TW: The italics at the end of this chapter contain a description of suicide. If this may be triggering to you, you can read up until it italics, but then skip to the next chapter.
"Megan was absolutely elated when I told her about this Aquatic Therapy," Meredith grumbles.
"What do you have against Megan? She seems really nice." Derek laughs.
"Exactly. She's too nice. Too perky. It's annoying." Meredith replies. She pulls a sweatshirt over the one-piece bathing suit she's wearing, then walks out of the bathroom. She and Derek had been holding their conversation on either side of the door. "At least I don't have to see her today. I'd much rather be spending the day with you."
The waterproofed bandages bulge slightly through the one-piece, and Meredith feels extremely awkward wearing it. She had to go out and buy an actual bathing suit- she didn't have one. The last few times Meredith's been 'swimming' have been in full BDUs and with a fifty-pound backpack.
Derek smiles. "Ready to go?"
"If this goes well, maybe I'll do it every day. Anything to avoid Megan."
"I seriously don't understand why you hate her so much." Derek shakes his head as he walks out the door. With a night shift tonight, he has the day to go to the indoor pool which they rented out for Meredith to use.
After the short drive, the two walk into the empty area. There's not even a lifeguard. Derek tosses his stuff down on a chair and takes off his shirt, as Meredith does the same.
When he turns, her gaze instantly flicks down to his chest.
Shit. Meredith has seen plenty of topless guys who are extremely sculpted, but her breath hitches at this sight. He looks just as good, if not, better.
Derek smirks, watching her face until she realizes she's gawking. Meredith makes eye contact with him, then realizes she stared at his exposed skin for a solid minute. She reddens instantly. This is the first time she's seen him topless.
Derek laughs out loud, and Meredith, rarely ever flustered, clears her throat and tries to change the subject.
"So, uh, what are we doing?"
"Clearly you're admiring what you see." Derek grins playfully.
"Oh my god," Meredith presses her hand to her forehead, trying to hide her embarrassment. "I mean tell me what I'm doing to strengthen my body. That is the whole reason we're here, after all."
"Well, we should get in first," Derek suggests, then, without hesitation, he jumps right into the deep end of the pool, which is about nine feet.
The strong smell of chlorine is what Meredith focuses on as she takes a different route, gripping tightly onto the railing as she eases herself into the cool water down the steps.
She lets out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding when she finally hits the bottom and moves away from the stairs. The water barely reaches her waist in the shallow end, and Derek comes over to her.
"Are you okay?"
She nods, "I think so."
Derek nods, studying her. She does the same, but for a different reason. His usually perfectly styled hair is a long, sopping mess around his face, and the water glistens, dripping down his chest and neck. Meredith can't seem to stop ogling him.
"Let's start with just some treading water. Can you do it for a minute?"
While holding tightly onto the wall, Meredith makes her way to the deep end and then begins to tread water, surprised by how easily it comes back to her.
"You know, I had to tread in the ocean for the better part of an hour after the attack on the ship I was serving on. The attack that caused Teddy and me to transfer."
"Seriously? That long?"
"And while my leg was a shattered disaster. We needed backup, and it didn't come for forever because the force of the bombs had knocked the ship way off its original course, and they had to find us."
Meredith talks easily as she treads, her training automatically kicking in, keeping her head above the surface as she conserves energy, moving as little as possible.
Derek is next to her, and they go way over a minute. After five, he's exhausted, but she looks like she could keep going. "How about we try some actual swimming now?"
Meredith smiles knowingly and nods her approval and the two dive into more strengthening exercises for the next sixty minutes.
xx
"I need a break, Derek." Meredith rasps, hauling herself out of the pool with her arms and sitting in the side, feet still in the cool water. The movement sends horrible pain through her body, causing her to visibly wince.
She had tried to swim laps. Real laps, at a decent pace, and out of nowhere her chest tightened and she got dizzy.
Meredith closes her eyes, trying to breathe normally despite the pain. Derek comes to her side, though doesn't leave the water.
"What's going on?" He asks softly. He tries to make sure his tone portrays that she doesn't have to tell him if she doesn't want to.
"I...honestly, I don't know."
Gently, he grabs her hand and places two fingers on the pulse point on her wrist, eyes finding the clock on the wall across the room as he takes her pulse. "Your pulse is high and thready. I think we've done enough for today."
"But I-"
"No buts, Mer. You tend to push yourself further than your body can take it. Now you need nourishment and rest. Maybe we'll swing by the hospital for a post-op check."
"No. I don't need to go to the hospital. I have my next check in a week, anyway."
Derek debates for a moment, the relents. "Okay. How do you feel right now?"
He pushes himself out of the pool as well, but walks over to grab their towels, Meredith has begun to shiver.
"I think-uh, I think that may have been the beginning of a...a..."
"Panic attack? Flashback?"
She nods, avoiding looking at him as he wraps her towel over her shoulders. "Something like that. I warned you it would happen."
He nods understandingly. "You're exhausted. Let's just go home."
She pulls her legs out of the water, but it takes quite a lot of Derek's help to get Meredith to her feet. She can breathe normally now and has a slight headache.
Yes, Meredith is exhausted. She hasn't been able to sleep. And even if Derek wants to her go home a rest, she won't be able to. Her brain won't turn off. Constant memories from the last seven years are playing, mostly the bad ones. The hardest missions are the ones that stick with her the most.
The drive home is short and quiet, and Meredith leaves to take a shower and change her dressings as soon as they walk in the door. As Derek places his things down, a fresh wave of jealousy floods over him when he sees the letters from Nathan Riggs, all written in Arabic scattered across the counter. There's a pile of mail on the counter as well, but Derek simply rolls his eyes and decides to deal with it later.
He does, however, greet Bella, just as Meredith had. Their dog is extremely well-behaved, probably because of the police training, but Bella is just as happy to see them home as a puppy would be.
He showers, and as the hot water cascades over him, he can't get Riggs out of his mind. Never before has he felt such searing envy, and for no good reason at all.
Right then and there he decides that he and Meredith need to talk. They need to establish what, exactly, their relationship is.
All Derek knows at this point, is that they're more than friends, and he wants more. So much more. But something tells him that if he tells Meredith that, it will be the end. For a Marine, he's learned that she's pretty easily spooked when it comes to relationships.
They both finish at the same time, and Derek begins making dinner, as Meredith shuffles through the mail.
He tries to figure out a way to work up the nerve to ask her the question that's been burning up his mind for so long now.
He places dinner on the table and they both start eating in heavy silence. Bella lays at their feet, waiting for some 'accidentally dropped scraps. Meredith finally breaks the silence, pulling over an envelope and opening it.
"I need to ask you something." She meets his gaze, her tone serious. Derek straightens instantly, cocking his head to urge her on. He honestly has no idea what she's going to say. "Yesterday this came in the mail."
She hands him a white slip of paper, very formal looking.
"A ball?" Derek frowns, reading aloud, then staring at the woman across from him.
"That is an invite to the most exclusive United States Marine Corps event there is."
"Are you going?"
"Yes, of course, I'm going. I could never turn down an invitation like that."
"Okay...?"
She takes a deep breath. "Look, what I'm trying to ask is if you want to come with me?"
"What?" Derek doesn't think he heard her right.
"It's expected- though not required- that I bring a date. All the other service members are in relationships so wives, husbands, boyfriends, girlfriends, fiancées, everyone will be in attendance." A pause. "Will you be my date?"
Meredith bites her lip nervously, her gaze not leaving Derek's as she awaits a response, her stomach-churning.
Derek pulls back in surprise. He doesn't know what exactly he had been expecting, but it wasn't that. He doesn't need to think before he answers confidently.
"I would be honored." He smiles. Meredith's fear dissipates and is replaced with joy.
"You will?"
"Of course I will, you said yourself it's the most exclusive event. How could I turn down an invite?"
"I-I'm not going to be in a fancy dress and a ton of makeup, if that's part of the reason you're agreeing," Meredith, lacking confidence begins to ramble. "I'll be in uniform. And you'll have to wear a tux and-"
"Meredith," Derek effectively cuts her off and places his hand over hers. "I don't care if you're in a dress, frankly I think you look really hot in a uniform. And I have plenty of tuxedos."
She smiles, blushing slightly. "Thank you."
"I'm afraid I'm highly uneducated on what's expected at this ball, so you'll have to teach me." Derek searches her gaze.
"Yes, right. It's simple, really. We have weeks to go over that."
Derek smiles, overjoyed at the thought of going to a fancy, professional ball with Meredith Grey. So, he leans over and kisses her.
She's shocked for a split second but relaxes, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck and pulling his body closer to hers. Dinner forgotten, the two passionately make out right in the middle of the kitchen, until Derek has to pull back and force them to stop.
"What does this mean for us?" He demands, though his tone is gentle.
"What?"
"I'm going as your date to a fancy ball. What exactly is our relationship, Meredith? What are we?"
They search each other's eyes for a long few moments. Meredith had known this was coming, this was the next logical step. "I-I'm not sure. What do you want it to be?" Hope flickers in Meredith's chest, hoping that he'll say the one thing she wants to hear.
They are living together, after all. That's got to mean something.
"Mer, I don't want to do this weird thing we're doing anymore."
Meredith's heart plummets. Of course.
"I want more."
Her breath catches in her throat, shocked.
"I want to keep living together, I want us to build something here, and I feel like we already have begun to do just that. I want you." As soon as he opened his mouth, the words that had been bouncing around his head came pouring out.
Slowly, a smile makes its way onto Meredith's features. "Derek Shepherd, are you asking to be my boyfriend?"
"Yes?"
She laughs, and the sound makes Derek light up.
"I would love that. I would love to be your girlfriend."
Derek lets out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and smiles. "Really?"
"Yes, McDreamy, yes."
He stops, frowning. "McDreamy? Where did you hear about that?"
"Hospital gossip," Meredith shrugs, smirking. "A while ago. I wanted to wait for the perfect time to use it."
"By hospital gossip, you mean Cristina Yang?"
"Possibly," she answers vaguely, but the smile gives it away. Meredith had indeed heard Cristina refer to Derek as McDreamy and Mark Sloan as McSteamy multiple times. "Don't worry. It suits you. You are very dreamy."
Derek smirks, pulling her in for another deep, desperate kiss to make their new change in relationship official.
They finish dinner happily, then Derek realizes he has to get to the hospital. His shift starts at eight, and he gets off at noon the following day.
"I have to get to work. I'll see you tomorrow. You'll be okay on your own here?"
"I have Bella." Meredith smiles.
With one more peck, Derek gathers his things and leaves his new girlfriend at home with their dog for the night. Meredith is exhausted from the day and moves to the couch after cleaning up dinner. She surfs through the channels until she finds something decent to watch.
Bella lays on the couch with her, and it begins to storm. Heavy rain pelts the windows, but its more soothing than anything. With the combined noises from outside and Bella's warm presence, Meredith is soon fast asleep on the couch.
"Hey, look at me, look at me, Adams! Stay with me, you're gonna be okay. Just stay awake." I'm shouting into the boy's face as I work quickly. Lance Corporal Corey Adams is only twenty. I've been in service twice as long as he has.
"I-I had to..." He stutters, blood bubbling in his mouth as he tries to speak. "I didn't mean to...he had a gun."
"Shh, don't talk." I try to hush him.
I glance behind me, where a kid, about ten years old, lay dead on the ground. "What fuckers use a kid to-" He's cut off by his own scream in pain as I twist a tourniquet onto his leg.
"You did what you had to do, Marine. You saved your unit. You did good, now I've gotta get you stable until evac gets here."
"I shot a kid." His voice is tortured and I find him staring directly at the child. I reach a hand to his head and force his face away from the body, back to looking at me.
It wasn't Adams' fault. The kid had come up behind our mission unit with an AK47 in his hands, ready to kill everyone. A ten-year-old kid. Adams had shot first.
"He was just a kid, Colonel. Fuck!" He yells again as I continue, using one of my knees to hold pressure over the open wound on his abdomen as I try and save his leg. After the kid, someone launched an RPG into the building the unit was sheltering in. Everyone got out except Adams.
Corey's a good person. A young kid. He's already seen the horrible things a person can't unsee from deployment. He's saved ten lives today alone.
"I can't..." He stutters, coughing and splattering blood on both of our camouflage uniforms.
"You can. You gotta hold on for me. We're gonna get you home so you can see that mom of yours, I bet she's worried out of her mind." I talk to him, using anything I can to keep him conscious. Everyone knows Adams writes his mother all the time. As I said, he's a good kid. He was raised right. He's good-humored and great at his job, enlisting right out of high school.
"I killed a kid." He whispers, his head rolling to one side to again look at the body near us. The rest of our unit waits for helicopter evac outside of the run-down, makeshift shelter I'm sitting in right now. I shake his head again, forcing his gaze away.
"Colonel Grey!" Someone yells from outside and my focus shifts away from my patient for a split second to whoever's outside.
A split second is all it takes. I don't see Corey reach a shaking hand to his gun holster around his leg. I don't see him cock the M9 and press it to his temple. When I return to him, hearing that backup has arrived, the only thing I see is his finger pulling the trigger.
Blood splatters across my face. Blood doesn't bother me, I'm a military field surgeon. But this is different.
It takes a minute for my brain to register what just happened. And I slowly sit back, frozen to my spot on the ground.
His eyes meet mine, and I can't tear me gaze away as I watch his features relax, and I watch as every ounce of life drains from his eyes. His pretty blue orbs glaze over and get cloudy, and I can see the pain leave his body.
"Ma'am-" The same voice says, this time closer, but stops when the person sees what's in front of me. It's someone from my unit, but I don't know who. I'm stunned into unmoving silence. I can't seem to look away from the kid laying in front of me, blood pooling around us.
Corey Adams pulled the trigger with the gun pointed at his own head, while I was talking to him, promising he'd live and see his mom again.
The sound of the shot rings in my ears, the blood warm on my sweat-soaked cheeks and forehead.
I'm vaguely aware of someone helping me to my feet and guiding me out of the shelter. I make no attempt to wipe away the blood littering my face and clothes as I step back out into the burning sun, back to base.