The following morning, Dr. Bailey discharged her with orders that she was not to step foot into the hospital on work-related terms for another week. Derek drove her home, and Meredith didn't bother to object, because people with massive frontal lobe brain tumors don't drive cars.

Her mother had always wanted to be cremated. She claimed that anyone who came to her funeral would likely be a surgeon, and therefore had spent enough time staring at dead bodies already. No need for them to stand over hers.

Meredith didn't even have a funeral, but she was sure that Ellis wouldn't mind. She stuffed the urn in the back of her closet and only wore the clothes she kept in her dresser.

As interns, both Izzie and Alex worked insane shifts, so the house was empty for the majority of the week. Derek called a few times, but Meredith let them go to voicemail. He played the stereotypical concerned boyfriend - how are you? Is there anything I can do? Say the word and I'll come over.

Meredith didn't want him to come over. During the day she sat in the kitchen and contemplated the certainty of her own death. Because, yes, she knew this brain tumor was going to kill her. She supposed she already had some experience with dying, and somehow that made it all the more terrifying.

She returned to work that Monday, and, assuming Derek kept quiet, none of her fellow interns knew that she was a walking time bomb. She really had no intentions of telling them until she either dropped dead or Derek pulled a magic cure out of his ass.

It wasn't as hard as she thought it would be to walk around and pretend like she wasn't dying. Bailey had her on scut, of course, but that was on account of her dead mother. She had no idea that, more than likely, Meredith would be joining her six feet below within the next year.

She spent her morning at the nurses' station filling out charts. She was completely content with checking boxes, dotting i's and crossing t's, because it was so mindless that she allowed herself to be completely absorbed by it.

"Meredith."

She glanced up and smiled pleasantly at Derek, who was leaning on the counter across from her. "Hey."

He frowned. "Don't give me that 'hey' crap, you and I need to talk."

Feigning innocence, she tilted her head to the side. "About what?"

"You know what. You haven't told anyone."

"I didn't want to."

"Meredith, you NEED to."

"Hey," she interjected shrilly. "I'M the patient, and get to share my medical information with whomever I please. It's not my doctor's job to make that choice for me. Just ask HIPPA."

"Right. And as a doctor yourself, you would be morally corrupt to administer an IV in your condition. Never mind step into an OR."

"Do you think I'm an idiot, Derek?!" Meredith snapped. "I know that. Don't you see me sitting here filling out charts?"

Derek raised a critical brow. "And you're having fun doing that?"

Bristling, Meredith paused with her pen poised mid air. "I was until you came over," she grumbled.

"Right." Derek nodded incredulously and shifted to lean on his elbows. "Don't take this lying down, Meredith," he murmured softly. "Let me operate."

Meredith looked back down at her chart. "No."

"If I don't, you have six months, Meredith. Eight if you're lucky. And, forgive me for saying this, but you don't exactly have the best track record when it comes to being lucky."

"I want those six months!" Meredith exploded, trying her best to maintain a dull whisper. "I've barely lived yet, Derek. I want six months, not six days."

Derek regarded her strangely for a long moment, and just when she thought he was going to stand up and walk away, he grabbed her by the wrist. "Then live. Now."

"What?"

"Take a leave of absence. Do everything you've ever wanted to do in the next six months. And then I'll operate, and if you die, at least you'll have lived."

Meredith laughed deliriously. "That's insane."

"It's smart," Derek corrected. "And hey, if I happen to save your life in the process, then that's just a perk, right?"

Meredith considered this. She recalled falling into the water and sinking beneath the surface. And, as she realized she couldn't try any longer, all she could think about was what a shame it was that she would be dying so soon. This was her second chance - even if it was miniscule.

Six months. 180 days.

"Fine," she said, finally, squeezing Derek's hand. "I'll start right now."

Derek grinned. "Really?"

"Yeah. Let's get married."