Okay…so, this update took awhile again. Blame it on the dead Mer. And the craziness of sweeps. And then a little bit more on the dead Mer. Apparently, I have issues with writing when she has no heartbeat. But anyway, she has a heartbeat now, and I can manage to return my mind to my version of Grey's. So yes, that'd be the long unusual explanation for the delay in updates.

What else…first of all, thanks so much to everyone who has been taking the time to review. You really make writing this worthwhile, and are pretty much all around awesome people as far as I'm concerned. So, thank you for taking the time to write up what you thought. I love hearing it. Seriously, love it so much. Love, love, love. But yes…about this story. I realize it is a fairly long story by now. I really hope people aren't minding. When I planned it out, I didn't realize just how long it would take to get through nine months, even with skipping over significant chunks of time. Nine months is a long time…and so yeah, basically, I'm saying I hope people aren't getting bored with this. We're nearing the end, but there are still some chapters left, and they're not pure fluff…they do have a plot to them. So, hopefully it'll take a decent stab at interesting. And…that's enough with the angsty introspective doubts for tonight! Speaking of length and long-ness in general, this chapter is back to being a long one. There's a lot to cover to get us from point A to point B, so…yes. Long. Thought I'd point that out, and…same day as the prior chapter as well. That's about it for now. Enjoy!

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I have lost myself again
Lost myself, and I am nowhere to be found
Yeah I think that I might break
I've lost myself again, and I feel unsafe
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Meredith glared down at the glass in her hands, watching as the smooth surface spun past her palms, sending the water sloshing against the edges as cubes of ice clinked together and collided. The soft sounds were almost lost beneath the louder noises that filled the bar, but staring at her water seemed to make everything else fade away into the background, leaving only her, her drink, and something oppressive and dark that surrounded her and filled her mind. Heaving a sigh, she lifted her head and leaned forward slightly, peering down the long length of the bar. "Joe!" she called, summoning the bartender back over to her.

He looked up with his usual warm smile, and walked towards her, clearing used glasses as he moved. "What is it?" he asked, resting a large elbow on the wooden countertop. "You want some more water?"

Meredith just shook her head, flicking her fingernail absently against the glass. "Derek's a jackass," she muttered by way of reply.

"I know," he agreed. "You've been telling me that for the past two hours." He reached forward and filled her nearly empty glass anyway as Meredith frowned up at him.

"Yes, but I mean it Joe," she continued, her voice insistent as if she feared he didn't believe her. "He doesn't let me do anything. Seriously, if it were up to him, I'd be…" She shook her head again, pursing her lips as she racked her mind for the perfect response--something that would make Joe understand just how frustrated, how close to furious she felt. "I'd be laying in bed for the next four months," she finally concluded, her voice bitter as Joe merely chuckled, failing to grasp why she had found the day so devastating. She didn't understand it completely herself. All she knew was that it felt like she had swallowed a thick heated knot of something embittered and angry, and it was now twisting within her, making it impossible for her to do anything other than glower at the world.

"I'm sure it's not as bad as that," said Joe gently, but Meredith slammed the base of her glass against the counter, turning flashing green eyes upon him.

"Yes," she said shortly. "It is. He wants me to be miserable."

"Now…that's the last thing he wants," argued Joe. "Shep can't even come in here without trying to talk my ear off about you and the baby. He wants you happy." Meredith's frown weakened slightly at his words, and she felt a momentary pang of guilt surge through her; knowing that lurking at Joe's to avoid Derek was only worsening things between them…creating problems where, just one day prior, there had been none. "Isn't it possible you're overreacting?" tried the bartender tentatively, not quite sure how to handle her suddenly sharp and angry mood.

"Not possible," snapped Meredith, finding the question condescending, and letting her annoyance at that send her straight back into being mad at Derek. "I'm not overreacting." Her gaze swung between her protruding stomach and the glass of water clenched in her fist, and she gave a quick shake of her head. "If it weren't for Derek, I could be drunk right now, and then I wouldn't mind that he was a complete jackass," she continued crossly, taking a long sip of water, and sucking an ice cube into her mouth. "But no…he goes and gets me pregnant." She crunched down hard with her teeth, wincing slightly at the sudden intense burst of cold as the ice splintered into sharp slivers within her mouth. "And I just really need a drink," she moaned, her head falling forward to rest in her hands. Joe reached out and ruffled her hair as Meredith sighed heavily. "But instead I am sober," she continued, her voice rising as she lifted her head once more, hating that she could still remember the entire day with perfect clarity. She spoke emphatically, wrinkling her nose at Joe. "Painfully sober, Joe. Painfully. Sober."

"And that's a bad thing?" he asked, casting a quick glance around his bar in the hopes of spotting one of her friends.

Meredith just rolled her eyes at him. "Yes," she said flatly. "It means I have to sit here and think about him."

"Right…" began Joe, heaving a sigh of relief as the door to the bar swung open, and he found his prayer answered. Cristina walked in, looking back to roll her eyes at the giggling tangle of limbs that constituted George and Izzie as they made their way through the door as well. Waving them over, Joe shot a pointed look at Meredith's slumped form, handing her over to her friends as he moved to fill their drinks.

"Mer?" asked Cristina, her voice questioning as she hopped up onto the stool next to her. Meredith nodded slightly, turning her head to look at her, but saying nothing in reply. "Ah…" continued Cristina immediately, comprehension filling her eyes. "You're still mad at Shepherd then." Meredith nodded again, straightening up to fish another ice cube out of her glass.

"What?" asked Izzie curiously, leaning forward to peer past George. "Why are you here by yourself?"

"Avoiding Derek," muttered Meredith, picking at the shells that littered the countertop.

"What?" gasped Izzie, her eyes widening as she reached forward, and pushed George's head out of the way, practically sprawling herself across the bar in order to hear Meredith's mumbled reply.

"Yeah Meredith," tried George gently, shifting free of Izzie. "What happened? You never come to Joe's anymore."

"Well I'm here now," she answered flatly, growing suddenly frustrated with her long bangs, and sweeping them forcibly back out of her eyes.

"Okay, but…" pressed Izzie, finding the explanation to be far from sufficient. "Did he do something…or say something, or…?" Meredith just snorted, leaving Cristina to reply.

"She's mad because she was Shepherd's intern, and he didn't let her do anything all day." Meredith turned to glare at her, and Cristina threw her hands up in the air. "What?" she asked incredulously. "Now you care that I told them? Seriously, Meredith?"

Meredith shrugged, and shook her head. "No," she said glumly, relenting and turning back to her glass. She could practically feel her three friends exchanging looks over her bowed head, and she closed her eyes, willing to bet just about anything that, within a minute or so, Izzie would be clearing her throat to say something annoyingly optimistic. And sure enough, Izzie coughed, and leaned forward once again.

"Mer…come on," she said softly. "It was your first day back. I'm sure he just wanted to let you ease back into things."

"Yeah," agreed George, smiling at her reassuringly as he nodded his head. "Tomorrow won't be so bad."

"Right," snorted Meredith, grateful that Cristina was at least remaining silent, simply sitting there and nursing a bottle of beer. "He requested me just so that he could stick me in a room with a perfectly healthy patient, and make me sit there all day." She glared at her other two friends, challenging them to keep on defending Derek.

"Okay…" Izzie tilted her head from side to side, frowning slightly. "Maybe he went a little over the top, but it's sweet Mer."

"It is not sweet," Meredith spat indignantly.

"He was looking out for you," said George, his voice kind and concerned, yet grating within Meredith's mind.

"No," she said sharply. "This was not looking out for me. This was…this was…" She shook her head uncertainly, pointing a finger at George's chest--the tip of her nail just a hair away from digging in in frustration. "We are here to talk about why Derek's an ass," she said, her tone unusually forceful. Every inch of her body felt tired and sore, her lower back throbbing, and serving to intensify the frustrations that were already yanking her wildly back and forth between two conflicting desires--fighting off the urge to either shout at her friends, or simply burst into loud and unexplainable tears. Finally, she swallowed hard, and found a strained but useable version of her voice. "You guys used to have plenty of hateful things to say about Derek all the time. Try reusing some of those now." Izzie shifted uncomfortably, but George nodded obediently, scooting forward to set down his drink.

"That McBastard made you sit all day?" he asked, forcing his voice to turn as indignant and feminine as possible as Cristina suddenly snorted with mingled amusement and disbelief at his impression. "Who does he think he is? What a…" George trailed off momentarily, uncertain of how to conclude his rant. "McBastard," he repeated after a moment, garnering the slightest ghost of a smile from Meredith. "Did that work?" he asked eagerly, once again reaching out for his beer.

"Well…" began Izzie slowly, giggling and shaking her head. "It was a nice try. E for effort, and all that." She let out a sudden laugh at George's wounded look, shrugging before turning back to study Meredith.

"This is not funny," Meredith said dryly, shaking her head as she frowned and rubbed at the ache that ran through her stomach. "None of this is funny," she repeated a little less forcefully, the memory of George's voice, and the goofy grin he was training on her serving to help lighten her mood. Shaking her head, she gave in to the beginnings of a smile, even as she protested one last time. "None of this is even slightly…" However, her words were cut short by the sudden sound of ringing coming from her purse. Meredith's frown returned as she leaned forward to grab her phone, staring at the screen before resolutely pressing down with her thumb and flipping the phone to silent.

"Aren't you gonna get that?" asked Izzie skeptically as Meredith simply dropped the phone back into her bag.

Meredith's response was flat and emotionless. "No."

"Why?" asked George, practically radiating curiosity as he twisted around in a failed attempt to see the phone. "Was that…was that Shepherd? You're ignoring his calls?"

"You think, Bambi?" said Cristina dryly, simultaneously shaking her head and rolling her eyes at him just as Izzie's elbow came flying out to collide with his ribcage.

"Ow," he gasped, frowning as he turned to glare at his friend. "What was that for?"

Izzie looked at him pointedly, daintily flicking a speck of dirt from the soft pink fabric of her sweater. "Just let her be," she cautioned in a hushed voice. "Cristina's better at this part." She glanced over her shoulder almost wistfully at the other two women; they had fallen quickly into a whispered yet animated conversation, their voices rising and falling in a fast changing chorus of frustration, indignance, and sharp bursts of laughter. It was only a barstool away, and yet--to George and Izzie--it suddenly felt close to indiscernible, as if they spoke another language.

"She's very angry tonight," observed George after watching Meredith and Cristina talk for several minutes.

"Yeah." Izzie laughed and nodded her head, leaning forward to scoop a handful of nuts from the basket resting on the counter. "It's gotta be all the hormones." Her words fell on a brief lull in the conversation to their right, and Meredith whirled back around, suddenly glaring at them.

"It is not all the hormones," she said airily, picking up her glass and pressing the cool surface to her lips.

"Mer it's okay," said Izzie with a shrug. "The hormones can make you crazy." She stretched out the last word, her eyes widening as her face split into a broad grin, but Meredith just shook her head.

"No," she said crossly, suddenly sliding down from her seat at the bar, and reaching out to swing her bag over her shoulder. "It is not the hormones. It is not my fault. This is not my fault," she repeated, her voice emphatic. "It's Derek's fault. Derek and his stupid…whatever." She sighed heavily, pivoting on her heel as Izzie reached out to stop her.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes," said Meredith, pulling her arm free from her friend's grasp. "I need to go and…think, or something." She shook her head, running a hand through her hair as she tried to keep from once again snapping at her them for no reason.

"You going home?" asked George, spinning around in his chair to face her. "Want us to drive you, or come with, or something?" His voice was hopeful, and filled with his usual desire to be helpful, but Meredith just shook her head.

"No. I'm going to…I don't know." She sighed, and looked up at them, already busy fishing out her keys. "I'm fine," she said with a forced smile. "I just want to be alone for awhile." She turned around once more, moving quickly towards the door before either George or Izzie could get in another round of protests.

She took a deep breath as she pushed her way out of the bar, stepping out into the cool night air. The darkness surrounding her was more complete than she had been expecting, and Meredith paused for a moment in the yellow pool of a street lamp to squint down at her watch, eyebrows lifting in surprise as she realized it was already close to eleven. She felt another brief twinge of guilt knowing that Derek was probably worrying, but it passed quickly as she slid into her car, letting her forehead fall forward to rest against the steering wheel. She was a strange combination of exhausted and energized; her body sore and worn out, wanting nothing more than to collapse onto her bed, letting Derek's hands work her feet back into something a little less aching, but her mind was wide awake and humming with frustrations. It wasn't something she could quite explain. All she knew was that she was angry, and that, in some convoluted way, it made sense to stay angry. She backed out of the parking lot, and turned onto a street leading away from her house. She felt as if she had something to prove--some sort of independence she had to stake out for herself now, before it was too late--and so she kept on driving aimlessly. It felt almost as if she were seventeen again, refusing to go home just because she could. Granted, this time there was no nameless boy sitting next to her, no half finished bottles of alcohol clinking as they rolled along the carpeted floor. Meredith rolled her eyes and reached for the dial on the radio, smiling in dry amusement as she realized she was at least still playing the music just as loud.

Eventually, she found herself stifling yawns at every red light, and she turned to go home, doing her best to ignore the neon glow of the clock on the dashboard. But as she pulled up in front of her house, Meredith found her eyes swinging back to the clock despite her efforts, and she winced as '12:25' broke its way through the darkness. "Dammit," she muttered, getting out of the car, and slamming the door shut. She made her way towards her front door, indulging her mind in the possibilities of Derek either being sound asleep or stuck at the hospital due to an emergency surgery. But, she had barely taken five steps before the front door was flying open, and she felt as if she were once again suddenly revisiting her adolescence.

"Jesus, Mer…" said Derek, his voice rough as he hurried down the stairs towards her. Even in the dark, she could make out something wild in his eyes, and his hair looked unusually ruffled and unkempt. "Where were you?" he asked, grasping her hands in his; holding them tightly as if to reaffirm her existence. "Where the hell…are you okay?" He frowned down at her as he ushered her into the house, working hard to keep the note of panic that had filled him the past few hours from seeping into his speech.

"Yeah," answered Meredith quietly, pulling her hands back, and shoving them deep into the pockets of her jacket. "I'm fine."

"You're fine," echoed Derek, slumping against the wall in a moment of pure visible relief. Meredith frowned and nodded her head, moving past him into the front room to allow herself to sink down onto the couch with a heavy sigh. "You're fine," he repeated again, following her into the room, and coming to stand in front of her. Meredith nodded once more as she stared at him uncertainly; torn between apologizing and returning to the mood that had filled her from the bar through to mere moments ago, when she had looked up and seen the worry in his eyes. But before she could make up her mind, Derek resumed speaking. "Where the hell were you?" he asked, shaking his head as he started to pace back and forth in front of her. "Do you know how worried I've been? I come home from surgery, and what? There's nothing. You don't even leave a note. You're gone for hours…"

"Not hours," interrupted Meredith, suddenly indignant despite the fact that she knew he was right.

"Yes. Hours," said Derek, his voice rising in frustration. "I got home at nine. It's already after midnight. That's hours, Meredith." Meredith sighed and looked away--turning her face from him--and propping her chin up with one fist. "I went back to the hospital to look for you. I tried calling you. I thought…" He trailed off, running a hand through his hair, and heaving a heavy sigh. Her unexplainable absence had been jarring, almost terrifying, and her utter lack of response was quickly turning his tense relief into anger.

"What?" asked Meredith dryly, reluctantly rolling her head in the palm of her hand so that she was looking at him. "Five minutes without you deciding my every move, and you think I'm laying dead in a ditch somewhere? Seriously?"

Derek groaned, biting back the urge to yell at her. "I didn't know what to think."

"Well I'm fine," said Meredith, her voice stubborn as she shoved her bangs out of her eyes in an abrupt gesture.

"I can see that," snapped Derek. He looked away, swallowing hard before shaking his head, and turning back to face her. "Where were you?" he asked yet again.

Meredith shrugged. "At Joe's."

"At Joe's?" he echoed. "You went to Joe's? You haven't been there in months. Why did…"

"Why?" interrupted Meredith as she suddenly got to her feet, walking away from Derek, emotion flooding back into her. "Because I wanted to go to Joe's. I'm in charge of myself, Derek. And, despite what you think, you don't get to decide what I do every minute of every day." Her voice escalated quickly as she spoke, swinging violently from frustrated to undeniably angry, leaving Derek blinking at her in confusion.

"Since when have I decided what you're doing?" he asked incredulously, his own temper lessening because of the sudden onslaught of pure confusion, his mind racing to try and put together everything that was radiating from Meredith, and come up with something coherent.

"Seriously?" she spat, whirling back around to glare at him. "Have you forgotten today?" she asked, speaking slowly--stretching out each word.

"Today?" Derek shook his head, his expression quickly growing incredulous. "You mean this whole thing is still about work?" he asked, taking a step towards her. "About our patient?"

Meredith let out a bitter bark of a laugh, moving backwards to preserve the distance between them. "You don't get it, do you? Have you forgotten how you wouldn't let me do anything?" Derek opened his mouth to speak, but Meredith held up her hand, stepping even further away from him until suddenly, she was the one who was pacing. "I'm not going to sit at home all day, and just…sew stuff, and have your baby, and be this old-fashioned whatever for you," she said, her voice rising so that she was almost shouting. "I'm not going to do it." She cut off unexpectedly to catch her breath, and Derek found he could only stare blankly at her--holding up his hand in a strange duplicate of her body language.

"Meredith, I never said I wanted you to be an old-fashioned…whatever," he said, frowning slightly at her choice of words.

But she barely seemed to hear him; having already caught her breath and gone back to pacing. "I want to be a surgeon," she said angrily. "I am a surgeon. It's not supposed to matter that I'm pregnant. It's not…I'm still me. Bailey and the Chief…" She shook her head sharply, breathing heavily as she glared at Derek. "Everybody… Everybody's making me different now, which was bad enough, but now…you're doing it too."

"No…Mer," tried Derek, his voice gentle and swelling with concern. He took a step towards her, wanting to get her to at least stop the wild pacing that had her covering more than half the room. "Easy," he pleaded. "That's not what I think. Just please…sit down. This can't be good for you." Catching up with her in a single stride, he reached out and gripped her firmly by the shoulders-- unable to keep from growing alarmed over just how flushed her cheeks were, and how hard she was breathing--all short broken gasps as she cradled her stomach instinctively.

"There you go again," muttered Meredith darkly, his strength enough to force her to stand still. Glaring up at him through the black veil of her eyelashes, she let her chin jut out stubbornly. "I am not sitting down. I'm fine." She tried to wrench herself free from his grasp, but his hands wouldn't let her, and so she settled for scowling up at him, hating that he somehow still seemed to be missing the point.

"I'm not asking you to be different," he said quietly, staring down into the green eyes that kept avoiding his. "I just want to know you're okay…I just want you to be safe, Mer."

"Safe?" spluttered Meredith, but, before she could get another word out, they were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. They stepped slightly away from each other, turning to come face to face with George and Izzie. The four of them froze, the newcomers sensing the tension that hung thickly within the room; taking in Meredith's dark glare and Derek's open frustration.

"Okaaay…" said Izzie at last to break the heavy silence that was holding all of them immobile. "We're just gonna go upstairs." She motioned over her shoulder in a broad gesture--approximating the location of the stairwell. "Right away, up there where it's…practically soundproof." George snorted at that, but refrained from pointing out that all four people present knew firsthand just how thin the walls were. Instead, he simply turned, and moved to follow Izzie.

"Wait," demanded Meredith, causing her roommates to turn back around. "Was I at all unsafe tonight?" George and Izzie stared at her--taking in her crossed arms and the suddenly stubborn line of her mouth--confused by her question.

"What do you mean?" asked George as Derek let out a frustrated sigh.

Meredith looked up to glare at him before turning back to her friends. "Apparently," she began, her voice dry and pulsing with anger. "Derek thinks I can't take care of myself. So…tell him. Did I do anything unsafe or stupid tonight?"

"Meredith," muttered Derek, but she ignored him, keeping her focus on George and Izzie. George was shifting uncomfortably--rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet--clearly looking for a way to escape upstairs. Izzie, however, shrugged, and shook her head.

"Stupid? No, nothing stupid. Now…bitchy? Yeah, lots of that," she said, smiling in amusement, and lifting a hand to gesture back and forth between the tense figures of Meredith and Derek. "And I can see you've still got that one going strong." She flashed them both a winning grin, adding, "Nice work."

"Izzie," seethed Meredith, but her friend only shrugged, already backing away with George towards the staircase.

"Goodnight, gotta go, good luck with the whole McAngry Couple thing," she said in a rush, disappearing from sight and leaving Meredith alone with Derek.

"See," said Meredith pointedly, finally turning back around to face him. "I was fine. Now stop treating me like a child."

Derek shook his head, his mind still reeling. "Then stop acting like one," he blurted out before he could stop himself. Meredith's eyes flashed, and she took a step backwards, her mouth dropping open in shock.

"What?" she asked incredulously.

"You run off to Joe's, and then ignore my calls despite the fact that you know I'll be worried out of my mind," began Derek, pacing back and forth as his voice rose, his fears from earlier that night making him terse and unusually angry. "And now you want to bring Izzie and George into this? This isn't even their problem, Meredith. It's ours. And this?" He gestured at the space between them, still shaking his head, and trying to sum up how ridiculous this whole argument felt to him. "This isn't how adults solve their problems."

"It's not?" she spat back, his words only serving to continue their escalating cycle of aggravation. "Well…please, do enlighten me, Dr. Shepherd," she added, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she rolled her eyes. "How do adults solve their problems?"

"Meredith…" he groaned, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead, doing his best to fight the desire to start yelling. "I just wanted you to be safe. When I wasn't there before, you managed to nearly work yourself to death." His words came out in a dark and tortured hiss, serving to summon up the all too familiar memory of Meredith crumpling to the floor, her face twisted in agony. But she flinched visibly, misreading him through the obscuring veil of her own bottled frustrations.

"You really think I'm that stupid?" she asked furiously, pushing past Derek and heading towards the staircase. "That I care that little about our child to let it happen again? Seriously?" Derek hurried after her, and Meredith quickened her pace, halting abruptly halfway up the stairs to turn around and glare at him. "I can take care of myself. I've been doing it my entire life."

"Meredith…"

"No. Stop trying to protect me, or whatever the hell this is you're doing. Just stop. I don't need it." She pivoted back around on the staircase, climbing quickly to the top. Derek stood still; uncertain of whether it would be better to follow after her again, or simply let her be.

"Mer," he tried one last time.

She simply shook her head. "Go away," she called angrily before yanking open the nearest door, and disappearing from sight into George's room.

She slumped against the closed door, coming face to face with Izzie and George, both kneeling on the bed with an ear to the wall. Almost in unison, they stumbled backwards; loosing their balance as their faces flushed with guilt. "Pipes," blurted out George, sitting back up to find both women looking at him skeptically. "We were…we were checking on the pipes," he stammered, narrowing his eyes pointedly at Izzie. "Right Iz?"

"Oh yes," she agreed--catching on, and nodding hopefully. "The pipes…they sound good, Mer."

"Very pipe-like," added George as Meredith simply shook her head disbelievingly, flopping down onto the bed beside them.

"Right," she muttered. Heaving a sigh, she pressed a hand to her forehead, laying back against the pillows.

"Mer?" asked George tentatively as he and Izzie shifted uncertainly on the bed, giving Meredith more room as they frowned down at her.

Meredith shook her head, her hair rustling softly against the pillowcase. "It's just…" she began crossly, pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers. "I don't know what his problem is. He thinks I'm being childish, but he's the one who refuses to even let me do my job." She tilted her head to glare down at her stomach, letting her hand fall away from her face to come and rest over her child. "Sorry daddy's being such a jackass," she mumbled to her child, flattening her palm, and rubbing it over the persistent dull ache in her side. Her words were interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door, and Meredith groaned loudly. "Derek, don't," she called.

"Mer…come on," he answered back, feeling uncomfortable leaving an argument hanging between them for the duration of the night. "Don't do this." She simply reached behind her, yanking on the pillow she had been resting on, and pulled it over her head as if to drown out his voice.

"Make him go away," she said crossly, her voice suddenly stubborn and petulant.

"Okay, now you really are acting like a child," observed Izzie, rolling her eyes as she looked at her friend. Still, she obliged and got to her feet, heading towards the closed door. "Hi," she said quietly as she entered the hallway, closing the door to George's room behind her. Derek was slumped against the opposite wall--his eyes dark and shining--and he looked up expectantly, only to find himself disappointed by the sight of someone other than Meredith. He simply nodded in greeting. "Mer, um…" began Izzie, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. "She wants you to go away." Izzie rolled her eyes as she spoke, and held up a hand, cutting off Derek's protest before it even began. Lowering her voice, she ushered him a few steps further down the hallway. "Look, she's being kinda unreasonable. I get that. She was like this at the bar too, and it just gets worse when you provoke it."

Derek groaned, and nodded his head. "I just don't get it."

"Well you treated her like she's incompetent, and suddenly can't do a job she's been doing just fine for months. I get why she's pissed," said Izzie, unable to keep from jumping to her friend's defense when questioned. "But…" She shrugged, tilting her head from side to side, trying to find a way to get Derek to understand what she herself grasped effortlessly. "She's upset, and, right now, she's gonna keep blowing it up into this huge thing because she's pregnant and she's in pain…she's a lot of things right now."

"She's in pain?" asked Derek, suddenly straightening up as his voice grew alarmed. "Is she okay? Is something wrong? What did she say?" Izzie rolled her eyes again at his eagerness, and shook her head.

"She didn't say anything. And she's fine, it's just…lugging a baby around in your uterus? Not that comfortable all the time. The way she's acting right now? Trust me, she's sore and everything hurts…okay?" She shifted uncertainly, hoping that she wasn't going to have to go into more detail than that. Derek hesitated for a moment--brow drawing down into a scowl--before finally nodding as Izzie sighed inwardly with relief.

"Okay," he mumbled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Okay," repeated Izzie quietly. "Just give her some time to calm down. Let her sleep, and try apologizing again in the morning." She looked up, suddenly flashing him her usual grin as she added, "You go in there now, and I wouldn't be surprised if she throws something at you."

Derek groaned, but nodded again. "Fine," he muttered. "Just…make sure she's okay, will you?"

"I will." Izzie headed back towards George's room as Derek's voice once again pierced the quiet hallway.

"Um…thanks," he called, and she replied with one last quick smile before disappearing from sight to join the other interns.

Meredith was still laying on the bed with the pillow half covering her face, arms clasped tightly around her stomach. She was turned away from George, who looked visibly relieved to see Izzie; mouthing 'Help' as he pointed at Meredith. Izzie shifted uncertainly herself before climbing into the bed on the other side of George. "Mer?" she asked, receiving nothing more than a low groan in response. "He's sorry, and he's just worried about you…that's all." Meredith sighed audibly--Izzie's words only serving to fill her with a heavy smothering guilt.

"I don't want to hear it," she mumbled, pulling the pillow back into position as if to hide herself from the world.

"Okay," agreed Izzie gently, wanting to push the subject, but knowing it would be futile.

"Sleep," urged George suddenly, reaching out and patting both his roommates on the shoulder. His mind was already quietly freaking out about just how few hours remained before he had to return to work, and--to his relief--neither woman protested his suggestion. Izzie found the light switch, and they fell into silence as, one by one, they drifted off to sleep.

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Meredith jolted awake, blinking up at the unfamiliar darkness. It took her a moment to remember where she was, but as she sat up and found herself to be one third of a knotted mess of arms and legs, she realized she was in George's bed. The soft sound of slow steady breathing was all that interrupted the silence of the room, and she turned to squint at George's clock-radio, trying to figure out why she had woken up. Her stomach rumbled suddenly with a persistence that was close to frightening, and Meredith winced, realizing that she hadn't eaten since early in the afternoon. It was already two thirty in the morning, and she wanted desperately to just fall back to sleep, but the pain in her stomach was only intensifying with each waking moment. Sighing unhappily, she slid her leg out from beneath George's, easing herself off the bed, and quietly out of the room.

She shuffled first to her room--yanking off the rumpled jacket and jeans she'd fallen asleep in--in favor of pulling on her robe. The house was silent with only vague patches of light illuminating the floor beneath the windows, street lamps and moonlight mingling in a soft glow. Meredith rubbed her stomach consolingly as she made her way down the stairs towards the kitchen. She paused at the sight of a familiar figure curled up on the couch; Derek laying on his side, one arm dangling down towards the floor. The scans from the ultrasound were scattered over the table in front of him, just barely visible in the shadowy darkness. Biting her lip, Meredith inched even closer to him, feeling suddenly guilty. She reached out and pulled the blanket that was draped over the back of the sofa down to cover him, letting her fingers run through his dark hair before turning to resume making her way towards the kitchen.

Finding the handle of the refrigerator, Meredith yanked the door open, blinking in the sudden harsh wash of light. She leaned forward to study the shelves as her stomach rumbled painfully once again. "I know," she muttered under her breath as she reached down to rub her belly. "I know you're hungry, and I'm sorry." She absently picked up a carton of milk--wrinkling her nose at it, and setting it back down. Pushing her hair out of her eyes, Meredith sighed heavily, still rubbing a hand over her side. "McFetus," she hissed, trying to will her stomach to stop twisting uncomfortably. "If you'd just stop bothering me for a second, then maybe I could find us something to eat." Her attention landed on a sealed Tupperware container, and she snatched it up, squinting at it in an attempt to make out its contents. "Left over pasta," she decided at last, wrinkling her nose again, and shoving it back into the fridge. "Nasty, right?" she whispered to her child, letting the door to the fridge slam shut, the shadows deepening once more.

Not wanting to bother Derek, she continued her search in the dark, having to struggle on her tiptoes to get even a glimpse of what was stocked in the cabinets above the counter. Eventually, her hand slid around what she recognized as a can of soup, and she set it down proudly by the stove--the idea of chicken noodle soup suddenly taking on a strangely strong appeal. However, after several more minutes of rummaging around in the barely lit kitchen, she had failed to find a can opener. Whimpering softly in frustration, Meredith leaned forward to slump against the table. She lost track of how long she stood there, simply feeling exhausted, sore, and unexplainably overwhelmed, before a voice suddenly filtered through the silence.

"Meredith?"

She groaned in response, forcing herself up onto her elbows. Staring across the length of the kitchen, she could make out the shadowy shape of Derek standing in the doorway, his hair wild with sleep.

"Mer…are you okay?" he asked, hurrying over to where she was still leaning against the table, and expertly shifting her body so that her weight was absorbed by him instead of the rough surface of the tabletop. "Hey," he pressed when he got no response, gently pushing her hair out of her face, squinting to concentrate on her expression through the darkness. "What is it?"

Meredith just shook her head. "It's nothing," she said quietly, forgetting their argument in favor of letting her head droop against his shoulder. "I'm fine."

"Okay," agreed Derek, changing tactics. "But…what are you doing in the kitchen?" Meredith let out a frustrated sigh, still resting against him.

"I'm hungry," she moaned in a thin little voice. "Actually, no. I'm starving, and the baby's making it impossible to ignore." Derek leaned forward--smiling against her hair as he kissed the top of her head--unable to keep from feeling slightly amused by her suddenly frantic tone.

"Alright," he said reasonably. "What do you want?"

"Food, Derek," snapped Meredith, straightening back up, and stepping away from him. "But there's nothing in the fridge." Derek smiled again, knowing her words were far from true, but simply nodding his head.

"Well, forget about the fridge," he said, picking her hand up in his. "If you could eat anything you wanted right now, what would it be?"

"Soup," mumbled Meredith automatically, her gaze drifting back to the can that was waiting forgotten by the stove. "I was going to make soup, but…" She shook her head, frowning as she ran her free hand through her hair. "I couldn't find a can opener, and I always manage to burn the freaking things anyway." Her voice was full of frustration, sounding dangerously close to tears.

"Okay. Soup," agreed Derek, pulling a chair out from under the table. She sank down into the seat without protest, letting her head fall forward to rest in her hands. "I'll make it," he said simply as he moved to the light switch, flooding the room with a warm glow. Meredith only yawned and nodded her head, grateful to have escaped the confusing task of cooking at a quarter to three in the morning. Derek didn't speak as he moved about the kitchen--turning on the stove, and finding the can opener without much trouble. And she just sat there bleary-eyed, a frown tugging on the corners of her mouth as she watched him cook. She felt curiously unhappy, and Meredith decided that it must be the same guilt from earlier seeping back. She contemplated apologizing for everything that had happened since she'd gotten back from Joe's. However, she was uncertain of where to begin, and so she simply sat there wordlessly, only smiling her thanks when Derek finally set a steaming bowl of soup down in front of her.

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against her cheek--the stubble prickling with rough familiarity--before settling down across from her. A lazy smile played across his face as he propped his chin up with his hand, simply watching as she swallowed one large spoonful after another. But eventually, Derek cleared his throat, and straightened up in his seat. "So," he began quietly, and Meredith's head jerked up. "Are we going to talk about this?"

"This?" echoed Meredith weakly, setting down her spoon in favor of wringing her hands together nervously. "You mean that giant screaming match we had earlier? Yeah…I was hoping we could just let that one go." Derek grinned at her and nodded his head, reaching out to still her fidgeting hands by folding them between his own.

"Yeah. That…" he said, his thumbs tracing slow reassuring circles over the back of her hand. "Mer…" He sighed heavily, his grin slowly fading away. "I shouldn't have stuck you with Roger all day." Meredith extricated her right hand from his grasp, buying herself a moment by shoveling a spoonful of soup into her mouth. His eyes were searching hers--deep blue and imploring in the artificial light--and she finally nodded her head.

"You shouldn't have," she agreed quietly, letting her gaze drop back down to the bowl in front of her. Tracing her tongue along her lower lip, Meredith's eyes flickered briefly back to Derek before once again seeking out the neutrality of the tabletop. "And I…I probably shouldn't have hid out in a bar all night," she added, her voice growing even softer.

"Yeah." Derek smiled, his fingers still stroking the smooth surface of her left hand. He was watching Meredith intently, but she was keeping her focus narrowly confined to the bowl in front of her, and the spoon that traveled from the soup to her mouth. He sighed quietly; wanting to fix whatever problem there was, yet wary of pushing her, and causing her to march back upstairs to George's room again. However, even as he sat there contemplating what to say, Meredith looked up, and finally broke the silence herself.

Her question was soft and almost whispered. "Why did you?" Derek frowned and drew a hand through his hair, shaking his head.

"What?" he asked. Meredith rolled her eyes, but elaborated.

"Why did you give me the worst assignment ever? You don't think I'm a…" She cut herself off abruptly, letting her voice drop away into silence.

"I don't think you're a what?" coaxed Derek, trying to discern why she suddenly looked so miserable.

Meredith lifted her head and sighed heavily--surprising him with green eyes that glistened beneath a sheen of unspilt tears. "You don't think I'm a good doctor anymore?" she asked in a thin little voice that wavered dangerously on every word.

Derek let out a shocked noise, instantly shaking his head. "Meredith…no," he said earnestly, shifting closer towards her. "That's not it at all. I was…you're a great doctor." He studied her face, taken back by the doubt still lingering in her eyes. "I think you're a wonderful doctor…kind, and smart, and talented, and it…" His words earned nothing more than a halfhearted shrug, and so Derek found himself losing his own usual reluctance to apologize in the hopes of erasing the hurt that still hung so palpably around Meredith. "It had nothing to do with work," he admitted quietly, his voice growing rough with embarrassment as she finally met his eyes again. "And I'm sorry…I just, I wanted to make sure that you'd be okay."

"Of course I'm okay," said Meredith awkwardly. "You were at the doctor's with me, Derek." Derek nodded and reached out, running his hand down the soft golden waves that framed her face. She shifted slightly--almost uncomfortably--but didn't pull away.

"It's just…" He frowned and shook his head, trying to explain the reason behind what he'd done. "I know you're alright, but…if you weren't? You're my girlfriend, you're my…" Derek sighed, and smiled at her again. "You're you, Mer," he said earnestly. "And…okay, no more pointless patients, but it's my job to worry about you."

Meredith wrinkled her nose, but nodded in quiet agreement. "Okay," she said, her voice soft as she turned back to the bowl in front of her. It was empty except for a few stray noodles, and she pushed at them absently with the tip of her spoon. Derek had apologized, things were supposed to obey and fall straight back to normal, but somehow she still felt unsettled.

"What is it?" pressed Derek, laying a hand against her shoulder, and she shook her head, hating how easily he seemed to be reading her.

"It's just…" she began uncertainly, looking back up. "It's just I'm not good at this. I'm not used to being this person, this relationship person."

"Hey, that's okay," said Derek gently, but she gave another fiercer shake of her head.

"No. No, it's not because then I go crazy, and yell at you. And it's just that…" She shrugged helplessly, still shaking her head. "It's just that I used to be fine on my own. I didn't need anybody to worry about me, and nobody did. Only now…" Meredith hesitated for a moment, biting her lip, and looking anxiously at Derek. His expression was grave, eyes trained intimately on her, and Meredith found words pouring out that she hadn't planned on saying. "Now you do. And it's not just you Derek…and I do want you to care, but I can't do anything anymore without someone asking about the baby, or telling me to go eat, or sit down or whatever..." She shrugged again, the gesture feeling futile, and followed it by letting her head fall forward to rest buried in the palms of her hands.

"Shhh…I know," murmured Derek, running a hand over her trembling shoulder before deftly scooping her up, and cradling her in his lap. "I know. People just want to feel like they're helping. You're pregnant, and it makes people want to feel helpful. That's all Mer."

Meredith frowned and looked up at him, twisting the edge of his shirt tightly around her finger. "But I just want to be me again, you know," she said quietly. "I don't want all the attention. I just want things to feel normal again."

"Hey, you're still you," said Derek, his voice as hushed as hers, and filled with worry at the shadowy light within her eyes.

"No," mumbled Meredith as she shook her head. "I'm this fat, useless pregnant girl who everyone stares at, and nobody lets do anything. It's pathetic. I don't even know who I am anymore." Her voice was unusually bitter, and she looked away from him, concentrating intently on not crying. The dam she was building up against her tears weakened noticeably as Derek sighed, pulling her closer to his chest.

"People change Mer," he whispered--his words low against her ear--hating that she was shaking with the effort of restraining her emotions as much as possible. "It's part of life. And this…" He let his hands drift down to her swollen belly, slipping them beneath her robe to run over the bare skin of her familiar strained curve. "Our daughter…that's a good change. An amazing one." Meredith nodded, but didn't answer, and Derek found himself realizing instinctively that she was trying to tune him out; as if some part of her desperately wanted to remain hurt and brooding. He stifled his own frustrated sigh, and moved a hand from her stomach to cup her chin, turning her gently so that she was forced to meet his eyes. She didn't look up at first, but he called her name, and she reluctantly lifted her gaze to his. "Come on," he urged, smiling at her. "Having a baby isn't making you any less of a person. Nobody thinks that. It's different, I know. And it's scary, but…you're still you."

Meredith nodded again, touched by his sincerity, and forced to blink back tears as a result. She raised her arm, wiping the back of her hand roughly across her face. "I know," she said softly, unable to shake the suddenly deep rooted knowledge the day had brought that this was changing herself forever. It felt terrifying and fundamentally unhappy for reasons she couldn't even make sense of within her own mind, but she could see the worry in Derek's eyes, and moved to appease it as best she could. "I know," she repeated, this time forcing her mouth up into a weak smile.

"You know?" he echoed hopefully, pressing a kiss to her lips. "You're okay?"

"Yeah. I'm okay," she agreed despite the fact that she knew there was a lie buried somewhere within her answer. Derek was studying her carefully as if he didn't quite dare believe her, and Meredith looked away quickly, climbing down from his lap. "Sleep?" she asked, making her voice loud and cheerful as she stretched out her hand.

She sighed inwardly with relief as he agreed, taking her hand in his. And Meredith followed him silently up the stairs and into her bed, hating herself a little for playing at being fine when she still felt so alarmingly unsettled and disjointed. But she closed her eyes, and curled up in Derek's arms, promising herself that the strange feeling would pass with sleep, or, at the most, in a day or two. There was no point in trying to explain it to Derek any further. He wouldn't understand. He couldn't. Nothing was changing within him. Nothing was changing who he was.

It wasn't happening to him.

-----

Okay...so, yeah. Long chapter. First of all, lots of stuff happening to Mer. This chapter is pretty much ninety-eight percent all about her. She's just gone back to work, and returning to her old world, and trying to fit back into the normal patterns she lived before, has done nothing but highlight just how much everything has changed for her. She's got people gossiping about her, people going out of their way to be helpful, people cutting her hours, and, on top of all that, she's got her boyfriend giving her the world's most insignificant job. And, while her initial reaction is simply to be angry, there's a lot more going on with her. While she's known all along that she's having a baby, this chapter is where she realizes just how much she's moving away from who she used to be. People are treating her differently, even her old ways of dealing with bad days (going to Joe's) don't work the same any more. And so she starts out being mad over this, and takes that out in a fight with Derek. She feels crappy, and her day sucked, and she's confused, and so she just refuses to be remotely reasonable for awhile, and buries everything else beneath being angry. But eventually, she gets up in the middle of the night, and she and Derek talk. The anger has faded away, and he's there being perfect, and making her soup, and apologizing, but even with all of that, she can't shake the feeling that now, something's different. And that's kinda freaking her out. She doesn't like it. She wants to be herself, the person she knows and recognizes as Meredith, but she feels like having a baby is pushing herself away from who she used to be and turning her into this new person. And basically, Mer doesn't know if that's a bad thing or not. On the surface, it feels bad because she thought Derek was doubting her, that people just want her to sit down all the time, that she's this lesser, weaker person. And, under that surface layer, it mostly just feels confusing to her. She wants it to just go away, and for things to go back to normal, and...that's what she's hoping will happen. She doesn't want to explain it any further to Derek because she doesn't think he'll get what she's having a hard time grasping herself. She's basically just hoping that she'll wake up tomorrow and feel fine.

Anyway...that's about it for now. I was going to ramble on for longer, but I am quite literally falling asleep as I write this closing ramble. So...we're just going to wrap up here tonight. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!