ohhh! sorry about the confusion guys. A reviewer posted saying that they were wondering why Meredith was taking a taxi while she was being transfered hospitals. But what I meant by that is that she was released from the hospital but asked for her internship to be transfered to Boston, not as a patient. Sorry about the confusion! and also, sorry about the wait! I was seeing how many reviews I could get. But enough with the torture! On with the story:
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Running through airports in chase of someone who you are desperate not to leave is so cliche. Seriously, haven't any of these people heard of security? Nevertheless, Derek knew that nomatter what, he nedded to go after Meredith. Being smarter than all those dumbasses who seem to think that airports are the perfect place for chasing down those you love, he drove hastily to the airport to buy the next ticket out for Boston.
"What do you mean the next flight doesn't leave for four hours!" Derek yelled angrily at the clerk.
"I'm sorry sir but the flight that leaves in half-an-hour is booked. I can put you on a waiting list if you like," she said calmly. Derek suspected that she delt with a lot of angry people in her line of work and he admired how well she was dealing with him.
"Here," Derek said, digging in his pocket for his wallet, "I'm willing to pay you this much extra," he said, slapping a bill down on the counter.
"Sir, are you trying to bribe me with a one dollar bill?" she asked, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. But he found this extremely unfunny. He looked down at the bill and sure enough, the face of the president was staring back at him. He had thought that it had been a hundred in his wallet, not a one.
'Addison must have took it,'he thought bitterly to himself. "Well it was worth a shot," he said, more to himself than the clerk. "What are the chances of getting on the flight if I go on the waiting list?" he asked, trying to keep his patience in tow.
"Well there's only one other man on the list but he didn't bribe me with a dollar bill. Your chances are seemingly lucky," she flirtatiously joked. But he didn't smile. Just gave her a menacing glare that wiped the smirk off her face.
"There's really no way to tell. You'll just have to play your chances," she said, her voice professional once again.
Derek nodded his head, defeat weighing over him like a mountain. It really wasn't all that important that he got to her right away, it wasn't as if she was in any kind of trouble. He just desperatly needed to see her, to know why she left; though he had his suspicions. He tippid his head in a sorrowful thanks to her for her useless help and started to walk away.
"Wait!" she said. He turned back around abruptly. Her square face had an expression of agrivation on it, as if what she was about to do she was doing against her better judgement. "There's one seat left on the flight. Someone just cancelled. Technically I'm supposed to give it to the man who was here before you but ..." she let the rest of her sentence trail off. But it didn't matter to Derek. He didn't care how or why he was getting on that flight, just that he was getting on. He ran back over to the counter and leaned over, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. She beamed, clearly glad that she had made the decision and Derek now understood. She liked him.
Ticket now in hand, Derek ran hell-bent to the gate and got on the flight, finding his seat on the plane and settleing down. All around him, he noticed people with bags upon bags and looked regrettfully into his lap. He had been so overwhelmed with trying to get to Meredith as soon as possible that he had drove back to his house, shoved all the clothes from his drawers into two small bags, then drove to the airport. All his common sense had been completely washed away. He sat on the chair, trying to think of what his future held. Whether it was going to be with his child or whether Meredith was going to kick him out of both their lives and he would spend the rest of his wondering what his daughter and her mother were doing at that exact moment.
Yes, he knew that he was having a daughter. Webber had told him as he was running out the door of his office, causing him to tepmorarily turn back around in surprise.
"What?" he had asked.
"You heard me. Meredith's having a baby girl. Bailey told her this morning," Webber had said as one commenting on the weather.
"And nobody thought to tell me?" Shepherd asked. "It is afterall my baby."
"Sorry Derek. Meredith made it perfectly clear to all of us that she didn't want you to know. We had to respect that."
"You mean everyone knew but me?" he had asked, the hurt cradeled in his voice.
"I'm sorry Derek. But she had trusted us with that information and we gave her our word."
Before Webber could say another word, Shepherd high-tailed out of there and went to his house where he packed his bags. And as he sat on his seat of the plane, he realized that he had no idea where she would be. Sure, they had had a relationship, but not a lot of ... humhum communication, had gone on. Ya, he knew things about her, but did he really know the important things when it came to them? As he questioned himself and everything he had considered their relationship, the more he understood why she had run off. She wasn't running away from her problems, she was solving them, at least for two out of the three parties. She was providing a good life for her daughter, no matter how much it hurt her and how much she didn't want to. And as much as she wanted for her baby to grow up with a father, she'd rather have her with no father than a father that always dissapoints her and lets her down.
As much as Derek tried to convince himself that he would never let his daughter down, he knew that in some way or another, he would. After all, he was a neurosurgeon. An amazing, high-ranked, highly demanded doctor who had an obligation to his patients. Although he had an obligation to his child as well, she wasn't dying and in need for life saving surgery, or so he would tell himself as he he hesitantly left her with her mother telling her 'I told you so's."
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Derek walked around the airport for twenty minutes, trying to figure out a plan. Finally setteling for a chair, he sat himself down, resting his elbows on his knees and putting his face in his hands. He took deep, steading breaths, trying to calm his nerves and figure out where she would have gone.
'Her cellphone," he thought suddenly to himself. He pulled his own out of his pocket and turned it on. He hit speed dial one and listened as it rung.
"Hello?" Her voice hit him like a ton of bricks. It sounded tired and worn, like she had spent days awake with only coffee to keep her eyes open. He could picture her on the other end, her hair tied back in a low ponytail wearing sweats and a baggy t-shirt, slumped in a comfy chair, her eyes closed in exhaustion.
"Hello?" she asked again, her voice this time a little impatient.
Derek finally found his voice, "Meredith," he said quietly into the mouthpiece.
"Hmm...an hour later than I guessed," she said, her statement puzzeling him.
"What?"
"I guessed that it would be three hours after I got off the plane that you would call. It's been four," she said, her tone cold and bitter.
"Why did you leave?" he asked quietly, not bothering to tell her that he was sitting in a chair in Logan Airport, tracing her call as they spoke.
"You know why, and it's better off this way," she said, a false confidant finality in her voice as she hung up.
Once Derek was sure she was off the line, he spoke. "Did you get that Tom?" he asked his old detective friend. It was so good to be owed favours.
"Ya Derek I got it," he said as he read Derek the address from the computer screen infront of him.
"Thanks a lot Tom. I owe you one."
"Consider it even. I hope everything works out for you man," he said sincerely from the other side of the line.
"Ya, me too," Derek said back.
He hung up the phone, the address from the trace clutched tightly in his hand. In all honesty, he had no clue where he was going. Finding a map in the gift shop, he bought it then walked out to the car rental shop.
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Twenty minutes later he pulled up outside a fairly nice looking apartment building. It was on the corner of Pearle Street, across the street from a Starbucks and library, a little clinic just down the street.
Derek walked over to the intercom, taking a second to look at the listings. There were none listed under Grey, but Shepherd noticed that there was one empty slot where a name used to be. He traced his finger along the line till it came to the number 208. Opening the door and finding no elevator, he walked up the stairs to the fourth floor, finding apartment number 208 and momentarily leaing against the door, trying to gain all the composure he could muster.
After five minutes, he raised his fist, poised to knock. But for some reason his wrist was frozen. It refused to move. Taking another minute, he finally knocked and listened as light footsteps padded on the other side of the door. It opened to its full extent revealing Meredith in the almost complete opposite of what Derek had imagined. She was standing in tight jeans and a soft wool sweater, her hair falling gently into her face. She was leaning against the frame of the door, her head restingly tiredly against the wood. She didn't look all to suprised to see him there.
"Meredith," he said again, finding no other words in his repetoir.
"Derek," she replied smoothly, placing a protective hand absentmindedly on her stomach.
"How did you find me?" she asked, getting right to the point. He could see that the usual colour in her face was gone and she looked vaguely the colour of sour milk. He also couldn't help but notice that she was slightly swaying as she spoke and was having trouble focusing. At first he wondered if she had been drinking but the realized that she would never do something as stupid as that.
"I traced your call," he answered honestly. There was no point lying to her.
"Of course you did," she said, taking her hand off her stomach and letting it fall loosely to her side.
"What do you want?"
"You already know the answer to that."
"I told you Derek, my daughter and I don't need you. Go back to your wife," she said as she started to close the door in his face. But he threw his hand out and stopped it from closing. She dropped her attempt to lock him out and opened the door widely again.
Derek could see that her tears were clouded over by grief and were brimming with tears. "Hey," he said gently and took a step towards her, extending his hand to wipe away her tears.
"Don't touch me!" she yelled angrily as she swatted away his hand.
He took a tiny step backwards but still close enough to stop the door if she attempted to close it on him again. Derek watched as she swayed more heavily now. Her hand moved once again to her stomach and Shepherd saw her convulse. She took a small step backwards as he took a step forwards and closed her eyes.
"What is it? Is it the baby? Are you ok?" he asked, his voice cracking with emotion.
She nodded her head but didn't open her eyes. And as he took another little step towards her, her knees gave out from under her and she started to crumple to the floor. But he was too quick for that. His arms instinctivly went out and caught her before she could reach the floor and as Derek pulled her into the safety of his chest, he could see that the tears were making their way freely down her pale cheeks. He held her close and led her into her apartment, closing the door behind them and finding the couch, placing her on it and sitting down beside her frail body.
He got up again, finding the kitchen and a box filled with glasses. Unwrapping the newspaper from one of them, he filled it up with water and brought it back to her. She took it gratefully and tipped it to her lips, the cool water a welcome to her dry throat. When her pallet was moist once again, she placed the empty glass down on the coffee table and turned to look at him.
"Are you alright?" he asked, placing a warm hand on her shoulder, the heat fro his palm radiating through her sweater.
"Fine. Just stress," she said.
"You should get checked out. Just in case."
"Derek I'm a doctor. I think I know when I'm sick or something's wrong," she said, turning to look at him and giving him a hard glare.
"I'm sorry," he replied truthfully, not intending on insulting her doctoring skills. "Let me help you with the baby. After all, it is mine too."
"Actually," she said, her voice hard and menacing, not at all vulnerable and soft like he had heard before. "The baby might not even be yours."