"Semper fi, Colonel."
Meredith stops in her tracks, finally making eye contact with her friend, a small smile on her face. "Oorah!"
Derek frowns, he'd been standing in the back of the room while the women scrubbed. Meredith's posture was, strangely, like normal. If one of his sisters had been shot, Derek knows for sure he'd be a mess, but the two veterans in front of him seem completely fine.
He understands why they're acting the way they are, but it leaves him in awe. They both are able to control themselves and stay clear-headed. It's amazing.
"We got this, Derek. We've done this thousands of times before." Teddy breaks him out of his thoughts with a glance over her shoulder before stepping into the OR.
Derek moves up to the gallery, figuring he'd have a better view up there. He turns on the intercom and the quiet, empty space is instantly filled with Meredith's assertive voice, as well as Teddy's.
They've already made the opening incision and are searching for the bullet.
"Suction! Damn it, there's too much blood. Push heparin."
Derek sits, gaze stuck on his girlfriend. He's never seen her operate before. Of course, he knows the surgeries she's done and how great of a doctor she is, but for the first time he actually gets to see her performing a real surgery.
Terrible circumstances, but breathtaking nonetheless.
She's confident and calm, her voice clear and commanding. Her hands are perfect, deft fingers moving quickly.
She looks really, really good. It's magical, seeing Meredith back in the OR. Magical.
xx
Many hours later, Alex is being wheeled out of the OR and into the ICU.
They had almost lost him. Twice.
As the room clears, Meredith rips off her mask and gown and sinks to the floor, leaning against the wall. Her entire body hurts. She breathes, slowly, and feels someone else move right next to her. Teddy.
"He's gonna be okay. We did everything right." Teddy says quietly. Derek leaves his spot in the gallery to make his way back to the OR.
"He crashed on us. Twice." Meredith sighs. "And I shot a man today."
"You what?"
"I took down the shooter with one of the security guard's guns. I killed him."
Teddy is quiet for a long minute. "And we thought we would be done with guns when we got back to the States."
Meredith smiles softly, "That's what I said."
The door to the OR opens and Derek steps in. "That was...incredible."
Both women frown, then Meredith smiles, "That's the first time you've seen me operate?"
"Yeah, and the two of you together...Alex will be okay, I'm sure of it."
Meredith rests her head back on the cool wall as Teddy stands. "I have a couple of patients I need to check on. Good work, Death."
"Oorah," Meredith replies weakly. The Marine's battle cry. Teddy laughs lightly and leaves, so Derek takes her spot on the floor next to the blonde surgeon.
"I need to look at your arm now," he whispers.
"I'm not moving, grab a suture kit and do it here," she orders. In reality, her body would probably give out on her if she tried to stand or walk anywhere. Derek gets up and crosses the OR to grab sterile equipment and returns to her side. She pulls up her sleeve, revealing the blood-soaked butterfly bandages just barely holding together the crusted gash on her arm.
They are quiet as he cleans the wound, Meredith hissing in pain at the stinging from him disinfecting it.
"Looks deep. Just muscle damage, you didn't hit any nerves or major blood vessels. You got so lucky." Derek tells her after examining it.
She sighs, pressing her good arm over her face, trying to massage the stress and pain out of it. Tears prick at the back of her eyes, but she pushes them back.
"I don't have anything to numb you," he says quietly, hovering just over the skin.
"Just do it."
Derek nods and quickly sutures her arm together as best as possible. As he does so, it takes everything Meredith has to keep still and let him do what he needs to do. She bites down on her lip to prevent any pained noises, to the point where she tastes blood.
It takes a solid eight stitches to pull to wound together completely. Derek pulls back when he's finished, and Meredith sighs loudly in relief.
"You need to rest. Let's find an on-call room."
"What about Alex?"
"Teddy will keep an eye on him. You've overexerted yourself a lot today. I'm exhausted and I'm not recovering from major trauma."
Meredith nods. "You're right, but I think you're gonna have to help me get up and out of here."
He smiles and bends to help her up, supporting her spine as he does so. The pain makes Meredith's eyes water, and her legs shake from so much strain after suddenly being used so much after so little for months during her recovery.
With arms around each other for support, they find an on-call room in one of the far corners of the OR floor, and they enter it. Thankfully, it's empty.
Meredith kicks off her shoes and collapses into the bed, Derek doing the same thing.
The two lay together in the dark, not saying anything.
Meredith's adrenaline from the day has worn off by now, and all she can think about is the look in Gary Clark's eyes when she was talking to him, then when she put a bullet in his chest.
She killed a man today.
Of course, Meredith has killed before. During live combat, it's yourself or the enemy. But overseas, she only killed bad, bad people. People who threatened everything the US stands for.
Gary Clark was a sick man, sick from losing his wife, apparently. He was a civilian.
Before Meredith even realized what was happening, the tears came. Derek shifts his body closer and wraps her tightly close to him as soon as he hears the sniffles.
"You-you need to tell me why Mr. Clark was trying to kill you and everyone else today." She hiccups, trying to stop her sobs.
"I will," Derek promises quietly, swallowing back the lump in his throat at the thought. "Just calm down first, okay?"
Meredith only nods, burying her face into his scrub top once again. The shooting itself, and nearly losing Alex are all hitting her, and she can't control the emotions coming in full force.
Fifteen minutes later, Meredith is asleep on Derek's chest. His shirt is damp with her tears, and she had cried herself out so much that she fell asleep before they could talk.
He's okay with that. She needs her rest, the talk can wait.
Hours later, Meredith jerks awake, heart pounding. Her body is trapped and she pulls away roughly, trying to escape. She moves to the edge of the bed, gasping for breath.
"You okay, Mer?"
The voice scares her for a moment, but when she whirls around she recognizes Derek and begins to calm. He looks tired, but even in the dark, she can see the concern in his gaze. She nods slowly, realizing that she wasn't trapped in anything, she was in his arms.
"I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry for," he moves closer to her, wanting to offer comfort.
Meredith stands abruptly. "I need to check on Alex. And figure out what the hell happened today."
Derek doesn't have a chance to respond before she leaves the room. He lays back on the bed, gaze flicking to the neatly folded cammies Meredith was wearing earlier. Teddy had slipped in while they slept and set them on the table after finding them still discarded in the scrub room.
Part of him wants to know how many people are injured or hurt from today as well. The other part of him doesn't. It's all his fault.
Derek did that to Alex, he did that to Meredith. He got Meredith shot and set her back by who knows how much mentally after Meredith was forced to shoot someone else. Derek covers his face with his hands, guilt and anger becoming so strong in his body he feels like he might throw up.
He doesn't deserve Meredith. He's not good enough for her. Without a second thought, Derek gathers his things, including the BDU, and walks out of Seattle Pres. He hops into a cab to take him back to Seattle Grace, where his car is still parked.
Right now, all he really wants is a big bottle of scotch.
Meredith leans against the doorway of Alex's ICU room. It took her a while to even find the ICU, and she had to fight another arrogant ass of a doctor to even get in. Alex's stats are stable. All signs point to a good recovery. He should be awake within a matter of hours.
Yet still, something nags at Meredith. Some uneasy feeling of dread, and she's starting to think it has nothing to do with Alex. A body appears next to Meredith out of nowhere, and she jumps.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," Teddy says, folding her arms over her chest and following Meredith's gaze to the bed.
"You're fine, Die." Meredith murmurs.
"Have you seen the news?"
"No. I don't know a damn thing about what happened."
"Police are saying eighteen casualties. Twelve fatal. They're also making you out to be a hero. Those numbers could have been a lot higher."
"Holy shit, twelve dead?" Meredith's heart pounds in her chest with a newfound urgency. "Who? Is Cristina-"
"Yang is fine. So are all our friends. Only a few injuries from the surgical staff, no deaths."
Meredith breathes a sigh of relief, knowing her friends are okay. They're quiet for a minute before Meredith whispers something else. "He was looking for Derek."
The look Teddy gives her is enough to prompt an explanation.
"The shooter. I tried to talk him down first. Almost got him to give me the gun, but he kept saying he was here for Dr. Shepherd. Derek."
"Have you asked him about it?"
"No. I have no idea. After Alex's surgery, we both kind of broke down and slept." Meredith raises her left arm, then flinches in pain and drops it back to her side. "Bullet clipped me."
Teddy's eyes grow wide and she pushes Meredith to get a better look at the wound. A smirk appears on her face. "That's just a cut, you big baby."
"That's what I said!" Meredith defends herself, unable to keep a smile off her face. "Derek threw the stitches in after surgery."
Teddy snorts. "I bet he freaked."
Meredith nods, and they both laugh lightly, then fall into a comfortable silence again.
"You should go home. Get some rest. There's no way I'd be standing after the day you just had."
"Si vales, valeo," Meredith says with a half-smile. When you are strong, I am strong.
"Now's not the time to play hero," Teddy rolls her eyes. "I'll stay with Alex. You need to talk to Derek and find out what the hell happened. Then come tell me, 'cause I want to know too."
Meredith chuckles and nods, casting one last look at Alex before stepping away. Before she can go, Teddy stops her once again. "Summa cum laude, Death. You did well today. It's like you never stopped."
Meredith smiles, knowing Teddy is referring to the first surgery she's performed in months. A successful one in a deadly situation.
Then, Teddy's expression changes and Meredith watches in confusion as her friend fumbles with the pockets of her lab coat, eventually producing a colorful brochure from one of them. She hands it to Meredith.
"I...I started seeing someone. For the PTSD. Owen recommended him. I've only been once, but I found this in his office. I thought it seemed more your style than a personal shrink." Teddy admits quietly, not making eye contact.
Meredith stares at the brochure. It's a support group for wounded veterans. "Teddy, I-"
"Don't say anything. Just read it. You don't have to go, it's just some information, okay? If...if I feel like this-" she motions to her body, "I bet you feel way worse. And I can't stand the thought of you going through it alone. Come talk to me, sometimes."
With a small, warm smile, Teddy turns and walks away, leaving Meredith staring after her. She glances at the cover of the brochure, and the thought of going to therapy makes her stomach roll. She's still in dirty scrubs, but she doesn't care. Hastily, Meredith sticks the brochure in her pocket and finds her way out of Seattle Pres, back home.
xx
Bella greets her at the door when she walks in, and Derek is sitting at the table, head in his hands. He doesn't so much as look up when Meredith enters, which sends a pang of hurt through her, but she brushes it off.
"You okay?" She cocks her head at him. Guilt and grief are radiating off him in waves so strong Meredith picks up on it from across the room.
"Gary Clark-" his voice cracks, and he rubs his eyes. "His wife was a patient of mine. She was braindead, and we had to unplug her because that's what was in her will. It's what she wanted. But it's the opposite of what Gary wanted."
Meredith inches closer, now noticing the half-empty bottle of scotch on the table in front of him.
"He wanted to keep her alive. He begged and begged, and even tried to sue. It was baseless and failed, but he swore he would get revenge on me. And, well," Derek laughs humorlessly, "It seems he did."
Meredith searches his unmoving stance, coming to his side to force him to look at her with a hand. "You think it's your fault all those people died?"
He drops his gaze.
"Derek. Were you the one holding the gun? Did you decide to shoot up a hospital? Did you pull the trigger?" When he doesn't respond, her voice grows more fierce. "Answer me."
"No."
"Then it wasn't your fault. Do you hear me? You did nothing to that man to make him kill all those people. You were doing your job. Do you understand?"
He wrenches himself away from her touch, pushing her arm away so strongly it makes her stumble back. Bella is on her feet, by Meredith's side instantly, in a protective stance.
"You should go. I can't- seeing you right now just makes me- I can't. Just get out of here, please."
Anger flares up within Meredith. Part of her wants to punch him. She knows she could easily break his nose or jaw if she wanted to. She hasn't forgotten any of her hand-to-hand combat training.
"Derek. I'm just trying to help you. Listen to me," she turns to stare at him, eyes narrowed accusingly.
"You got shot, Meredith!" He yells, and everything stops. "You got shot. You could have died. And it's my fault."
The room is silent. Derek's breaths are heavy and fast, and Meredith's eyes churn with emotions. Suddenly, she moves her hands to the hem of her scrub top and pulls it off over her head. Then, she ditches the pants as well.
She stands in front of him, in a sports bra and underwear, watching as his eyes widen.
"This is where I have a metal rod making up half my leg." She points to her lower left leg, where a faded scar trails from her knee to her ankle. "This is from a shoulder reconstruction because I was almost hit with an RPG," she trails her fingers to the incision scar across her shoulder. "This is a gunshot wound, and so is this," she points to a long scar just above her hip and by her elbow.
"This one here shattered three ribs and punctured my lung and diaphragm." Her hands return to the gunshot scar above her hip. "You already know where this came from. Major, life-saving surgery. One that you performed." Meredith motions to the midline scar, then to the ugliest, jagged scar across her midsection. "Not to mention the one on my back. Impaled through and through by shrapnel from one of the deadliest missiles used in warfare today."
"Where are you going with this?" He breathes, absolutely enchanted by her nearly naked body.
"I've been shot before, Derek! You see these scars? I've been through hell. Literal, actual hell. And you know what? I survived. I lived. I'm here, safe in the States telling my stories."
"I know-"
"This, here," she points to the freshly sutured gash on her upper arm from only hours ago, "this is only an addition to the collection. I've done this before."
Derek leans back in his chair, bracing himself against the table as he says quietly, "You've done this before..."
"This has happened before! But you know how many more times it could've happened?"
"What?"
"The number of times I've had a gun pointed at me is countless. Do you think I don't know how to handle myself? Handle a live shooter? I was a field surgeon for seven years and it's thanks to some miracle and my quick thinking that I've only been shot three times because there could have been a shit ton more."
"I never said I doubted your ability to take care of yourself."
"You didn't have to," she snaps back.
"Why don't you understand that I'm just concerned for your safety? It was reckless!"
"You don't need to be concerned for my safety. I'm a big girl, what the hell do you care?" Meredith scoffs, turning away.
"Goddamnit, Meredith!" He yells, standing and gripping the edges of the table tightly. "I love you!"
Everything stops. Meredith goes slack-jawed and stares at him. All her anger dissipates, and she doesn't know if she's just hallucinating or if that was real. "What?" Her voice comes small and hesitant.
In a second, Derek has closed the distance between them and pulled her roughly to him. He makes eye contact with her and in a low voice, he repeats those words. "I love you. I love you, Meredith Grey."