So, wow. This took forever. As in a very, very, very long time. I'm really sorry about that. I was stuck studying for finals, and then it took me forever to actually get this chapter written. It had zero desire to be cooperative. But, it's rather long, so hopefully that makes up for it a teensy bit. And it should take nowhere near this long to get the next chapter up. And yeah, basically I'm just sorry it took so long! And I really appreciate everyone who's reviewed and stuck around for this chapter. Thanks so much. And yeah, straight to the story. This picks up a few hours after where the last chapter left off.
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Meredith sat in the passenger seat of Derek's car, her arms folded over the bulge of her stomach as she glared out past the rain streaked windshield. The hospital parking lot was dark and glowing with pools of lamplight, Seattle Grace rising large and silent before them as Derek put the car in reverse, backing out of the empty lot. She shifted in her seat, drumming her nails against the armrest as she cast a cautious glance in his direction, quickly averting her eyes before he could return the look. A strange silence permeated the interior of the car--that and the rain that was pouring relentlessly down around them while they remained dry combined to make Meredith feel as if she sat isolated from the rest of the world in some tiny, helpless bubble. She shivered involuntarily, and, without a word, Derek reached over and cranked the heat up for her with a twist of his wrist. A flicker of a smile passed across her lips--a faint whisper of gratitude--as she rubbed her hands together in front of the vent, trying to figure out at just what point in the past three hours they'd fallen into this awkward, stilted version of themselves. At a guess, Meredith supposed it would be after the pain and the dizziness and the worry had subsided enough for her to fully process what had happened, to come the realization that this wasn't just a bad dream, that she had actually forced Derek to choose between her and his own mother. It had been a horrifying abrupt truth--like something cold and bitter smacking her in the face--and she hadn't known what to do. She didn't know how to bring it up, how to deal with it, and so she'd simply gone silent. She couldn't quite remember if it had been an instantaneous drop into not speaking, or if she'd dwindled away a few words at a time. Meredith shifted uncomfortably, deciding it didn't really matter. All that mattered was the thick sense of guilt that hung over her, seeming to coat every inch of her body, inside and out. She'd made him choose, and he'd chosen her, and now… What was she supposed to say now? She closed her eyes, feeling the heavy weight of Derek's eyes upon her, the sensation only serving to tighten the guilt and worry within her. He was sitting there, driving her home without protest, without a single word of complaint despite the fact that she'd shifted to answering him with nothing more than barely noticeable jerks of her head.
"I…" she stammered, forcing the single syllable out to relieve her guilt without a plan for anything else. She hesitated and Derek glanced back at her again before returning his focus to the road. Meredith swallowed hard--her throat feeling far too dry--as she tried desperately to come up with something to say. "Ah…well, that was neurotic of us," she said at last, her voice teasing yet thin and anxious.
"Huh?" asked Derek, his brow knitting itself into a frown.
"Neurotic," she repeated hoarsely. "And pointless. Very pointless."
The car slowed to a halt as they reached a red light, and Derek twisted around to face her. "What was pointless?" he prodded, his eyes searching her face worriedly.
"Us going to the hospital in the middle of the night," she muttered, feeling strangely disconnected from the words coming out of her mouth. She sank further down in her seat, scowling out at the rain from beneath the dark veil of her lashes. "Very pointless."
Derek heaved a sigh, but quickly swallowed his own frustrations to turn and comfort her. "Mer," he soothed, reaching over to brush at the strands of her hair with his fingertips. "It wasn't pointless. You were in pain. You were dizzy and having contractions, and--"
"Braxton-Hicks," she corrected, a definite edge to her voice as she shied away from his touch. "It was nothing."
"What about your blood pressure?" he pressed.
Meredith just scowled at him. "It was nothing," she repeated hotly.
"We don't know that yet," Derek muttered as the light changed. He slammed his foot down hard on the gas, the car jolting violently forward into moving again. Meredith hissed under her breath, and he instantly mumbled an apology. They sank back into silence, Derek continually glancing at her out of the corner of his eye; halfway convinced that she should still be at the hospital despite the fact that everything had stopped, and Meredith was sitting beside him looking fine. Inexplicably furious…but fine.
Meredith chewed on her lip, the guilt building again as she felt his eyes worrying over her. He wasn't supposed to be this attentive, this concerned--not after she'd made him cut his family out of his life. She wanted to take it back, but she didn't even know how to bring it up. Her throat grew dry again and the seat increasingly uncomfortable, so that--by the seventh worried glance he cast at her--she felt miserable and buried alive beneath the guilt. "Stop it," she snapped, her hand hitting her thigh with an irritated smack. Derek just quirked an eyebrow, looking lost. "Stop staring at me like you think I'm about to break," she reiterated, her voice thick with misplaced frustration. "I'm fine."
"Right," said Derek heavily, something aggravated seeping into his own voice. "And that's why Dr. Harrison put you on bed rest?"
Meredith tensed, her jaw suddenly clenching. So much for blotting out that technicality. Anger flared up unexpectedly at the thought. "No," she muttered, staring down at her stomach. "She put me on bed rest because someone had the brilliant idea to go to the hospital in the middle of the night while our doctor just happened to be on call and asleep. We woke her up, Derek." She turned to glare at him, seething irrationally. "It's her revenge!"
"She put you on bed rest to get revenge?" asked Derek, unable to keep amusement from filling his voice as he turned to see Meredith flushed and scowling. She just nodded emphatically--her eyes wide and incensed--and his grin broadened despite himself. "Right…because that's exactly how it works," he teased gently, laughingly.
Narrowing her eyes, she replied with nothing more than a scathing look before slumping back down in her seat. Crossing her arms over her stomach once more, she went back to staring at the rain in a deep and brooding silence; sulking and seething internally until it all came bubbling out at the next red light. Derek turned to look at her, and she shook her head. Yanked her fingers through her hair. Blinked away the sudden stinging threat of tears. "Bed rest!" she snapped disbelievingly.
"Yes…" agreed Derek cautiously; shying away a little as if the tiny woman next to him was some sort of cornered animal, her next move obscured from him by a veil of frightening unpredictability. "It won't be so bad--" he tried, only to be cut off.
"I was supposed to go to work tomorrow," Meredith muttered, not hearing him. "For four hours…which," she shook her head, "is pathetic itself, but that's not really the point."
"And now you won't have to," he soothed, his voice a low hum that melded in with the murmur of the rain and the engine.
Meredith just sighed, the sound thick and exasperated. "I want to." She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead, leaning back into the curve of the seat as she closed her eyes, trying to ignore the irritating way the leather was sticking to her neck. "Four more weeks, Derek," she muttered, giving into her frustrations and letting them carry her far, far away from worrying about his mother. "I was supposed to have four more weeks before I let you convince me I'm too pregnant to be useful. That's a whole month!"
Derek tapped out an uneven rhythm on the steering wheel with the pads of his thumbs, filled with a sinking feeling that, no matter what he said, no matter what comfort he tried to offer her, right now…it would be the wrong thing. The pale green of her eyes was uncharacteristically dark--something brooding like the storm--and the glow of lamplight shining in through the rain-splattered windows turned the shadows that bathed her into a lattice of light and dark. He tightened his grip on the wheel as she wrapped her arms that much closer to her swollen stomach, her teeth leaving angry marks on the soft skin of her lower lip. "You'll still be useful…" he tried at last, his voice low and uncertain as if testing out her response before saying anything else. Meredith didn't reply, just tensed slightly, her shoulders hunching forward. "You're growing another person," he added, watching her out of the corner of her eye as she nodded grudgingly. "And your BP was high. That's not something you just ignore."
"One high reading does not make you hypertensive," she snapped, turning immediately defensive.
"No," allowed Derek. "But it was high yesterday too."
"What?" stammered Meredith, confused.
"Addison took it when she was with you, remember? And it was--"
"Okay, first of all," she interrupted, her voice rising. "Two readings only a day apart? Still not enough. And second of all, that one doesn't even count! I was upset when she took it, obviously my blood pressure would be up."
Derek sighed, nodding his head. "It probably is nothing, but…with everything else on top of that?" He shrugged. "All it means is you have to rest for a little bit."
There it was again; Derek being too kind, too understanding, too completely perfect. This wasn't what she deserved. Not after the party. It was disconcerting and hard to trust. "I thought you'd at least be mad about the no sex part," she shot back bitterly, feeling desperate for something she could understand.
"Meredith…" he groaned, chancing another glance at her before turning his focus back to the road.
She didn't answer. She couldn't. Jacqueline's voice had gone back to echoing around in her head, forcing her to stare intently at the rain to keep from crying.
Derek tried to satisfy himself with brief peripheral glimpses of her as he drove, but it wasn't enough. Her face was to the window anyway, and all he could pick up on was the sense that something was wrong. He forced himself to stifle the suggestion that they go back to the hospital, and instead settled for twisting around in his seat to look at her again as soon as they stopped at the next red light. "Of course I hate the no sex part," he agreed gently, reaching out to brush her cheek with the back of her hand. She stiffened under his touch, but he pressed on. "But it's not a big deal. It's nothing if it means you'll be okay." The light changed to green far too quickly, and his hand moved reluctantly back towards the wheel. "I need you to be okay," he said, feeling almost as if he were pleading with her.
"Right," she mumbled, still staring out at the storm.
Then they were moving again, and somehow the silence within the car was even more pronounced than the sudden clap of thunder booming far overhead.
"It won't be that bad," Derek promised at last, his words sounding strange after the stifled silence that had proceeded them. Still, he flashed her a quick hopeful grin. "Think of it as a mini vacation."
"Six weeks stuck in bed is not a mini vacation," Meredith snapped, her voice coming out harsh and angry and far too loud. "It's hell, Derek. That's what it is." She turned away, letting her head come to rest against the window with a dull thud. Derek didn't say anything, and she closed her eyes, feeling a fresh wash of guilt pour over her in a wave. She was being horrible. She had no good reason, and yet…there she was, being horrible. Meredith shivered again, squeezing her eyelids even tighter together; a safeguard against the continual urge to cry. She lost track of how long they sat in silence, but eventually the car slowed to a halt, and she felt a familiar hand reach out and intertwine with her own. Derek's fingers dwarfed hers, and he rubbed at her knuckles with the pad of his thumb, every motion gentle and soothing.
"Hey…" he said quietly as her eyelids reluctantly fluttered open again. She turned to glance at him, finding the blue of his eyes clouded over with worry. Something within her softened, and the corner of her mouth twitched up into a tiny apologetic smile.
"Sorry," she whispered, the word a thin mumbled sound almost lost beneath the louder sounds of the storm.
Derek just shook his head, folding Meredith's hand in his and bringing it to his lips. "It's okay."
"No," she muttered, pulling away from him to sit up straight again. "No," she repeated, her voice rising. "It's not. I was being mean." Her lower lip slipped out into something stubborn and pouting that only served to make him smile and shake his head again.
"You're allowed to be mean right now," he said gently, leaning over and kissing the side of her head. "Nothing about today's been fair to you." He kissed the tip of her nose. "You get to be a little unreasonable. Or a lot," he grinned at her, "your pick."
Meredith just shook her head, his words leaving her eyes stinging with tears. "No, I don't," she moaned, her voice a small and quavering thing.
His smile fell away in an instant, and he raised a hand to her cheek--a gentle, questioning gesture. "What?"
"Not to you, I don't…" she choked out, feeling as if the guilt had somehow become a thick lining, coating her throat and making it difficult to breathe, let alone speak. Their eyes locked for a moment--hers wary, his searching. There was something sad and vulnerable in her gaze--full of doubt and apologies she wasn't sure how to make. But, as Derek stared, piecing everything together to realize that she was agonizing about his mother, Meredith pulled away to look out at the rain.
"Meredith," he tried, his fingers skimming down her sleeve. She just shook her head, and, as she fixated on the window in a nervous attempt to avoid his eyes, she finally saw through the dreary gray of the storm. They were parked in front of her house.
"We're home," she blurted out, her voice rich with relief. "Great." The words had barely left her lips before she was climbing out of the car and into the rain. Every drop that fell was fat and heavy, soaking her thoroughly before she'd taken more than two steps. She just shrugged at the storm, tilting her head towards the sky so that the tears that had been threatening her for the past hour could fall unnoticed, hidden by the rain. Busy breathing in the damp air and the steady drumming rhythm of water hitting rooftops, she was caught off guard when Derek reappeared at her side. "What?" she muttered as he caught her by the elbow, forcing her away from the strange relief that seemed to come with the rain.
He just tilted his head towards the steps looming in front of them. "Maybe I should carry you," he mused, eyeing her worriedly.
"It's not strict bed rest, Derek," she said, rolling her eyes. "I'm allowed to walk to my bed on my own, remember?"
Derek nodded--resigning himself to letting her do it on her own--but watched her like a hawk, his heart squeezing into something tense and painful until she made it safely to the door. He leaned forward to let them in, only to have the door yanked open from the inside just a second before his key met the lock.
Izzie was waiting for them on the other side of the threshold. She looked a little paler than usual, with something frazzled lurking in her eyes. "Oh thank god," she said, her voice a loud gasp of relief as she reached out to pull Meredith into the house. By the time Derek had closed and locked the door, she was already brushing worriedly at the raindrops falling from Meredith's hair and clothes. Shaking her head, she glanced back and forth between the couple, her words pouring out in a rush. "I know you said you'd call if it was anything serious, but it's been hours now and I was starting to get really worried." She looked down at Meredith who stood immobile, her back pressed up against Derek's front. "Everything's okay, right? You and the baby? You're both okay?"
Meredith stayed silent, offering Izzie a half smile and the faintest hint of a nod, but nothing more. Her gaze flicked across the room as George emerged from the kitchen, making his way towards them too.
"Hey, what happened at the hospital?" he called as Izzie, unsatisfied with Meredith's lack of response, turned to look at Derek.
"She's okay, right?" she pressed.
Derek nodded, his hand resting on Meredith's damp, rain soaked shoulder. "Yeah," he agreed despite the fact that he wasn't so sure himself. There was something sad and worrying that he didn't quite understand, but that seemed to be radiating from her. "She needs to take it easy though. The doctor put her on bed rest," he added, feeling Meredith tense up at the words.
Izzie's eyebrows shot straight up. "Bed rest?"
"Yeah," muttered Meredith, finally speaking. Her voice was low and hollow, her eyes almost gray. She folded her arms over her stomach, shivering as drops of water fell from her hair to roll in icy trails down the nape of her neck.
George cleared his throat, glancing worriedly at Meredith before turning to Derek. "Dr. Shepherd, ah…Derek… Your sister came back after you guys had left. She's in the kitchen," he shrugged awkwardly, "and wants to talk to you or something." Derek nodded as Meredith's blank expression quickly descended into something dark and uncertain. She cast a wary glance in the direction of the kitchen, afraid to face Nancy after throwing the woman's mother out of her house.
"I'm supposed to be laying down," she said quietly, her words coming out in a quick spill of sound as she pulled away from Derek.
"Okay," he agreed, eager to get her off her feet, and relieved that he hadn't had to suggest it himself. "I'll take you upstairs." He glanced back at George. "Tell Nance--"
But Meredith shook her head immediately, twisting around to face him. "No," she hissed. "No…you have to go talk to your sister."
"I will," he agreed. "After I get you in bed."
"No," she repeated, her voice balanced somewhere between urgent and annoyed. "You have to talk to her now."
"Mer," he pressed, prompting her to roll her eyes. "I don't want you to--"
"I can get upstairs fine by myself," she snapped impatiently. She cast another worried glance at the kitchen, wanting to disappear before Nancy decided to wander out into the hallway. She yanked her hand from Derek's, cutting the discussion short by starting for the stairs.
He ran a hand through his hair, holding in a frustrated sigh as he watched her walk away. "Look after her until I get there," he said to George and Izzie in an undertone. They just nodded, already moving towards Meredith.
"Not you guys too," muttered Meredith as her friends caught up with her easily, each looping an arm around her.
"Us too," said Izzie, her voice cheerful yet bellied by something Meredith couldn't quite place. It was oddly nervous. Uncertain... Maybe apologetic.
"This is ridiculous," she continued, skimming over Izzie's mood and back to her own frustrations. "I can walk up the stairs by myself."
"Probably," said George even as he tightened his grip on her. "But we're not risking it. Four hours ago you needed Shepherd to carry you, and I'm pretty sure he'll kill us if we let you so much as trip."
"Fine," Meredith relented--the one word coming out tired and grudging--knowing that, even if she protested up the whole flight, they still wouldn't let go. And they didn't. They held onto her tightly well past the staircase, shepherding her down the hall and into her bedroom.
She slumped down onto the edge of her bed, ignoring the worried glances being exchanged over her head far more successfully than she managed to ignore thinking about what was happening in the kitchen. She groaned and tried to let her mind go blank. It couldn't. Or…it wouldn't. It flat out refused to cooperate, choosing instead to fill up with choppy unsettling thoughts about Derek and his family. She just wanted to go back, to turn back time to that moment in the pantry where the world ceased to exist beyond the blue of Derek's eyes. Back to before sobbing either-or choices, to before the promise of six hellish weeks of bed rest, to before awkward silences rammed full of enough guilt to make her want to cry. She shook her head, sighing heavily, and bent forward to try to reach her feet. Her hand swiped blindly through the air, fingers searching for the heel of her shoe and missing by a good six inches. She tried again. Grabbed a hold of nothing but air. "Dammitt," she hissed--her patience already worn paper thin--before trying a third time. Again, she missed. Giving up altogether, Meredith slumped forward. She buried her head in the palms of her hands, her shoulders trembling visibly. None of this seemed anything close to fair. She had no idea what she was supposed to be feeling right now, but she'd never guessed it would feel so…messy. Her throat was slick with sobs she was somehow managing to suppress, her whole body shaking with cold from the damp clothes that clung to her. She didn't even register the voices of George and Izzie as they talked to each other in concerned whispers. Didn't hear her bedroom door opening and closing, or the sound of George's footsteps padding away down the hall. Didn't register a thing outside her own mind until Izzie knelt in front of her, reaching out wordlessly to pull off her shoes.
She lifted her head, blinking in confusion only to find Izzie already straightening up again, leaving her barefoot. Her breath was a sharp hissed intake of relief as she wiggled her toes--her feet still sore and swollen, but infinitely less pained than they had been wedged into her shoes. Izzie was being mercifully silent for a change, shuffling over to the dresser to fish out a pair of sweatpants and an old worn thermal without so much as a single intrusive question. The silence lingered on just as it had in the car, thick and complete, until Meredith started to feel that maybe it was her. Maybe she was spreading this hushed oppressive blanket over every room she entered, clamping down on vocal chords and halting the normal flow of conversation. She looked up at Izzie inquisitively, but, after meeting her gaze for a fraction of a second, Izzie quickly looked away. That same uncharacteristic nervousness that had filled her voice in the stairwell had somehow seeped into every inch of her. Something seemed off. Izzie wasn't quiet. Izzie wasn't nervous. And yet, she was.
"Come on," she prodded hesitantly, holding out the thermal, and there it was again. That wary flicker of…something not-quite-Izzie. Meredith frowned, but let it go. She simply raised her arms, letting Izzie help her out of her drenched clothing and into the dry pajamas. She was too tired to worry. Or, perhaps more accurately, she was too full of worries to tack on yet another one. Derek was still downstairs, still with Nancy discussing whatever it was she'd come back to talk to him about. Whatever it was… Right. That would be her. Her and her sudden ability to kick his mother out of his life. She groaned at the memory, grateful to find Izzie pivoting around and padding out of the room. She needed peace. She needed sleep. She needed the forgetfulness that came with it. However, just as she started to let her eyelids droop closed, the blonde returned. She carried with her a large fluffy towel, and, with another, nervous, unsettling glance, went to work drying Meredith's hair. The strands were clumped together in sleek tendrils, water pooling at the ends in thick droplets that threatened to soak her shirt. Izzie gathered her hair up effortlessly; wringing out the excess water, fussing and fidgeting with the towel. Meredith just sat there, lost in thought and quietly compliant until Izzie started muttering something to herself about going to get a hairdryer.
"Iz," she said, raising a hand to ward off further attack from the towel. "That's enough."
Izzie reluctantly lowered the towel, watching as Meredith scooted back along the length of the bed. She sunk down into the pile of pillows that led up to the headboard, her eyes closing as her body seemed to melt into the warmth of the bed. Everything hung in a perfect stillness for a moment, but then, the bed shifted, groaning beneath the stress of additional weight. Reluctantly, Meredith opened her eyes to find Izzie seated on the far side of the bed. Derek's spot. She bit down hard on her lip to cut off the fresh spurt of worries that came with the thought of him, the instant barrage of fear and doubt and plain old confusion. Instead, she stared at Izzie, watching as she smoothed out the wrinkles on the pillowcase. It was as if she were feeling desperate to fall back into her favorite roll of mothering Meredith, but kept meeting some invisible barrier. And all she could do was absently adjust the pillows; offer tiny touches like tokens of apology.
"What's wrong?" asked Meredith at last.
Izzie looked up, seeming startled out of her own thoughts. She just shook her head, offering Meredith a big, bright grin. "So, McDreamy was really great, huh?" she asked, her voice quiet and hopeful. "With the proposing and the standing up for you?" Her smile brightened even more until it was as nervous as her voice had been.
Meredith shrugged. "Yeah…really great," she said in a hoarse whisper, sounding just as displaced from her normal self as Izzie.
The two women stared at each other, as if simultaneously trying to decide whether to call the other out on skirting the truth, and both deciding against it. Izzie just went back to annihilating every single wrinkle in the pillowcase, and Meredith followed the motions with her eyes, finding them almost hypnotic.
"I'm sorry…" said Izzie at last, the words gushing out without warning. Meredith looked up, surprised to find her friend's eyes glinting dark beneath a sheen of tears.
"…What?"
"I'm sorry," repeated Izzie more urgently. "I thought," her voice trembled for a moment, and she laughed nervously as she gulped down air, "I thought I'd made you go into labor early."
Meredith just quirked an eyebrow. "Seriously? That's why you've been walking on eggshells for the past half hour?"
Izzie nodded, a single tear spilling down her cheek. She wiped it away with a hasty brush of her hand before it reached her jaw line.
"Well, you didn't," said Meredith softly, splaying her hands flat against her stomach. "I'm not in labor, so…"
"Right," managed Izzie, the sound caught somewhere between a laugh and a cough. She cast another wary glance at Meredith. Glanced down at her hands. Sucked in a deep rattling breath. "And everybody found out," she said, speaking so fast that her words ran together, becoming almost indistinguishable from each other.
"Everybody found out," echoed Meredith, trying to follow Izzie's train of thought, and not quite managing.
"That you got engaged," moaned Izzie dramatically.
"Oh, right…" Meredith shrugged, past being mad at Izzie for blurting out the news to the entire party. "Whatever, Iz. It's fine."
"Nooo…" Her voice warbled for a moment, and then quickly descended into a frantic sort of apology. It was full of enough references to the other interns to make Meredith pretty sure that they'd all laid into her after she'd left with Derek. It seemed to encompass everything; the party, Jacqueline, the proposal, the presents, the this, the that…enough so that Meredith stopped trying to follow along, and just gave Izzie's shoulder an awkward pat as she finally came to a slow, shuddering halt. "I'm sorry," Izzie repeated a final time, still teary-eyed and uncertain.
Meredith nodded, offering her a weak smile. "Thanks…" She sunk further down into the pillows, holding her breath as she held onto the hope that, now that Izzie had gotten everything she needed to say out, she would just let her be.
"Are you and Derek okay?"
No such luck. She frowned, not quite sure if the sudden pinprick of annoyance was directed at Izzie, or the question, or both. "Yeah," she muttered, the word more of a cap on the topic than an actual answer.
Izzie hesitated for a moment, her mouth opening and closing. She nodded. Slid off the bed. Shuffled her feet. "I…" she began, but promptly clamped her mouth shut yet again, still too full of apologies to press the subject. "I'll let you get some rest," she said at last. Izzie's footsteps echoed away across the room, but came to an abrupt halt in the doorway. Again, she hesitated, twisting about to glance at Meredith. She took a deep breath, her voice quiet, adding, "You're worth choosing, Mer. Stop feeling guilty about it."
Meredith just shrugged, closing her eyes and twisting onto her side, turning her back to Izzie.
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Derek sat at the kitchen table, his hair still damp and sticking to his neck in little irritating clumps. A mug of coffee sat in front of him, and he lifted it unceremoniously to his lips, gulping down a mouthful. It was black and burning, scalding the back of his throat as he swallowed. Flinching slightly, he set the mug down, letting his eyes flick over to his sister.
Nancy was ignoring her own mug of coffee. Instead, she twisted her rings round and round on her fingers in a nervous gesture that somehow reminded him both of Meredith and his mother. Feeling his eyes on her, she looked up, and spun her rings that much faster. "I, ah…I took mom back to the hotel," she said quietly.
Derek nodded, returning his gaze to his coffee. "I figured."
"Our flight's tomorrow morning. She wanted to leave tonight, you know, after what…" But Nancy trailed off, the memory of the evening already hanging too heavily in the air between the two of them. "Our flight's at eight," she finished at last, her voice clipped as she went back to fussing with her rings.
Derek just nodded, staring intently at the table until he felt as if every single scratch and every last stain on its surface were imprinted into his memory.
"She cried, Derek." The words came out in a rush as if she hadn't planned to disclose that fact, and was every bit as surprised to hear of it as Derek was. And he was surprised. His head jerked up immediately, seeking out his sister's eyes.
"Mom cried?"
"Yeah…" The answer was a whisper, something almost swallowed up by the hum of the refrigerator and the continual splatter of water dripping from the kitchen sink.
Derek shook his head, his own voice tinged with disbelief and sounding far away, pulled out of the faded vault of old worn memories. "She hasn't cried since…" He trailed off, coughing and shrugging his shoulders, not wanting to return to that particular memory.
"Since dad died," Nancy finished for him quietly.
"Yeah." The siblings stared at each other for a moment--their faces slack and expressionless, but their eyes shining with old shared hurts. It only lasted a second, though. Just a single second, and then Derek was falling away into something dark and scowling, his voice taking on a bitter edge. "That doesn't make it okay," he spat. "I'm not going to forgive her just like that, Nancy. Just because she finally shows a single shred of remorse. That's not how it works."
"I know," began Nancy quickly, trying to placate him. "It's just…"
"No," he snapped. "It's over. It's done."
"Just like that?" She laughed sadly, shaking her head. "You're…what? You're never coming home again?"
"I promised Meredith," he said thickly. "You want me to hurt her again?"
"No! I… Of course not."
"Then, no. I'm not going home again." He leaned forward, catching his head in his hands, and rubbing his face roughly against his palms. "I can't, Nance…" he mumbled, his voice muffled by his hands, yet filled with a hint of an apology. He glanced back up again, looking strangely disheveled and bleary-eyed. "Besides, I've nothing left to say to mom at this point." Derek coughed and took another long gulp from his mug. He felt tired, his body aching now that he finally could relax a little. All the tension he'd held in him at the hospital, all the sharp-edged fear over Meredith and the baby… It had faded into a dull worry, and in its place was something stressed and achy that made him just want to collapse into bed with a groan. Pull Meredith close to him so that she was a solid reassurance beneath his arms and not just a disquieting thought in the back of his mind. Just have this day be over with.
Nancy was still speaking, doing her best to relinquish her usual role of the troublemaker and the instigator, and play the part of the diplomat. But Derek was only half tuned in, letting her voice meld together into a stream of sounds, everything flowing past him until he heard Meredith's name. It jerked his head back up, pulled him right back into the conversation.
"What?" he asked, frowning, trying to figure out what was being said.
"How is she?" repeated Nancy, her frown matching her brother's. "What happened at the hospital?"
"She's…" he shrugged, shaking his head. "I don't know. She could be fine, or--" He swallowed hard, struggling to get past the sudden lump in his throat.
"Or what?"
"She could have PIH or pre-eclampsia," he recited dully, giving another fierce shake of his head. "The doctor said it's too soon to tell. She's been fine. Her blood pressure's been fine, but it was high yesterday with Addison, and it was high again tonight."
Nancy frowned, drumming her fingers absently against her mug. "How high?"
"One forty-five over ninety…"
Nancy tilted her head from side to side, her lips drawn into a thin contemplative line. "It's not great, but it could just be stress. The past two days haven't exactly been easy for her."
"No, they haven't," snapped Derek, his voice sharp and dipping back towards angry. The air seemed to hum with tension, his eyes sparking defensively, but Nancy just bit down on her lip, lowering her gaze. It was a tiny gesture, but one that he knew by now as an apology. The anger deflated straight out of him like the air let out of a balloon, and he slumped back down towards the table. "Either way, she's on bed rest," he continued dryly, shaking his head. A hint of a smile teased the corner of his mouth as he thought back to Meredith's ranting, adding, "And furious about it."
Nancy answered his smile with one of her own, reaching across the table to lay her hand over her brother's. "It's going to be fine," she said gently. He let out a short bark of laughter, the sound entirely unconvinced. "I mean it," she insisted, tightening her hold on his hand. "The longer she can keep the baby in, the better, but really, Derek? Worst case scenario?" He nodded, tilting his head towards her and listening intently, trusting his sister in a way he couldn't trust their own doctor. "Say she ends up eclamptic…"
Derek just groaned, burying his head in his hands.
"No, says she does," continued Nancy. "She's already, what? Thirty-four weeks?" He nodded. "Then they can induce her. They could've done it tonight, and chances are the baby would've been perfectly fine."
"Right…" he grunted, his hands gripping the edge of the table hard enough to turn his knuckles white.
"She's not going to lose the baby, and you're not going to lose her," promised Nancy, doing what she could to soothe away the worry that still gripped at Derek round the edges. She looked up at her younger brother, a sudden proud smile stretching across her face. "You've seen to that."
He nodded again, but didn't reply. He just stared at the table. Stared and stared…his eyes dark, clouded over with the apprehension he let build up inside himself, turning a small flicker of doubt into a mountain of fear.
Nancy got to her feet, her chair scraping against the floor as it scooted backwards. She strode over to him, her heels clacking loudly with each step. "Stop it," she urged, her voice low and insistent.
Derek just blinked, confused. "What?"
"Stop sitting down here worrying yourself sick, and go. Take care of her. I have a plane to catch in," she glanced over her shoulder at the glowing numbers on the microwave, "five hours, anyway."
"Yeah," agreed Derek, getting to his feet as well. He looked down at his sister, unsure of what to say; wanting to apologize for lifting himself right out of their family, and, at the same time, completely unwilling to apologize. And so he frowned. Shook his head. Ran a hand roughly through his hair. "Nancy, I'm…" he began only to trail off into another helpless shrug.
"I know," she said quietly, fiercely, reaching out and squeezing his hand once more. "I know."
And she left without another word, the door closing behind her with a chilling sense of finality. Derek took a deep breath, sucking in air as if it would somehow steady him, fix everything that seemed to be shaken up within him. It didn't. Everything still felt raw and disorganized, but he forced himself up the stairs and down the hall anyway, coming to a halt outside his bedroom.
The door was open, and all the lights were out except a single lamp. It cast the room in a pale golden glow that spilled gently over Meredith. She lay on her side with her back to him, perfectly motionless as if she were sleeping. But she wasn't. Her breathing was too faint, and the room felt too charged somehow…too full of her for her to be unconscious. Slowly, he walked further into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. He crossed over to the bed, shedding his jeans and his sweater as he went, climbing into bed in nothing more than his boxers and a faded t-shirt.
And then his arms were around her, pulling her towards him until their bodies were spooned together. "Meredith," he murmured, his voice humming against her shoulder blade as his hands splayed flat against her belly.
"Yeah?" she whispered back. The sound was more a sniffle than anything else, and Derek raised up on an elbow, suddenly realizing that she was crying. Something deep in his gut clenched, and he rubbed at her arm, feeling completely helpless.
Go. Take care of her.
What was he supposed to do? He closed his eyes, wracking his brain. She seemed to unravel so quickly now, in a way he wasn't used to. "The baby's fine," he soothed at last, letting his hand fall back towards her stomach. "And I know you don't want to be on bed rest, but we'll get through it." He pressed his lips against her neck, breathing in the faint floral scent of her hair. "Think of all the movies you can watch. Or," a smile crept into his voice, "you can get addicted to some hideously bad soap opera. Read all the trashy magazines you want. Make me do your bidding."
Meredith laughed weakly, still sniffling. "I know," she answered, but her voice quavered even more than before, full of enough tears to make Derek's heart hurt. "It'll be fine." He clutched at her tightly, his voice growing low and husky, full of worry.
"Then why are you crying?"
She shook her head, blotting her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm not."
Derek shifted, the bed groaning as he stirred and pulled her even closer to him. His hands roamed up the swollen curves of her body to catch hold of her hand. It was damp with tears, and he clasped it tightly between his own. "Right…" he breathed as the hand he held started to tremble. "Mer--"
And then she was twisting around on the bed to collapse against him. Her face buried against his chest and she sobbed--loud, harsh, choking sounds that made her earlier tears seem barely worth mentioning. She had one hand fisted in his hair, clinging to the dark strands as if they somehow grounded her while she fell apart. The other hand was still trapped between his larger ones, their fingers tangling together as her tears stained his shirt. And Derek pulled her closer still, until there was no space left between them. He gave up on trying to figure out how to comfort her and simply did what felt right. Their legs slid together, his wrapping over hers, and he rocked her while she cried. Her name turned into a song that fell over and over from his lips until both of them lay damp with her tears, until finally, finally, Meredith quieted. Until she rested curled in Derek's arms, still and silent save from the occasional shudder that ran straight through her and into him.
"What was all that for?" he asked gently, his fingers moving absently, tracing patterns over her arm. Meredith just gave a violent shake of her head, saying nothing. Derek bit back a sigh, and instead reached over, turning off the bedside lamp. Darkness curved around them instantly. It was something velvety and complete--strangely protective. He ran his fingers through her hair. Down over her breasts. Back to her stomach to hover over their child. "Tell me," he urged.
Meredith swallowed hard, steeling herself to speak. She stared out at the indecipherable blackness surrounding them, grateful that he couldn't see the tears that had started rolling down her cheeks again. "I…" she started, her voice shaking. She trailed off as quickly as she'd begun, gulping down air like a fish yanked out of water and onto land. She felt Derek nod, his chin bumping gently against the back of her head, waiting for her to continue. Meredith screwed her eyes shut as if the darkness still wasn't dark enough, still wasn't safe enough. "I'm sorry I made you choose," she whispered. "I shouldn't have… She's your mother, and I need-- I need to learn to accept her." Her voice wavered again--still ripe with tears--and she dropped away into silence.
"No," blurted Derek, her words making his gut tighten up in fear, finally understanding why he'd done what he'd done himself. "You do not need to learn that," he said fiercely. He shifted so that he could feel the steady thump of her heartbeat through her back, his voice growing low and determined. "To accept being treated like that just because she's my mother? No, it's not happening, Meredith."
"But it's your family," she moaned, unconvinced. "I shouldn't have asked you to do--"
"I offered to," he interrupted.
"I still shouldn't have," she continued, shaking her head. "And don't tell me it's okay because you have me and the baby. That's different, and," she shrugged, her voice growing incredulous, "you can't just cut your family out of your life like that!"
"Mer--"
"No, you need to talk to her," insisted Meredith almost frantically, her fingers worrying at the clasp of his watch. "You need to fix this. Tell her I take it back. Tell her it's because I'm pregnant and hormonal and," she sniffled, "crazy right now."
"Not telling her that, Mer," he mumbled. He chuckled slightly, adding, "Even if you are pregnant and hormonal and crazy right now."
"Derek, I'm serious," said Meredith, her voice taking on a desperate whine.
"So am I," he said simply.
She shuddered, but didn't answer. The room seemed to grow darker still.
"What are you afraid of?" he coaxed, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke, his words low and hushed. She stayed quiet, nothing more than a tiny trembling weight curled against his chest. "You stood up for yourself," he continued, feeling as if he were stumbling along blind, trying to find out what was bothering her by latching onto possibilities at random. "I'm not mad at you for doing it. I should've done it the moment she showed up." Meredith just sniffled, wrapping her arms tightly about herself. "Talk to me," pleaded Derek.
She swallowed hard, her nails digging into the flesh of his arm. "What happens when you wake up one day, and you miss your family, and you realize that it's my fault?"
"It's not your fault."
"Derek, what happens?" she insisted. He heaved a sigh, trying to figure out how to answer her. "You resent me. That's what happens," continued Meredith, not waiting for him to reply. "And then-- And then you…" She trailed off, her voice rapidly disintegrating into a shaky whisper.
"And then what?" asked Derek, his voice as hushed as hers.
"And then you leave me."
Her voice was barely audible, but it was loud enough to cut straight through him, and fill his eyes with something that stung an awful lot like tears. He clutched at her reflexively, shaking his head. "No," he said thickly. "I'm not going to leave you. Just… No."
Meredith seemed to relax a little at his words, but she still held his arm in a death grip. "You might," she said, and her voice was tinged with doubt.
"Come on," said Derek gently, cradling her against him. He cleared his throat, not sure how many times she needed to hear it, but willing to say it until she believed. "I love you, and that is not going to go away. I'm not going to go away. Okay?"
"Okay," she whispered back, her head tilting to rest against his shoulder. She could either keep falling, or she could believe him. Maybe it was the exhaustion or maybe it was something else entirely. All she knew was that, for once, it seemed easier to just believe. "Okay…" She could feel Derek smiling at her answer, his hands dancing lightly over her body before settling just as they always seemed to, over the roundest part of her stomach. She chewed on her lower lip, forcing out a final question rather than giving in and letting the warmth of his body lull her to sleep. "What about your mother?"
Derek sighed, but the sound wasn't frustrated, just thoughtful. "I'm not apologizing," he said at last. "You're not apologizing. Not for any of this. But," he pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade, "I'll listen to her. If she really wants to apologize, I'll at least listen, alright?"
"Alright…"
"But you have to promise me, no pretending to be okay about her if you're not. She has to fix things with you before anything else can happen, and if she tries to, and you still don't want to have to deal with her? You don't have to. No resenting."
"No resenting," Meredith echoed, a smile creeping into her voice.
"None."
"Well," she murmured, finally sounding somewhat close to happy. She twisted about in his arms, her fingers winding through his hair. "Sounds like you've got yourself a deal, Dr. Shepherd."
"Yeah?" he asked, tilting his head to the side to capture her lips with his.
"Yeah," breathed Meredith. She moved slowly down his jaw line until she reached his neck, her mouth warm and wet against his skin. Derek moaned, his hands raking through her hair as she shifted closer, her body pressing hard up against his.
Derek groaned. Coughed. Pulled away slightly. "Just how long do I have before you start rubbing in the fact that we're not allowed to have sex?"
"About ten seconds," whispered Meredith before burying her face in the crook of his neck, dissolving rapidly into giggles.
-----
And yeah, that was that. It was a lot about Meredith dealing with feeling guilty about forcing Derek to choose between her and his mother because it was very much a heat of the moment thing to even bring that choice up. And, even though the woman's been horrible to her, even though Derek brought the possibility up in the first place, she feels guilty for making him actually follow through on that. Because it's his family, and Meredith has a lot of issues when it comes to families, particularly mothers. So yep, that's about it. I'm being very non-rambling tonight. But, the story is getting close to ending. You can actually count the remaining chapters on one hand. Which, I think I might have said before, but it's actually true this time. So, yay for that, I suppose. Anyway, thanks so much for reading and for putting up with my very, very bad updater behavior!