Title: Loud And Clear
Authors: Sara And Lizzie
Rating: T for language, mild sex
Disclaimer: we don't own grey's anatomy, or any anatomies but our own at that.
Summary: Sequel to One Hell Of a Racket. Babies, weddings, and rain. Seattle at it's finest. Babysitting for the ex wife, meeting the family, planning the wedding and fending off the intern. All in a day's work.
Author's Note: The final story in our trilogy. We're staring two days from where 'Racket' left off. Also, we made up all the names and details of Derek's family, save for Nancy, who we adore, by the way.
WE ARE SO SORRY. We hope this makes up for the long delay in updates.
REVIEW.
The gallery was cold, vacant and silent. Meredith sat in the hard plastic chair, completely alone and struggling to breathe. The gallery was supposed to be closed, and no one in the OR had any reason to think she would be sitting there, so no one looked up and noticed. They were all too focused on Derek.
Meredith was stunned at how different he looked, bruised, bloody and broken, lying there as Burke cut into his chest. The whole world felt cold, vacant and silent. In a series of moments, everything had shifted and changed. Her whole existence was in question now. The haunting image of Derek kissing Bridget had been replaced by the image before her. Derek had always been the strong one, the one who brought her back from the edge, but that had changed too.
He was weak now, clinging to life, exposing the irony of his helplessness to save himself from what he saved other people from everyday. Meredith was shaking, freezing and utterly alone. She gripped the edge of the chair, her slim fingers wrapping around and holding it tightly, like a life raft in a sea that wouldn't stop churning.
Mark and Addison haphazardly grabbed masks from the shelf and held them over their faces as they waited for the sliding doors to open. "911?" Mark asked, referring to Burke's page.
"Get Grey out of the gallery." Burke said, without looking up. Addison's eyes traveled upwards and she started moving. She ran through the halls and burst into the gallery, shaken at what she saw.
"Oh Meredith." She breathed. "Come on."
Meredith shook her head. "I want to watch." She said, her voice stiff and robotic.
"Meredith, you don't want to see this."
"Why?" She challenged. "You think I don't know he'll probably die?" Addison sat down and put a hand on her shaking shoulder.
"He's not going to die." She said. "Meredith, look at me." She commanded. Meredith's eyes wouldn't budge from the OR, so Addison knelt in front of her. "Derek will fight. He will fight it, if for nothing else, but the chance to tell you he's sorry. He's not going to leave you. He's not going to die." Meredith said nothing. Addison sat back down next to her and grabbed one of her shaking hands, holding it in hers.
"Cristina's down there." Meredith said. Her hollow tone sent shivers down Addison's spine. "That's good. Cristina can separate herself. She doesn't see Derek right now. She sees any other patient."
Addison hesitated. "What do you see?" she asked.
"Everything." Meredith replied.
"Level with me." Mark told Burke, casting his glance on Bailey and the chief. "What are his chances?"
Richard cleared his throat. "It's too soon to tell." He said.
"Mark," Burke said seriously, "Get Meredith out of the gallery. If something happens…" He trailed off. Mark swallowed hard and nodding, backing slowly out of the OR. "And Sloan?" Burke called. "No one is giving up in here without one hell of a fight." Mark nodded and retraced Addison's footsteps to the gallery.
"We're going." He said, his voice strong, commanding compliance.
"I'm not going anywhere." Meredith said defiantly. They locked eyes and Addison looked back and forth between the two of them. Mark reached down and in one fluid motion scooped Meredith out of her chair, and carried her into the hallway and all the way to the waiting area, Addison trailing behind them.
The families of patients stared as Mark, in his scrubs, carried Meredith in her jeans and sweater, as she struggled against him. "Let go Mark!" she said. He plopped her down in a chair and put his hands on her shoulders.
"No one is letting go." He said firmly. "Not us, not your friends, not Derek. You're going to sit here, and it's going to be hell, but when they tell you he's okay, it's going to be worth it." She looked up at him, and the tears came again, huge, gut wrenching sobs she couldn't control. Struggling to breathe, she shook her head.
"I can't do this." She gasped. She started to get up, prepared to run, but Mark grabbed her shoulders and knelt in front of her. "Now you listen to me, Meredith." He said in a low, but firm voice. "I know you want to run. I know you're terrified and you want out of here now, but you need to fight the fear and you need to stay, because…"
She cut him off by trying to wrench her shoulders from his grasp. He repositioned his grip. "Look at me, Mer. You need to stay because when he wakes up, if you're not here, there's no fixing it. And if he dies," She shuddered. "Meredith, if the worst should happen and he dies, and you're not here because you ran away, you will never forgive yourself."
He gripped both of her hands in his and looked at her straight in the eye. "So cry. Cry, scream, anything. But you need to be here."