Hmm...chapter two. It's up within two days of chapter one. I think that might be a record for me. Maybe it's a sign that this story will be one of speedy updates. That would be nice. I might even give myself a nice friendly pat on the back. But yes, chapter two is here. My cold is almost gone, despite the many wishes for it to just hang out as my new, permanent writing buddy. Hee. Sorry to disappoint. Anyway, I still want my friendly pat on the back, so I'll try to keep updating this speedily even sans cold. Also, let's see...oh yes, there was a request for a bit less angst in the story. Hmm...(insert me making mumbly excuse noises)...well, let me try and explain. While it will be angst-tastic, it will not be the sort of story that is so sad that you want to jump off a bridge into a pool of hungry, waiting sharks. At least, I hope not. There will be some very sad angsty moments, however that will hopefully be balanced out by some sweet moments, some happy moments, and...dare I say it...a few purely fluffy moments. And if my story does somehow leave you in a pool of angst and tears, I promise I'll atone by writing the fluffiest oneshot in the world. I'm talking Mer and Der prancing through a field of flowers, singing songs, and riding about on their matching rainbow colored ponies. (Okay...not exactly, as that would, quite literally, kill me.) But my point is, I say that it's angst-tastic, but happiness will still exist within the plot. You know...briefly. For a moment or two...
Hee...please understand that I'm joking. I'm very glad you guys are liking the story so far. I was ridiculously nervous yesterday due to my easily shatterable little ego. But so far, so good. People are reading. Hopefully you all won't disappear after chapter two. Or you know...after making it through my rambling author's notes. And now, yep, time for chapter two. Oooh important to note, this chapter takes place about five or six days after the first chapter. They're not continuous.
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Meredith stared blankly out of the window, her forehead pressed hard against the pane of glass, absently entertaining the hope that her skin would absorb some of the surface's coolness. The view was beautiful, even in the midst of all the gray and all the rain, and a few rays of early morning sunlight managed to make their way through the rainy veil to illuminate the hospital's wide walkway. But Meredith focused only on the raindrops, watching them roll down the giant window in a thousand little rivulets. She sighed heavily, shifting her head to expose a new expanse of slightly sticky, feverish skin to the cold glass. The weather had turned surprisingly brisk and damp overnight, although the briskness was honestly far more surprising than the dampness, and she knew if she were outside she would be shivering. The few people hurrying across the hospital parking lot were bundled tightly against the sudden chill, but Meredith didn't feel sorry for them at all. She felt far too overheated herself, her scrubs clinging uncomfortably to her body, and her stomach tense and unsettled. Besides, she'd found it was best to ignore the figures down below. The risk of her eyes landing on a familiar head full of thick raven hair was just too great. She wasn't exactly that good at disregarding the goosebumps Derek gave her; the disconcerting contrast between the warmth of desire and the sick ache of emptiness. And Meredith had learned it was never a good idea to tempt fate, especially when alone on an empty bridge just after dawn, while feeling pathetically weak and shredded. (Pathetically weak and shredded even by her new, post-ignorance-is-bliss standards, which…whenever she managed to be completely honest with herself for a minute…she realized had grown disturbingly high.) So Meredith just focused on the rain as she leaned heavily on the railing, feeling grateful that none of her patients were trying too terribly hard to die, and that her pager remained silent.
"Meredith?" came the sound of a familiar voice. Fortunately, it wasn't the warm deep tones of the man she'd just been thinking about (and always seemed to be thinking about), so it wasn't an entirely unwelcome interruption, but the sound still forced her to drag her forehead away from the cooling surface of the window. She moaned slightly in protest as she straightened up, her fingers clenching to brace herself as she fought off a wave of the ill quavering feeling that had started sneaking up on her the past few days. "What's wrong?" continued the voice. "You look like crap."
"Thanks," said Meredith dryly, simultaneously raising an eyebrow and sighing as she turned to face her friend.
"No seriously, you look like crap. What happened to you?"
"Nothing Cristina," snapped Meredith, feeling suddenly tense. "I'm fine. I'm just not a morning person."
Cristina shot her a skeptical look, but snorted in agreement. "Who is?" She paused for a second, apparently contemplating her own question. "Except Bambi…and maybe Tinkerbell. You know, they're actually down there in the locker room right now, sharing a granola bar and talking about pancake toppings. Oh, and they're smiling Mer. Smiling! Who smiles at five thirty in the morning?" Meredith shook her head, but the corners of her mouth twitched upward.
"Apparently George and Izzie do."
"It makes you toxic…you know, I almost started talking to Evil Spawn," continued Cristina disgustedly.
"That bad?" asked Meredith. Cristina nodded her head.
"Sheer desperation. I had to escape. Is that…hey, why are you up here anyway?"
Meredith looked quickly down at the floor. "No reason," she said simply, shrugging her shoulders. Cristina raised one appraising eyebrow, looking far from satisfied.
"Don't tell me you were hiding from McDreamy?"
"What?" Meredith halted suddenly, pivoting around to face Cristina, the word coming out in a thin gasp. "No, I wasn't," she continued quickly. She shook her head slightly too emphatically. "I just…come up here to think. Sometimes…" She frowned, hating how cautious and uncertain she sounded, but her mind was too busy holding back a sudden onslaught of memories involving her and Derek on the bridge to pay much attention to her voice.
"Right," agreed Cristina, although the tone of her own voice was far from agreement and far closer to sarcasm. "He's a McBastard Mer. I say keep hiding from him."
"Right," echoed Meredith weakly. "A McBastard." She shuffled alongside Cristina in silence, forcing herself to keep moving. Every step felt far too labored, as if her legs had turned brittle and useless overnight.
"Oh…I forgot," said Cristina absently, digging into the front pocket of her lab coat. "Izzie said to give you this." She held out a very wrinkled paper bag.
"What's this?" asked Meredith, plucking the bag from Cristina's outstretched hand.
"Apparently breakfast. Izzie gave me a whole speech to repeat to you too about how she doesn't think you eat enough…very 'Hi, I'm a Stepford wife. Can I get you a side of Paxil with your waffles this morning?'" Meredith unfolded the bag, extracting an impeccably wrapped cranberry muffin from its depths. "See…very Stepford," whispered Cristina, her voice rich with both conspiracy and amusement.
"Izzie's a good baker," said Meredith quietly, cautiously peeling back the wrapper and examining the muffin. The usually inviting aroma seemed to have suddenly turned sickly sweet, and it sent the unsteady feeling that had been lurking in her legs rushing straight up to settle in her stomach. Meredith hastily rewrapped the muffin, dropping it unceremoniously back into the bag, as her teeth bit down sharp against her lower lip to ward off the impulse to gag.
"What's wrong with you?" asked Cristina as the bag was handed back to her. Meredith hesitated for a moment before swallowing hard and shrugging.
"Nothing. Just not hungry."
"Right," said Cristina, rolling her eyes. "What sort of person is on call all night, and then doesn't want breakfast?"
"What? I'm fine," said Meredith distractedly, speaking more to herself than her friend. "Seriously…I'm fine." She shook her head sharply, pressing a hand to her forehead before sweeping her hair up into a messy ponytail. A hundred unwelcome thoughts were whirling through her mind, and with a slow shaky breath, Meredith did her best to silence them, suddenly longing for the numb forgetful state she'd grown used to. "Totally fine," she echoed to herself once more.
"Yeah…whatever you say Mer," muttered Cristina, already unwrapping the muffin once more and breaking off a piece.
Meredith turned and shot the muffin a withering glare, mumbling something about needing to check on a patient before rounds, as she hurried away down the hall. She barely heeded Cristina's comment that she was clearly anything but fine, wanting nothing more than to get far away from the smell of anything even remotely edible. She rounded a corner at full speed and pushed open a door, grateful that some small part of her brain was able to focus and find the way to the women's washroom. It was beautifully empty inside, every stall door resting ajar. Meredith staggered into the one at the far end, her hand instinctively locking the door before she sank down onto the ground, her head falling against her knees.
It wasn't that Meredith thought she was going to throw up exactly. But, her stomach was doing that horrible churning thing that usually followed close on the heels of too much tequila. She sighed and rested her forehead against the heel of her palm. It was far from comfortable, but the pain of pressing her wrist backwards offered a nice contrast to the quavering, nauseous feeling that seemed to be taking over her body. Meredith closed her eyes, doing her best to remember how to breathe in a normal even fashion.
Finally, the desire to hurl herself face first into the toilet seemed to be lessening, and Meredith slowly pulled herself back onto her feet. Standing up wasn't so horrible after all, and after a few minutes of leaning against the stall door, Meredith found she could walk on her own. She shuffled out of the stall and over to the sinks, one hand hovering cautiously over her stomach. She was keeping her mind deliberately closed. It was something Meredith had gotten rather good at over the years. The fact that she never got to grow up with a dad, her mother's Alzheimer's, Derek going home with Addison every night…they were all unpleasant things. Painful things. Things one doesn't want to think about too closely. And so Meredith avoided the issues…at least, as much as possible. Derek was inherently hard to avoid, but she tried. And Meredith was trying now. Trying to ignore the fact that she was exhausted and felt as if she'd spent the whole night drinking at Joe's, trying to remind herself just how highly contagious the flu was within a hospital, trying to decide if it was possible she'd just developed a severe cranberry muffin allergy. Only it wasn't quite working this time. Her suspicions were still there, slowly chipping away at her ability to avoid and deny.
I'm not pregnant, Meredith decided forcibly, turning her thoughts into hard steely things that managed to offer her some final semblance of avoidance. Seriously…so not pregnant. It was becoming a mantra of sorts, echoing over and over in her mind as she glared at her reflection in the mirror. Her blonde hair was messy, wavy strands escaping from her ponytail and tumbling down across her forehead. Her face was pale and tired, but her eyes were stubborn, as if they were at war with her mind, and utterly set on ignoring her own suspicions. Meredith sighed and reached out, giving a violent twist to the faucet of the sink in front of her. Icy water came pouring out, and she leaned forward, wincing slightly as she splashed her face. But the sound of the rushing water was loud, halfway drowning out her thoughts, and completely obscuring the noise of the bathroom door as it was pushed open.
Meredith straightened up, blinking water from her eyes and groping for the stack of paper towels she knew was lurking somewhere nearby. Quite unexpectedly, she felt a paper towel being placed in her hand. "Huh?" she mumbled, wiping her eyes dry and turning to focus on the tall figure standing beside her.
"Morning Dr. Grey." The voice was polite, if a little bit cool, and as perfectly manicured as the hand that had passed her the towel. Meredith just gaped at her, her mouth hanging open, struggling not to stare.
"Dr. Montgomery Shepherd," she said at last, moving to throw away the paper towel despite having forgotten to dry off the rest of her face. "Umm…good morning." Now was not the time to be stuck in the bathroom with Addison. Actually, Meredith didn't really think any time was a good time to be stuck in the bathroom with Addison Shepherd. But she was Derek's wife. And therefore there was something about her that was painfully fascinating. Maybe it was the perfect red hair, or the easy way she just floated around the hospital all tall and leggy all the time. Meredith wasn't sure. She thought it might be the clothes. Sometimes, when she was feeling particularly depressed and self-destructive, she'd try to see if she could name the designers Addison was wearing that day. She never could. (Her guesses were usually just someone fancy, someone expensive, and someone really expensive.)
But right now, that wasn't really important. Right now, Meredith didn't even really care that her scrubs were pathetically wrinkled while Addison's shoes perfectly matched her freaking perfect blouse. Because all that Meredith could think about was that the uncooperative half of her brain was busy contemplating buying a pregnancy test on her way home from work, and she was standing in front of the hospital's damn queen of the pregnant ladies.
"So…umm…" stammered Meredith, quite surprised to find herself still able to speak. "Rounds. I've gotta go round." Addison didn't lift her eyes from the mirror, but offered a vague sound of acknowledgement as she began reapplying her lipstick. Meredith wasn't exactly sure why she was explaining herself to Addison, especially seeing as the other woman hadn't even asked. She thought she might possibly blame it on the fact that she still kind of felt like throwing up. Nausea ought to work as an excuse for something, after all. "Can't keep Bailey waiting," she concluded awkwardly, backing towards the door.
Addison recapped her tube of lipstick, offering Meredith the reflection of a smile through the slightly dirty bathroom mirror. Her voice was once again distantly polite. "Have a nice day, Grey."
"Right…you too." Meredith nodded vaguely as she stepped into the hallway, and let the door slam shut between them.
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Derek kicked the car door shut. The sound of it closing was a low thud: empty, lifeless, and heavy. He imagined for a moment that that was probably what his heartbeat sounded like these days, and a flash of a humorless smile twisted briefly across his face. He was home, if he could call it that. The sky was quickly darkening into the black of night, the wind whipping almost cruelly past his skin, urging him to hurry towards the trailer glowing warm and inviting just a few feet away. But Derek dragged his feet, wanting to savor his time alone. He wanted to linger for a few moments in peace, for a few moments free of long unwanted conversations about how to repair his marriage, even if that meant lingering in the bitter cold. Derek wasn't quite sure how to reconcile the change in his life that the past month had brought. At its simplest, it was a change from happy to unhappy. It was the shift away from living, and towards trying to live. Everything that had been easy and natural had become a struggle. He tried to comfort himself with the knowledge that this what was honorable, that it was the right thing, that it was what the wedding vows meant after all. And most of the time, that worked. But somehow, it was always hardest at night. Then the absence of Meredith wasn't just a gnawing thought in the back of his mind, but a gaping hole in his side, right there where she used to lean into him, tucking her small hands into the back pockets of his jeans.
But eventually he pushed open the door to the trailer, blinking in the sudden contrast from dark to light. He shrugged his jacket off, looking up at the sound of Addison's voice.
"Hey," she said almost cautiously, drying her hands off on a dishtowel.
Derek nodded his head, mumbling his own greeting. He was about to shuffle through the tiny kitchen towards the bed at the back of the trailer, when something caught his attention and he spun back around. "You're cooking," he said. It was half a question, half a statement, and completely filled with shock.
"I'm cooking," agreed Addison. She leaned forward, peering inquisitively at the stove, and gave a tentative stir to the contents of a large pot.
Derek smirked slightly. "How very domestic of you." Addison just frowned at him, a hand resting on her hip. "Since when do you cook?"
"Since you decided we were going to live in a trailer. I haven't yet found a decent takeout place willing to deliver to the middle of nowhere." Her voice was light and teasing, reminiscent of the way they used to talk to each other, and Derek found he was smiling despite himself.
"Right," he agreed, walking towards Addison and glancing at the pot. It was filled with boiling water and something that seemed to resemble a very large clump of spaghetti. "Good luck with that." He moved past her, flopping down onto the bed with a tired sigh as he kicked off his shoes. Derek closed his eyes, listening to the sound of Addison moving about in the kitchen-opening cabinets and occasionally cursing under her breath at uncooperative ingredients. His wife was barely ten steps away, and yet he found himself falling back into his favorite habit. Imagining that Meredith was there instead. He wasn't exactly proud of how much he thought of her. It made him feel pathetic and a little bit despicable, and he was pretty sure Meredith herself would look at him with disgust if she could see inside his mind. But it was just so easy to do. He could imaging her standing there, right where Addison was. Only she'd be wearing nothing more than a little pair of red underwear and maybe one of his shirts. Less if he could convince her…and he'd always been able to convince her. Meredith would be having an even worse time in the kitchen then Addison. As she'd told him once, she and a stove were a dangerous combination. Derek could imagine her throwing her hands up in defeat and pleading for him to come to her, his name mingling on her lips with a light peal of laughter. And he would go to her. Of course he would. He always did in his mind, even though he couldn't in reality anymore. Meredith would jump into his arms, her thighs warm and smooth as her legs hooked easily around his back, and by the time either of them remembered they were in the kitchen for a reason, the water would've boiled over and the pasta burnt black.
"Derek? Derek are you sleeping?" The sound of his name jolted Derek from that hazy place between consciousness and dreams. He sat up, rubbing a hand across his face, and slowly focusing on Addison standing in front of him.
"What?" he muttered, his voice unintentionally rough in an attempt to cover up the guilt he was sure was written plainly in his eyes.
"Are you hungry?" continued Addison, shooting him a puzzled frown. She gestured behind them, towards the tiny table that was crammed into the kitchen. Derek shifted towards the edge of the bed, his gaze focusing on the twin bowls filled with pasta and the bottle of wine resting neatly between them. "I made enough for both of us," said Addison, her voice tinged with hesitancy and her fingers fidgeting with her wedding band.
"Umm," began Derek, shaking his head. He wanted nothing more than to return to his dream about Meredith, and the lie that he wasn't hungry, that he'd eaten at the hospital, was halfway to his lips.
"It's good." Addison's voice was surprisingly earnest, sounding almost childlike. She stretched a hand out towards Derek, palm up and begging him to join her. "I tasted it already." She swayed slightly from side to side, raising an eyebrow and lifting the corner of her mouth into a smile. "Please Derek?"
Before he'd quite made up his mind, he found his hand accepting hers, and his head nodding in agreement. "Alright Addie." Derek let her pull him to his feet, watching as her face instantly split into a grin. "Lets eat." He followed after her into the kitchen, settling down into his seat at the table. Addison looked ridiculously happy, her red hair glowing warmly in the light of the kitchen. Derek smiled softly at her and picked up his fork, promising himself he would try his hardest not to think of Meredith for the length of time it took to finish a bowl of pasta. He figured that that was what a marriage was about after all. Simply trying.
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Meredith was sitting with her back to her bathroom sink. Her legs were drawn tightly against her chest, and her chin was resting between her knees. Her body was growing numb and uncomfortable from so much time on the floor, but she had no desire to move. It was the perfect position for two reasons. First of all, she couldn't see the sink at all. Second of all, even if she turned around, the countertop of the sink was way above eyelevel. It was utterly impossible to see all the way up there. From down on the floor, the bathroom still seemed normal. Her towel was hanging on its usual hook. Her shampoo and conditioner were standing next to her razor inside the shower. Just like they normally did. Her hairbrush, two vanilla candles, a stack of magazines. Normal, normal, normal. So standing up? It was out of the question. If she stood up, and looked at the harmless porcelain counter of the sink, she had a sinking suspicion that the bathroom wouldn't be so normal any more.
But suspicions were miles away from reality, and Meredith desperately wanted to just remain suspicious. Still…she couldn't keep sitting on the floor. The longer she sat there, the less time there was until Izzie and George came home, and one or both of them wanted in the bathroom. She didn't want to imagine how that would play out; the door swinging open to reveal her just sitting there, disbelief in her eyes as she stared straight ahead.
And so Meredith stood up. She didn't quite turn around, but she did stand up. She lingered there, with her back to the sink and her arms crossed tightly over her chest, spending several minutes trying to will herself to just turn around already. Meredith was pretty sure she looked insane, like some sort of crazy person cowering from the sight of a sink. But then…she figured only crazy people bought and took three pregnancy tests, lining them up in a neat row next to the hand soap, and then proceeded to ignore them for a half an hour, flat out refusing to read the results.
It was entirely possible that they could all be negative, that she could spin around and come face to face with three little minus signs. Or two minus signs…she supposed that could be possible too. Even just one. Meredith decided she'd settle for one. She'd gladly settle for just one. That would give her a little shred of hope to cling to. She could announce that she had the flu, and climb happily into bed with a mug of tea and something trashy to read for the rest of the evening. She might even get Izzie to paint her toenails some ridiculous shade of bubblegum pink. She'd deserve it…seeing as she'd have the flu and all.
And so, clinging to that hope, Meredith spun around and stared down at the sink. She felt her heart lurch, skipping a beat. She'd been right about the bathroom. It wasn't so normal anymore. Hell, her life wasn't normal anymore. Her freaking world wasn't normal anymore. Everything was just sort of…turning over and falling apart. She figured she should be crying, or shaking her head, or reacting in some sort of way. But she couldn't. All she could do was stare because there were three identical plus signs waiting for her on the edge of the sink; three, little, light blue, perfectly aligned plus signs.
It was a little too much to process at the moment.
She was pregnant. Apparently. Meredith scrutinized her stomach carefully. It didn't look any different than normal. Not even slightly rounder. She ought to at least look somewhat fatter if she was pregnant. It wasn't fair. There was no proof other than a stupid stick. (Okay…three stupid sticks.) She didn't even feel sick at the moment. Well, not unless the vaguely horrified feeling that was slowly washing over her qualified. Meredith figured it might, because she did feel horrified. It was a hollow sucking feeling that was gradually deepening into something completely cold and lonely.
She reached out, scraping the tests off the sink and into the trash. They fell with a soft clattering sound, disappearing into a mess of emptied lotion bottles and discarded tissues. Meredith decided she liked the bathroom better without the visual reminder. But the fact that she was not only stupid enough to fall for her married boss, but stupid enough to get knocked up by him as well was sitting a little too prominently at the forefront of her thoughts. Even without the damn visual reminder.
Meredith walked out of the bathroom and towards her room. She felt numb, almost as if she was sleepwalking. She wanted to go to Joe's and drink tequila until her lips burned, until everything was cloudy and tantalizing, until she could barely walk straight. She wanted to drag home a random guy who wasn't Derek, and who wouldn't get her pregnant. She wanted to keep George and Izzie up all night so they'd shoot her dirty looks in the morning. Most of all, she wanted to forget. But she couldn't. She felt a tear roll down her face, and she reached up, wiping it away almost roughly. You don't drink when you're pregnant, she told herself bitterly.
It was still too much to comprehend. It was still way too much to process. And so Meredith turned off her light and closed her door, trying her best to shut out the world.
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Okay...I did it. I wasn't sure if I could, or if I even should, but it's been done. I wrote Meredith pregnant. I felt a little bit guilty because I'd already written her to be terribly sad and heartbroken, and now she's all that plus pregnant. But you know...it had to be done. For the plot to work or something. And, a few of you are terribly observant, picking up on her chapter one swaying. Hee I was so impressed, I'd give you guys gold stars if I could. Also, there was a Derek section this chapter because I really like writing that guy. Almost as much as I like writing Mer. So there will be future Derek sections in upcoming chapters as well. That's about all I have to say for now. Considering that it's two days until finals, I really ought to go do some equations or read a textbook. Something studious... Oh yeah, please review. Pretty please?