A/N- Here's the second half of the last chapter! Writing couple's trauma therapy with Wyatt was truly an enjoyable experience for me and I hope you enjoy it, too!
The panic was rising in her throat. The shame, the guilt… all of it was hitting Meredith like a blunt trauma. She had known this was coming, of course. She knew that she had hurt Derek, perhaps beyond repair. Hearing her husband read those words out loud, though, and listening to the pain in his voice was too much, even for dark and twisty Meredith Grey.
If she had been anywhere other than a therapy office, Meredith likely would have run. She would have avoided the crisis because that was what she did best. But there was a bracelet dangling from Meredith's wrist that read Elopement Risk and running away, at the present moment, would only damage Derek further.
There were no escape routes. The bland, beige walls of Wyatt's office were closing in on her. Meredith heard someone taking thick, heavy gasps of air and seconds later, she came to the conclusion that the person hyperventilating like Darth Vader was herself.
"Meredith," Derek said, leaning forward, as if his wife was about to go into respiratory arrest. "Mer! You're okay… talk to me, Mer…"
"I… I can't… I can't… I can't…"
"Meredith, please…"
"Leave her be," Wyatt instructed. "Derek, back off. Give her space."
Her vision was clouding due to the intense panic attack but Meredith felt the shadow that had previously been hovering over her retreat. With nothing except air surrounding her, Meredith gasped like there was an oxygen shortage, sobbed endlessly, and eventually, placed her head between her knees to prevent the darkness that was encroaching.
"She needs air," Derek's voice said; it sounded like he was fading farther away by the second. "Wyatt, she's gonna pass out. She… I… we need to do something!"
A few more beats passed, like a rapid pulse, and then Wyatt sighed. "Meredith, do you need a paper bag?"
"I… I'm sorry!" Meredith gasped and then coughed from the sudden onslaught of emotions. Derek patted her back, softly. "I'm… I didn't mean… I…"
"You don't need to apologize, Meredith," Wyatt said.
"Yes, I do… I… did you hear him…? Did you hear his… thing?!"
"Yes, I did. What are you feeling, Meredith?"
That was a good question. It was the stereotypical therapist question, the one that people imagined would be asked as they lay on an awkward bench beside a quiet, balding man as he wrote on his legal pad. And how do you feel about that?
The truth was that Meredith had no idea what she was feeling. She shrugged, weakly. "I don't know."
"That's alright. Take a minute and think but don't overthink, if that's possible," Wyatt said. "What stood out to you about Derek's letter?"
"I didn't cheat on you," Meredith whimpered, this time looking directly into Derek's eyes.
He nodded, slowly. "I… I wasn't saying… I didn't think…"
"I get why you'd ask. It's a logical thought and I don't remember everything from that night but I know I didn't cheat on you. Even drunk, I… I wouldn't do that," Meredith insisted.
"Okay," Derek agreed.
"And I don't remember how I got from the bar to the hospital. I… I'm not even sure I remember what bar I went to," Meredith continued. "It's an easy answer, though. If my car's in the parking lot somewhere, I… I obviously drove drunk and if it's not, then I didn't. One way or another, though, I… I've made a lot of mistakes and… and I don't blame you if you don't forgive me. I… wouldn't forgive me, if I were you."
Derek closed his eyes, sighing so deeply that the sound uttered from him was nearly a moan. He did not get to answer, though, because Wyatt chimed in again. "Okay, well let's not focus on that yet, Meredith. Forgiveness is a big word and I know we've already talked about it some, but there are other things to talk about, too. You answered some of Derek's questions. Why don't you tell us how you're feeling now?"
"I… I told you. I don't know," Meredith said. "I feel… embarrassed… ashamed."
"Okay. Derek mentioned something in his letter about finding you in a bathtub. Can you tell me what that's about?"
"You know what that's about… we talked about it in therapy before. I drowned during my intern year. My heart stopped for like, an hour or something and it was a miracle they got me back without serious brain damage," Meredith said.
"And you felt like Meredith was trying to end her own life, then? When she had her incident in Elliott Bay?" Wyatt pressed, her eyes on Derek.
Derek shifted, uncomfortably. "I don't know… maybe. If she wasn't doing it then she… she did that morning."
Wyatt raised her eyebrows; this was news. "Meredith attempted to end her life that morning, before the drowning incident?"
"No, I did not," Meredith argued; she was interjected by Derek.
"Then what were you doing?! Dr. Wyatt, what would you call it if someone intentionally held themself underwater in the bathtub for a long period of time?"
Wyatt considered, her face as neutral as always. "It would depend on the circumstances, Derek. What is your version of this story, Meredith?"
"I wasn't trying to drown myself in the bathtub," Meredith explained. "I went under because… I don't know; maybe I was feeling a little melodramatic but I was holding my breath. I never would have inhaled water. I would have come out, whether or not Derek was there to save me."
"And then what happened later that day, at Elliott Bay?"
Wyatt had been the one to ask the question but Meredith turned towards Derek to answer. Derek was the one who deserved an answer. He had never been given a proper one… all the times that Derek had confronted his wife about that day, Meredith had avoided his inquiries. But now things were different. Meredith was in the psych ward and they were both in trauma therapy. There had been a shooting and a plane crash and Lexie was dying and there was no point in avoiding one another when ultimately, Meredith and Derek were two of the only people that could truly and completely understand one another.
"Derek, listen to me," Meredith said, her hands acting as a sandwich to Derek's beautiful yet wary face. "I was treating a patient with an open leg wound on the pier. He had climbed out of the water and he was… delusional with pain. He was flailing and yelling and he knocked me into the water. You're right; I could have fought harder… I should have kept fighting but just for a second, with everything else going on in my life, I thought… what's the point? And that was all it took. The water was freezing.
"When I woke-up… I've never been so relieved. I wanted to live. I wanted to live for you and Cristina and that's when I made the decision, when I knew I had to come get help… and I did. I got all whole and healed, remember?"
"I remember," Derek said, softly and shook his head. "Still… I never should have let you go to work that day. I should have made you come to therapy or… or talked with you at home. I understand mental illness; it runs in my family."
"The ferry crashed, Derek. We would have been paged into work anyway."
Derek shrugged, halfheartedly and fell silent. Wyatt took a deep breath. "Okay, so… Derek, forgive me, but this story you've told… this is why you had Meredith committed to inpatient psych in the first place?"
"I… maybe not consciously but… I think it might've been in the back of my mind," Derek confessed. "I'm just… I'm so afraid of losing you, Mer… I don't remember most of what happened in the woods and my imagination is… I have no idea what I missed. And I'm not 100 percent healthy yet so I can't care for you like I should…"
"You don't have to take care of me. I'm fine, I… I should be the one taking care of you," Meredith said.
"You should be taking care of each other," Wyatt corrected them. "And while we're on the subject… Derek's already made his big confession. Meredith, you wrote a letter to your husband, too. Why don't we get that out now?"
As if she was living another life, Meredith watched herself dig the folded notebook paper out of her scrub pocket and flatten it. The thing was pathetic. Compared to Derek's masterpiece, Meredith's letter was rushed, sloppy, and tear-stained, not to mention, written in golf pencil. She tried to suck in air to prepare herself yet Meredith's lungs were having trouble inhaling.
"Whenever you're ready, Meredith," Wyatt encouraged. "And remember, Derek… don't interrupt her while she reads. Listen to everything she says and think about everything she says before responding."
Derek nodded shortly and then Meredith opened her mouth. "Dear Derek… I have not been treating you fairly and I know that. I've lied to you, kept even more from you, and overall, not been the wife or mother that you and Zola deserve. If I thought that it would help, I would apologize a thousand times but saying sorry doesn't mean anything unless actions change as well. Still, I do want to say it once. I'm sorry about everything.
"I wish I could give you a better explanation for everything that's happened, too, but the truth is, I'm still figuring that out myself. One thing I can tell you, though, is something that I talked about with Dr. Wyatt recently. I know it might not seem that way, but all of my actions were done with nothing but the best intentions. I wanted to protect you. I remember your state, both physical and mental after the shooting. I never wanted you to feel even half of that suffering again and the truth is, you were injured far worse than me in the plane crash so I felt like it was my duty to take the brunt of the caretaking. I'm sure you can relate to the idea that it's far harder to watch someone you love suffer, than to suffer yourself.
"Besides, you're not the only person that's told me how strong I am. I'm Meredith Grey, whose dad abandoned her when she was five years old, whose mother was neglectful and abusive. I've always been the one who doesn't freeze during a crisis. I'm the one who holds everyone else up and that's always been what I like best about myself. Are there better characteristics than strength and resiliency? I'm not sure but I'm ashamed that I couldn't be the caregiver this time. Most of all, I'm sorry that I hurt you and I'm going to do everything I can to make things better now, for both of us. I love you."
She had made it through her speech without crying. That was a miracle in itself. Meredith paused, briefly, so Derek would have a chance to respond, if he wished, and when he was momentarily silent, Meredith continued, off-script.
"Also, um… I just wanna add that… I know substance abuse is a sensitive subject for you and that was… that was the main reason I tried as hard as I did to get off the pills. That was the reason I didn't flat-out ask you to write me a prescription or let you go to Wyatt and ask her for my refill. I know I've treated you unfairly, lots of times um… I seriously jeopardized both of our careers a year ago. I'm still conflicted, every day, over that choice, but… but if I hurt you, then I know I was in the wrong. I'm… I'm sorry."
Now she was crying. Meredith was embarrassed and she did not know why but her eyes were wet as she stared down at her legs, quivering with anxiety.
If Meredith did not know better, she would have thought that Derek was withholding tears, as well. His face had gone rather pale and when Derek spoke, his voice was hoarse. "I… I don't know what to say."
"That's alright. Take your time, Derek. Can you tell us what you're feeling?" Wyatt asked.
"Um… I… I don't know, guilty? I didn't think I was going to walk out of this situation feeling guilty but…" Derek took a deep breath and turned towards Meredith. "Did I do something? Did I do something, say something, to make you feel like you couldn't trust me? I didn't mean… when I said you hold everyone else up…"
"It's not your fault, Derek," Meredith said.
"Okay, well… just because you're strong, that doesn't mean you're not allowed to struggle, Meredith," Derek said. "I don't know what all happened out in the woods but like I said, I… I can imagine. I know you helped me when I was in pretty bad shape. I know you helped Lexie. I'd be concerned if you weren't struggling, to some degree, after that."
"Have you been concerned about Meredith in these last few weeks, before the incident on Thursday, Derek?" Wyatt pressed. "Because unless I'm wrong, Meredith was hiding a lot from both of us."
Derek's shoulder twitched, indicating his lack of knowledge. "I… yeah, I mean… I'm always worried about everyone that was on that plane. But I was also under the impression that Meredith was processing her trauma with you."
"I see," Wyatt said. "Well, I don't typically use this phrase in trauma therapy, but Meredith, Derek… the past is the past. Both of you made errors. Meredith, you should have been more open with your husband and I know you're aware of this. Derek, I'm not saying you should have been in the position to pry information out of your wife, but knowing her history, you could have been more open-minded, as well. There's no use agonizing over your poor choices now, though. It is what it is and you've cleared things up. The only thing to do is move forward."
"That's the problem," Meredith snorted. "I'm having a hard time moving anywhere. I just… I just keep seeing these same scenes replay in my mind. I wake-up and… I'm terrified, all the time."
"What are you scared of, Mer?" Derek asked, stroking his wife's hand, gently.
"Everything. I'm scared of everything and I… I'm scared I'm never gonna be able to be a surgeon again after the procedures I performed in the field. Every cut's gonna remind me of that. That's… dammit, that's why we're not allowed to treat family."
The question that had been looming in the air ever since the session began was finally brought to the surface by Derek. "What did you do out there, Mer? What did you have to do to Lexie and me?"
Meredith had not even let her mind go there, consciously, yet her stomach immediately dropped to the floor. Her respirations sped up and Meredith's hand, which Derek was gripping, became clammy.
Wyatt spoke, softly. "You don't have to go there yet if you're not ready, Meredith. Just tell Derek the truth, either way."
"I'm… I'm not ready," Meredith admitted and peeked at Derek through the curtain of hair that was covering her face. "D-Do you remember… um… after I nearly drowned… do you remember how you said you were always afraid I was going to stop breathing?"
"I do," Derek whispered, nodding.
"That's how I am all the time. I usually can't sleep but… but even when I can, I always wake up and I just watch you sleep to make sure you don't stop breathing. I brought a portable AED home from the hospital… in case I had to use it."
"Oh, God," Derek sighed. He bridged the small gap separating the couple on the couch, cupped his wife's chin in his hand; Meredith could feel her husband's inconsistent breath on her face. "Mer, I'm not going anywhere… I promise. I'm right here, okay?"
"I… I know, I just…"
"I know. I know, you don't have to explain," Derek said. He leaned forward and for the first time in days, Meredith felt Derek's lips pressed against her own. The kiss was so tender; a layer of Meredith's anxiety could not help but melt away.
Wyatt cleared her throat, reminding both patients that she was in the room. "Alright, well… I think that's about enough for the day."
Surprisingly, Meredith did not want the therapy session to end. Or maybe that was not quite right… she was emotionally exhausted and eager to stop this heavy conversation, but Meredith was dreading saying goodbye to Derek. She wove her fingers between his, squeezed his healthy hand.
"You've both made incredible progress today; I hope you know that," Wyatt continued. "Normally, I'd ask each of you for a takeaway from the hour, but in this instance, Derek already summed it up in his earlier statement. Do you remember?"
Neither patient spoke so Wyatt smiled. "Just because you're strong, that doesn't mean you're not allowed to struggle."
"Oh… right, yeah," Meredith said. That was still something she would have to work on accepting. "Okay, so… when do we think I'm gonna be able to go home?"
"Soon," Wyatt said. "We need to give it a couple more days, simply because of all the new chemicals in your body. I don't know if Meredith told you, Derek, but I have started her on two new medications so if she mentions them, it's completely legal. I have her on Sertraline for depression and Hydroxyzine for anxiety and sleep."
Derek nodded in agreement. "Okay, but… you know, I'm a doctor, too, and I'm gonna be more observant. If Meredith has any kind of reaction to the drugs, I'll be monitoring her."
"That's good to know, but I'm still going to have to wait a few days," Wyatt explained. "Like it or not, both of you are still recovering and we dug up a lot of fresh emotions today. I'd rather wait and make sure that Meredith is stable. Meredith, I need you to try and attend at least three groups before discharge."
"Okay… I didn't get a chance to start my list, yet, by the way," Meredith added. "I was working on my letter to Derek so… so I didn't get a chance to do that."
"There's no rush," Wyatt said. "We have plenty of time for that. Derek, if you have a spare moment at home, I encourage you to make a similar list."
"A list of… what?"
"Write down ten words," Meredith instructed. "Five words that you associate with the shooting and five words that you associate with the plane crash."
"Okay," Derek agreed; he was visibly trying not to be intimidated.
"Okay," Meredith repeated and leaned forward to peck him quickly on the lips. "I guess that's my cue…"
"Hold on," Derek said, ignoring Wyatt who had gone to open the door to her office for the couple. "I just want you to know… Karev and I have started packing up the house. Even Zola's helping a little. We're going to move into the dream house as soon as it's finished, okay?"
The Dream House… it had been nothing more than a fantasy for so long but the thought of actually living in the mansion with the most important person in her life made Meredith's heart rise with hope. "Yeah, okay…"
"And then Karev is going to start moving his things from his guest room over to our master bedroom because… well, it's been decided that he isn't going to Hopkins," Derek continued.
"Alex isn't leaving? B-But he gave them his word…"
"Yeah, and we gave Harvard and Brigham our word, too. Things change."
Things change. That was the understatement of the decade. Meredith nodded, her heart slowly climbing her ribcage. "Okay, um… that's… that's good, then, I guess."
"I'll see you soon, okay?" Derek said, his arms wrapped around Meredith in one last embrace. "Call me tomorrow. I'll be here, with Karev and Zola, whenever you're ready."
"Wait…" Meredith stalled again. "I… Cristina. Have you heard from Cristina at all?"
"I haven't, but I turned off your phone before taking it home so I'm not sure if she's been texting or anything. Would you like me to call her for you, let her know what's going on?"
"No," Meredith pleaded. "No, I don't want her to know about any of this. Don't tell her and if she contacts you at all, please just tell her that everything's fine. Tell Owen, too, so he doesn't say anything."
"Well, Cristina might have asked him what happened in the meeting with the lawyers and… and he is her husband, technically," Derek started and when Meredith did not speak, sighed. "But I'll see what I can do… what's this about, anyway? Why are the twisted sisters not talking?"
Meredith rolled her eyes. "It's… a long story. I'll explain more when I'm home. I love you."
"I love you more."
That was it. Meredith was escorted back to the Adult Intermediate Unit and informed by Kayla that a grief group was preparing to begin. It was crucial to participate, if Meredith wanted to be released from the psych ward, but there was one thing that she had to do first.
With less than one minute until the patient phones shut off to encourage group attendance, Meredith rushed to the nearest one and punched in one of the few numbers she had memorized by heart.
After five anxiety-inducing rings, Mark Sloan picked up. "Hello…"
"Mark, it's Meredith. Look, I just had a couples' therapy session with Derek and we talked about a lot of… emotional stuff. I'm gonna be stuck here for another day or two and I… I really want to make sure he's okay cause I know he puts a lot of guilt on himself. Can you please call him, watch out for him, tonight especially?"
Any doubt that had previously filled Meredith's pessimistic mind faded away with Mark's firm, kind voice. "Don't worry, Big Grey. I'm already hanging out at your house with Zola and Sofia, waiting for him. Take care of yourself now, okay?"
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Meredith was mentally and emotionally exhausted from her hour with Wyatt and Derek. Her brain was in overdrive and she wanted nothing more than to collapse in her private room, regardless of the mattress quality. Instead, though, Meredith was seated at a circular table with a social worker and five fellow patients. All of them had been given composition books and golf pencils and everyone except for Meredith had connected pencil and paper.
According to the social worker, the goal in this group was to write letters to whomever or whatever one was grieving. Sharing these notes when finished was not required, yet encouraged.
Remember, you can grieve something in addition to someone, the social worker had announced prior to their session, like she understood anything about true loss.
Meredith looked around at her peers. Everyone else was writing, consistently. The large African American woman on Meredith's left had written Dear Mike across the top of her paper. How was it so easy?
Perhaps Meredith had sat there, doing nothing longer than she originally thought because suddenly, there was a tap on her right shoulder. The social worker, Alyson according to her badge, had knelt down next to her patient. "Are we having a hard time, Ms. Meredith?"
"I just can't think of anything to say," Meredith said. It was both a lie and the truth.
"If you don't mind me asking, to whom or what is your letter addressed?" Alyson inquired.
Meredith did not plan on ever actually writing this letter, but for the time being, she needed an answer. "Um… my friend, George. He was hit by a bus and killed, three years ago."
"That's tragic. I'm very sorry for your loss, Meredith. You were close with George, I assume?"
"Yes. He was one of my best friends."
"Well, then try to just pretend that George is sitting next to you. What would you want to tell him?"
Nothing because George isn't sitting next to me. George is dead and I'll never talk to him again, Meredith thought but did not voice this aloud. She pretended to consider, and shrugged. "I… I don't know… that I miss him… that I'll always love him."
"Okay, just start there and see what comes out," Alyson said so Meredith did as she was told. She wrote Dear George across the top of her paper and then the words, I miss you. I love you underneath that. It was enough to buy her some time and thankfully, Meredith was not asked to share her letter at the end of the group. She listened to the others that wished to read their notes, and commented on her peers' beautiful choice of words.
And then, because she knew better than to continue isolating, Meredith spent the rest of her day playing cards with Shelby, snacking on graham crackers and peanut butter, and coloring a pretty mandela for Zola.
Meredith had not colored since she was a toddler; arts and crafts were pointless, according to Ellis Grey, but surprisingly, Meredith did enjoy the activity. Keeping each shade within its designated space reminded her of performing surgery.
Early the next morning, after a restless night on her uncomfortable psychiatric mattress, Meredith was awoken by a new tech named Jen. Her vitals were measured, like usual, and Jen also provided Meredith with some good news.
"Your nurse wanted me to let you know that you'll be meeting with Dr. Wyatt after breakfast to discuss your discharge plan."
"Does that mean I get to go home?" Meredith asked.
"Probably soon but I'm not a doctor so don't quote me on that," Jen said.
Maybe due to the medication change, Meredith's appetite had vanished again overnight. It was difficult to choke down a bland helping of biscuits and gravy for breakfast, and the underripe banana was worse. Fasting was another easy method to delay discharge, though, so Meredith ate as much as she could before following Jen across the hall to Wyatt's office.
"Okay, Meredith," Wyatt said when they were situated on the sofa. "I know we've had two emotional sessions in as many days so I'm not going to keep you too long but I wanted to get your opinion on a few things, first and foremost, yesterday's session with Derek."
Couples' therapy had been a whirlwind of emotions… grief, anger, relief, and heartbreak. Meredith sighed. "I mean… I don't know. I guess it went as well as can be expected."
"Do you feel like you're going to have less difficulty when it comes to communicating with Derek?"
"I hope so… I mean… yeah, I think we'll be better."
Wyatt nodded and wrote something quickly on her legal pad. "And how has the change in medication been treating you? Are you feeling any different?"
"Again, I… I don't know," Meredith said, honestly. "I feel better than when I came in, I think, but I'm not sure if that's because of the medicine or the therapy."
"In all likelihood, it's a combination of both but the Sertraline, in particular, is going to take a while to work its way into your system," Wyatt said. "Mostly what I want to know is if you're experiencing any negative side effects like nausea, vertigo, worsened psychiatric symptoms…"
Meredith shook her head. "No, none of that. Does that mean that I can go home?"
"I might be willing to authorize discharge tomorrow if everything continues to go well but you have to promise me something, Meredith."
The patient grew silent so Wyatt continued. "First of all, you have to promise that you will show up regularly for your therapy sessions with me and be honest with me if you are having any suicidal thoughts."
"I was already doing that. I'm not suicidal," Meredith said.
"Okay, but you were also not being entirely honest with me," Wyatt corrected her. "I need you to tell the absolute truth about everything, even if it hurts… especially if it hurts. And I need you to be honest with Derek, too, to the best of your ability."
"I will. I'm not gonna get drunk anymore, Dr. Wyatt… I know I endangered a lot of people," Meredith promised.
"That's good to hear. Actually, I would advise you to totally refrain from alcohol for the time being. And one more thing, Meredith," Wyatt said and paused. "This is not an ultimatum as much as it is a concern. I want to talk about the grief group you attended yesterday, after our session with Derek."
"What about it?"
"My colleague, Alyson, informed me that you were having a difficult time writing a letter to your friend who passed away… George, I believe?"
"Oh, well… I wasn't really trying that hard, I guess," Meredith admitted. "I'd just had the long, emotional talk with you and Derek and I had just written a long, emotional letter to Derek. I'm sorry but George just hasn't been the one consistently on my mind lately."
"Then why did you choose to write to him in the first place? Why not write to Lexie?"
Because that would have been way harder, Meredith thought and internally scoffed. That was probably the point.
"I know I just gave you the other letter assignment, the letter to Derek, but I think that turned out fairly well," Wyatt continued. "Would you be willing to try writing a letter to Lexie, too?"
"Why would I do that? It's not like Lexie is going to write something in response to me," Meredith said.
"No, but it may help bring you some closure, all the same. You've mentioned that your father plans to keep Lexie on life support, indefinitely. Unfortunately, with him being her healthcare proxy, there's nothing we can do to control that, but we can control your emotional involvement. Write down everything you wish you could say to Lexie and if you would like, go and read the letter to her. As you know, there's no medical proof that Lexie can or cannot hear you but… like I said, you could tell her goodbye just as you would if she was coming off life support."
The idea was solid, yet also something that Meredith could never imagine herself doing. "I… I don't know. It's like… I don't want her to die in slow motion. B-But I'm also not ready to say goodbye."
"You're never going to be ready to say goodbye, especially to someone that is so young, someone that means so much to you," Wyatt said. "And this isn't something that you have to do right away, Meredith. It's not a homework assignment. Like we've already said, your primary focus needs to be taking care of yourself. If your father really is going to keep Lexie on the ventilator indefinitely, then you have time. Focus on yourself and your family. If there comes a moment where you feel the need to bring yourself closure, you have an outlet."
Writing a letter like that would be horrible, even worse than the note Meredith had penned to Derek. It was the closest thing to a dignified death that Meredith would be able to give Lexie, though, and she owed her sister so much more. Meredith took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay, I… I'll try."
"That's all I ask of you, Dr. Grey."
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Surgery was black and white, at least in comparison with other medical specialties. That was what Meredith liked about the discipline. There were exceptions, instances where the surgeon had to dig deeper to understand what was causing a patient's symptoms, but nine times out of ten, Meredith's job in the operating room was simple… remove the tumor. Suture the lacerated liver. Transplant the kidney.
Psychiatry was different. There was no blanket cure for depression and anxiety, schizophrenia or PTSD. Everyone's brains responded differently to the small amount of treatments available for mental illness and some people did not respond at all.
Still, in Meredith's opinion, there had to be a better way to run a self-esteem group than by utilizing a giant, plastic sphere, similar to a beach ball with motivational prompts written on each side.
The Adult Intermediate patients, eleven of them in all, sat in a circle alongside a social worker. Everyone got a turn, or to be more specific, several turns, to toss the beach ball into the air and whichever phrase faced them when the ball landed, was the following topic of discussion. Fifteen minutes into the class, they had talked about fears, favorite colors, siblings, and inspiring quotes. Meredith remained mostly quiet. She knew that she was supposed to contribute, especially if she wanted to be released tomorrow, but it was awkward and Meredith was exhausted from a morning group which consisted of traveling to the hospital's gym.
Meredith did not even exercise in regular life, not unless she counted running to Code Blues. Why would she want to sit on a stationary bike, pedaling for thirty minutes straight? Psych really was crap.
Regardless, the one detail Meredith had offered to the self-esteem group thus far took place during the sibling conversation. The social worker had asked if she had any siblings and Meredith said, "No."
Unlike in the past, Meredith was not ashamed of her relation to Lexie. But she just did not want to open that can of worms and be forced to talk about Lexie's condition.
Meredith was fifth in line for the ball so when the last inspiring quote had been shared, she was passed the huge, white thing by an African American woman with a huge Afro. Meredith contemplated refusing her turn and simply passing the beach ball onto Shelby. If she wanted to be reunited with Derek, though, that would not be the wisest decision so Meredith delicately tossed the beach ball into the air.
It landed with a flat inquiry facing the sky: What do you consider your biggest accomplishment thus far in life?
This was evidently supposed to help patients focus on their abilities, yet Meredith cringed. "Um… it's the one about your biggest accomplishments."
"Biggest accomplishments!" the social worker repeated, enthusiastically. "That's an interesting one. Why don't you start us off, Meredith? We haven't heard much from you."
"Um… okay," Meredith said and then froze. What was she supposed to say? Graduating medical school? Graduating from residency? Performing successful brain surgery, start to finish? Any of those options were sure to invite dozens of questions from the social worker and other patients. Someone might even recognize Meredith as a plane crash victim and announce this to the group.
"Come on sweetie, don't be shy. What's one thing you've done that you're proud of?" the social worker pressed.
"I… graduation. Probably graduation," Meredith finally said.
"Okay, that's a good one. What kind of graduation? High school? College?"
"College."
"You're lucky," a tall white man with glasses said. "I wish I'd gone to college when I was young."
"Well, there's still time for that. It's never too late," the social worker encouraged. "What's your degree in, Meredith?"
"Um… biology."
"Wow, not many people have the brains to specialize in something like that," Shelby remarked. "You must be super smart. Did you wanna be a doctor, at one point?"
"At… at one point," Meredith smiled weakly and allowed the discussion to move on. Shelby talked about how her biggest accomplishment was working at Taco Bell.
As soon as the group was over, Meredith jogged out onto the unit and claimed one of the two available patient phones. She had met Wyatt's request and attended three groups. That only meant one thing.
Derek answered on the third ring, his voice borderline frantic. "Hello? Meredith?!"
"Hi," Meredith whispered and listened as Derek breathed out air, relieved.
"Hi. How are you feeling?"
"I'm… good. I'm better," Meredith said. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good. Yesterday, after I got home from the hospital, Mark was at the house. We hung out, watched the Mariners game," Derek said.
Meredith, of course, had already known about this, although she pretended to be surprised. "Oh, that sounds like fun. I worked out this morning."
"You worked out?" The shock in Derek's tone was obvious.
"Yeah, the deal with Wyatt was that I had to go to three groups in order to get discharged, remember?"
"Oh, right… so… so what's the verdict? When are you getting out of there?"
Meredith allowed a pause to build dramatic effect. "Hmm… would you be okay with seeing my face tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow?! Really?!"
"Yeah, we get served breakfast at around 8:00 and Dr. Wyatt said it was okay if I leave directly after that, so probably around 8:45 or 9:00."
"I'll be there," Derek promised and Meredith could not help but grin. Only a few short days ago, Derek had not felt comfortable bringing Meredith home at all. Now, he was clearly excited and that had to mean that progress had been made.
"You should tell Zola," Meredith said. "Tell her that Mommy's coming home tomorrow."
"I'll probably tell her tomorrow morning, before we leave. Otherwise, she'll be driving me crazy for the rest of the day, asking to go get Mommy now."
Meredith smiled. "I miss her a lot. She knows that, right?"
"Of course she knows that, Meredith. I've told her everyday how much Mommy misses her and loves her. She's wanted to come visit, too, but I… I told her that you were sick and contagious so…" Derek trailed off and although they were several miles apart, Meredith could feel anxiety fill her husband.
"It's okay," she insisted. "That's best… kids under eighteen aren't allowed to visit here anyway."
"Yeah, I know. But maybe I should have told her the truth," Derek said.
"No, you shouldn't have… she's not even two yet, Derek. She wouldn't understand, even if you were completely honest. Saying that Mommy's sick… that's the right thing to do. It's true, I… I am sick."
"But you're getting better," Derek said.
"I am better," Meredith agreed. "So… anything else? I'll see you tomorrow?"
It was Derek's turn to become quiet. He sighed down the phone. "Hold on… Mer, um… I think it's probably best that I tell you this now, while you're still in the hospital…"
Meredith's stomach dropped several stories. "Oh, no… is it Lexie?"
"What? No, I… Lexie's the same, according to Mark," Derek said. "I just… I thought you would want to know that when I left the hospital yesterday, I had Karev drive me in a loop around the Seattle Grace lot. And um… I just wanted to tell you that… I found your car."
"M-My car?" That only meant one thing, too. Meredith had driven from an unknown bar to the hospital while severely intoxicated. It was flat-out humiliating… mortifying. Even when Meredith's drinking had been at its worst, through college and her intern year, she had never been stupid enough to drive drunk. There were too many trauma victims brought to emergency rooms across the country, courtesy of impaired drivers… it was a leading cause of deaths.
To put it simply, Meredith was speechless. How was she supposed to apologize for this? How was she supposed to forgive herself for this? Nearly killing herself was one thing but almost killing any number of innocent people was a whole new ballgame.
"I… I don't know what to say," Meredith muttered, just as Derek had yesterday in therapy.
"Yeah, I… I didn't really know what to think either. How drunk were you, Mer?"
"I mean, you saw me. You remember it more than I do. I was in pretty bad shape, right?"
"Yeah," Derek whispered and then cleared his throat. "Anyway, I… I'm not meaning to lecture you or anything. I know we already talked about all this yesterday and you apologized and you don't need to apologize again. I know your mindset was… I just… I thought you'd want me to be honest."
"I… I do. Thank you," Meredith said and then because she had to, apologized again. "Derek? I… I really am sorry."
"I know. I know you are…"
Meredith wiped at the tears that were developing, refusing to let them drop from her eyes. "I… I don't want to be that girl… you know, begging her husband for forgiveness…"
"You're not that girl. You're already forgiven, Meredith. You know that."
"R-Really? Cause… cause I wouldn't blame you if…"
"It's done," Derek interrupted. "You're safe. That's all that matters now. And things are going to change now, right?"
Meredith nodded, despite the fact that Derek couldn't see her. "Things are going to change. I promise. But I need you to listen to me, okay? I need you to listen to me and understand my viewpoint and… and tell me if I'm doing something stupid."
"You know I will," Derek said, chuckling lightly. "And I need you to talk to me. Tell me if my ego's getting in the way or… if there's something I can do that'll make it easier for you. Can you do that for me, Mer?"
For Derek… for Alex… for Zola. "I can do that. I will do that. I love you. I'll see you tomorrow."
Please don't forget to favorite/follow and most importantly, REVIEW! I hope you enjoyed. Chapter 31 should be up in the next week sometime as well. Love you all so much and thank you for supporting this story and myself through my crazy schedule. Xoxo, merderpedia :)