disbelief.
"Meredith, you two spend every free minute together. I see more of him at the house than I do here in the hospital. There's no way he's seeing anyone else."
She gives George a dirty look, and he hangs his head sheepishly. Izzie and Christina nod in his direction though.
"You're all wrong," Meredith finally declares. "I mean, you're so wrong that it's funny, but not the kind of funny when you laugh. The kind of funny that—"
"Oh, calm down, will you?" Christina grumbles. "No one's implying that he's letting it affect his job or anything. Though really, if you think about it, Shepherd is so good that he could probably have you bent over the table during a surgery and still put the rest of the slashers to shame."
She and Izzie laugh, while George only smiles slightly, seeming a little uncomfortable. Meredith throws a pen at Christina because she's just that frustrated. She feels like a five year old in the midst of a temper tantrum.
"It's really nothing to worry about, Mere. It's not like he doesn't try to hide it," Izzie says. "But he just can't help himself. I mean, we're talking about the irresistible Meredith Grey. Who isn't vulnerable to her considerable charms?"
She smiles wickedly.
"I know I always feel a little overcome when she's in the room," Christina jokes.
She and Izzie laugh again. They are beyond amused with themselves. George tries to fight off a smile, his lower lip trembling with the effort.
"I hate you guys. I seriously hate you guys," Meredith says. "This isn't a joke, you know."
"No," Izzie agrees. "It's not a joke… It's luh-ve."
Meredith glares at her roommate.
"I swear, I could—"
Her pager goes off then, and because the world exists solely to torture her, she knows without looking that it's Shepherd, and even worse, her friends know that it's Shepherd. It doesn't matter that it's probably something totally above board and official. They'll put their own spin on it.
"Better hurry, Meredith," Christina says. "McDreamy needs you."
Meredith hurries down the hallway without glancing back. Before she turns the corner, though, she hears Izzie's voice.
"Can you imagine the kids those two will have?" she muses. "Ridiculously good looking, blue-eyed uber-surgeons. Scar-ee."
Meredith shakes her head, and goes back to work.
x –
There's that old saying: My mother always told me that there'd be days like these.
Not mine, Meredith thinks numbly. And her mother was once as indisputable expert in precisely these kinds of bad days. Ellis Grey, however, never admitted to failure, never owned up to feeling anything less than self-assured. At least not to her daughter. Her mother radiated the kind of confidence that legends are made of.
Once upon a time anyway.
This morning, at the home, her mother was less than lucid, so there would be no words of wisdom dispensed regardless. Still, the memory of her mother's self-confidence is strong, not easily forgotten even in light of her illness. Meredith has never felt that kind of sureness about herself or her abilities, and she's starting to think that she never will. Not after a day like today.
The handsome college sophomore who died while she had her hands all over his heart is reason enough for that. Burke told her again and again that it was a complicated surgery, and chances weren't good going in, but Meredith knows that a more capable doctor would have gotten the job done. She has no doubts about that.
Just an hour and fifteen minutes after her nineteen year old patient has coded, Meredith sits in her car, motionless. She knows that she should drive home, but she can't seem to get as far as turning the key in the ignition. The rain makes a pretty jewel-like pattern on the windshield, and she watches it, almost as if she's looking for a message in the streaky glass. When she hears a tapping on the driver's side window, she knows immediately who's there, though she doesn't look and still doesn't move.
"Meredith. Open up," says Derek. "Come on."
She looks at him through the foggy window, and he's still recognizable, still exactly who he's always been. It's a relief because she'd started to worry that everything in her life was really some kind of fraud. He raps his knuckles against the glass again, and she finally flips opens the lock. Derek fills up the empty space of the open door entirely, blocking the rain and world from sight.
"I heard what happened," he says quietly. "You want to talk about it?"
She doesn't move or make a sound, just stares at her fingers and grips the steering wheel more firmly. He reaches out to touch her shoulder.
"You can't take this so hard every time it happens. It's part of the job."
She shakes her head wildly.
"It's my fault, Derek. If it had been any one else in there… Christina, Izzie, Alex… that kid would still be alive. I panicked, I froze…"
"Meredith, you're a good doctor. But you're not going to be able to save them all. Even on some of your best days."
She thinks of her mother again, and suspects that in her prime she would have disagreed with such a sentiment. 'You're only allowing for failure if you think that way,' her mother would have said. Meredith tears up all of a sudden, and her breath comes heavy and hard from her chest. She feels utterly ridiculous and self-conscious, so she lowers her head, hoping against hope that maybe Derek won't notice.
The tears aren't just over her lost patient. She's exhausted from eighty hours of work this week, and she's probably getting her period any day now, and her meeting with her mother this morning went as bad as it possibly could. Some how all of this hits her at once, and she wishes that she could find a hole somewhere to crawl into and disappear.
Derek strokes her cheek, bending at an awkward angle. He won't let her disappear.
"Come on, Mer," he whispers. "You're okay. It's okay. "
She shakes her head miserably, falling against his body. He pets her hair, the most reassuring gesture she's felt in ages.
"Move over."
Without thinking, Meredith slides over to the passenger's seat, and watches Derek get behind the wheel. On the drive home, she studies him as he drives, the way the rain and light color his face. The way he looks, it's so easy to believe that he could take care of her, never let anything hurt her again.
At the house, he puts her to bed like she's a child, searching through her drawers for her most comfortable pajamas and loosely tucking the blankets around her. He brings her cinnamon tea, and puts on the CD she's been obsessed with lately, some mournful female singer who just the other day he said made him want to perform a craniotomy on himself without any anesthesia.
She realizes then, like some lightening bolt revelation, that she doesn't just want him or even like him – she respects and admires him. He's good to his patients and he's good to her, and she thinks that she'd like to be more like him.
Derek lies beside her in bed, rubbing her back, and watches her, like she's one of his patients, fragile and barely hanging on. She knows that he thinks that something more has happened with her today than simply losing a patient and wants to ask what exactly it is, but won't push her. She should tell him about her mother, Meredith knows, but it's just too difficult to do.
He rubs her back, persuading her to sleep.
"Thank you," she whispers, from the curve of his neck. She kisses him there, tasting salt and soap.
Derek doesn't say anything. He hugs her to him, and turns off the light. She keeps pressing her wet, open mouth against his neck, the only way she can think of to show her gratitude. She's pretty sure he doesn't think it necessary.
"Sleep," he tells her, and for once she listens.
x –
One more section to come …