Chapter Two: Why Me?

"I guess I don't have to ask who hurt you anymore, do I?"

It wasn't like she hadn't anticipated the question--- moreover, expected it. Dreaded it. He'd seen; He'd seen the way she looked at Derek. He'd felt foolish when he looked from one to the other and saw the undercurrents of passion displayed over both of their faces. The silent question; the mute pleading from him to her. His eyes glued to hers, daring her to look away first. A silent duel, Finn decided as he turned the ignition and pulled away from the hospital parking lot. His hands guided the wheel casually, although he felt anything but casual at the moment.

Meredith wiped at her eyes and gave him a small nod. It wasn't something that she could hide. As a matter of fact, she'd never been great at hiding her emotions. They always came to the surface, around her eyes, her mouth, so that even the biggest of fools could tell exactly how she felt.

She swallowed and licked her lips, which were still swollen from Derek's hungry assault on her mouth. Tender, bruised, but delicious just the same. She adjusted the strap of her gown and looked out the window of the car, her blue eyes still watering from the guilt and confusion that she felt.

"Finn, I'm sorry about that." She murmured softly, more to herself than to him. "It's complicated."

"It always is." He sighed. "Complicated, I mean." He added when she didn't respond. He looked over at her and felt his heart constrict; He really did like her. A lot. He had plans for the two of them. Plans that some would consider too much, too soon. Ah, to hell with it all, he'd decided, he liked her and he was going to live for a change. Until tonight. Until he had been played for the fool.

"Well, I guess the night wasn't a total loss." He said sarcastically. "At least I get to drive you home."

She didn't reply.

He fought the urge to ask her a dozen questions, most of them being why she hadn't told him until he'd had to find out for herself. He'd been strait forward with her, told her about his wife, how he felt when she'd died. Told her how he'd been hiding upstairs in that apartment for years now, vying between work and home, just to fill in the time.

He ran his hand through his hair and looked strait ahead. She obviously didn't want to talk about it and he wasn't entirely sure that he needed the details. Accept one.

"Do you love him?" He asked, still not looking at her.

It was easy to see that one was going to turn into two.

She turned to face him. "What kind of a question is that?" She asked softly, as if to prolong the inevitable.

"An easy one." He answered flatly. "Either you do or you don't."

"It's—" She started, but stopped. "Finn–it's not about you. Please don't think that. It's really—"

"I know." He finished, this time flashing her a bitter look. "It's complicated."

She deserved it. She knew it. She hadn't been fair and she had no right to say another word to him. She curled her palm into a fist. Dammit! She'd thrown away this 'thing' that might have even been something or everything—and all for Derek. Again.

Derek, who was probably going home at this very moment with Addison, whom, Meredith presumed, knew everything by now. It had only been a day ago that Addison and he had a fight in front of the rest of the hospital. Meredith had been mortified, as had Derek and Addison herself. It wasn't easy to get around the gossip in a place as big as Seattle Grace.

"I'm not Meredith Grey." Addison had spit out in a sheer moment of the heart.

Everyone had stopped what they were doing and stared. In the back of her mind, even though she couldn't stand the other woman, Meredith had felt guilty and more than a little sorry for Addison. It seemed that no one in the McDreamy triangle was destined to be happy.

Round and round it goes. Where it stops, nobody knows.

"I can't tell you that I don't love him, Finn. Because I do." She began. She saw his jaw clench but he kept his eyes to the road. He looked so handsome in his black tux, like a GQ cover model, or a famous actor. She couldn't believe that she'd blown it when she'd tried so hard to stay away from Derek for so long. "He broke my heart and I didn't think that I could ever be healed."

"So you sneak off into the broom closet for one last fling?" He tossed, glancing over at her, watching her eyes. Her eyes could not lie. "One last romp with the good doctor? You think that your heart is going to be better now?"

Instant mortification was hers. He knew? He knew! The squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "How? How did you know?"

"Did you think that I was stupid or just blind?" He asked in a hurt tone. He waved his hand toward the road. "The whole bloody dance saw the two of you run out. It was as if it were the most exciting, anticipated event of the century."

"I don't think you're stupid or blind!" She cried in frustration and grabbed onto his arm, willed him to look at her. "Do you think that I planned this? Do you honestly think that I'm not torn up over this? Over you? Over the fact that you had 'plans' for me? No one has ever had plans for me. Except for you."

Despite his hurt and his anger, he knew that she was sorry. Knew that she felt bad and even though he didn't tell her that he knew, he had seen the look on her face when they had come back to the party. Derek Shepard would keep hurting her and jerking her around until she put a stop to it. Until someone made her realize that she was worth more than being made love to in a closet. It was so–so– degrading.

"I know." He said softly. "I know that you didn't mean to hurt me."

"You do?" Her eyes lit up; a tiny ray of hope. "Because I didn't." She said again. "Mean to hurt you, that is."

He turned into the driveway and shut off the ignition and turned to face her. For the first time she realized that he hadn't taken her home. He'd taken her to his place.

"Why—?" She pointed to the house in confusion. "Finn, why are we here?"

"Shhhh." He put a finger over her lips. "I want you to come in. I want us to talk---" His finger left her lips and tilted up her chin so he looked her strait in the eye, strait beneath her beating heart, into her soul. "---I don't want things to end between us this way. Can you handle that?"

"Why me?"

"Why not?' He countered.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" She felt guilty, a traitor, a tramp.

"Because I want to—Because somehow, someway—" He said rubbing her cheek with his finger, tracing a line down to her chin. "You're going to find out that you deserve more than being a mistress to a married man."

There were no words to say; No witty comebacks, nothing left but the burning desire to be loved, cherished.

Without responding, she undid her seatbelt, caught the hand that he offered and followed him into the house.