Clad in flannel pants and an old tee, Derek made his way down the wooden stairs and turned to head into the kitchen. He had spent the better part of an hour in the shower, holding Meredith tight in his arms until the last of her tears had been shed. She was now lying in bed, wrapped up in as many blankets as Derek could find. She was quiet and subdued, and Derek hoped he was doing everything she needed from him. He knew she hated to ask for help, but the fact that she was accepting his comfort and support made him hopeful that she was glad he was there.

As he pushed the door open and entered the kitchen, he met Alex's eyes. The younger surgeon was sitting at the kitchen table, coffee mug held tightly in his hands. He seemed to be waiting for something; news, information, an explanation. His expression was apprehensive, uncertainty mixed with confusion, and maybe a little embarrassment.

"Hey," Derek offered, nodding his head.

"Hey," Alex responded, somewhat hesitantly. The normally confident doctor suddenly seemed unsure of himself in Derek's presence. But Alex wouldn't be Alex if he wasn't upfront. "Look man, I'm sorry about-."

Derek held up a hand, motioning for Alex to stop. "It's okay, Alex, no hard feelings."

Alex still seemed unsure.

Derek offered a short smile. "I'm glad she has friends like you," Derek said, nodding. "People to look out for her. I'd rather you do something like this than not do anything when she really needs it."

"Okay." Alex said, nodding as he gaze Derek what he could only assume was a look of approval.

"However," Derek continued. "Let me make one thing very clear. I would never, ever hurt her, especially not like that." And it was true. After Meredith's drowning experience, he had even felt guilty for the cracked ribs and bruising on her chest from the extensive CPR he had performed.

Alex nodded. "Good."

And with that the tension between the two doctors dissipated. Derek continued past Alex, opening the lower storage cupboard to grab a clean towel. He then opened the freezer and fished through it. He pulled the icepack out of the freezer. Izzy had burned herself baking one day while he and Meredith had been eating breakfast. Meredith had sighed and jumped up to fish the icepack out and dropped it on the counter beside her roommate without a word. Apparently she and George had bought it within the first month on living together because they were tired of losing their frozen goods to Izzy's accident prone baking binges.

Derek wrapped the towel around the icepack and proceeded to get a bottle of water out of the fridge and poured a glass of orange juice. He paused as he came back around to where Alex was sitting at the table.

He stood awkwardly across the table from the younger man, carefully balancing the items he was carrying. He hesitated briefly before speaking. "It was Thatcher," he finally said, no explanation necessary for explaining what 'it' was.

Alex's head shot up. "Her father?" He asked, incredulously.

Derek nodded sadly. "Susan, uh, she took a turn for the worse. She contracted an infection."

"And he was mad at Meredith?" Alex asked, anger evident in his voice.

Derek sighed. "She turned septic in a matter of hours. There was nothing anyone could do." He paused between statements. "She passed away a few hours ago."

Alex gasped quietly. "Oh," was all he said.

"Yeah," Derek said.

And there was silence in the kitchen as they both took a few moments to process the implication of Derek's words.

Derek finally took a breath. "So," he said. "I have to..." He motioned towards the door.

Alex nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

And with that Derek left the kitchen, hurrying back up to Meredith.

He gently pushed open the bedroom door, smiling at Meredith, who he was glad to see was sitting up in bed, leaning against the headboard. The pile of blankets were sitting at her waist, but she looked warm enough in the oversized sweater she had stolen from his closet one of the times they had stayed at the trailer after getting back together.

Derek set the water bottle down on the bedside table and handed her the glass of juice. "Here," he said. "Let's get your blood sugar up."

Meredith took the glass without protest. "Okay, doctor." She rolled her eyes gently.

Derek smiled, glad she was up to a little humour. "That's right," he said as he pulled back the covers and settled in bed beside her. She leaned up against him and he responded by wrapping his left arm around her, pulling her close and placing a kiss on the side of her head. They remained silent for a few minutes as Meredith drained her glass. When she was finished, she pulled away to place the cup down on the table and then leaned back up against Derek, laying her head down on his shoulder. Derek picked up the ice pack, gently laying it against her cheek. She thanked him quietly, moving her hand to hold it in place.

"How are you doing?" Derek asked, leaning his head on hers.

She sighed and didn't respond right away. "I don't know," she admitted.

Derek remained silent, absentmindedly running his fingers up and down her left arm.

Meredith snuffled softly. "She was the closest thing I ever had to having a mom," she said quickly. "I mean, I had a mother, but not a mom. Susan was the closest I ever got. And I failed her."

"Hey." Derek cut in, lifting his head off of hers. "You didn't fail anyone. You did everything you could. That was not your fault."

"I should have caught it sooner. If we'd gotten her into surgery sooner, then maybe..." She kept her head on his shoulder, not lifting her head and meeting his eyes.

"The problem with medicine, Meredith, is there's always going to be maybes, always going to be what ifs. But there is no way of predicting these kinds of things. It was a simple, straight forward procedure. You know that. Inpatient procedure, in and out. To contract an infection from that is possible, but not to respond to antibiotics given one day after is extremely rare. And to turn septic that quickly... There was no way of predicting it. No way of stopping it."

"We could have done something else," Meredith was defensive. "We could have not done the surgery."

"You had no reason not to. At the time it was the best offering for the patient."

Meredith didn't respond for several moments, only dropping the ice pack and moving her right hand up to stop his hand from its ceaseless path up and down her upper arm. She grasped her hand tightly onto his, and he squeezed back, trying to convey as much support as he could to her. He gave up this method relatively quickly, dropping her hand and turning his body to wrap both arms around her again and pulled her body close to him. But this time it was different from the shower. It was less intense, less emotional. This time it was quiet and comfortable and supportive. Meredith participated in the new position, ensuring every body part belonging to her was weaved with one belonging to him. She rested her head against his chest, right beside the hand that was clutching a fistful of his shirt. She listened to his even breathing as his right hand now began to move up and down her back. Then she began to speak.

"She reached out for me."

It was so quiet Derek almost didn't hear it. "Hmm?"

"Susan. She reached out for me. We were wheeling her into surgery and she reached out for me and grabbed my arm. For just a moment she held my arm, so tight. She was so scared. And then she let go and..." Meredith trailed off for a moment. "And then she didn't have a pulse. We never got it back." Her voice was cracking and she gripped his shirt even tighter. "We couldn't get her heart to beat," she repeated. "No matter what we did, we couldn't get her back. We tried for so long...and then I had to call it. And then I just felt...numb. I stood there for so long as they..." Her voice cracked again. "As they covered her body."

"I'm so sorry, Mer," Derek whispered soothingly, not knowing what else to say.

"I couldn't save her. I did everything I could, but I just couldn't save her. And I just stood there, numb, trying to figure out how to tell Thatcher."

Derek nodded as he silently remembered sitting on the floor in the corner of Ellis Grey's room for an hour after he had called time of death, feeling as if he had failed them both. And then after Bailey had finally found him and told him Meredith was alive, all he could think about was how he was going to tell her about her mother. He hadn't been allowed to save her, and he hadn't been able to save her mother.

Meredith shrugged. "I guess I didn't do a good job telling him."

Derek shook his head. "He shouldn't have done that. There's no excuse for it, no matter what, Meredith. There is never an excuse for that." He brought his hand up to gently run it across her face and she pulled back as he did so, meeting his eyes. Derek hesitated before speaking, knowing it wasn't the time, but after the confrontation with Alex he felt a strong need to tell her. "I would never do that to you, Meredith, never."

Meredith smiled, still meeting his eyes. "I know that, Derek." There wasn't an ounce of doubt in her voice.

Derek nodded. "I know, I just..." He sighed. "I know that I've made some stupid mistakes, and I've hurt you, but-" He shook his head. "I would never hit you," a lump formed in his throat at the memory of watching her father strike her. "I would never do that," he felt the need to repeat. "And I will do my absolute best to never hurt you again, in any way."

Meredith smiled. It was small and short, but genuine. "I know," she said again, and he knew she meant it.

Meredith gently broke eye contact, laying her head back down on Derek's shoulder. "I feel numb," she said.

Derek nodded. "That's okay," he said.

"I wish I could build a time machine and go back and save her."

"I know the feeling," Derek said, his thoughts on a certain decision he had made several months prior.

Meredith was quiet for some time; Derek had even begun to believe she had fallen asleep. "Thank-you," she whispered quietly. "For being here and for being you."

Derek smiled. "It's what I'm here for."

"I'm glad."