Reminder: I don't in any way, shape, or fourm own Grey's (pity isn't it) or any other song/song title used in this fic so...enjoy!
Okay so quickly before you read this, it's suppose to be a lot like the elevator scene in 'Let It Be' & the stairwell scene in 'Damgae Case." So that being said...enjoy!
Somewhere a Clock is Ticking
VI: A Slow Decent
I'm tired.
Cynical and broken, but wiser.
It was an emotional precipice, the elevator.
Weary eyed and lovelorn, he'd reluctantly boarded, brushing shoulders with the occasional passerby, a cordial gaze and amiable nod of his head assuring others a 'good' morning.
So he stood, a solemn idiom berating his features, aptly securing the impish scrub cap atop his thick fall of hair; gaze apathetically inquiring the sparse populace of the tiny, hollowed contraption.
Heavy with a sense of resentment,
but I used to be so much different
He'd been here.
Eyes, soul-weary and wanton, falling in palpable anticipation atop the rigid physique of his wilting intern. Poised and untouched, the artful camber of her neck bared to him, slender, waif like physique clad in her quintessential scrub attire.
There were no words to be spoken, nor gazes exchanged, the silence fluent with implicit emotions and eloquent endearments.
Shoulders falling and breasts heaving, a low lilting sigh berating the sullen air as the elevator gave a subtle downward ebb.
"Meredith."
The physical impossibility of not being able to touch her condemning his senses, breath bated in his chest, footfalls timid and precise as he garnered deft proximity. "You know at some point you're going to have to acknowledge me." He aptly murmured, the eloquent prognosis of a neurosurgeon.
I used to have so much faith
when I started.
She stood her ground, quavering as their proximity dwindled, dark lashes kissing tepid skin. "Meredith."
His breath ghosted the artful fall of her neck, heightening senses and numbing sanity. "Talk to me, acknowledge me, love me." He murmured, a melancholy plea, mouth deftly wooing the hollowed contours of her exposed collarbone.
"Don't" She reluctantly murmured, body wantonly contradicting her words, disarrayed honey locks falling in surrender about her face, head bowed in a desperate effort to further the extent of his touch.
You knew that I always meant it.
"This." She whispered, fleetingly allowing his tongue to brush the hollow of her throat. "Is wrong." Her words a panicked exhalation as she broke their hallowed contact, breathlessly gesturing to the diminutive proximity they now held. "You've got a wife, who's not easy to hate and who's annoyingly kind."
Derek shuffled absently, gaze, if only momentarily, averting her own. "Meredith."
I knew I could make a difference,
I struggled to be heard
and then finally, one day people started listening.
A lilting whimper abraded the air; Meredith's eyes narrowing with incredulity. "Stop! You say Meredith I yell remember?" An irrevocable silence filled the confined space, insatiable desire and crippling remorse tangible atop the others tongue. "Seriously Derek! Seriously!" She fumed, fitfully wringing the lined fabric of her thighs in utter frustration. "You've got a wife, as in pig-headed, adulteress married. And we, we had sex. Tawdry…blissful…sex in an exam room, during prom Derek, now if that's not a cliché I don't know what is." She was trembling, writhing beneath the sheer frustration and insatiable love she felt towards this man.
And I knew it
but as soon as it began it was ruined.
"And if that, the sex, wasn't enough! You had the audacity Derek, as a married man, to stand before me and ask me what it meant." Her countenance vehemently flushed beneath the venom of her words, ineffectual fingers nimbly brushing the hair from her eyes. "How the hell am I supposed to know Derek? I'm not the one who left this relationship! You chose Addison, you ended this, not me, it was never me, until now. This thing between us, whatever it was to you Derek, is over, over!" Her words stung, dripping with remorse and unshed emotions. "You said it yourself that day in the stairwell Derek; it's over, finally, thank god." She was breathless, chest heaving from the exertion, the finality she'd promised herself tangible atop the air.
A slow descent from unique to routine,
over and over,
"just do it again and this time with feeling".
Her words had ineptly stolen his breath, leaving him to listlessly gaze with forlorn agony at her crumbling façade. These emotions, passion, denial, anger and lust, proving far too human for the pretentious neurosurgeon. "Then what was the other night Meredith, closure? You know it was more then that, you felt it. Hell you made no attempts to stop me, you wanted it as badly as I did, perhaps even more so."
The spotlight.
The focus on the friends and the feelings.
That made those stupid songs all worth singing.
His fists vehemently met the steel paneling of the elevator shaft, cornering a now recoiling Meredith, granting her no quarter. "What do you want me to say Meredith that I regret the other night? Fine, I regret putting you in that situation, making you feel inadequate and used. I regret deceiving my wife and Finn, because even though I hate the guy, because he has you, I know how it feels for the woman you think you love to sleep with another man."
And don't you say a word
unless you're pretty sure that you want it analyzed.
He lingered inferior to her, breath gusting across her skin, heightening the moment to an unbearable intensity. "I don't however, regret the act in itself. Last night, making love to you, it's all that's sustaining me, those memories. So no, I don't regret that I can still hear the cries you elicited upon release, or feel the bruises your fingertips left on my shoulders." She quaked beneath his words, body pulsing and eyes fluttering, breath tepid against the lobe of her ear, his whispered confessions. "I could never regret you, even if your taste still resides on my tongue and it's driving me mad not being able to take you right now…"
So we drove
for what seemed like days
over roads
and four lane highways.
We said all we had to say
and I realized in time that it didn't mean anything.
The compartment gave a sickly shudder, the doors reluctantly sliding ajar to reveal the brawny figure of Dr. Torres. Her brows inquiringly piqued, an incredulous although pitying idiom stealing her features. Grey and Shepherd, Shepherd and Grey, lovelorn and panting within the tiny shaft, countenances awash with starry eyes culpability.
Never,
not ever again.
Not like that.
"It's only a matter of time".
So...I updated this chap, changed things around and such...don't ask so...anywho this is like my least favorite update, I think it McSucks, but it's necassary for the story so...je ne'sais pas!