Okay, guys, so this is a ridiculously long chapter...or it feels like it to me, at least. But I was feeling ambitious. And I like this chapter. A lot. I like that I ended in the place that I wanted to, which ended up taking awhile, because for once I'm planning ahead sufficiently and there was certain things I needed to set up. Also, this story does not have a definite length for me yet…chapter wise. I'm kind of going the whole alternate way to do season 2 post- "Pick Me Choose Me Love Me (or you know, don't)" incident. So hope you guys don't mind keeping up and reviewing. I'm updating Polaris soon, for those who are reading it. If you're not, please do. But this story…I was 'struck with inspiration' lol. REVIEW please.
Chapter Eight
Izzie
"Meredith, open the door! Shit. George, how did Christina pick the lock earlier?"
Izzie is panicky. She was almost asleep when the sound of glass breaking woke her up. Running into George in the hallway, they'd found Meredith's room empty and the bathroom door locked.
"Meredith!"
"She did it with a hairpin." George answers her earlier question.
"I know that. It was mine! But how?" George shrugs worriedly.
"Should I call Christina, or-"
"No, no I don't want to have to call her every time something happens….I can figure it out…" She runs to her bedroom and returns with a pin, her hands shaking violently as she fumbles with the lock. "Keep calling her, George?"
"Meredith, are you okay?"
"Damn it…" Izzie twists the pin around. Finally, the lock clicks and she gives a triumphant yell. "I got it…"
Throwing the door open, Izzie freezes.
Meredith's standing in front of the mirror, which is cracked and broken…one large piece clearly fell out and shattered on the floor and sink. Meredith doesn't give any notice that she sees them or the mess around her. She's staring at the side of her left hand, which is bleeding pretty bad. Her face is blank.
Izzie and George exchange terrified glances.
Meredith
She's back at the hospital.
Christina gives her a shot to numb her hand before she sutures it. Meredith thinks dimly that she needn't bother.
Izzie and George keep staring at her with worried, scared expressions. Like they don't know quite what to do with her. They must have called Christina on the way to the hospital, because she was in the pit waiting, looking slightly unnerved but had quickly slipped into a professional tone.
The first thing Izzie did in the bathroom was shriek at her. Why had she done that? What was she thinking? Is she okay?
Meredith let her yell.
When they first walked in the hospital she wondered if Derek might see her. What he'd say.
But then she remembered. He's in his room. With Addison.
Addison and Derek.
Trying.
She glances at her hand as Christina stitches up the wound. It works so easily. The stitches hold it close for five days, and after that it will be okay on its own.
Physical wounds work that way.
Meredith would rather have left her hand open if they could close the other wounds she had. The ones no one could see, but the ones that hurt every second of every day.
"You have a up to date tetanus, right, Mer?"
Meredith looks past Christina at a guy walking in holding a rag on his forehead, which is bleeding profusely.
A lot more blood than from her hand. A lot bigger cut.
But it would still heal soon.
"I'm finished up here, guys. You're good to go."
Meredith stares at the neat stitches as Christina releases her hand. How easy that was.
"Good to go? Seriously?" Izzie's voice rises above the proper volume for a hospital. "She punched a mirror."
She wonders idly if there's any point in seeing Derek. No, probably not. She'd told him to try with Addison. It would seem wrong to get in their way.
"Izzie, she's not deaf..."
Yeah. 'Wrong'. It was all about the right and wrong. Well, the 'right' thing sucked.
What was it Derek had said? Something about what would happen if he was right, if he tried with Addison and they couldn't make it work.
Meredith had told him she didn't know.
"But, Christina-"
"Come over here."
She still doesn't know. She hopes his right.
"She doesn't even act like she's aware of us!"
Oh, please let him be right.
What would it hurt to just go check on him?
People like visits when they're in the hospital.
Izzie
"I don't care how she acts, just..." Christina sighs impatiently and drags Izzie further from Meredith.
"We can't just pretend it's nothing."
"Well, what are you gonna do?" Christina snaps sarcastically. "Call psych on her?"
Izzie pauses. It's slightly tempting.
"Izzie, seriously!"
"No, of course I'm not calling psych. I mean, I don't think." Christina stares at her. "Look, she...she punched a mirror. And afterwards she just stood there. Looking at herself bleed. George and I were banging on the door and screaming at her and she didn't answer, didn't move. She hasn't said a word since. She acts like she's in a daze."
Christina watches her seriously for a moment, as if considering. Than she shakes her head rapidly. "No. You can't just call pysch on her. She's...she's going through some stuff."
"I know! But still...it isn't normal."
"Look, just leave her alone."
"Leave her alone! Only you would think that was good advice. Last time she was 'left alone' she punched a mirror !"
"Stop saying it like that. Forget the mirror."
"But that's-"
"Please God don't say seven years bad luck."
"-not normal!"
"I-"
"What is going on here?"
Izzie and Christina turn. Dr. Bailey is walking toward them, her eyes moving from Meredith to George and Izzie and Christina. "None of you are on call."
George and Izzie look at each, at a loss for explanations. Christina jumps in, "Meredith needed stitches."
Bailey looks at Meredith for a moment, locating the area of the wound. "Hmmm. What did it?" The question is directed at Meredith, but Christina answers again.
"Broken glass."
"Hmmm." Bailey studies Meredith. "Can you move it okay? We don't need you cutting people open if both hands aren't functional."
Meredith is studying her hand. Bailey raises her eyebrows at the others.
Izzie makes a decision. "Dr. Bailey, can I see you for a moment..." She leads her away from Meredith, Christina following and hissing, "Izzie..."
"What's with her?"
"I don't know." Izzie quickly launches into the whole story of Meredith punching the mirror, having the pick the lock, Meredith's apparent detachment from anything gong on around her. She finishes with, hesitantly, "I was thinking of calling a psych consult..."
Bailey looks doubtful.
Christina, however, is positive. "No way! Izzie, you can't, you know that weird Raj guy would have it all around the hospital that Meredith is nuts."
"Christina, this is what we'd do for any patient..."
"You're overreacting. I don't send patients to pysch for this crap."
"Maybe you should, then, because-"
"Enough!" Bailey's voice is firm. "In the circumstances, I don't think pysch is what you need. Christina's right, it would get around. Just give her a little--" She stops short, looking past Christina and Izzie. "Where'd she go?"
Meredith
She walks onto the elevator. Presses the four.
She doesn't know what to say when she gets to his room. There's nothing more to say, now, really. They pretty much covered everything.
But she knows she has to get up there.
She looks at her hand again. At the neat little row of stitches holding the cut closed. There's no longer any indication that just an hour ago it wouldn't stop bleeding. In only five days the stitches will come out and there will be just a faint, painless scar to remember it by.
It doesn't seem possible. Five days.
The elevator door slides open and she walks through the hallway to Derek's room. She listens and doesn't hear voices. Does that mean he's alone? No, she remembers, it's three in the morning. Anyone in there now would be asleep.
Is Addison the type to sleep in a hard chair all night if she knows her husband's okay?
Maybe. Maybe not.
Meredith takes the chance and opens the door slightly. The lights are off, but in the sliver of light from the crack in the door she can see the chairs are unoccupied.
"Hello?" That's Derek. She hadn't realized he was awake.
She opens the door a bit more, but doesn't enter his room.
He looks surprised. "Meredith?" He looks her up and down, confused. For the first time she realizes she's still in her sweatpants and Dartmouth shirt. She laughs softly. Far cry from the scrubs she usually wears in the hospital. "What are you doing back here? Are you okay?"
He flips on the lamp next to his bed. Now his eyes fall on the sleeve, still stained with blood. "What happened!"
She holds up her hand to show him. "A mirror broke. Cut my hand on the glass."
"Oh." He still looks confused but doesn't question her.
There's an awkward silence. "Did you...do you need anything Meredith? I mean it's not that I don't to see you but…y'know, after…earlier…I…"
Suddenly she feels ridiculous. Coming up here was pointless. Everything she's feeling gets stuck in her throat. Honestly, she wants to tell him she was being crazy earlier, trying too hard to do the 'right' thing, but to screw all that, and forget Addison.
Pick Me. Remember how you said I made a mistake. Choose me. All that stuff about needing to try, you don't have to be that guy. Love me. You said you do. Let that be enough.
But she doesn't say any of that. She can't.
"No, I don't...I don't need anything. I just wanted to check on you."
He smiles at her, that soft, wistful, sad smile. "Thanks. I hope your hand feels better."
She smiles falsely. "Oh, yeah. I mean, five days it'll be good as new."
His smile is gone. "Pretty quick isn't it?"
She nods. "yeah."
They stand there, looking at each other, each thinking about the conversation earlier, when Derek's door swings open.
"There you are."
"Told you she'd be here."
George, Izzie and Christina are standing in the doorway, Bailey behind them.
Before any of them can speak, Addison comes shoving her way through, her eyes wide and bewildered. "What is going on here!"
It is a pretty strange sight. Bailey in her scrubs, Christina in her scrubs (she'd thrown them on after Izzie had called in order to not attract attention so she could suture Meredith's hand), Izzie in a tank top, pink knit pants and a black jacket, no makeup and her hair pulled into a messy ponytail, George in a hooded sweatshirt and windpants, his hair mussed. And then there was Meredith, of course, in her T-shirt and sweatpants.
No wonder Addison is confused.
Before any of them can come up with a reasonable way to explain what is actually going on, Addison focuses on Derek. "Why is she back here?"
Deliberately misunderstanding her, Derek answers lightly, "She cut her hand on some glass. Needed stitches."
"Not here at the hospital. Here in your room." Addison is apparently unperturbed at the thought of having this conversation with so many watching.
"Came in to say hi."
"At three a.m.?"
Meredith stares fixedly at the wall, her face burning with humiliation. It made sense, the question. Three a.m., what was she doing here, in his room, when everything that could possibly be said had been said? To sit there in awkward silence, looking at each other and talking about the amazingly fast recovery time of cuts? No.
"I thought we were done with this, Derek." Her tone drips with a brilliant combination of weariness and anger.
"I don't think this is the best time to talk about it..." Derek is looking meaningfully at Meredith, who is still staring at the wall, and the others, who seem to be torn between curiosity and discomfort.
"I don't care if they hear it, Derek! And maybe she should definitely hear it!"
There she goes again, talking about Meredith as if she can't hear them.
"She's not deaf, you know." Christina informs Addison somewhat irritably.
Addison ignores her. "You said we're really trying this time. So you can do what you told the marriage counselor you'd do last time...stop talking to Meredith!"
Bailey speaks up quickly. "We're just gonna go..."
"No, stay where you are. I want everyone to hear this."
Derek shakes his head. "What is wrong with-"
"If you expect to try, it's the only thing that will do it. Stop talking to her. Get her out of your life. No more requesting her on your surgeries. No more anything."
Derek
Derek is seething in anger. He's glaring at Addison, but his eyes keep darting to Meredith. Addison has to do this in front of her, in front of all her friends? Just because they were in his room at night?
Meredith looks like she wants to disappear.
"Addison, I am not going to-"
"No, she's right."
Dead silence. Everyone is staring at Meredith, shocked that she spoke. Her expression is pained as she locks eyes with Derek.
"You can't try with your marriage and still be...whatever...with me. We should stop talking. It's...it's easier. Better. For everyone."
She turns and looks at her friends. "We're leaving now."
Izzie
Bewildered, they all follow Meredith into the hallway. She walks a bit down and leans on the wall.
Bailey looks at the others. "Get her home. I'll see you tomorrow. And, hey..." She focuses that intense, 'I mean it' stare of hers. "Look after her."
They nod, and Bailey walks off.
Christina approaches Meredith first. Her voice is unnaturally gentle. "C'mon, Mer, let's go."
Meredith looks at Izzie. "You think I'm crazy, don't you?"
Suddenly Izzie's blinking back tears. "No." She tells Meredith quietly. "No, you're not crazy." She reaches out and hugs her.
Meredith indicates her hand. "Sorry I freaked you out."
Christina speaks next. "It's okay. You're entitled to a little dose of crazy, I think, given the circumstances."
Meredith doesn't smile. She looks at the three of them, then walks toward the elevator, her friends following her closely.
By the time they get back to the house, it's nearly four. Meredith walks into the kitchen when they enter, and George looks at Izzie and shakes his head. "You realize we have to wake up in an hour and a half?"
Izzie smiles slightly. "If we go to sleep now we'll be dead when we wake up."
"Speak for yourself. I'm grabbing a nap."
Izzie considers. "You're way sounds better." She calls out to Meredith, "Hey, Mer, are you going to be okay for work tomorrow morning?"
Meredith appears in the living room from the kitchen. "Yes. Might as well enjoy these last couple days I get without having to dodge Derek wherever I go."
Izzie nods sympathetically. She's a bit unnerved by Meredith's behavior. Before, it was like she was in a trance, oblivious to everything. But ever since they found her in Derek's room she'd been normal.
Meredith's still speaking. "Who goes grocery shopping next?"
"Me." George answers, stretching out onto the couch and closing his eyes.
"Okay. We need some tequila."
George and Izzie exchange looks.
"George?" Meredith prods him.
"Right. Sure."
Meredith
She doesn't try to go back to sleep. Izzie and George both head upstairs to get in another hour or so, but she doesn't bother trying.
She wanders up to the bathroom and sweeps up the pieces of the broken mirror; a big chunk had fallen when she'd hit it, but the rest of it was just cracked throughout. She looks at her distorted reflection.
What is she? Broken? Insane?
She shakes her head, scooping the pieces of glass into a garbage bag.
Cleaning up the mess. It doesn't look so destructive now.
But the mirror...you can still see the cracks. You can still see the big piece of itself it's missing.
Meredith can relate.
She sits on the couch for the next hour, thinking. Not real thoughts, though; she's not going for anything particularly introspective or any kind of soul-searching. Just random thoughts, each unrelated to the last, floating around in her head.
It isn't until she hears the shower running upstairs that she realizes she isn't dressed yet. Must be time to 'wake up'.
She pulls her hair into a ponytail. Changes the bloodstained shirt. Actually bothers with a little makeup, for no reason except for to give an appearance of normality to those who saw her freak out a few hours previously.
In the kitchen, Izzie and George watch her warily, but make no mention of the previous visit to the hospital.
She eats a doughnut and drinks coffee. She catches Izzie watching her and forces a smile.
"We'll be in the car..."
"Be right out..." Meredith answers as Izzie and George leave the house. She's focusing on the stitches again.
She knows it's ridiculous.
But they seem to be mocking her.
Bragging.
They can heal wounds in five days. That cut that earlier caused so much panic and worry and confusion, had interesting consequences at the hospital...it will be gone in five days.
It doesn't seem fair.
Meredith opens the cabinet door and grabs some scissors.
Bailey
"You okay to work?"
She's studying Grey closely. She's looking at Bailey with a perfectly normal expression, and she doesn't give the appearance of getting little to no sleep last night, unlike Izzie and George.
But Meredith's good at the set up. She's good at preparing for the lie.
Actually lying on the other hand…
"I'm fine." She's standing in front of Bailey, her hands shoved into the pockets of her lab coat, chewing absently on her lower lip. But she forces a thin smile to go along with the word.
Fine. It's Meredith's word of choice. Always, always, always. You ask her how she is, she's 'fine'. Bailey never believes her.
Meredith seems to sense the hesitation, because she begins speaking quickly, "Dr. Bailey, I've been on this case with you for the past few days. I want to be in on it when we operate." Bailey still hesitates. "Please. Look, I've scrubbed in on surgeries when I didn't know if Derek would live or not, when I was fighting with him, when my mom was in the hospital…I need the O.R. I need to focus on something else."
Dr. Bailey sighs. Sometimes she's too soft. "Okay, you can scrub in. Get him to pre-op."
For one nerve-wracking moment, Bailey thinks Grey might hug her. Instead, she just says, "Thank you. Thanks a lot, I mean it."
Soon, she and Grey are scrubbing in. Bailey has recently gotten into the habit of relinquishing more and more control to her interns as they improve. And Meredith is one of the best. She seems to have a good balance: she's as good at the surgery and brainy stuff as Yang is, but she has a good bedside manner…yet not to the point of over-attachment like Stevens.
They walk into the OR, and Bailey begins, but as she glances over at Meredith she notices something.
"Grey, did you touch the patient yet?"
Looking startled, Meredith shakes her head. "No."
"You're bleeding…"
It's true. Soaking through her gloves on the left hand is blood stains.
"You'd think Yang would know how to do a damn suture by now…let's see it, are the stitches loose…"
For some reason, Meredith backs up from her. "No, it's fine, I just-"
"Take off the damn gloves."
Meredith slowly slides off the glove and Bailey stares at her hand. Where the stitches should be is just an open wound.
Christina
"God, you're stupid. What were you thinking? Christ, you really will be lucky if they don't try to haul you off with all the crazies upstairs…I had to talk Izzie out of it last night, anyway, and now…"
She's suturing Meredith's hand. Again. Bailey had dragged Meredith over to Christina and demanded the cut be closed. Again. Then she'd returned to surgery, only after assuring Meredith that anymore open cuts would result in banishment from the OR.
"I mean, seriously? What were you thinking? What was the point?"
"There is no point." Meredith says, with more meaning than Christina feels qualified to contemplate.
"Well, um…different way to ask this. What was going through your tiny little brain? You're a doctor, Meredith! I judge patients who do something like this."
"I know." Her voice is quiet. "I don't know why I did it. It was all…I was thinking about how it only takes five days to get better, and how I'd rather it not heal than…" She blushes. "Emotional wounds. Crap like that."
Christina shifts uncomfortably. All of a sudden a regular, insulting conversation has gotten deep. She knows she has to listen. She's Meredith's best friend, and she has been acting admittedly nuts lately, and it seems like her duty to listen. Besides, she actually does care.
"And…look, Christina, it wasn't rational. Punching the mirror in the first place wasn't rational. But it made sense to me when I did it. And it still makes sense, but no sense I could explain. For lack of a better expression, I just felt like punching a mirror, and I just felt like cutting the stitches. I keep going through these periods where I can't think rationally, because it's just too much, y'know?"
Christina can almost feel her pupils dilating. No, she doesn't know. Please let all this be rhetorical. There is no advice she could give her best friend right now, and never before has she felt so useless. Never before has she had such a sense of confusion, an inability to find an answer.
"But when I'm thinking rationally it's just as bad, because the shit that's going on…it's still there. It hurts. I lose either way." She looks at Christina, as though begging for help. "What's wrong with me? What do I do?"
Christina finishes the suturing. She meets Meredith's eyes, panicking because these questions definitely require an answer.
"Mer…I can help you suture a cut. I know how to do that, I could do it with my eyes shut. It's nothing. But…I don't know how to fix what's wrong with you. I mean, scalpels and medical know-how doesn't fix…"
"A broken heart."
"Yeah." Christina looks at her sympathetically. "I'm sorry about that, too. I really, really wish I could."
"Thanks." Meredith whispers. "But I don't think anyone can fix it."
Meredith
A lie. That was totally a lie. Of course someone could fix it…as in, someone had the ability. But it wasn't going to happen.
Because he was trying to make it work with his wife.
And Meredith had told him to.
Her eyes fill with tears and Christina tenses up even more. If it was any other situation, Meredith would have found Christina's obvious discomfort amusing.
But now she's remembering something she had discovered and perfected at the very beginning of all this 'choosing Addison' mess. She'd realized that there was no way to make this kind of pain go away, and the most you could do was forget about it for awhile. There were ways to make that happen.
Ways she had perfected. Ah, yes. The self-loathing would return. But she remembered it being worth it. Anything was better than this.
George
He fills the grocery cart methodically, feeling like a walking zombie. He can't wait to get home, crash into his bed, and sleep.
Last night was exhausting.
He throws in the usual things. Chips. Cereal. Dozens of different ingredients associated with Izzie's baking.
He studies the list, all the usual stuff at the top in the same penmanship, other things added in different handwriting as they were thought of.
The last thing on the list makes him pause. Tequila, underlined twice. Meredith's handwriting.
It's not really his business to not buy it. It's been there before. If he doesn't it will just cause problems, and nothing will stop her from getting it herself.
He sighs. Yawns.
Too exhausted to argue.
Izzie
She had expected to sleep the sleep of the dead that night.
No such luck.
Meredith's obviously been to Joe's after work. Izzie had attempted to corner her to talk about the whole removing the stitches thing (seriously? Taking out stitches? ), but she'd shoved past her, saying she'd be in late.
And she'd brought another one of her 'friends'.
Before it was just a little annoying, and it was something that made Izzie worry about her.
Now, Izzie can't help but feeling an incredible hollow sadness. Because she understands why Meredith is doing this. Maybe this is what stops her from breaking mirrors or taking out stitches. Maybe it's that extra little bit that keeps it going.
But what kind of choice is that?
Bleary-eyed, she meets George in the kitchen in the morning. He's looking slightly murderous. He shakes his head in disbelief at her, as though words fail him.
When Meredith enters, he snarls, "Sleep well?" He's dripping more sarcasm than Izzie has ever heard George use.
Meredith doesn't give any indication of noticing this hostility.
She sits across from them at the table and grabs some coffee.
Izzie speaks tactfully, "So…this again, Mer?"
Meredith nods miserably. Looking like she might burst into tears at any second, she tells them, "I'm sorry. I don't know what else there is."
Izzie nods sadly at her and the anger seems to leave George instantly.
A guy comes stumbling into the kitchen. "Hi."
"Bye." Meredith stands, her tone changed rapidly. "We have to go to work. Time for you to go."
Meredith
It's easy to fall back into the routine.
Alcohol. Barstool conversation. Drunken sex. The breeziness of getting rid of them.
Hard to believe she and Derek started like that.
The next few days are hell. Her friends (and Dr. Bailey) watch her constantly, as though afraid she might go insane again.
She avoids Derek's room. She dodges Addison in the few times she's seen her venture into the hallway.
She goes through the days fighting tears, pounding headaches, and feelings of self loathing and exhaustion.
The day she gets the stitches removed (for real, this time) is the same day Derek gets released from the hospital.
There is some kind of ironic meaning there, but Meredith doesn't want to contemplate it.
She stays late after she's off duty to get them taken off. She and Christina are leaving the hospital at the same time as Derek.
"Hi." This is him, obviously. Meredith is too flustered to speak.
Derek
It's the first time he's seen her since the night Addison made the scene in front of everyone. She just stares at him.
"I'm free to go." He says, attempting a smile. Trying to pretend this bears any semblance to a normal conversation.
She takes awhile to speak. "That's great, Dr. Shepard. I'm really happy for you." There's a quiet desperation in her tone that contradicts her words.
What hits him the hardest is the formality. Dr. Shepard. Really.
She starts to leave.
"Meredith. I was hoping we could talk." He starts to say 'at some point', but realizes there's no time like now. Addison's in surgery, but he couldn't wait to get home, to his own bed.
She turns on him. "No, see, that? Right there? That's what we're not doing anymore. Talking. Or you saying my name like that. Or looking at me like that. You have to stop. That's the deal."
He lowers his voice. "Dr. Bailey told me what happened. Your hand, I mean… the stitches…" He regrets saying it immediately at the look of embarrassment and indignation that comes onto her face. "I just wanted to see if you were okay."
She laughs, a terrifying sound that is as far from humor as you can get. "Did you? Well, I'm not. But there's nothing you can do about it."
"Maybe-"
"Derek." Her voice is soft, and the word comes out quickly, as though she's worried about saying it. "No. I'm not okay, I'm not gong to be, and you can't help me now. This can't keep happening."
She leaves him and walks out the door.
Meredith
Please, God, let that be the last time that happens.
For some reason, she now thinks of this whole situation in terms of cuts or wounds. The hand analogy did it. It seems to have stuck.
And the Derek thing…that's an open wound, impossible to close, always stinging and bleeding out and getting salt poured onto it. No matter what.
But when he comes near her, it's like it widens. Makes it a little harder to endure.
Christina is waiting for her outside. She nods her head at her car, since George and Izzie had already left in Meredith's. "Come on. I'll drive."
"No, thanks. I'm going to Joe's."
"You'll still need a ride home."
"I get a cab."
They look at each other. They both know what this means.
Christina shrugs indifferently, but her voice gives her away, "It's up to you, I guess."
Bailey
"You wanted to see me Chief?"
Dr. Webber leans forward on his desk. He's looking tired, and whatever he wants to discuss is clearly serious. "I needed to talk about one of your interns."
Bailey nods. It's not hard to imagine which intern he means. Of course, Dr. Bailey isn't sure what's brought any of the, er, 'issues' there to Chief's attention.
"Meredith Grey."
"I thought so, sir."
He looks surprised. "Oh? Well, maybe you can help me out then…she came to speak to me earlier today. She was asking a lot of questions about the process of transferring hospitals." He sighs. "Never flat out requested, but she was sure curious."
Bailey looks at him, surprised at first. That wasn't anything at all close to what she'd expected. Her shoulders slump, and the surprise leaves her…of course there isn't anything surprising about Meredith Grey needing to get out of this hospital. Present circumstances and all that.
"Since you knew who I meant, I assume you know something is going on. I'm assuming it has something to do with Derek and Addison-" Bailey almost smiled at this understatement. "-but I just need more. Is that what's making her so unhappy?"
Bailey chooses her words carefully. "I know she's not happy, yeah. This whole thing…first there was him choosing to stay with Addison, you know how that went, I assume…the whole hospital did." He nods. "And then there was this whole car accident, Meredith not being allowed in there. They don't confide in me to an amazing extent, sir, but I have an idea that the whole thing…the choosing, happened all over again in some way. Derek's been pretty miserable, too, when I've seen him. Something else has obviously happened."
Webber rubs his temples and sighs. "I knew from the beginning this would be trouble. I tried to warn Meredith. Right after my surgery."
Bailey stares at him. "Well, you knew he was married, sir. Grey had no idea."
"True." He pauses. "Well, maybe you could talk to her for me. I obviously don't want her to leave. She's got a lot of promise, and I've known Meredith since she was a baby. Then there's the matter of her mother's care…" He trails off, looking uncertain.
"I don't want her to leave, either, Chief, not at all…but it might be what she needs." He looks at her. "Or it might not. We don't want her making any rash decisions. And of course it could be nothing. She could just be down." He looks slightly comforted. "I'll speak to her, though, Chief.
Meredith
She's well on her way to the blurriness she craves.
The counter is covered by empty shot glasses. She's not slowing down.
The next part will happen soon. It always does, when she's like this.
Sure enough….
A man approaches her. "This seat taken?"
She looks at him. "Guess not."
He's handsome in a very rugged, sexy way. Looks like the kind of guy who could shake your hand and say wonderful things but turn around and mess around behind your back. He's just got that look. Not unlike many of the men she ends up taking home on nights like tonight.
There's something she notices in his eyes, though, that makes him different. There's a kind of pain, despair there. A loss of hope, just like…well, just like her own.
He orders a few beers before speaking. She's just ordered another shot. "Let me get that for you."
She glances at him, then catches Joe's eye and nods. It starts like this a lot.
The guy surveys the bar in front of her. "Tough night?"
"Normal night." She replies, her speech already slightly slurred.
"Been there."
"Past tense?"
He shrugs. "Recent past. Maybe future, too. Near future, I mean. Not if I'm optimistic."
"I'm not."
"As a rule, neither am I." He smiles slightly. "Except when it comes to my patients. But that's kind of a job requirement."
Meredith groans inwardly. "You're a doctor?"
"Yeah, actually."
"Do you work at this hospital?"
"Grace? Nah. My hospital's not in this town. Or state. Or side of the country, actually."
"Oh." She smiles at him, the cloudiness properly setting in now. "In that case, I'm Meredith."
He smiles. "Nice to meet you. I'm Mark."
