She stood there. She was a doctor, those beepings were supposed to send her into instant motion, but she literally could move.

"Meredith! He's coding! Run a code!" Somehow his voice gets through to her, and only his, and she grabs the paddles from a nurse and places them on the boy's exposed chest.

"Charge to 100. Clear!" There was no response. "Charge to 200," she demanded, feeling the seconds tick away. "Clear!" Still nothing.

"55 seconds."

"Charge to 300. Hurry! Clear!"

Nothing. The beeping continued, filling her brain. The words Call it, call it, were echoing in her brain, but she turned her head to look at the sleeping child. No, not sleeping. No longer sleeping, and all she could do was walk into the scrub room and was her hands so hard that it hurt. Her cut from the night before stung as the band-aid was ripped off by her scrubbing and she did not care. She didn't look up, could not watch them cover his face, or Derek, still closing the incision.

He came into the room minutes later, and she was still scrubbing her hands raw. He gently pulled her away from the sink and handed her a wad of paper towels. Numbly she dried her hand and dabbed at her stinging cut.

"What happened?" he asked, coming over to her and grasping her hand. The cut was raw and red, bleeding again.

"Glass," she murmured, as she had the night before, with George.

"Come on," he said, pulling her to the door. They went into an exam room and he grabbed a suture kit. "This won't come off next time you scrub in," He opened it and dabbed antiseptic on the cut, then numbed her palms so that he could stitch it.

She was barely aware when the needle came in and he began sewing her up, her mind was still in the OR, still with the boy that had just died on the table. She had removed the clot, and then he had died. A kid with so much life. She normally was not like this, she was not Izzie, she knew that bad things sometimes happened even to the best patients, but she had removed the clot. And he had died.

After Derek tied up the stitches he threw away the kit and she felt him sit up on the table beside her.

"It wasn't your fault," he murmured quietly. "You pulled it out perfectly. You know as well as I do, some people just die on the table, for no reason. It's not fair, and it's not right. But it happens."

"I know…. He just…. He was so different, so amazing. It just…."

"Doesn't make sense? No, it doesn't. It seems like he had so much to give. But who are we to judge?"

She shrugged, and before she knew it she had laid her head against his shoulder. She smelled his cologne and she just wanted to sit there, he put his arm around her comfortingly and she breathed. Then, to her disappointment, her common sense clicked in and she pulled away, sliding off of the table.

"We… we should go tell…." The words were lost to her. She did not want to be there to break the news to this child's mother that he had not survived, but she was an intern. She had to prove that she could handle these things.

"Meredith, you don't have to come-."

"No. I do. So let's go. Get it over with." She went to the door, and heard him follow. He took the led as they went to the, otherwise empty, surgical waiting room, and pulled a chair up near Mrs. Fernandez. The woman could sense, Meredith knew, from his demeanor that good news was not coming and Meredith watched the horror come onto her features. And then, she could not watch any more.

"Mrs. Fernandez? I'm sorry, but Reggie did not make it through the surgery. His heart gave out at the end."

Meredith listened to Derek comfort the woman with half an ear, unable to really concentrate. When they left the room together he seemed to be waiting for her to speak. So she didn't. Eventually, he did.

"I'm going to talk to her," he murmured. "Tonight. We're both off. I think she senses— I'm going to a hotel."

Meredith turned. "Don't tell me. Just do it."

He nodded. "Okay."

As Meredith walked past him to the elevator to round on his patients she felt like all she really needed at that moment was a drink.

Hours later, her shift was finally over. Derek was long gone, and she hoped, talking to Addison. That wasn't enough, she knew. Once he had finally figured out what he wanted he would have to make good on it. They had things to work out: even if he decided that he wanted to work them out.

Meredith did not want to go home; she did not want to be there for Izzie, because she could not be there for herself. So she got in the car with George, but drove to Joe's.

"Take the car," she told him, not pulling the keys out of the ignition when she got out. "I'll take a cab."

She did not wait for his response, because she knew he would try to talk her out of this and probably succeed. She was not surprised when George followed her in, not really.

"Tequilla, Joe," she said, sliding onto a bar stool.

"Meredith, come on. Come home, Izzie needs us."

"Izzie has Alex, George. She may need us, but we need to give her distance. Trust me, Izzie doesn't like suffocation."

"Your way of giving her distance is getting drunk?"

"George. Please. Shut up. You don't know--."

"Don't I? What if I do know that you and Shepherd had sex last night?"

She whirled on him, as Cristina came into the bar. "How the hell did you find out about that?"

"Callie," he said, simply. "She's worried about you. She thinks he's a jackass, because he is. He's not going to leave her, Meredith."

"Yes he is. And when he does, I'm not running to him like a lovesick idiot, George. But I love him. So it hurts not to run to him. And for just a little while, I don't want to hurt. Okay? So leave me alone."

She spun back around on the stool to down the shot Joe had placed in front of her. She heard George stomp away, but also distinctly heard him hiss at Cristina to "keep an eye on her".

Cristina sat down on the stool next to her and ordered a beer from him, but did not say anything to Meredith.

"How's Burke?" Meredith asked, taking a second shot and attempting to prove that she was not completely self-centered.

Cristina popped a peanut into her mouth and chewed for a minute before answering. "Okay. He's asleep, but I think… I think he'll be all right. He's strong."

"He's Burke," Meredith said in agreement. "How are you?"

"Fine. I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?"

"Hookay. You are so not fine. Because you sound like me when I say I'm fine. And I lie."

"Have you eaten anything today?" Cristina asked, attempting to change the subject.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Whatever. Seriously, Cristina, this can't be easy for you," Meredith said. Taking another shot. "I mean, seeing Burke like that. When he's usually so… Burke."

"Yeah. No. It's not. Easy. He tries to protect me, like he sent me for coffee when he knew Shepard was coming in, just so I wouldn't hear what he said."

Meredith stared at her row of shot glasses at the mention of Derek's name, but attempted to focus on Cristina. "So you swiped the chart?"

"Of course. I mean, I wasn't going to be left in the dark!"

"Which is why it wasn't there when I was rounding. So what'd it say?"

Cristina sipped at her beer before answering, Meredith cracked open a peanut tactfully. "It said that it was too early to determine the cause or duration of the tremors, that hopefully physical therapy can help. He said that there may be other, surgical, options, but it's too soon to tell."

Meredith nodded and thought for a moment, attempting to sort out her thoughts. "Well. You have two options: One, you can help him through this and attempt to be optimistic, which I know is not your strong point, or two, you can be the all-mighty voice of doom'n'gloom and attempt to make him accept his reality. Now I know under normal circumstances you might choose two, but, you know, optimism could be fun."

"Ah, yes, drunken Meredith logic," Joe said, coming over with the tequila bottle. "All too often, and strangely, right."

"Shut up, Joe, I'm not drunk. Not yet anyway." She turned to Cristina. "But I'm still right. Probably. I'm good with other people's problems. Not usually my own." She sighed and downed the shot, watching two guys, nurses, play darts in the corner.

They did not speak for a while, a long while, until Cristina watched Meredith stare at another empty shot glass and asked quietly, "Mer? Has something happened with your mother, or something?"

"Huh?" Meredith asked, startled. "No, Mom's fine. The program Der- that she got in, it seems to be helping. She knew who I was last time, told me that I had to make sure I scrubbed in on as many different types of surgeries as possible and not focus this early. Why/" She said all of this very fast, as it came to her.

Cristina looked startled at the unusual out pouring of information. "Nothing I was just thinking, you're acting like something's really wrong."

"No. Nothing. Nothing but the usual. The same fucking usual that's always going wrong with dysfunctional me."

Cristina shrugged and they did not talk for another while, until Meredith let the music playing in the bar and the sounds of the other customers wash over her. And then London Calling started playing. The song that had been playing the last time she was in Derek's car. The Clash. His favorite band. Damn it, she was thinking about him. She took another shot. It was a fun drinking game really. Take a shot every time she thought of Derek.

Cristina eyed her warily. "Meredith, you really-." Meredith glared at her and she shut her mouth until Joe started to pour another shot. "No, okay, not shutting up. Meredith, you seriously don't need that."

"Yeah? You don't think so? I beg to differ. I need it, I need it because my love life is completely screwed up, and even if things go the way I want them it's going to be forever before I can be remotely happy! A patient died on the table today, when I assisted. A sweet patient, a ten-year-old kid who never did anything wrong! And to make matters worse I still can't get fucking 'Yellow Submarine' out of my head! So, yeah, Cristina, I do need this."

"Yeah, okay, that's it," Cristina said, reaching into her wallet and throwing a wad of cash on to the bar. "We're taking you home." She grabbed Meredith's arm, pulling her off of the bar stool.

"Get off of me!" Meredith called in shock, trying to wrangle her way out of Cristina's grip, dropping her latest empty glass on the bar. "Cristina, what the hell are you doing?"

"Taking you home, before you take some kind of freaky STD home," Cristina answered bluntly, pulling Meredith to the door.

"I wasn't going to pick up a guy!"

"You say that now."

Meredith squirmed, but eventually let herself be dragged to Cristina's car. "This si ridiculous. I'm not a teenager, I know when I've had enough?"

"Oh really? So the nose dive you almost did from the curb back there?"

"Shut up."

Cristina was silent for a minute, as Meredith stared out the window and watched the streetlights go by. "Meredith? If you… you know… need help or…have a problem, there are people."

"I don't have a problem!" Meredith exclaimed, wondering vaguely how much it would hurt to get out of the car right now. Cristina gave her a skeptical look. "I don't! I just like to forget, for just a little while. An' I haven't forgotten, so really, you should take me back to Joe's!"

"Yeah, or not." Cristina replied.

Meredith sat in silence, wishing she hadn't ever crossed the line and made friends. Why had she thought that changing her lifestyle and becoming a surgeon had been a good idea?

She mutely glared at Cristina until they were five minutes away from her house, but when she did not respond she went back to staring out the window trying to make her mind drift away from gorgeous smiles and exam room sex. Trying. Trying.

Cristina let her out of the car and Meredith glared at her, storming up the stairs, grasping onto the handrail, determined not to give Cristina any excuse to point out how drunk she really was. She pulled out her keys, but George had obviously been waiting, and he opened the door for her.

"Thanks," she muttered, pushing past him and going straight inside. Izzie was no where to be seen, and Meredith headed for the stairs. Cristina came in behind her and started talking to George, but Meredith did not listen, she just went up to her room and slammed the door.

They were treating her like a teenager. A fucking sixteen-year-old. She wasn't sixteen, for God's sake, she was twenty-eight! She could drink herself into a stupor if she wanted to. Did they think that just because they were her friends that they could turn into her parents?

She flopped onto the bed, as a headache started in her temples. Damn them. She couldn't even go downstairs to raid her own liquor cabinet, because they'd be there, attempting to yank it away wit their patronizing looks.

She looked out the window. Cristina's car was sitting in the drive way still, obscured from her view, mostly, by a tree.

A tree….

She had a brief memory of being sixteen and being locked in this room by her mother, who had not realized at first how much trouble her daughter could get in after traveling from another state to a city she hadn't lived in since the age of five. The answer to that was plenty, and it wasn't long before Meredith was grounded here just as she had been in Boston

And she had found a way out.

It was stupid, looking back on it. It was stupid. But it worked. She got out and in to the house without her mother ever knowing. She hailed a cab a block away and was back by the time her mother's shift got over.

She was twenty-eight. She did not need to sneak out of her own freaking house. But then she heard George and Cristina's voices coming from downstairs, and she knew. She did not want to deal with this. She wanted to forget, to get away.

She went across the room and locked her door, before opening the window. A part of her, a very large part, the part that was grown up and mature and twenty-eight, knew that this was probably the stupidest thing she had ever done in the history of stupid things she had done. Just short of sleeping with the man who would be her boss. Or sleeping with him again. But she wanted to get away from those stupid things.

So, she slid out of her window and onto the perfectly positioned branch of the tree just under her window. Straddling the branch as a gust of wind blew over her she had a suddenly sober moment that told her to climb back in the damn window and curl up on her bed to sleep. Then she found herself slipping to the next branch.

Okay, she could do this. She looked for her next position, spotting a thick branch about three feet down, she swung her leg over so she was sitting on her current branch and began to slide.

And she fell. Straight down.

Yeah, okay, stupid really describes me now, she thought the second before she hit the ground.

A/N Would have updated sooner, but I was out tonight. I Wish I May has been editied, jsut fixed the spelling of Izzie's name and things. In My Daughter's Eyes was updated.