Meredith thought her first night and following day out of the hospital would be peaceful, even if it was in a hotel bed. She doesn't exactly have a home to go back to, but the hotel is better than lights constantly on, monitors beeping, and nurses coming in and out every hour.
But no. She was wrong. Dead wrong.
Meredith spent the day after her kiss with Derek laying on the once-white covers of the bed, with a trash can by her side. Pain. The pain was excruciating. She couldn't move because her spine and gash on her back hurt so badly, and her entire stomach set on fire every time she breathed.
The pain was so bad it made her puke. Twice. Hence the trash can.
Now, sweaty and exhausted, and ready to cry, Meredith lays in a sports bra and shorts sprawled under the ceiling fan that's on high. For some reason, spreading her limbs out like a star and having a pillow under her back doesn't hurt as badly as the other positions. So, she hasn't moved and doesn't plan on it anytime soon.
The prescription drugs helped a little, but she can only take four every twenty-four hours. They're supposed to be strong. Meredith nearly laughs at the label on the small orange bottle. Nearly laughs because if she actually does laugh, she'll probably puke again. The pills are the opposite of strong. Her pain is strong, the pills she took this morning only take the slightest edge off.
And even taking those two little white drugs took a lot of convincing. She'll happily oblige with the antibiotics and other non-addictive drugs, but narcotics are always a dangerous route. One she knows all too well from experience. And it's very possible the effects of those drugs have stopped working because she puked them up. Gross.
Meredith glances at the nightstand where her phone lay. Part of her wants to call Cristina. Or Alex. Or Teddy. Even Derek. But the other part of her doesn't want anyone to see her in this state. She's a disaster.
Sleep. That's what she wants. That's what she needs. Problem is, the pain is too much to sleep. Meredith lets out a low groan. The world is cruel, but her body is even crueler for making her feel like this.
Strangely enough, her phone begins to buzz, signaling an incoming call. Meredith sighs deeply, closing her eyes and trying to decide if it's worth the effort to move and pick up the small device.
As the phone continues to buzz, the colonel counts to three and on her third count rolls her body sideways to reach her phone off the table. Biting back a scream, and clutches it tightly and rolls back into the only comfortable position.
She doesn't even look at who's calling before answering and putting it on speaker, laying it near her head and trying to catch her breath.
"Colonel Grey speaking?" Her voice surprises even her, coming out strained and in more pain than she thought possible.
"Death, I'm glad you picked up. I was afraid this was the wrong number."
Meredith perks up at this voice, a small smile finding its way onto her face. "Why are you calling...on an unsecured line?"
General Michael Kellin laughs slightly. "It's secured. Don't worry."
"Why are you calling?"
"You sound like shit."
"I feel like shit." She deadpans. Speaking is hard. She's tired enough as it is and doesn't have the energy to have a long conversation. Or even speak without taking breaks between sentences.
"I guess that answers my question then. I was wondering how you were doing. Is it six weeks post-op, now?"
"Yeah, six weeks. I'm dying, though."
"Dying, huh?" She can hear the smile in his voice and she rolls her eyes.
"I don't exactly have the energy to banter with you...like usual, Michael. No matter how much I want to...get the last word."
"That bad?" He softens.
"I'm alone in a hotel room. Dying. This absolutely sucks."
"Damn."
"Something tells me this isn't the real reason you called? Not that I don't enjoy hearing your...beautiful voice."
He laughs. "I wanted to check up on you. Honestly. I've gotten no word about your condition. You're like my sister, Death."
She smiles to herself at the warmth in his voice. "I got out of the hospital yesterday. The last of the drugs they gave me wore off...a couple hours ago. I doubt I've ever been in more pain than I am now."
"I'm sorry."
She inhales lightly, wrinkling her nose at the faint smell that has begun to take up her room. It's disgusting that she knows it's coming from her, yet there's nothing she can do about it. "I'm healing pretty slow." Meredith is positive he'll hear the defeat in her voice. "I don't know what to do with myself."
If Cristina heard that, her response would be how about Derek? Kellin's response isn't too different.
"That surgeon of yours could never seem to take his eyes off you when I was there." He replies through the phone, somewhat snarkily.
"Ah, so that's why you're really calling."
"I'm serious!" His voice raises slightly on the defensive. "I was there for half an hour and he was like...I don't know, a lost puppy looking at its master."
"That's a terrible metaphor."
They both laugh, Meredith abruptly stopping at the pain it causes. In a weird way, it warms her that people have noticed a certain way Derek looks at her.
"I don't know him well enough to form any real opinions yet, but if you ask me no one is worthy of you."
"Ha ha. He saved my life."
Micheal is quiet for a moment. "I guess that scores a couple of points."
Meredith smiles, holding back another laugh. "He's a good guy. He really is. And...I may have scored a first date- outside the hospital."
"I don't even know how to respond to that. I'll beat the shit out of him if he hurts you. Make sure he knows that."
"I'm sure you will. And don't worry, I have people in my corner here." She smiles, thinking of Alex, Cristina, and Teddy.
"Speaking of there, I forgot to mention I'm back in the states for half a month in four weeks."
"What?" Meredith is shocked and wishes she could sit up. Laying on a bunch of pillows in bed is probably the most vulnerable position she can possibly be in.
A buzzing interrupts their conversation. It's on Micheal's side. Even through the phone, Meredith recognizes it as a raid alarm. "I'll see you in four weeks. I'll be in touch." Before Meredith can say anything else, the line goes dead.
She's somewhat grateful, as her energy was quickly draining. Who knew holding a normal conversation with someone was so exhausting? Worry spikes in her chest, but she shoves it away. Michael knows how to take care of himself.
It hits Meredith that she doesn't even know where he is at the moment. Somewhere in the Middle East. She closes her eyes, forcing her mind into calm and swallowing back her pain.
She wants to cry. Puke again. Or die. Dying would be an easy solution. The pain is too much to sleep through. Meredith, for once in her life, has no ideas and nothing to do.
"You and Military Barbie done the nasty yet?"
"Mark, please." Derek rolls his eyes, exasperated.
"Come on, spill." Despite being a grown man and world-renown plastic surgeon, Mark Sloan was a blabbermouth and a gossip. Anything Derek said would probably be spread around the hospital by lunch, and Derek knew it.
"She's kind of six weeks post-op, in case you hadn't noticed. Not exactly the time or place for me to be sleeping with my patient." Derek replies evenly, although he can't deny that nasty thoughts had been in and out of his head all day. And throughout the past weeks.
Mark drops himself on the couch in Derek's office, abandoning his position leaning against the doorframe where he had been moments ago. Derek sits at his desk, trying to get paperwork done, but without much success.
"That reminds me, next time she comes in for a post-op check, she might want you to look at the scars." The neurosurgeon says before Mark can add another dirty joke into their conversation.
He frowns. "It's probably too early to do anything about them now, we'll have to wait until they're healed more. But I'd be very happy to stop by and look at them."
Derek presses his lips together, nodding. It's hard to get through a conversation with his best friend without cracking a smile or laughing at the plastic surgeon's facial expressions and dark sense of humor.
"You like her, huh?"
"What do you mean?"
Mark shakes his head. "Come on, your eyes sparkle when we talk about her. And that guilty look on your face when I mentioned the nasty, that said a lot too."
Derek buried his face in his hands, slightly embarrassed. "God, Mark."
"Hey, no judgment. I didn't realize super famous hot military surgeons were your thing. But good for you."
"You need to shut it. Get your head out of the gutter."
Before Mark has a chance to make a snarky reply, Derek's pager goes off. Grateful for an excuse to escape and a distraction with an incoming trauma, he smirks at Mark and dashes out of his office to the ER.
"Good, that was good. How did it feel?" Megan's perky voice causes Meredith to roll her eyes.
"It hurt. Just like before." She grumbles. After almost an hour of physical therapy at Seattle Grace, Meredith is tired of Megan and tired of the absolute bullshit she has to do.
In reality, she knows the only way she'll get better is through physical therapy and working every day, but after being blown up, unable to work anymore, unable to walk or move or do anything alone, the list goes on of things putting her in a bad mood.
Meredith's in a hell of a lot of pain right now. Who knew steps were so hard? She's gone up and down this flight three times. Beads of sweat appear on her brow, and it's frustrating.
It's been a week since she was discharged, and she's been coming to physical therapy every day. The only good thing about this is that she gets to see Derek in the halls sometimes. They have a first date set in six days.
She's a warrior, a Colonel. Field Surgeon for the United States Marine Corps. Meredith has always prided herself on her physical appearance and intelligence. She worked her body just as hard as soldiers did, and worked her brain and hands inside a body cavity when operating.
But now, after more than two months of doing practically nothing, muscle deterioration set in, and she feels scrawny and ugly.
Those may be two adjectives that are a little harsh and slightly overdramatic, but still. Meredith is weak and feels so helpless. All she wants is to be able to do things on her own again. Yet, here she is, struggling to go up and down a flight of stairs at a decent pace.
Before, she would look at her midsection and happily see a toned set of abs. Now it's bloodied and bandaged. Her muscles were defined in her arms and legs, but now, they haven't been used in months and they're barely there. She hates it.
"You're getting much stronger." Megan nods, smiling in approval.
Megan's too happy. Meredith wants to punch her in the face. She only grunts in response.
"One last thing today, then we'll do some stretching that should help with the pain and promote healing."
Meredith parks up instantly at helping with pain. Her entire body is on fire. The pain is dizzying. Sad thing is, she's not even pushing herself as hard as she can. She wants to die.
As Megan starts the next exercise, Meredith becomes aware of another set of eyes on her back. She doesn't have to glance behind her to know who's there, that's a gaze that she's able to instinctively identify after years.
Teddy leans in the doorway of the mostly empty physical therapy room. The blonde adjusts the new white lab coat on her shoulders, surprised at how much more comfortable the dark blue scrubs of Seattle Grace are than the scratchy green and tan ones in the military. She watches, holding back a laugh at the daggers Meredith stares into her PT, which go completely unnoticed by the brunette woman, who smiles and walks away.
That stare is well-practiced and could get almost anyone to do anything she wanted back in the Marines. It's a shocking feat that Megan is unaware- or just unbothered- by it.
Teddy waits until Meredith is done and Megan goes off to get her a bottle of water before she enters the room. "You look like you're having fun."
"Shut it, Altman." Meredith groans, though she has a smile on her face. She's laying back on a training table, sweaty and trying to catch her breath. Meredith opens one eye to stare at her friend, then lift her heat up slightly, excitement in her gaze. "Scrubs? Lab coat?"
"Did I forget to mention that I got the job?"
"Yes," Meredith replies, giving her a sharp look, "is it your first day?"
"Yes. I have a valve replacement in twenty."
"Wow, a valve replacement. How long has it been since you've done an elective procedure?"
"Years." Teddy shakes her head. "That's why I'm starting easy."
"At least you can operate, be glad you're not stuck here in my position."
Teddy hums and rolls her eyes. "How about you sneak into the gallery?"
"Oh," Meredith's eyes widen again and a mischievous smile breaks out on her face. "Great idea."
Teddy laughs and Megan comes back in, handing Meredith a cold water bottle. The water refreshes her instantly.
"You did great today, Colonel. I can already tell you're a trooper. Getting so much stronger already. I'll see you again tomorrow!" Megan speaks in her high-pitched voice, helping Meredith up and off the table.
Meredith takes a few steps, then realizes she's not going to make it very far. Teddy reaches her side and offers an arm, which Meredith accepts gratefully. Pain shoots through her with every step, and they exit the physical therapy wing.
"You hate her," Teddy observes, humor in her voice.
"I hate her so much," Meredith agrees, and they both laugh, "but she's the best physical therapist they have here."
Teddy stops, glancing around. "Where the hell are the ORs in this place?"
Meredith smirks. "You're lost."
"Shut up, it's not like you can get us out of here either." They're stranded on one of the main floors. Neither of them has any clue which floor is which or where they need to go. This hospital is huge.
"You look lost." A familiar, welcome voice sounds behind them, and the women turn to see Derek, with his half-smile on his lips.
"She is. We are." Meredith pipes up before Teddy can deny anything. The major shoots her friend a glare.
"Can I help?" His bright gaze bounces between the two women as he takes in their appearances. Teddy is wearing scrubs, which tells him she got the job here. Meredith, on the other hand, is leaning heavily on her friend, exhaustion dulling her eyes. Her hair is slightly slicked with sweat, and he can read the pain on her face, even though she hides it well.
"The OR floor. This is my first day and I have no damn clue where I am or where anything else is. And she's no help." Teddy replies, referring to Meredith.
"I'll take you there. Have surgery?" He begins, leading them through the confusing halls.
"Valve replacement."
"First one here?"
"Yeah." Teddy nods, clearly excited.
"First one in a real hospital in nearly seven years, too." Meredith cuts in as they walk.
"Yeah." Teddy's voice is quieter now, betraying some of her nerves. Their pace is slow to let Meredith keep up. Derek lets them go in alone when they reach the scrub room, he waits outside. Sharing secret looks with Meredith while they walk isn't enough. He wants more.
"It's a controlled environment, okay? You have ten times more resources at your disposal. I'll be up in the gallery. If you need to, just page-"
"Death." Teddy cuts off Meredith's voice as she scrubs her hands. "I'll be okay. Thank you."
Meredith hesitates, then nods. "Okay. You got this. Semper paratus." Always prepared.
Teddy smiles. "Semper anticus." Always forward.