"How do you feel today?" Megan asks gently.
"Can we just skip the small talk and get on with the actual physical therapy? Too many people have asked me that." Meredith replies. A week after Ellis's death, the ashes of the famous surgeon now rest in the back of Meredith's closet at Derek's house, and somehow, Meredith feels a lot better.
Probably because she discovered a box of about fifty journals.
Ellis's journals.
Meredith's mother wrote down everything. Every single one of these plain black journals is filled from cover to cover with thoughts, plans, and ideas. Meredith has barely had time to read any of them, and she's reading them in order. They're dated and perfectly organized.
These are giving Meredith an insight to Ellis's mind. More and more, she's beginning to understand her mom. The more she reads, the more Meredith realizes that, had she not been her daughter, she probably would have loved Ellis.
As Megan begins assigning Meredith PT exercises, the Marine's mind wanders, mostly absorbed in thoughts about Ellis.
Most of her thoughts have been about Ellis this past week. That, and dealing with the dreams about the bombing that came every night.
George's face is constantly in her mind. The faces of the Marines she knew at camp- the ones who died.
She hasn't told Derek. But it's a miracle he hasn't picked up on her inability to sleep, concentrate, and constantly being on high-guard.
Meredith is exhausted all the time. Physically and emotionally. She doesn't know what to do.
Derek works a long shift today, so after an hour of PT, Meredith heads to the small cafe down the street from the hospital and sits at a table with a man she barely recognizes in casual clothes.
"Hey, Mike," she smiles softly as she sits, settling into the very comfortable chair at their table of two.
This is the first time since hearing about Ellis's death that Michael has been able to step away from work and check on his friend. "What's up, Death? How's it going?"
She shrugs. "About as well as can be expected, I guess."
He nods. "I'm sorry."
"Thank you," Meredith knows exactly what he's saying, without any words. She's grateful that he decides not to push her on this.
"You know, my dad was a Marine too. He died when I was fifteen."
"Yeah."
Michael nods, taken by memories. "Losing a parent is never easy, no matter the relationship status."
Meredith nods, showing respect for the fallen soldier for a quiet moment before changing the subject. "I found her old journals. I've been reading them."
"Really?"
"It's- I just, it's crazy. There's so much I never knew about her, and I'm only three in. They cover so many years of her life."
"It's good that you have something of hers."
"I-I'm mad, though, Mike. I'm mad I found these just a few days too late. Had I known- had I read these before she died, I..." Meredith trails off, thinking about the possibilities it could have opened for her and her mother.
"I know Death, I get that. You don't have an outlet for that anymore, either."
During her deployments, whenever Meredith had any feelings that were just too much to deal with, she took to the gym. Mostly fighting. She would strap on the boxing gloves and just hit the punching bags for hours until she felt okay.
It worked every time. But now, she can barely move, and she has to face her problems head-on. Something she's rarely ever done.
The two change the subject and the rest of lunch goes on uneventfully. Meredith takes a cab home and spends most of the rest of her day playing with Bella. Derek's land is beautiful, and she wishes she was physically fit enough to go explore more of it.
Bella is the perfect pet, the young dog loves playing fetch, and Meredith enjoys being outside and throwing the ball for Bella to retrieve, even if the motion hurts.
She's sitting on the porch of the house with her dog when Derek's Porche rolls into the driveway, and he steps out with a stack of files in his hands.
"What's all that?" Meredith calls, standing up as Bella goes to greet Derek.
"I have a case. I can't get it out of my head. It's impossible. Ten surgeons have already told this patient no. But I want to say yes."
"Can I help?"
"Yes, that's part of the reason I brought it home. I figured if anyone can think outside of the box, it's you."
Meredith smiles and follows him inside, and the two settle in the living room, discussing the case. Derek orders Chinese take-out to be delivered, and when the food comes, they decide to take a break for a few minutes.
"Have you thought about swimming?"
Meredith stops chewing for a moment, swallows, then frowns at him. "Swimming? Like, in a pool? Why?"
"Well, yes. Aquatic Therapy. It improves conditioning and builds muscle while minimizing impact."
"I know what Aquatic Therapy is."
"The water will take pressure off your joints and spine. You can build your balance, flexibility, circulation, lung capacity- the list goes on- without causing further damage."
Meredith is silent, somewhat lost in thought.
"You can swim, can't you?" Derek asks, observing her features.
"Of course I can swim, Derek. Navy for three years, then Marines, remember? I can swim really damn well." She scoffs, slightly offended that he would even ask that.
"So, think about it. There will be less pain through the overall process and you can get your strength back." He shrugs.
Meredith sighs. "I'll think about it."
The rest of the night goes on, and they get slightly sidetracked with stories of incredible surgeries Meredith has done overseas.
"So, it wasn't all bad? I know you say some...unimaginable things and went through a lot, but was there anything good besides cool surgeries?" Derek asks, genuinely curious.
Meredith smiles, instantly thrown back to one of her favorite memories.
"Holy hell, it's cold."
"Yeah, no shit."
I glance at Teddy, standing next to me who gives me an unamused eye roll at my sarcastic response. She's right. It's fucking freezing. I glance around our base, covered in a white blanket of snow.
"These cammies are too hot in the summer and not hot enough in the winter." Teddy huffs, turning and heading back into our bunk.
I chuckle and follow her, shutting the door to preserve heat. "You can say that again."
I sit on the bed, pulling on two pairs of my warmest wool socks and layering our uniforms. It doesn't matter how uncomfortable it is, I would like to keep all my limbs intact.
Frostbite is the most common injury we see this time of year in our current location: Syria. During the winter, the oxygen thins and the temperatures drop below freezing.
I pull my hair into the standard tight low bun and pull a camouflage hat over my head. A black scarf sits around my neck, and I pull on heavy gloves and walk outside with Teddy.
This is Al-Tanf, one of the US bases in Syria. We are the only two medics here, hence why we have an entire bunk for only two of us. Typically there are at least six people in each.
At the moment, and for the past few weeks, there hasn't been too much action. Fighting usually comes to a lull during the freezing winter months here, so I really only see minor injuries from soldiers being stupid or frostbite. There's no danger to us during the winter months, so we entertain ourselves.
We head into the medical tent by our bunk, which has very limited supplies. No shipments have come in recently, so we're narrowly getting by.
Here, we kill some time playing cards and placing pointless bets on pointless things. I decide a few hours later I need to stretch my legs and walk outside of the tent. Though not by much, it's definitely warmer inside than outside.
I look around, the place seems deserted. There are stacks of crates and tables littering the center clearing, and it makes me frown slightly that it's all empty.
That is, until something smacks me in the side, and I hear yelling.
I glance down at my side, barely having felt the impact because of my layers.
A snowball.
I smirk. Challenge accepted.
"Altman! Get the hell out here, now!" I yell back into the tent, making sure my voice is panicked and urgent before ducking around the side to make a snowball of my own. I hear rustling and snow crunching under boots and Teddy jogs out breathlessly.
Before she can turn to see me, I chuck a snowball, hitting her in the back. She is utterly confused, and it makes me crack up.
Around us now, the grown men who fight to protect our country are shouting and having a huge snowball fight throughout the entire base. Using the crates and tables for cover, there's so much happening around us. Snowballs fly through the air in every direction.
Teddy turns and sees me, and her expression drops. "Oh, it's on, Death."
I turn and run, reaching the nearby bunks where two other soldiers are crouching. I gather some snow and wait for Teddy, casting the two men a smile, which is returned.
For the next hour at least, even the commander of the base joins in the fun. It's chaotic, every single person there is playing in the base-wide snowball fight.
I decide to form an alliance with Teddy, and we take over an overturned table, firing at anyone who comes near, and laughing hysterically as we do so.
We hit the commander once, and he groans, falling ungracefully into the snow and clutching at his side where we hit him. This makes everyone laugh, seeing the usually stone-faced man put on an overdramatized performance.
At a certain point, I see this game has no end, so I collapse back into the snow, sprawling out. Not long after, Teddy joins me.
I hear her moving and glance to my side, a smile breaking out on my face when I see her making a snow angel.
I make one too, and not a few minutes later I roll into my side to look her in the eye. "Wanna build a snowman?"
"No, it wasn't all bad. I actually have some pretty great memories." Meredith replies.
Eventually, they go to bed in their separate rooms, agreeing to come back to the case with a fresh mindset tomorrow.
The next morning, Derek makes eggs for breakfast. "Have you thought any more about aquatic therapy?" He brings up the subject from the previous day again.
Meredith doesn't respond, only hums in acknowledgment and gives him a small shrug.
"Mer, I don't understand your hesitation. I don't see any downsides to it."
She sighs, making eye contact with him. They're both quiet for a minute, searching each other's gazes. She bites her lip.
"I do want to do it. I'll do anything to get better faster."
"So what's the problem?" Derek furrows his brow.
"I...it's stupid. It's just, I'd have to wear a bathing suit. And the water...I'm afraid of..." She struggles to form a decent sentence. Opening up had never been her strong suit. Not as a kid, not as a surgeon, and certainly not now as a retired Marine. "You've seen the scars. They're bad. Really bad. A bathing suit would just..."
Partial understanding reaches Derek. "You'd feel too exposed?"
She shrugs again. "That's one way of putting it."
He nods slowly. "What are you afraid of? You trailed off earlier." Derek prompts.
"The water...I-I almost drowned. I mean, I can swim and I've had to jump in rough waters with fifty pounds of gear on my back with my life and tons of others on the line in the Marines, but now...the reason I left the Navy was that after that ship collapse, I nearly lost my leg and my life. I don't know how well I would do swimming in water again."
Understanding floods over Derek, and he leans back. "Oh."
She drops her gaze. "Yeah. Oh."
They're quiet for a long few minutes before Derek breaks the silence. "There's a small, private, indoor pool near here. We could rent it out."
Meredith frowns. "Rent out a pool for me to use?"
"It'll only be me and you. Complete privacy. Would that help?"
"Um, maybe..."
"Do you want to try it? I'm not going to force you to do anything. You can get back to normal without aquatic therapy, it will just take longer."
She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment and supporting herself on the counter. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Let's try it, I guess."
He smiles. "I'll call the owner right now."
"Let me pay. There's no need for you to-"
"Hey, you paid me for your surgeries. I can rent a pool to help you recover."
"Derek, I'm not short on cash or anything. I can pay." She meets his gaze. It's true. Multiple large pensions for every time she's been injured and prize money for all of her awards, as well as the rather large trust fund Ellis Grey had set in place for her, are all only a few calls away. The generous military salary and bonuses for multiple years too- it stacks up.
"Me neither. Two million dollar hands, remember?" He smirks.
Grudgingly, she negotiates, "At least split it with me."
"Fine."
"Fine," she smiles.
Derek returns to his case after breakfast while Meredith goes to the shower, needing to rinse off and change her dressings.
A knock at the door sounds, breaking Derek's attention away from the papers. He gets up and answers, coming face to face with a mail delivery guy.
"Is this where Colonel Dr. Meredith Grey is currently residing?" He asks.
"Uh, yes. She's in the shower at the moment though." Derek replies, furrowing his brows.
"This is all the way from Yemen. No clue what it says, all I can read is the name and address." The man hands Derek a large manila envelope and walks away. Even more confused, he flips the object to read the print. It's his address, Meredith's name, and then something written in another language, one Derek doesn't recognize.
As if on cue, the door to Meredith's room opens and she steps out, wet hair falling over her shoulders in her sweats and USMC t-shirt.
"What's that?" She glances curiously at the envelope in his hands as she moves to get a glass of water.
"It just came, says it's for you. All the way from Yemen, apparently."
The blonde nearly drops the glass cup she's holding. Shock evident on her features, she reaches out, silently demanding that he give her the envelope. He does, and she spends a long minute staring at the outside.
"I thought it was going to be from the embassy or something." She shakes her head lightly. "Thank god it's not."
"What language is that? Who's it from?"
"This is Arabic. And it's from a guy I used to..." she bites her lip, "...work with. Major Dr. Nathan Riggs."
Derek moves to her side as she tears open the envelope, and multiple smaller papers fall out. Spreading them out, Derek sees every one of them is written in Arabic. "What the hell?"
She is quiet, studying them and rearranging each one. "These are letters from the past two months. They're all dated."
"You-you can read that?"
"Yes, I can," Meredith replies as if it should have been obvious, casting him a side look.
"You can read Arabic?"
"Derek, I spent seven years in the Middle East. Arabic is the most commonly spoken language. Reading, speaking, writing. I'm fluent."
His jaw nearly drops, and he watches as she reads the first paper, a faint smile on her face.
"How did I not know you were bilingual?"
"Trilingual, actually. I learned German when I was stationed off the coast of Rostock in the Navy. It's a little rusty. I know some Latin- which is mostly just sayings we learned in the Corps- and French too. Plus enough Italian to get by."
Derek is shocked. Utterly shocked. His girlfriend is more than trilingual and he had absolutely no clue. "I- wow."
"I never told you? Never spoke a single word in any of my other languages, really?"
"No, you didn't. Is Teddy fluent too?"
"In Arabic and German, yes. She knows some Latin and French, too. We've been deployed in the same places our entire careers."
"What do the letters say?"
"He's talking about his missions. He's a field surgeon as well. Lucky he hasn't been blown up yet."
"Why has he been writing you for two months?" Derek can't keep the bitter envy out of his voice. Meredith looks up and smirks at him.
"Why, are you jealous?"
"No, I-"
"He's an old flame, yes. But I haven't spoken to him in a year. Besides, I met someone a lot better here."
This makes Derek genuinely smile. He leans against the counter and watches her as she reads, amused by the expressions she makes in response to the words on the paper.
Meredith and Nathan had dated for about a year after knowing each other for a few months during a nineteen-month deployment. They broke up when his presumed dead ex-fiancee- who was also a Marine- was found alive. Nathan went back to her, but they stayed on good terms. The two were actually close friends.
Meredith is well aware of Derek's eyes on her, but she also knows that Derek can't know what else these letters say. Riggs is one of two surgeons stationed in a military base in Yemen that doesn't exist. That's why it's written in Arabic. The only reason Meredith knows about it is because she was originally supposed to be sent there, but after an attack on a base in Tehran, which is in Iran, caused devastating losses she was needed to go back there once again.
"Oh, my god," she gasps, reading the sixth letter. "Oh my god. He's coming home."
"What?"
"He's coming home as soon as his deployment is over. But he hasn't decided if he's going to enlist again or not."
"Is he coming to Seattle?"
"He'll probably land on the east coast first, Virginia or Pennsylvania. But he has family in Oregon, so maybe he'll stop by?" Meredith talks softly, her mind more focused on comprehending the Arabic in her hands than Derek. "Wait, this is from two months ago, when does his tour end?" She asks herself.
Derek frowns, irrational anger building up in him upon seeing her get excited about one of her exes coming home. Another military surgeon, too. Derek can only imagine what he looks like.
Meredith smiles largely. "Four weeks. He'll be back in four weeks."
Derek doesn't know how to react. Meredith's ex will be arriving back in the United States in a month, and they haven't even thought about their relationship. What does Nathan's return mean for them?