"I'll meet you there in a few hours, okay? Leave. Let me sleep."
Derek chuckles, finishing styling his hair in the mirror. He turns to face his girlfriend, still half-asleep and curled in bed with Bella.
"Fine. I'll see you at ten when your shift starts. Don't be late." He stifles a yawn as he walks out of the room, smiling at Meredith's incoherent response to his words. Derek's shift starts at six in the morning today, so he's heading in way earlier than Meredith on both of their first days back.
He knows how hard it's been for her to sleep, so he leaves as quietly as possible, feeling the usual worry settle in his chest as he walks out the door and into his car. Every time he leaves her alone, he feels like something bad is going to happen to Meredith. Maybe it's paranoia- it probably is- but he can't control it.
Since the night she nearly suffocated herself because of a night terror so bad, he can't shake it. If he's not sleeping in the same bed as her, it feels off. He shakes his head, clearing those thoughts from his head as he starts his drive to work.
Derek's tired, too. A few nights a week, he wakes up to her thrashing, yelling, crying, or panicking in the middle of the night. They've fallen into the routine where he comforts her, and sometimes she goes back to sleep in his arms. But most of the time, they sit together in the dark; both too afraid to go back to sleep.
He's lacking in sleep, but he's never going to tell her that. She feels horrible enough about her PTSD without worrying about him. At least she went to therapy.
Even though the support group isn't exactly what he had in mind, it's better than nothing. And the previous night, when he had picked her up from a diner, she had hugged another woman before leaving.
Meredith made a friend, hopefully, someone who can help her. Derek's grateful for at least that.
As Derek pulls into the hospital parking lot, it's almost eerie how empty it all seems. Of course, he knows that after a mass shooting they're not going to have as many patients as usual for a while, but he didn't expect there to be none.
Sighing, he heads up to his office, only to be stopped by the rumbling voice he knows so well.
"You've got that glow."
"What?" Derek turns to face Mark Sloan, who is leaning against the doorframe of his own office, smirking at Derek in the hall.
"You're finally getting laid. Is GI Jane cleared? Or are you breaking the rules?" Mark wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Kinky."
"Oh my God," Derek groans, continuing down the hall to his office. Of course, Mark follows.
"C'mon, it's been so long since you got some. I was starting to think I'd have to send a bunch of nurses to fawn all over you."
"Are you serious?"
Mark shrugs, feigning innocence. "It wouldn't take much to convince them."
Setting his briefcase down and hauling his body into the chair behind his desk, Derek crosses his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes at Mark.
"You're not going to let this go until you get details, are you?"
Giving him a cocky smile, Mark shuts the door and settles onto Derek's couch, prompting him to continue with a raised brow.
"Fine. Yes, we...or, I have been getting some," Derek chokes out. "She's not cleared, so technically I haven't broken any rules."
Mark releases a deep belly laugh, taking so much joy in seeing Derek flushed and embarrassed.
"So she's been treating you to some dirty dirty things, eh?"
Derek covers his face with his hands, sparking Mark to laugh again.
"How long til' she can engage in more strenuous activities?"
"About a week, I think. I'm the one who has to clear her."
Mark's jaw drops. "You're in charge of clearing her? And you haven't done it just to be able to have sex? What the hell is wrong with you, man?"
"I'm not a whore," Derek fires back, glaring accusingly.
"Hey, don't hate me because you can't do it like I can."
"Get out of my office right now, or I'm going to punch you."
"I'd like to see you try," Mark smiles, but gets up and starts towards the door anyway. He walks out, but Derek only gets half a second of peace before he sticks his head back in again.
"Lucky bastard." With one wink, Mark says two words and shuts the door again, leaving Derek alone in his office.
Meredith rolls out of bed not long after Derek leaves, because even with Bella, the bed is cold and empty without his presence. Stepping into the shower, Meredith mentally prepares herself for what the day is going to hold.
It's been over eight years since she last worked in a real hospital- it's going to be a big adjustment from what she's used to doing in the Middle East. She has a few hours to kill until she has to be at Seattle grace, and she stops to study her body in the mirror.
Despite feeling much better, her body is still as rugged-looking as ever. The ugly scars are red and raised, marring her entire midsection with wide lines. She runs her fingers over them, shivering.
No pain. But a hell of a lot of memories.
Turning, she twists to get a view of her back, which has a similar-looking scar mirroring the one on the front. Meredith bites her lip and a wave of self-consciousness rolls over her. It's so overpowering, she has to force herself to walk away from the mirror and get dressed.
Pushing the thoughts of her injuries out of her mind, she makes some coffee and takes Bella for a long walk before flicking on the TV as she eats breakfast, intent to watch the news.
She's looking forward to an update on The Scarlet Killer.
For the past five months or so, there's been a serial killer running around Seattle. Almost every time Meredith watches the news or sees a headline, it's about the Scarlet Killer. The FBI got involved a month or two ago, and so far, they say they've made good progress.
Seven women have been brutally murdered. Meredith sucks in a breath, desperately hoping the FBI can get their guy before he strikes again. This is one of the stories Meredith gets invested in. When she was deployed, much of her downtime was spent reading and trying to keep up with what was happening in the States. This is one of her many habits she won't let die.
Soon enough, Meredith is dressed and ready, and she heads to her car to drive to the hospital. As she pulls in, a satisfied smirk settles on her face as she parks her Jeep in one of the closest parking spots to the entrance, one with a sign labeled Head of Trauma.
She walks in slowly, shaking her head to clear memories that immediately threaten her mind from the day of the shooting. Her mind bounces back to Alex, who will be released from Seattle Pres within the next few days. She makes a mental note to help him out with that.
Heading through the wide, confusing halls, she has to ask for directions three times before finally making it to the hall with all the department head offices in it. She walks down it, searching for her name, or at least her title.
Before she finds it, though, she finds her favorite pair of blue eyes, and a smile appears on her face as she steps into his office.
Derek brightens as soon as he sees her, jumping up from his chair behind his desk to come and kiss her. His smile matches her own.
"Find your way around okay?" He asks, standing way closer than is necessary.
"I'm trying to find my office, then I'm going to need some scrubs. This place is confusing as hell."
He chuckles and takes her hand, guiding her a few doors down and stopping in front of one with her name on it.
Colonel Dr. Meredith Grey - Head of Trauma
He looks at her, and the pride in her eyes makes him beam. She opens the door and wrinkles her nose instantly in distaste.
"Wow." Meredith takes in the bland walls, the office nearly completely empty save for the desk and chair. "This place sucks."
Derek laughs loudly. "So it needs a little sprucing up. We can do that, no problem."
She glares at him. "There's not even a chair."
"We'll get you a chair. One with plenty of back support so you'll be comfortable. Even if there was a chair, I'd make you get a new one anyway."
Meredith's glare fades instantly, and she bites back a smile. Her insides warm at his words, and she tosses her bag down on the desk. Sighing, she leans against it and faces Derek, who is eyeing the room, mind running wild with the possibilities.
"Okay, show me where I can get some scrubs. Hopefully, I'll get a patient today. I don't remember this place being so empty."
"It's not usually like this," Derek says softly as he leads them away from her office to the attending's lounge. "It's usually bustling. The shooting scared everyone away."
Meredith holds back an indignant snort at his words. Quite the opposite of the Marines she's so used to being around.
In the lounge, she changes into scrubs, still in awe at how comfortable they are compared to the military-grade ones she remembers vividly.
"Amazing, right?"
Meredith whips around, smiling at Teddy, who now standing in the doorway, sipping coffee.
"Seriously, our old ones were so damn itchy." Meredith agrees, knowing Teddy is referring to the scrubs.
Derek hands his girlfriend a white lab coat, watching as she slowly slips it on.
Meredith is shocked at how familiar it feels. The snug fit of the clean white coat, with her name embroidered on the front, her badge hanging from a pocket.
Teddy audibly sucks in a heavy breath from her spot in the doorway, and Meredith smirks at her. Before she can open her mouth to make a jab at her oldest friend, something beeping makes her jump.
In sync, all three of them check their pagers. Meredith's heart skips a beat when she realizes it's hers that made the noise.
"Incoming trauma!" She announces, laughing at the disappointment on the other's faces.
"Beginners luck," Teddy rolls her eyes. "Of course you get a case after being here all of ten minutes."
Derek's eyes gleam. "Page me if it's neuro."
Meredith shakes her head and brushes past them. For once, she knows where she's going. The ER is on the ground floor, and she speed walks to the elevator to get there.
It's pretty empty when she arrives, but she sees nurses walking around the front desk and rooms. Excitement courses through her, and she can already feel her adrenaline kicking in as she pulls on the trauma gown and gloves. One of the nurses working the desk comes over to brief her.
"Thirty-five-year-old female, multiple GSWs to the left leg and arm."
Meredith freezes. "Gunshot wounds? In Seattle?"
"Cop, I think," the nurse replies, and Meredith stands there until a high-pitched voice snaps her out of her daze.
"Colonel, if there's GSW to the leg, then we'll likely need ortho." April Kepner says, touching Meredith's arm gently.
Meredith sucks in a breath, nodding. She already forgot she's not all on her own here. Surgeons from all specialties are at her disposal. She quickly tells the nurse to page ortho and heads outside to the ambulance bay to wait. April comes with her but doesn't pull on a trauma gown of her own.
"I'm not used to this," Meredith mutters under her breath, a flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck.
"I know," April says kindly, "Don't worry. You'll get the hang of things soon. This is a hell of a lot easier than being in a tent in the desert. You have as many supplies and as many hands as you need right at your disposal. It'll take time to learn how to use them."
Meredith nods, calming herself down. She's seen countless GSW patients in the past and treated them without a problem in the middle of a warzone, so this should be a breeze. Right?
As soon as the ambulance sirens hit her ears, Meredith's heart rate picks up again and her chest tightens. She looks around for anything, trying to center herself.
It's not a bomb alarm. There's no bomb incoming. No air raid, no attack.
Another body next to her causes her to jump, but Meredith relaxes when she recognizes Callie Torres, who gives her a bright smile.
"It's great to see you here, Colonel. I never imagined I'd be working with the woman I operated on months ago."
Meredith releases her nerves in a breathy chuckle as the ambulance comes into sight. Taking on a joking tone, she says, "Thanks for that, by the way. I owe you one."
The ambulance halts and Callie surges forward to the doors, saving her from having to respond.
Two paramedics jump out, one sitting on top of the gurney. A dark-haired woman lays unconscious, blood and swelling all over her face and hands. The paramedic is practically sitting on the woman's leg, which is soaked through with the sticky crimson liquid.
The paramedic running on the side of the gurney rattles off stats, and the group heads into a trauma room where more nurses appear to assist the surgeons. April stays near Meredith but doesn't intervene.
"Looks like we're going to need plastics too," Callie says gaze darting from the woman's hands and face to her leg, and a nurse instantly goes to page someone.
"Can we get some x-rays before we open her up? A CT?" Meredith looks at Callie, unsure of how to proceed.
The Latina nods, firing off orders, and Meredith quickly catches on to how she's running things. The door to the room swings open and closed, and Meredith can hear voices and people outside. Not even close to as loud as she's used to.
Working diligently, they get a blood transfusion going and scans. As soon as Meredith sees the x-rays, she realizes the chances of the woman surviving drop drastically.
One bullet clipped the femoral artery, cleared through her femur, and buried itself in her thigh muscle. The other is stuck smack in the center of the femur, just above the knee. The bone is shattered around it. This woman is bleeding out faster than they can replace her blood.
The paramedics have disappeared, and without thinking, Meredith jumps onto the gurney and presses all of her body weight on the open wound, trying to slow the bleeding.
"We need an OR. Now," she growls through her teeth.
In less than a minute, the gurney is moving. Meredith stays on top, nurses, and doctors surrounding her. When they exit the trauma room, a wail sounds from nearby.
"Oh, God! Oh, God!"
Meredith glances up and sees a blonde woman, clearly in a panic, surrounded by multiple others, who seem to be holding her at bay, but appear just as worried.
"Olivia! Oh my God!" The blonde cries, knees buckling at the sight of the woman on the gurney, who Meredith learns from the whisper of a nurse next to her is named Olivia Prenton.
The blonde woman's cries pierce into Meredith's heart like a hot blade, and she doesn't know what to do. She hasn't had to deal with families of patients since she was a young resident.
Callie moves away from them and jogs to the group. Meredith assumes she's updating them, and she's incredibly glad Callie's doing it because she wouldn't know what to say.
April stands behind her as they get in the elevator, and they are quickly joined by the one and only Mark Sloan. Meredith resists the urge to roll her eyes when she sees his face.
Mark stops in front of the elevator doors, eyebrows lifting in surprise. "Okay, GI Jane. One hell of a way to mark your first day, huh?"
Meredith shakes her head the Callie rejoins them in the elevator, which a nurse has been holding until the ortho surgeon could get away from the family.
Breathlessly, Callie turns to the two other surgeons as the elevator surges up, gesturing at their patient. "This is Supervisory Special Agent Olivia Prenton, FBI."
Meredith tenses and everyone falls quiet in shock.
"The blonde out there is her girlfriend, and everyone else out there is on the team she leads. These people have been working nonstop for the past two months. It's all over the news. This woman just single-handedly took down The Scarlet Killer."