Author's Note- Hi, everyone! Here is Chapter 28 of Meant to Be. The first half of this chapter is from Derek's POV and the second half is from Meredith's POV. I'm not going to lie… this chapter is very dramatic and angsty. But, while I don't want to make any promises, this should be the last super angsty chapter and even though it is dramatic, I do promise this will be a big turning point in this story. Enjoy?!
When Derek woke-up, the other side of the bed was empty. Meredith had said that she was going to be at the hospital late, spending time with Lexie, but she had never mentioned anything about remaining there overnight. Yawning heavily, Derek reached over and silenced the screaming alarm clock and then grabbed his phone from where it was charging.
It was 7:30 in the morning. Derek and the other plane crash victims were due at the hospital for a conference with Bayview Aeronautics in a mere hour and a half. There was a small amount of time to spare, though, so he sent a text to Meredith: Where are you? Are you still with Lexie?
When Meredith did not reply for over fifteen minutes, Derek called his wife, too, but there was no answer.
Perhaps she had fallen asleep in an on-call room. That was alright; Derek would just have to hitch a ride to the meeting by himself. He got up, changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and combed a bit of his favorite product through his hair. Everything was harder with one of Derek's hands being immobile so he did the bare minimum. Hair gel, to some degree, was necessary, though; otherwise, Derek would be sporting a giant afro.
He had barely finished dressing Zola in a red sundress, the easiest outfit he could locate when the door to one of the spare bedrooms flew open. Alex Karev walked out, carrying a backpack and his car keys. "Oh… hey, Shepherd."
"Hey, Karev. Are you heading out today?"
"Yeah, that's the plan but I need to go up to the hospital one more time and say a few goodbyes. Where's Mer?"
"That is a very good question," Derek said. "I don't know; she didn't come home last night. I'm guessing there were some kind of complications with Lexie and she didn't want to worry me."
Karev nodded; he did not appear particularly concerned. "Yeah, probably… you know Meredith; she likes her private time."
That was true. All the same, Derek called Karev back as he began to walk away. "Hey, wait a sec. You're going to the hospital? Mind giving me a lift? I'm supposed to be up there for the meeting with the airline at 9:00."
"Oh, right," Karev said. "Yeah, but we'll have to take your car. Mine is loaded up with all my shit and I don't have a carseat for Zola anymore."
Ten minutes later, Zola had been fed a quick breakfast and Derek retrieved his keys. The two men hit the road. It was an awkward drive; Derek was virtually never around Karev without Meredith present. He had called her twice more since getting out of bed and left messages yet there was no response.
She's probably fine. She's probably asleep in an on-call room or sitting with Lexie, Derek told himself a thousand times. Everyone's anxiety had increased since the plane crash, though, and it was hard not to wonder if Meredith had crashed her new Lexus on the way home last night.
No, that's stupid, Derek thought. You would have been contacted if anything happened to Meredith; you're her healthcare proxy.
Still, it was becoming easier for Derek to understand why Meredith had been so worried after the shooting when he was going on joy rides in his Porsche. The world was a dangerous place.
"Do you need me to help with anything? Want me to take Zola to daycare?" Karev asked when they arrived at Seattle Grace.
"Er… yeah, actually, that would be great," Derek said and handed his daughter off to Karev, along with her diaper bag. "And call me if you run into Meredith. Make sure you don't jet off to Hopkins without saying goodbye to her."
"Nah, I'm not that stupid," Karev chuckled and headed off in the daycare's general direction.
It felt strange to walk the halls of Seattle Grace alone. Derek had not done this since before the plane crash. If he did not know better, it would have seemed like an ordinary day at work. Derek would have gone to get report from the neurosurgeon on-call and read about his upcoming procedures.
There was no saying if Derek was ever going to do that again. And that was something he had to accept. Surgery was special, but there were more important aspects of life. Derek knew, as he took the elevator to the fourth floor, that he was lucky to be alive at all.
The conference room where the meeting was scheduled to take place was located directly outside of the ICU. Derek was early; it was only 8:45 when he entered the den but there were already quite a few individuals waiting. Two representatives were here, or at least who Derek assumed were the representatives of Seattle Grace and Bayview Aeronautics because he did not recognize them, along with Callie and Mark.
"Derek!" Callie squealed as the neurosurgeon took a seat at the table. "I've missed you so much! How are you?"
"I… I'm alright, I guess," Derek smiled. "I've missed you, too. How's Arizona?"
"Well, I mean… I'm representing her today, if that tells you anything. She's still not doing too great but she starts physical therapy soon so I'm sure that'll help."
Derek nodded. He had recently heard the news that Arizona had gone septic and as a result, her leg had to be amputated. It was sad. Worse, though, was the fact that Derek had learned the truth over Facebook. Meredith claimed to have not known either but part of Derek could not help but wonder if his wife had been attempting to shield him from anything negative. He made a mental note to talk with Meredith about that in more depth, once the conference was over.
"Hey, neither of you have seen Meredith yet today, have you?" Derek asked his friends. The time was ticking by; it was 8:52 and Meredith had yet to make an appearance.
Callie shook her head, casually. Mark's face turned completely pale. "Hold on… Meredith didn't come home last night?"
"No, she texted me around 4:00 and said she was going to be late because there were complications or something with Lexie but she didn't say anything about staying all night," Derek said. "Were you up here yesterday? What was going on?"
Mark's mouth was hanging open; it was like he had seen a ghost. He scooted the swivel chair he was resting in around the table, closer to Derek. "Are you being serious right now? You didn't hear about what happened yesterday?"
"I… no, I didn't. Is something wrong?" Derek was growing considerably more anxious.
"Rambo called all of us into Lexie's room yesterday afternoon," Mark explained. "He said it was time to talk about options… you know, as far as life support."
Derek felt like someone had punched him in the chest. Poor Lexie… poor Meredith. "Oh, God…"
"Yeah, but that's not all. Meredith talked about how she wouldn't want any extraordinary measures done if it was her. Her dad totally lost it… said she didn't care about Lexie and that she wanted to kill her. The other sister, Molly, accused Meredith of all this shit. Rambo ended up having to call security; they were about ready to attack each other, I think."
Derek abruptly leapt to his feet; there was no time to waste. He needed to find Meredith and he needed to find her now. Right as he was about to sprint out of the conference room, though, the door opened and Thatcher Grey walked inside, closely followed by Owen Hunt.
"Okay, everybody; are we ready to do this?" Hunt said. "Mr. Thatcher Grey is here to represent his daughter, Lexie. I'm representing my wife, Cristina Yang and Callie is here for Arizona. Derek, are you going to represent both yourself and Meredith?"
"No, Meredith is supposed to be here. Has no one seen her?"
A piercing silence filled the air; Hunt's face flushed red, as if he was embarrassed. "I… no, I haven't, not since last night. We can wait a few minutes, if you'd like, but not too long. We're paying our representative by the hour."
"No one has seen Meredith Grey at all since we were in the ICU yesterday?" Mark clarified, more loudly and Derek flashed his friend a weak smile of thanks.
"No, I… I haven't but I was with Arizona all last night," Callie said. "What's going on? Is she maybe with Lexie?"
Thatcher Grey lurched to his feet and nearly fell over. His eyes were glassy, his feet unsteady, and when he spoke, his words were slurring together. The supposedly recovering alcoholic had obviously relapsed. "N-NO, SHE'S NOT WITH LEXIE! M-MEREDITH IS… IS BANNED, FOREVER FROM… FROM GOING NEAR LEXIE!"
"Mr. Grey, please… let's try and calm down," Hunt requested. "Okay, well… Derek, why don't we get started here? I'll pass the word onto the nurses that we're looking for Meredith; they can page her…"
Derek shook his head. "No, I've tried calling her a hundred times already and I'm sorry but I don't feel comfortable doing this without her. We need to go look for her; we need to find her."
It was unbelievable the way that everyone was acting. Hunt was monitoring the clock, the representatives were growing impatient, and Thatcher was a fuse, ready to blow. Meredith was missing. She was supposed to be here and she was missing. If everything Mark said was true, and it appeared to be, the way that Thatcher was acting, there was no saying where Meredith could have run off to… she was almost certainly not at the hospital.
"So what, we're not doing this today?!" Thatcher said, throwing his arms in the air. "You're gonna bring us all up here and then call it off because… why, because my careless daughter decided to go MIA?"
"Okay, listen…" Derek had no idea what he was going to do but Thatcher was not going to get away with this, drunk or sober.
And then suddenly, the door to the conference room flew open and a thin, blonde woman stumbled her way over to the table. It was Meredith. She practically looked like she had been in another plane crash… her hair was a mess, her eyes were glazed over, and she was in the same clothes that she had left the house in yesterday morning.
"Meredith!" Derek gasped. "What happened; where have you been?"
"I'm… I'm here," Meredith announced and hiccupped loudly. She was swaying awkwardly as she walked and having a difficult time keeping her eyes open. It appeared that she, too, was drunk.
Derek rushed over to his wife and put his good arm around Meredith's back to steady her. "Shh, you're okay. Just come sit down next to me. Are you hurt?"
Meredith did not reply. Derek glanced around, desperate for someone's assistance but everybody, the representatives and the doctors, were simply staring at the intoxicated woman. Thatcher's mouth was hanging open in shock.
Meredith stopped walking, turned towards Derek, and muttered, "I… I don't… feel good."
"Okay, let's sit down…" Derek started but he was too late. Meredith doubled over and projectile vomited onto the table, onto the floor, and onto Derek.
"Mer, Mer, Mer," Derek soothed; he grabbed as much of his wife's hair as he could reach and pulled it away from her face as she regurgitated more stomach content onto the floor. "Shh, Mer… you're okay. Breathe… you're okay; I'm right here…"
She was retching uncontrollably and then Meredith was unable to withstand her own weight any longer. She collapsed forward; Derek barely managed to save her from plummeting into a pool of her own vomit. One of his arms was useless, though, and Derek again looked around for help; his eyes landed on Mark. "Can you help?! Please?!"
"I… yeah, of course, man," Mark said; he jumped up and Derek gently transferred Meredith from her awkward, downward position into Mark's arms.
"Let's just… let's get her sitting down," Derek instructed.
Mark nodded and eased Meredith into the closest swivel chair. "There you go… you're okay. Do you know where you are, Meredith?"
She was undoubtedly confused but Meredith responded to Mark's question and that had to be a good sign. "Yeah, I… I came, r-right? I came to… the… the m-meeting…"
"Yes, you did. I'm very proud of you," Derek said. More than anything, he was confused but this was not the time to ask Meredith for an explanation. Right now, they just needed to postpone this stupid conference and get Meredith down to the emergency room for some fluids and Zofran.
He found Hunt's face among the crowd of hovering individuals. "We need to move this to next week sometime. Go find a wheelchair; she's really sick."
"I… okay," Hunt agreed. "Torres, go find a chair and page the ER; tell them we're coming with Dr. Grey."
Callie did as she was told. As she left, there were another, heavier set of footsteps from behind. Derek looked up and saw Thatcher Grey, who had overcome his state of shock and stumbled over to check on his eldest daughter.
"She's alright, Mr. Grey," Derek insisted. He wanted to say a lot more; he wanted to comment on Thatcher's irrational behavior but now was not the moment for that. No one needed to focus on anything except for Meredith and her health.
Meredith, who had begun gagging heavily again… Derek was stunned, himself, at how quickly her symptoms had progressed… five minutes ago, when Meredith had arrived at the meeting, there were no traces of vomit on her being. Now, she was spewing solid alcohol onto herself. Derek ran behind his wife to hold her hair back and barked orders at Mark. "Is there a trash can somewhere?! Can we get something, an emesis basin?!"
"There's a trash can over here," Hunt said; he passed it to Mark who handed the thing to Derek, who placed it in front of Meredith who was continuing to dehydrate herself.
"She's drunk," Thatcher said quietly, as if he had just now realized.
And so are you, Derek thought to himself, although he did not mention this aloud. "She's been under a lot of stress between dealing with Lexie and dealing with me… she runs for the tequila when she's overwhelmed."
Meredith paused, briefly, from her act of being physically sick. Derek stroked her hair with his good hand and kissed her on top of the head. "How are you feeling? Do you feel better now that you've gotten some of that out?"
"I… I d-don't…"
Meredith never received the opportunity to finish answering. In one split second, a large, towering man charged forward from the right, his voice booming with fury. "YOU DON'T THINK I'M UNDER A LOT OF STRESS?! ONE OF MY DAUGHTERS IS ON LIFE SUPPORT AND MY OTHER DAUGHTER WANTS TO KILL HER! I SURE AS HELL WISH I COULD RUN FOR THE TEQUILA BUT I CAN'T DO THAT CAUSE I'M A R-RECOVERING ALCOHOLIC AND I'VE GOT TO STAY SOBER, NO MATTER WHAT!"
"Thatcher, I can smell the scotch on your breath…" Derek started but he was not given the chance to finish either; before Derek knew what happened, two angry arms shoved him up against the wall, and the world was spinning in dizzying waves.
A pair of strong arms caught him before he hit the floor; it was Mark. "HEY! You need to calm down; you don't get to just attack everyone like this because you're worried about Lexie! We're all worried about Lexie and Lexie wouldn't want this!"
"DON'T YOU TRY AND TELL ME WHAT LEXIE WOULD OR WOULDN'T WANT! I'VE KNOWN LEXIE A HELL OF A LOT LONGER THAN ANY OF YOU; I'VE KNOWN LEXIE HER WHOLE LIFE!" Thatcher screamed.
Owen connected with the overhead intercom. "Security to the fourth floor conference room, security to the fourth floor conference room!"
"LEXIE WOULD WANT ME TO PROTECT HER FROM ALL YOU MURDERERS!" Thatcher continued; his face was turning a brighter shade of red by the second. "YOU MURDERED MY WIFE AND NOW YOU'RE TRYING TO MURDER MY DAUGHTER AND THIS ONE… THIS ONE HAS THE NERVE TO SHOW UP FOR A MEETING COMPLETELY FUCKING WASTED WHEN HER OWN FATHER IS… A FUCKING RECOVERING ALCOHOLIC!"
Thatcher was pointing at Meredith, who appeared to be on the verge of losing consciousness. Derek's vision was slowly returning to normal; he sucked in a deep breath and pulled himself up from where Mark was awkwardly holding him.
"You okay?" the plastic surgeon asked, uncertain. "Don't fight him, Derek. He's not hurting anyone and he's not worth it. Security's on their way."
Almost as soon as Mark had uttered those words, though, the scene shifted. Thatcher's abuse was no longer purely verbal. Derek had not moved fast enough…
Thatcher Grey, who had been sober for almost three full years, charged at his daughter like a bulldozer. His fist made impact with Meredith's face and Derek had never hated anyone so much in his entire life… not Gary Clark, not Addison Montgomery, not the manwhore that had once been Mark Sloan…
The next thing that Derek knew, security was pulling him off of Thatcher Grey who was lying on the floor, knocked out. Callie, who had returned with a wheelchair, was screaming and the lawyers were huddled into a corner of the room, stunned silent.
"STOP IT! LOOK AT ME, BRO; CALM DOWN!" Mark shouted, and something about his tone made Derek think that Mark had been trying to get his friend's attention for quite some time.
Derek backed off, and in the process, became aware of a throbbing pain in his right hand. One of his knuckles had been split open. His heart was racing and Derek's ribs were aching; he had not even been cleared to drive yet, much less physically fight his father-in-law.
"Hey," Mark repeated and took hold of Derek's arms. "Derek, look at me. Breathe."
"I'm… I'm breathing," Derek said, gasping for air.
"Okay, you need to calm down. Don't worry; we have witnesses… everything you did to Thatcher was obviously to protect Meredith but we don't need to do anymore damage."
Derek looked down at Thatcher again, who was unconscious on the floor. Hunt had apparently gone to get some of the ICU nurses; they were planning to lift him onto a stretcher and take him to the ER, too. Meanwhile, Meredith was on the ground, as well, her eyes closed, a black eye already developing.
"Oh, God," Derek said and rushed over to his wife. "Meredith… Meredith, can you hear me?"
There was no answer. A sharp pain was creeping up Derek's chest; his throat was closing up as he searched for help. "M-Mark! Owen, somebody… Torres…"
"I'm here, man; what can I do?"
"Pick her up… I can't, my hands are a mess and get her outside on a gurney. Get her on the first gurney you see; she needs it more than Thatcher," Derek instructed.
Immediately, Mark obeyed. Both men accompanied the nurses as they pushed Meredith down the hallway towards the elevators and as they traveled, Derek noticed for the first time just how skinny his wife had become… Meredith had always been thin, but Derek could count her ribs through her t-shirt and she had had over a month to regain the weight that she lost during the plane crash.
Mark was staring at Meredith, too, a grim expression on his face. "She's not looking too great, bro."
"You don't think I know that?"
"No, I mean… yeah, it's pretty obvious. But I don't know… I've been with Meredith the last few days and I never realized how…"
"How skinny she is?" Derek guessed and Mark nodded. "Yeah, she… she's been taking care of everyone else. She's been taking care of me. She hasn't been taking care of herself."
It was heartbreaking, but Derek knew that it was the truth and he felt more guilty, more ashamed than ever. How had he allowed it to get this bad? Why had he not come to the hospital last night when Meredith said there had been complications regarding Lexie? Even if that excuse had been legitimate, Meredith would have needed somebody to comfort her… she would have needed Derek…
"Don't beat yourself up, man," Mark said, as if he was reading Derek's mind. "It's not your fault."
"Really? Then whose fault is it, Meredith's?"
"It's no one's fault… it's the plane's fault, or whoever was responsible for the damn plane crash in the first place. And we're working on figuring that out. That's why we're here, right? To sue the airline?"
Maybe that was the right way of thinking. Derek was attempting to be the cheerful optimist like he usually was, but it was proving itself extremely difficult. The ideal world that Derek had been living in, just over a month ago had crumbled beneath him. They were no longer moving to Boston. An emaciated version of Meredith was lying unconscious on a gurney… Derek might not ever operate again.
In the emergency room, Meredith and Derek were brought straight to triage. Mark offered to stay for support, but Derek sent him back up to the ICU. As little as he cared about Thatcher, someone needed to inform Molly of the recent turn of events and then someone would need to stay with Lexie while Molly tended to her father. Derek was not going anywhere though. He stayed directly next to his wife, holding her hand until Dr. Bailey arrived, her face pink from running.
"Oh my Lord," she whispered. It could not be a pretty sight. Not only was Meredith unconscious, but her face was swelling quickly and her clothes were soaked in vomit.
Derek's hand was bleeding and there was vomit on his pants, too, but none of that was a priority.
"We had our first meeting with the airline today," Derek explained when Bailey continued to stare. "Or we were supposed to, anyway… Mer didn't come home last night. She got drunk… she was throwing-up continuously upstairs and then Thatcher, her father, punched her… knocked her out. He was drunk, too… n-not… not that that's an… excuse but…"
Derek's voice was wavering dangerously so he trailed off. Bailey seemed to be at a loss for words, but she did manage to walk forward a few steps and place her hand on Derek's shoulder. "Don't you worry… Meredith has been taking good care of you this past month. Now it's your turn to be there for her. We'll…"
"...Do everything you can?" Derek finished, whimpering slightly.
"She'll be fine. You know we don't promise good outcomes here at Seattle Grace but I am promising you this… Dr. Grey will be just fine," Bailey said. "We're going to get her started on fluids and do some x-rays to make sure there's no facial fracture."
"Okay, and do a CT, too," Derek begged. "I… I know it's unlikely but I just… I don't want to take any chances. She hit her head hard on the floor when she fell."
"Of course, Dr. Shepherd."
"Miranda," Derek said and Bailey turned back around. "Please… I operated on your husband while there was an active bomb in the building. You witnessed the pathetic excuse for a human being that I was after the shooting. I think we've reached that stage where you can call me by my first name."
Bailey smiled, sadly. "Alright, then, Derek."
Unfortunately, neither Derek nor Dr. Shepherd were allowed to tag along for Meredith's routine tests. Although he was technically a Seattle Grace employee, Bailey had decided that the neurosurgeon was far too emotional to be in the audience.
Those minutes waiting for news were some of the longest of Derek's life. Perhaps it did not compare with that hour in 2009 when Meredith's heart had stopped beating, or the days following the shooting when Derek was immobile in the ICU, but this was not enjoyable. It was funny because most of Derek's brain remained logical and he knew that in all likelihood, Meredith was not in any immediate danger. She would be rehydrated and treated for a possible concussion and then she would be discharged. Everything would be fine.
Another part of Derek's brain, however, would not stop churning with anxiety. He should have recognized the signs earlier. Meredith had claimed to not care whether or not Cristina stayed in Seattle; that was not like her. Meredith kept talking about how she needed more clonazepam… obviously, she was feeling anxious. She had even gone out and purchased a brand-new Lexus, impulsively. That should have been a red flag; Derek remembered his own mindset when he had bought the Porsche.
Derek wondered if he should contact Cristina. It seemed like the kind of thing Meredith might want him to do… call her person. Last he heard, though, Derek's wife had been fighting with Cristina.
At the very least, Derek decided he needed to contact Karev before he left Seattle for good, and Meredith's psychiatrist, Dr. Wyatt. He paged them both to the ER.
Wyatt was likely with another patient because Karev arrived first. He looked confused and then once he saw Derek's bloody hand, concerned. "What's going on, Shepherd? Dammit, what happened to your other hand?"
"Thatcher Grey ran his face into it," Derek said. "But that's not why I paged you. It's Meredith."
"Oh, you found her? That's good cause I haven't been able to find her anywhere…"
"No, Karev… M-Meredith, she… she's the patient. She's off with Bailey right now, getting a CT and x-rays. Her dad… I don't know. I think her dad tried to kill her."
Karev's face went completely pale and for one split second, Derek thought that he, too, was going to pass out. The graduating resident steadied himself. "W-What?!"
"Yeah, I really don't know what happened. Meredith showed up to the meeting, she was drunk as hell… throwing-up repeatedly. Thatcher was drunk, too, but he wouldn't admit it and he just… I don't know. He snapped. He was saying all this shit about how Meredith is trying to kill Lexie because she doesn't want her to be hooked on life support forever."
"Well, yeah, I don't blame her. Lexie wouldn't want to be a vegetable," Karev said and frowned. "But hold on… is she okay?! Meredith, is she awake and… and talking?"
Derek shook his head. "Her dad punched her and she was knocked out right away. As far as I know, she hasn't woken up yet but I mean… I… I'm sure she will…"
"I wonder if anything's wrong with her liver," Karev said. "Didn't she donate that piece to her dad a few years ago? You're not really supposed to binge drink after that, are you?"
Derek had not even thought of that! He felt like his neurological function had been damaged; what else could explain the major chunks of information that were leaking from his brain? Derek groaned and rested his head in his damaged hands. "Oh, God… no, I mean… no, you're not. And I don't know if you've noticed but she's lost a lot of weight. That could affect her body's ability to digest alcohol."
"Yeah, she wasn't eating great when she was first discharged from the ICU but I thought that had gotten better by now. Hasn't she been in therapy?"
"She has been but I don't really know how it's been going. She's been… very closed off."
Karev nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I know. You should have seen her when she first got discharged, when you were still in the ICU. She was a wreck. I was afraid she was going to hurt herself."
How much was there that Derek did not know? How much had happened while he was in the ICU, oblivious to his surroundings? In 2011, after the shooting, Derek had missed the part where Meredith had had a miscarriage… in fact, he had missed the part where his wife had been pregnant at all, in the first place, until months later.
Throughout his entire life, Derek had considered himself to be a relatively good husband but right now, all he felt like was a failure. He shook his head in disbelief. "I… I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help."
"You don't need to apologize; you were recovering from freaking lung surgery," Karev snorted.
"I know but I… I feel like I've been missing a lot recently," Derek said. "What was Meredith doing back then, that was worrying you so much? Did she say anything about… not wanting to be here anymore?"
"No, and I asked her about that a thousand times just to be sure. She always denied everything. She was just… kind of catatonic. She would sit on the couch, staring at the television even when nothing was on… I had to forcibly give her baths. That first night, I woke-up in the middle of the night and she was standing over my bed… she said she didn't remember how she got there. She was scared to be alone so I let her lie down next to me… don't worry, nothing bad happened. We slept together but we didn't… sleep together."
In another lifetime, Derek might have gotten mad and accused Karev of taking advantage of his wife. That was obviously not the case, though. In fact, Derek was actually glad to hear that someone had been there, taking care of Meredith while he was hospitalized. He knew that there was nothing romantic or sexual about Meredith's relationship with Karev.
"Thank you for… for taking care of her."
"You don't need to thank me," Karev said. "I mean, she's my best friend. Everyone else has left… Cristina, Izzie, O'Malley… I know Meredith is your wife and I'm not trying to take anything away from you but… she's my best friend, too."
"I know," Derek said. "But what about you; aren't you leaving?"
"Well, I'm not now. Maybe I'll postpone again or maybe I'll just tell Hopkins to screw it but I can't leave now with Mer like this. And everytime I think I'm ready to leave, something ends up happening again… Arizona goes septic or Lexie has a stroke. Maybe it's not meant to be."
Derek smirked, sadly. "This really is Seattle Grace Mercy Death, isn't it?"
"It really is, but there's something about this place that just keeps everyone coming back and you can't say that about many hospitals. Not many hospitals have the camaraderie we do," Karev said and then paused, twisting his face into a repulsed expression. "God, that sounded so freaking soppy."
The two men shared a brief laugh together and Derek sighed. "I'll tell you what, Karev… I don't want to push you in either direction; this decision is ultimately up to you. But I know you want to settle down… I know you want to make something of yourself, by yourself… so if you do choose to stay in Seattle, just know that Meredith and I will be moving into the dream house here in a few weeks and when we do, I can speak for both of us when I say we would be happy to sell you the current house."
Karev blinked a few times; he was clearly not anticipating this. "Wait, seriously? Like, I wouldn't have to move out?"
"I mean, you might consider moving into the master bedroom; it's a lot bigger but yeah… you wouldn't have to rent a moving truck or anything. You could pocket the money that Hunt gives you for moving expenses."
"Not gonna lie, you've given me a lot to think about, Shepherd," Karev said. "Right when I thought I was never gonna like you, too…"
All of a sudden, the triage curtain was swept aside for a second time. Derek looked up, expecting to see Katherine Wyatt but instead, Bailey was back, and she was pushing a gurney that contained Meredith. The latter was still not awake, but she had not required intubation and that was a good sign.
"How is she?!" Derek and Karev both asked at the identical time.
"Everything looks clear," Bailey reported. "There's no bleeding, no broken bones, just some bad bruising on her face and a mild concussion. We did briefly sedate so we could do gastric lavage, get some of the excessive alcohol out of her system but she's being rehydrated and should be awake soon."
"What about her liver? How are her liver enzymes?" Derek pressed.
"Elevated, but nothing in the danger zone… don't worry, Derek. I know it was a scary moment but Meredith is going to be fine. You can take her home once she wakes up, in fact."
"Take her home?"
"If that's alright with you then yes, you can take her home," Bailey smiled. She was making jokes; evidently, she was under the impression that Derek was happy. And why should he be anything else when Meredith was stabilizing?
Derek was unsure what to say or do so he was grateful when Karev spoke up. "How about we wait until Dr. Wyatt gets down here? She might want to talk with Mer about everything… about Lexie and her dad and then we can make a decision from there."
"A decision? There is no reason why Meredith Grey needs to be hospitalized right now, Karev," Bailey said. "Unless there's something you're keeping from me?"
Karev shook his head. "No, there's not… but I think there might be something Meredith is keeping from all of us."
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When Meredith was seven years old and in the first grade, she had contracted strep throat. The infection was a common one in elementary school children; according to Ellis Grey, there was no reason for her daughter to be worried but that did not stop Meredith from feeling completely and utterly miserable for almost a full week. She was sweating through her sheets one minute and shivering with chills the next… her head ached and her stomach was nauseous. Worst of all was the throat pain which was so severe that it was difficult, if not impossible for Meredith to swallow.
This felt something like that. Meredith was sick; she was dizzy and exhausted and thus far, she had not so much as opened her eyes. When she finally did manage to pull her heavy eyelids up, she realized that she was not lying in her own bed. She was in a hospital; she was at Seattle Grace in triage and Derek was sitting next to her, wearing navy attending scrubs.
What in the world happened?! Meredith tried to think back; she tried to remember what she had been doing before losing consciousness but everything was one big blur. Lexie was in a coma… Cristina was gone, in Minnesota… what had happened to Derek and why was Meredith being triaged?
She was going to have to find her voice. Meredith's throat was still stinging, painfully, but she did her best to cough and clear her airway; this hurt worse. She moaned.
Derek's hand was immediately there, his fingers intertwined with her own. "Meredith… shh, you're okay. I'm right here. Thank God…"
"W-What?" Meredith croaked out; her voice was barely audible. "What, no… I… I'm scared…"
She did not know why she had said that either. Why was Meredith scared? She had always felt at home in the hospital, yet part of Meredith had woken-up feeling like she was seven years old again, and seven-year-old Meredith would have been terrified of being admitted to the hospital.
"I know but you're okay. I'm right here," Derek repeatedly softly. "How are you feeling?"
"Um… I… I don't know. W-What happened?"
"How far back do you remember?"
Meredith attempted, again, to recall her memories and her mind fell on her father… her father who wanted to keep Lexie on life support, no matter how many days, months, or years passed. "L-Lexie… oh, God… m-my dad…"
"Yeah, your dad wants to keep Lexie on life support, doesn't he? No matter what?" Derek sighed.
"How do you know that?"
Derek frowned. Something bad had happened… maybe Meredith had done something bad. There was definitely pain behind her husband's piercing blue eyes. "It's been almost 24 hours, Meredith. Mark told me what happened in the ICU… you didn't come home last night."
"I… I didn't?" Some of the images were floating back. Meredith remembered being dragged down the hallway by Mark and speeding out of the parking lot in her Lexus but where had she gone? Had she been in an accident? That would explain why she was in the hospital.
"No, you did not," Derek said. "I'm not sure where you went but wherever it was, you obviously drunk… a lot of alcohol. You showed up for our meeting with the lawyers this morning completely wasted. You… you were throwing-up and passing out… Bailey thinks you had a mild case of alcohol poisoning."
Alcohol poisoning… it was a condition that Meredith had come across in the emergency room on more occasions that she could count. It was something Meredith could have, and probably should have suffered from many times throughout college and medical school… but had she ever really expected it? How could Meredith prepare herself for news like this?
She opened her mouth to reply, to tell Derek that she was sorry for worrying him but all that came out was, "Oh…"
"Yeah," Derek whispered. "And do you remember what happened at the meeting?"
"I… I threw-up all over the place?" Meredith guessed. That was what Derek had just told her, anyway.
"Well, yeah… that, too but your dad… your dad was drunk," Derek admitted. "I'm guessing everything going on with Lexie set him off. He was drunk and he was mad at you and… things spiraled. I'm just warning you because I don't want you to be surprised when you look in the mirror."
The mirror? Meredith touched her face, gingerly, and although she could not currently see her reflection, she could feel that her skin was swollen and in all likelihood, bruised. "D-Did he… he hit me?"
"He punched you, yeah… knocked you out. And after that, things are kind of blurry for me, too, because apparently I beat the shit out of him," Derek admitted.
Meredith gasped. "You didn't… b-but… your hand!"
"I mean, I didn't punch with that hand," Derek said and he held up his left fingers, which were still safely enclosed in a cast from surgery.
"Is your other hand okay? Are… are you okay?"
Derek smiled, but still, the pain in his eyes was doing nothing but increasing. "I'm fine… I'm fine now that you're awake. You scared me, Mer."
"I… I'm sorry. Really, I'm… I'm so sorry. I don't know what… what happened or why I… did that."
Meredith prayed that he would believe her. She had gone dark and twisty before… during her intern year, when Derek had initially chosen Addison, Meredith had been a wreck, binge-drinking virtually every single day. Derek had made some questionable decisions after the shooting… Meredith prayed that he would accept Meredith's night as a poor decision and move on.
The couple gazed into each other's eyes. Meredith felt like there was an elephant sitting on her chest; the buildup of anxiety was creating so much pressure. But she did love her husband… no matter what happened or what tragedies came their way, that one fact never changed and as long as Meredith had Derek, then she had faith that everything would be okay. They would grow old together… they would be each other's knight in shining whatever until Meredith got Alzheimer's and forgot everything.
"Meredith," Derek breathed, the strain in his voice so strong; it was adding to Meredith's heartache. "Mer… I think you do. I think you know. I think… I think you've been hiding a lot from me lately."
Instantly, involuntarily, Meredith shook her head. She pushed herself up into a better, sitting position. "No… I didn't do anything, Derek! I swear, nothing happened. I… I got drunk but… I know better, even when I'm drunk. I would never… do anything."
"I'm not talking about that," Derek said. "What I mean is… look, Meredith. I talked with Karev and with Dr. Wyatt…"
"Everything I say to Wyatt in my sessions… that's private!" Meredith said. "You have no business knowing that!"
"Wyatt didn't tell me anything that you told her in therapy. We're all doctors, Meredith; we know how HIPAA works. All that Wyatt told me is what she didn't do and according to Wyatt… she never started you on clonazepam or any other psychiatric medication."
Meredith froze. The world had officially come to an end. Derek's younger sister, Amelia was a pill addict. His father had been murdered by two men who turned to burlergy to feed their drug addictions. Meredith was not sure if she was actually considered an addict; it had only been a month but suddenly, she was beyond sure that Derek was going to leave her. He was going to leave her and it was all Meredith's fault for scamming her friends and family.
She was silent, her eyes frozen in place for so long that Derek touched her shoulder. "Meredith?"
"I… um… look…"
"Where did you get the pills, Meredith?"
Meredith was preparing to spew another lie but then she changed her mind. She switched her stance. "It doesn't matter where I got the pills. I… I did what I needed to do in order to be a functioning mother. You don't get to judge me for that."
"I don't get to judge you for taking psych meds," Derek corrected. "I was on plenty of anxiety meds after the shooting and I'm on antidepressants now. I do get to judge you when you're… I don't know, forging prescriptions and lying to me. You could have lost your medical license… you should have lost your medical license several times already but… but dammit, I thought you'd learned."
What was Meredith supposed to say to that? Derek was right; she knew that he was right… normally, it would be in Meredith's nature to argue, to defend her choices but all of the fight had been sapped from her body. She was incapable of heading down that path. Meredith opened her mouth and then closed it again several times, contemplating the best route…
"Meredith… I need you to talk to me."
"It was April Kepner. April wrote me the scripts but it wasn't her fault because I asked her to and she's gone now anyway so it doesn't matter. Please don't say anything," Meredith begged.
Derek nodded, slowly. "And why was the clonazepam so necessary?"
"Because!" Meredith cried, her airway narrowing. "Because… everyone is leaving and everyone is dying. Cristina is gone and… and Alex is leaving… Lexie is dying… I thought you were going to die… Derek, you said you understood. You said you understood that I was awake during those four days in the woods and I… I remember a lot more than you."
"I do understand," Derek insisted. "I mean, I… I don't but I understand what it's like to be traumatized and I just… I want to be there for you, Meredith. I want to help you like you've helped me and when you go and do this… I don't know what's going on. I don't know if you trust me. We have to communicate."
"How? How do you do that; how do you just start a conversation about the way that… that I stuck a knife in my sister's chest?"
Derek's mouth was open; he had been prepared to respond, too, but when he heard Meredith's words, he stopped short. "You what?"
Meredith shook her head tightly. She had not planned on going that far. She had not planned on or wanted to talk about Lexie's cardiac tamponade and she could not utter another word without hot tears spilling down her cheeks. Her chest was already about to explode with anxiety.
"Meredith," Derek sighed; he reached forward to touch her hand but she quickly lurched away. Any comforting action, at this point, was going to trigger a panic attack.
Actually, Meredith was already there. Her respirations were increasing; her vision was blurring as a result of her tears. "I… I can't… I can't… I don't… I don't know why…"
"Shh, Meredith…" Derek got up and sat on the edge of the gurney where he wrapped his arms around his wife. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry; I… I didn't know. I don't know probably half of what you're feeling but I'm here. I'm here, okay? Please… please trust me. I'm here."
It was not that Meredith did not trust Derek. If there was one person that Meredith trusted most in this entire world, it was Derek. She trusted him more than Cristina, more than Alex, more than herself, sometimes… but Derek could not do anything in this situation. No one could. Meredith was hopeless; she was trapped in an endless cycle of trauma and she was convinced that nothing would change, for the rest of her life.
And how did she explain that? Were there even words in the English dictionary that could describe how Meredith was feeling? If so, her vocabulary was at a loss.
She had been sobbing onto Derek's shoulder, gasping for air, and cringing at the memories for at least fifteen minutes when Derek finally pulled away. It was not done in an impatient manner. Derek was struggling, too; he was coping with his own trauma and dealing with his dramatic wife. He caressed Meredith lightly on the side of the head and brushed her tangled bangs out of her face.
"Meredith," he sighed for what felt like the hundredth time. "Listen to me… I love you. I love you more than anything. But you need more help than I can provide for you right now."
Meredith was right. Meredith had been right all along. She sniffled, loudly. "So… so what does that mean? You're leaving me?"
"I… of course not," Derek said; he looked aghast at the very thought. "I will always be here for you, Meredith. I will never leave you. But I've talked with Karev and with Dr. Wyatt, like I said, and we all agree it is in your best interest to… to stay here for a few days, to be admitted."
"Admitted? Like… to the psych ward?"
"That term is outdated; I don't like to use it anymore. It's a temporary, short-term mental health facility and you know better than to think of the psych patients as crazy," Derek said but his statement was a confirmation in itself.
Meredith shook her head. "N-No… I… I don't need it! I'll get better, Derek, I… I promise. I'm not suicidal."
"Maybe not but you're traumatized and you need… stabilization. You need to have some proper therapy sessions. You need to get on the right medication, something that isn't as addicting as clonazepam. Come on, Meredith; Lexie was in psych two years ago and you didn't have a problem with it."
"That's different! Lexie was going to kill herself or someone else, the way she was going!" Meredith argued. "Derek, p-please… psych is crap. I can get better on my own. I always have before and I can do it again… no one has ever looked at Lexie the same way since she was committed to psych! She's always been the… the crazy resident! I'm supposed to be starting my fellowship! I'm making 300 grand and… and I'm a good surgeon. No one's going to trust me anymore if I'm admitted to psych!"
Derek sighed; Meredith was not making this easy. She resented herself for hurting him but if Meredith's tantrum was going to save her from the looney bin, then it was worth it.
"Meredith, whether you're admitted to psych or not, you aren't going to be operating for a while. I know you're an amazing surgeon; everyone knows that. But unless you get the help you need, you're not going to get that chance to perform surgery again. Please… do this for me. Do this for me and for Zola. Admit yourself willingly. I will commit you involuntarily, if I have to but I would really rather not."
"Really? You'd rather not?" Meredith spat angrily. "Then don't… if I'm not going to be operating either way, then take me home so I can sleep off this hangover and see my daughter. And… and take care of you; who's going to take care of you if I'm not there?"
"That doesn't matter because one way or another, you're done taking care of anyone else except for yourself… at least until further notice," Derek said. "Besides, I'll be fine. It looks like Karev is going to stick around here a while longer. He'll be there for me if I need anything."
"Isn't Alex going to Hopkins?" Meredith asked.
"No… well, maybe he is eventually but not until you're better and he's considering not going at all. I told him that if he stayed, we would sell him our house… or your mom's house, I guess."
"You shouldn't have done that. My mom left that house in my name and it's me that gets to decide what to do with it," Meredith said.
Derek was running out of comebacks; his face was flushed red with frustration and the veins on his temple were pulsing from stress. "Dammit, Meredith… look, you're not coming home! I'm sorry but you're not. I wish it was that simple but I don't feel comfortable bringing you home right now. Are you going to make me commit you or not?"
She should accept the admission voluntarily… deep down, Meredith knew that. Seeking help for mental illness was the right thing to do and it would scar Derek forever if he had to fill out an affidavit on Meredith's behalf. None of it mattered though. Meredith could not remove the images from her head… psychiatry residents asking her assessment questions… being known as the plane crash victim that went crazy… word getting around to Cristina that Meredith had cracked…
"I'm not going to inpatient psych," Meredith said, flatly.
Tears were glistening in Derek's eyes as he nodded and stood up. "Okay, then… I'll tell Dr. Wyatt your decision. She'll be over soon to go through your involuntary paperwork. And don't think about running. You're connected to an IV and security is right outside. You'll be on elopement precautions."
Please don't forget to review! Water the writer. This chapter took a lot of revising and editing. Thank you so much for reading. Xoxo, merderpedia :)