Derek is kept busy on the couch, yelling at Mark, mostly, and completely focused on the game at hand. The two near-brothers have always had a rivalry when it came to video games, and Derek is not about to give up his crown.
That is, until he feels a shaky hand on his shoulder. Stopping his yelling momentarily, he turns to see Teddy standing over him, looking both anxious and sick.
"Are you okay?" He tosses his controller to Jackson, demanding that he doesn't mess up his progress, and turns back to the vet.
"Um, you may want to go check on her." Teddy's voice wavers. "The bathroom."
Derek is confused for a second, scotch making his thoughts come slowly, but as soon as an explosion sounds from the television so loud it causes the room to shake, he realizes what Teddy means. Fear and guilt crash over him instantly and mercilessly.
"Turn that down!" He yells at the other surgeons, who all give him confused looks but obey, bringing the volume of the game down to dull. "Are you okay?" He repeats again, studying Teddy's face.
"I'm gonna uh, just get some fresh air, I think." She nods, casting a wary look at the television then breaking away, heading towards the front door.
Derek makes his way urgently to the closed bathroom door and knocks lightly. "Meredith? Mer, are you in there?"
Icy cold emotions flood over him and, scared by the lack of response, he knocks again. "Meredith, are you okay?" Still nothing. "I'm coming in."
He opens the door and sticks his head in, his heart plummeting. She looks pale and exhausted, sitting on the floor with her head tilted back. He steps in and closes the door behind him. "Meredith."
She opens her eyes to look at him, acknowledging his presence with a weak smile. "I'm sorry."
"What the hell are you sorry for?" He sinks to the ground next to her, studying her face.
She shrugs, her voice soft and shaking. "Ruining the party. I think I had too much to drink. Or my system isn't used to the greasiness of that unhealthy food."
"You're not ruining the party." He insists. "How are you feeling?"
"Sick. Slow." She swallows thickly. "Scared." His face must have shown his confusion, so she continues. "It's just a game. I-I don't know why..."
Derek presses his lips together. "I am so sorry, I-I should have known not to...I should've known better. It's my fault, I didn't think-"
"Don't be stupid," Meredith cuts him off, her voice very weak. "It's just a game. It doesn't mean anything."
Derek doesn't buy her act, all too used to the I'm fine mask she wears. "I should have used my head before I suggested we play it. I was an idiot and didn't think about you or Teddy." He wants to punch himself in the face right now, he's so angry. It should have been obvious that a violent war game wasn't the best choice for entertainment. He's such an asshole.
"It's just a damn video game," she repeats. "It's not your fault."
"I can't imagine the memories it must have brought up. I'm so sorry." He says, weakly attempting to see if she'll talk to him.
Meredith quivers, images of blood and gore flashing through her mind. She's mortified that she's like this in front of Derek, wishing that the dreams and flashbacks would just stop.
"You don't get it," she starts, "you can't even begin to comprehend what kind of things we saw over there. I told you stories about cool surgeries. Lives I saved miraculously. You don't know about the ones I lost. Those..." she bites her lip, "those are the ones that haunt me."
"So tell me," He whispers, shifting closer to her, "just talk to me."
"It's not that easy. I can't-" her voice breaks and she turns to face him, "Don't you see that? I can't."
"Why?" He presses.
"It's horrible, Derek. It's awful. The sights, sounds, smells, everything. It still haunts me, and I won't let it haunt you too. You don't want to know." Meredith tries to get him to understand that this is for the best. It's better for him if he stays in the dark.
"I don't care, you can't go through this alone."
"I have Teddy. Hunt and Kepner managed to do it, right? Why can't I?"
"They had support, Meredith. They talked to people."
"You want me to go to therapy." She says lamely, not looking at him.
"I-it doesn't have to be therapy. Just talk to someone, anyone. Anything but keeping everything you're going through to yourself. You can't do it alone."
They are silent for a long few minutes before Meredith finally speaks again. "That day...when the Hellfire missile landed in our base..."
Derek sits up, shifting to face her. She's clearly struggling to keep herself grounded as she speaks, so he doesn't press her.
"As a Colonel, I was in charge of the entire medical side of things. I was in the middle of a surgery. We had six scrub nurses for the four surgeons that were there. That's it. In the biggest base in Iraq, that was all we had."
He inhales sharply, trying to picture what she's describing.
"I was with one nurse, operating on George O'Malley. George was...he was one of my closest friends. We grew up together, enlisted together. I hadn't seen him in, god, probably two years, and then he was on my table. It was bad, I doubt I could've saved him. I needed more hands, but we just got word about more incoming. So, my three surgeons and remaining nurses, Teddy included, left the camp to go receive the humvee full of injured soldiers.
"And then...that's when I heard it. The rumble started out in the distance, like thunder, so I ignored it. Then it got louder and louder. Closer. There were smaller explosions before, so I looked up and feeling that missile so close to me was the last thing I remember before I blacked out. Everything after that is blurry. I remember the pain. It was the worst pain I've felt in my entire life. Teddy hovering over me, people shouting, the smell of burning and fire and blood. I couldn't move. I was on the ground, sandy, paralyzed, staring at the smoky sky, choking on my own blood. Then, all of the sudden, I was here in Seattle, on the helipad with you."
Derek is shocked into silence as his mind struggles to catch up with what she's saying. Meredith is shaking slightly, pressing her eyes shut.
When he doesn't respond, hurt flashes through Meredith. Of course, as soon as she opens herself up he realizes it's too much. She is too much, she's too screwed up for him. This suddenly turns to anger.
"Is that what you wanted to hear, Derek? I have hundreds of stories like that. Stories that haunt me, and if I open my mouth and tell them to you, they'll haunt you too. I can't. Maybe we shouldn't..."
If Meredith wasn't still kind of an invalid, she would probably have stormed out by now. She doesn't doubt that her body would give out on her in three steps. Then again, if she wasn't an invalid, she wouldn't be here in the first place.
"Meredith, stop." He cups her cheek with his hand, forcing their gazes to meet. "Thank you. Thank you for telling me. I know you have stories. You've been through unimaginable trauma, you're allowed to be a little messed up after that. I needed a minute to process what you said, but it's okay. You're okay now."
"I don't need you to comfort me and tell me that I'm safe in Seattle. I know this isn't anywhere near as bad as the places I lived in."
"No, you don't need it. I know you don't. But it's nice to have those little reminders sometimes, isn't it?"
She shrugs, dropping her gaze.
"Tell me more," Derek says abruptly.
She flicks her gaze back up to him. "What?"
"I've heard the good, now let me hear the bad. Let me hear it all. I don't care how horrible it is."
For some reason, she feels herself growing defensive. "Why? Why would you want to put yourself through that? If I tell you, you'll never be able to forget it."
"For you, Meredith. I'd do anything for you."
She hesitates for a moment, not really processing the weight behind his words. "So you want to hear how I watched a twenty-year-old kid put a bullet straight through his own head as I was kneeling next to him, saving his life? Or the time when a man came up behind me and held a knife to my throat before we blew up his entire base?" She points at the faded scar on her neck.
"I got dust phenomena because I left the medical bunker I was running and traveled through a sandstorm so bad I nearly suffocated so I could get to an injured soldier in the other bunker across camp. Once, on a mission, my humvee full of people was blown up. You know how many survivors there were? Three. Including myself. Do you want to know about me having to cut their bodies out of the flipped humvee, or dragging them across the sand so I could try and treat them? Then, a man pointing a machine gun at me, who I had to kill to save myself."
Once Meredith opens her mouth, everything starts coming with no filter. She doesn't even realize she's crying until a sob cuts her off from continuing.
Derek sits next to her, mouth open. He's utterly shocked and doesn't know what to do; what to think. His brain can't even fully comprehend what she's saying.
On instinct, when he hears her broken voice and shaky breaths, he moves closer and gently pulls her into him. Leaning against the wall for support, he cradles her against his chest, simply letting her cry.
He doesn't say anything. It's okay would be stupid, because everything is clearly not okay.
"Thank you," Derek whispers when her sobs slow to a few sniffles. "Thank you for telling me. I know it wasn't easy. Thank you."
"I ruined your shirt," she says warily, risking a glance back up at him.
He gives her a weak smile, lowering his head to kiss her. "I don't care about the shirt."
After the kiss, which does provide some comfort to Meredith, she pulls away again. Unable to meet his gaze, she says, "Derek, I was a field surgeon. I went out on missions after completing the basic training every other real soldier goes through. I...I had to kill people. I'm a surgeon, I'm supposed to save lives and over there...I did some terrible things. I experienced some terrible things.
"I've seen bodies- broken, bloodied bodies- of children littering streets of a town that was just attacked. The smell of burnt flesh as smoke fills the air..." Meredith shivers, suddenly smelling the exact same scent. Her stomach rolls and she instantly moves to hang over the toilet.
He's beside her again, pulling her hair away from her face as he listens to the tell-tale sound of her vomiting into the toilet. He supports her body with his own, knowing how weak it is, and feels her heave.
After a minute, she slowly sinks back down to the floor, and Derek lets her hair go. She takes a shaky breath, cringing at the taste left in her mouth. It hurts both her stomach and back to hunch over the toilet like that.
"Bottom line," she breathes as he sits back as well, "is that I've seen and done horrible things that I can't take back, no matter how much I wish I could. I didn't want to put that on you. No one should ever have to do what veterans like I have done. I'm trying to figure out how to deal with it. Okay? There's so much I'm constantly thinking about. And I don't want to go to freakin' therapy."
Derek nods slowly, noticing how she jerks when muffled yelling from the living room reaches them.
"I'll kick them out," he offers, already standing up.
"No," she catches his wrist and he stops, "I don't want to ruin the party. Let them stay, I'll just go to my room or something."
He simply sits back down next to her, neither of them saying anything. In the past five minutes, he'd gotten further with her than he had in weeks. But now he needs to process everything she said, and that's not going to happen while he's slightly intoxicated with a house full of drunk surgeons.
He shifts to study Meredith, who is staring at the ground. Her whole body is throbbing and she feels gross. Pure exhaustion has overtaken her mind, and all she wants is to go to bed, although, that's also not going to happen with a house full of drunk surgeons. Her bedroom is right next to the living room.
"Why don't you go up to my room?" Derek says, and her gaze snaps to him, brows furrowed. He then realizes how that could be misinterpreted. "No- I mean, it'll be much quieter upstairs. I'll just come up later when everything quiets down."
"No one is driving home tonight: I'm pretty sure each person except for Teddy, maybe, is completely hammered."
At this, Derek laughs. She's right.
"Let Callie and Arizona take my room, or Alex and Cristina. It doesn't matter who, but it appears we're having a giant surgeon slumber party."
"You're okay with everyone staying here?"
"Where else are they going to go? You're pretty damn remote out here. Someone will end up driving into the lake or a tree or something."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, you and I can share your bed."
He's shocked into silence.
"Shit. I-I mean, if you want to. We don't have to. I could-"
"Nope. No, that sounds good to me. We'll share the bed." Derek cuts her off, unable to keep a smile off his face, which then causes Meredith to smile as well.
He helps her get to her feet, then watches as she leaves the bathroom and goes upstairs to clean up and get ready for bed. It is really late, and Derek heads back into the living room. His head is still buzzing from his drinks, so he knows tonight's not the best night to try and figure out everything Meredith's said.
Soon enough, every one of the very drunk surgeons is settled into a room, a couch, a chair, or the floor- in Mark's case. Only then does Derek realize that Teddy isn't even inside.
He heads towards the front door, trailed by Bella, who had been hiding upstairs for the majority of the party. The ex-police dog doesn't like loud noises or people yelling.
Derek steps out onto the porch, where he sees Teddy sitting on the steps, head in her hands. Bella promptly runs out and sits next to her, making Teddy smile.
It's not raining, but the air is damp with moisture as Derek sits next to Teddy as well.
"You've been out here awhile. Are you okay?"
"I'm okay," Teddy confirms. "I just couldn't deal with that game anymore. How's Death?"
Derek just shrugs, not really knowing how to describe their interactions that night.
Teddy just sighs. "I...I started going to therapy. Owen recommended this really good guy who specializes in veterans. I don't really know if it's helping, and I haven't told anyone besides Owen and now, you."
He perks up at this, petting Bella's head intently. The dog has settled comfortably between the two people on the porch. "I've been trying to get Meredith to go," he admits. "She refuses."
"You can't just tell her she needs to go to therapy and force her to go. That's never going to work. We both know how stubborn she is." Teddy says with a half-smile and raised eyebrow, now facing Derek. "She has to realize she needs it herself. You can give her little pushes in the right direction, but flat out saying it is just going to make her feel suffocated."
"So she has to suffer? For how much longer?"
Teddy shrugs. "I really don't know. There's no timeline for this. She's just going to try and deal with it on her own for as long as she can. Eventually, she'll realize the effect it's having on herself and the people around her, and she'll want to go to get better. But until then, I think the only thing you really can do is be there for her."
Derek nods seriously, trying to memorize every word Teddy says. "I'm not going anywhere, Teddy. I swear, I'm with her for the long run. It just hurts me to see her so hurt."
"I know. It hurts me, too. But that's it. That's all there is to it. She's never going to be the same; you know that, right? It will get better, but it'll never go away completely."
"I know, and I plan to be here for all of it."
Teddy smiles warmly, extremely glad to see firsthand how much love Derek has for her best friend.
"Have you told her yet?"
He frowns. "Told who what?"
"Told Meredith. That you love her."
At this, Derek breaks into nervous laughter, avoiding eye contact, "What- who said- that's just- Teddy, I don't know what you're thinking-"
The Marine cuts him off with a disbelieving hum. "Okay, save it, McDreamy. I won't say a word until you do, but I think it's pretty damn obvious."
Teddy gets up and walks to her car, assuring him that she's okay to drive, and Derek hears the engine of her car rumble and fades as she drives off, leaving him alone on the porch.
Teddy's right, and he knows it.
He loves her.
Derek loves Meredith.
Despite all the odds, he loves her. He loves her more than anything.
But how the hell is he going to tell her that?