A/N: Sorry, very late update. Still piled high with school work. Anyway, excited for Grey's new episode in two weeks, and I can't wait. New chapter, LONGEST chapter EVER for this story and kinda doesn't sound like the characters, but that's because this is how things probably happened inside my head. A lot of screaming, and more screaming but it's fun. Hee. Hope you people enjoy. Thanks to those who reviewed, and please do the same for this one. :)

Five: Dr. Derek Shepherd

There is this guy. He does one of two things: he can melt me right on the spot with a smile (and I don't do that 'melting' thing, to be honest) OR he can make me so angry that I want to strangle him. But of course, I don't do that.

At this moment, it's either I love him or I hate him. But I'm Meredith, and I'm usually stupid with all these relationship kind of things and I end up picking the former. This is probably the reason why I'm sitting here alone in Joe's counter drowning my sorrows with my best friend Jose.

"Alright, that's enough Meredith. I'm going to call someone to bring you home."

"Noooooo," I whine at Joe, flipping over another shot glass and lining it up with the ones I've finished, "Nooooo, you aren't gon call no one."

"But you've already had a lot sweetie. It's time to get you home."

I shake my head and down my nth shot of tequila for the night (and probably the last one Joe will serve me), feeling the liquid burn the inside of my throat. I really don't feel good considering that I had a bottle of beer and a few vodka thingies before the tequila downing and I feel like Joe's bar has suddenly become too dark. Or bright. I'm not sure, it really depends on where I look.

"It's not a lot." I tell Joe, lifting my head slightly to look at him straight in the eye. Or, at least as straight as I can as of the moment. "I'm not drunk Joe, I promise."

He smirked. "Yeah, well that's what they all say. Alright, that's enough pining for Dr. Shepherd." He starts pulling the upturned shot glasses away from me and I count them. Two. Four. Six. Eight. And a small glass with a stirrer in it. Okay, so maybe I've had a lot. However, it doesn't take away the fact that I'm not yet done with the sorrow-drowning drinking I had planned concerning Derek Shepherd.

The bell by the door rings and I see Joe's expression immediately change. He looks at me and back up to whoever just entered, shaking his head.

"You really don't need anything else to upset you right now." Joe says quietly, setting down a glass of water in place of the shot glasses that used to be there.

"Thanks Joe." I mutter quietly and I lean back from my position, fully expecting a strong, sturdy backrest for my now heavy head. But I feel nothing. Instead, I end up leaning on air as a fall off the stool and hear a sickeningly loud thud on the floor. The world blacks out for a minute (or two) and I hear people around me sound panicked. Or amused. I'm drunk and I'm probably guessing stuff way off the hook.

"Oh my God, Meredith! Are you okay?" I look up and I find Joe's face hovering above me with a slightly terrified look on his face.

"Ow," I groan as I try to lift my head off the floor. Apparently, the loud thud I heard was my head hitting the floor from a few feet off the ground. "Ow. What happened?"

"You fell off the stool. Good thing Tyler accidentally dropped his coat on the floor, it lessened the blow."

"Ohhh." My head was throbbing in pain and I'm still slightly inebriated because I could see two Joes at the same time. Not to mention that everything seems to be spinning around and around. "I feel dizzy."

"Meredith! Joe, is she okay?" I'm still lying on the floor with my eyes closed and I'm still drunk, but I'm sure (and I've never been wrong) that the voice that I just heard was Derek. I could hear Joe telling him about what happened and then suddenly I could feel a pair of strong hands cradle my head tenderly with a cold ice pack and I finally force my eyes to open. "A few contusions but she looks okay."

"Get away from me Derek." I mumble, pulling away from him with the energy I have left. He wouldn't budge. "I said, get away!"

"No, Meredith. You just hit your head on the floor. You're not okay." Derek says forcefully but his hand is still resting gently on the back of my head, the other one holding me down on the ground. I have no idea how he can sound so angry and feel so gentle at the same time. "Stay still!"

"NO!" I exclaim loudly enough for the whole bar to stop and stare at me. I push myself up from my position and pull myself away from Derek's grasp, standing up and staggering, nearly knocking myself again on the counter. Joe thankfully helps me to my feet and I grunt a small thank you before looking dazedly at Derek and back at Joe. "I'm leaving."

"Oh no, you're not." I stare at Joe like he's crazy but he shakes his head and pulls out his cellphone. "I'm calling you a cab."

"I'm going to the hospital," I tell him. It was late and I started the day out with George and I think he's about done and maybe he'll drive me home. "I'm going to ask someone to drive."

"Have some coffee first. Or something."

"I'm okay Joe, thanks."

I turn away from him and stagger drunkenly towards the door and I stop. I'm drunk and dizzy and I want to go home—but there are two doors in front of me and I take my chances and step towards the one on the right. It was evidently a bad idea because the next thing I know, I could feel my forehead throbbing in pain.

"OW," I groan again and fall back slightly, my right hand immediately rushing to my now throbbing forehead. I just hit the door because I was stupid enough (and smashed enough) to forget to open it. "OW. Okay, that hurt."

A pair of heavy hands grabs me by my upper arms and pulls me to the chair nearest to the door and I find Mark Sloan trying to make me sit. "Alright, that's enough Grey, you're going to have to sit down and take a seat because one more hit on the head and the next thing you'll see is the inside of the MRI machine." Mark tells me as I sit on the chair he has pulled out. I see Derek approaching the table with the ice pack in his hand and Mark starts talking to him. "She's alright Shep, don't worry about it."

"Did she hit the door hard?"

"Nah, don't think so. Oh wait, maybe a little bit. Maybe you should check it out; the first hit was bad enough."

Derek approaches me and he pushes the hair out of my eyes, his fingers tenderly touching my now painfully throbbing forehead. He places the ice pack on it and sits on the chair opposite mine and I pull away from him, moving my head away as far as possible and cradle my head in my hands.

"God Derek," I groan, still holding my head, "Will you, just for once, will you please just stop trying to save me? Because every time you try to save me, you end up hurting me and I just want you to stop."

"What?" Derek says, pulling his chair closer to me and I pull back again. "What the hell is your problem, Meredith?"

It's really not the best time for someone to just ask me out of the blue what my problem is. Not to mention, that it was never a good idea for your problem to ask you what your problem is. It's stupid, crazy and quite absurd, if I may say so. The aggravation towards Derek is building and I stare straight at him like I want to slam onto him like a madman with an axe.

"What's my problem? You're asking me what's my problem?" I shriek and my head hurts and everyone is looking at me but I don't care. Somehow, the small part of my sober brain tells me to shut it, but the drunken part takes over and I start shrieking at Derek about all our problems and all the things that have made me spend my nights here at Joe's. "You wanna know what the hell my problem is? YOU ARE! You are my fucking problem Derek!"

Derek looks shocked and upset, and his body turns rigid as he faces me and I manage to stand up in front of him, jabbing my finger to his chest. "YOU. I hate you. Because right from the start, I didn't want to do anything with you, but you say things and you do things and I fell in love with you." I say loudly, my face dangerously close to his and I could feel my blood boiling on the inside. "And I hate it that I love you. I wanted to know you Derek because you were the one person who understood me and you asked me to take everything on faith," I jab my finger on his chest again, "and you know what's stupid? I do. I take everything on faith and you know what you gave me? A secret wife!"

I look at Mark and he's staring at me with a surprised look on his face, his mouth open like a gaping goldfish. Derek was still staring at me with those expressive eyes of his which makes me hate him a little bit more, because every time I see him like that, I always end up crying. Which might have been the reason why the tears started to flow and the yelling started again.

"I was in love with you Derek, I was too madly in love with you that I actually ask you to pick me, and choose me and love me," I say through gritted teeth, my eyes still furiously directed at him, "but you don't. Because you chose to hurt me by choosing Addison. Damn it Derek, when I met you I thought you were the one I was going to spend my life and I was done. Then I tried to fix myself and you know what you do? You call me a whore."

"Meredith, I—" I really didn't see Derek stand up but he's standing in front of my sobbing self and I look up at him. I start to explode and I try to hit him in the chest with my tiny ineffectual fists and he grabs my wrists, effectively stopping the beating. "Meredith…"

"NO!" I scream again and everything becomes blurry because I finally notice that I'm crying. "NO! You do not get to say 'Meredith' because I'm not done!" He holds my wrists in place and I glare at him, pulling away from his grasp immediately.

"I hate you," I repeat, starting over the incredibly huge speech that was inside my head, and I'm staring at him with all the anger building up inside, "I hate you because I wanted you to be the one. I leave the guy who could've been the perfect one for me because I still believed that you're the one I'm spending my life with. For a moment there we were happy. But I drowned. And you're the guy who blames me for drowning. You're the guy who blames me for dying. And you're the guy who pulls away, expecting me to understand why you're acting so weird and twitchy all of the sudden and then you're the guy who gets to tell me that I'm the love of your life and asks me to break up with you at the same time."

I step forward and face him again, my fists balled up in anger and I want to hit him. Hard. I want to hurt him for all the things that he's done to me but I don't.

"But you don't understand. Because you don't want to deal with the dark and twisty and damaged Meredith, and I can't do anything about it. Not yet. You tell me that I'm constantly leaving you behind but I'm not—YOU are. God, Derek, have you ever actually thought about the reason why I'm here? Why I'm actually standing here in front of you, breathing and screaming and hating you? I'm guessing no. Because right from the start, it's always going to be you. It's you who's always getting left behind, it's you who breathes for me, and it's YOU who wants to be put out of misery by me. You don't even bother to think that I fought death for you, Derek. You don't even bother to think that I'm constantly trying to be something that I can't be and breathing and loving you all at the same time."

It's hard talking to Derek like this because I've never done this before. Not once in my life have I screamed and shrieked and exploded at a guy in the middle of a bar with about a hundred people watching us. But I don't care and I don't notice the people at the bar. Because Derek was crying, he was ACTUALLY crying and I stop slightly, pausing long enough to step back and stare at his blue eyes as he cried. And I continue, my voice softer this time because I can't do the screaming anymore and it hurts me to be yelling at the one man I have fallen in love with and seeing him cry.

"And I know you want things Derek. You want a lot of things—big things. You want the marriage and the kids and the house. You want a lifetime and I want them too," I breathe heavily, the tears still coursing down my face. Damn tear ducts always having to work at the moments I don't want them to. "And I try Derek. I'm trying hard to give you these things and all I ask from you is time."

Derek starts to open his mouth to respond but I cut him off. "I try Derek, I'm trying so fucking hard that I'm asking Cristina to plow through psych books and I'm washing down my mother's ashes in a scrub room and what do you do? You decide to date other people while I keep on trying to be that person that you want me to be. I'm trying to grow up Derek, because I don't know how to grow up. You date people who could give you the things you want without having to wait for them to grow up. You kiss other women and you don't tell me. You show me house plans to scare me into taking a step with you. You break up with me because you're telling me that I don't trust you."

I stare at him angrily, finally hitting him hard on the chest. "You know why I can't trust you? You wanna know why I'm always finding reasons not to? Because you keep walking away, you always leave me hanging, telling me lies and keeping things from me. You're not giving me any reason to trust you, but you always—ALWAYS give me reasons not to."

I wasn't really sure at how long the shrieking and the jabbing really was because time and space just seemed to stop right there when I started. And I was drunk when all this started, seeing as I just hit my head on the floor and the door in less than five minutes and when I started the screaming, the whole world seemed to have just shut up instantly. Everything was quiet and I feel like I'm standing in the room with nobody else but Derek who is now looking shocked and upset in front of me. But now, it felt like somebody has just pressed the on switch and everything started to play out again because I could hear people whispering around us and eyes looking intently at us.

"Damn Grey," Mark suddenly starts, his eyes fixated on me, "I like it when you're drunk."

"Shut up Mark."

Derek's voice was strangely tight, and I know he's angry. And probably wants to hurl things at me for screaming at him and I stand in front of him and he's staring at me with those blue eyes of his that had suddenly gone a shade darker. I close my eyes and let out a deep heavy breath, and when I open my eyes, I see Derek stepping forward and I step back away from him.

"No," I whisper, "Don't."

"Meredith…"

"Don't," I say again, a little bit louder this time. "Stop saving me."

"I'm not…"

"You are."

I find Derek standing directly in front of me and the tears are still pouring. He just stands there, looking at me and I stare back, and the next thing I know (and I'm probably stupid to do so) is that I kiss him. Softly. Briefly. Probably even less than five seconds. It wasn't a kiss that was about to initiate a night of hot drunken sex—no, it was a kiss to tell him that I've said my mind and that kiss might be the last. The thing is, it never felt like that.

"You broke up with me Derek. It's over. You said it yourself."

"But I—"

I shake my head slightly, furiously fighting the tears ready to pour out of my eyes. "You don't want to wait for me. I get it. But Derek, I've been waiting for you a long time ago and you weren't ready. I waited for you to love me for what I could give you. And I know they're not enough and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't be the one who can give you the house and the kids and perfect marriage. I'm sorry you had to waste your time waiting for me."

I wipe away the tears that had fallen on his face and Derek closes his eyes the moment I touch him. And I turn away and walk towards the door, and this time I manage to find myself outside. It's raining and I start to realize how much I had said. I'm going to work tomorrow and I'm not sure how things will end up. We're broken up and I yelled at him. Tomorrow isn't going to be a good day.

See, the thing about me drinking at Joe's usually concerns Derek. It's the place I met him, and the place that I hated him, and it's the place which will always make me remember how one person actually turned my life around.

ooo

On most days, the gossip driven mouths of the nurses of Seattle Grace Hospital doesn't bother me. But today was the day after the drunken screaming at Joe's and it wasn't until I got in bed last night, staring up at the ceiling did I realize that the nurses will probably be talking. And as I'm standing here in the middle of the surgical floor, I could feel everyone staring at me. And I mean EVERYONE, literally.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Lexie crane her neck as if she was looking for someone and I'm surprised to see her head my way with the tallest cup of coffee I have ever seen in her hand. She stops in front of me and my incredibly huge pile of charts, placing the coffee cup in front of me.

I stare at the white cup in front of me and back up at Lexie. "Lex, what is that?"

"Coffee." Lexie said, shrugging her shoulders. I stare at her in confusion. "For you?"

"What for?"

"Oh, um…" Lexie looked around the room, her eyes briefly meeting George's who was standing in the far end of the room with his fellow interns. She shifted her weight between her feet and looked up, meeting my eyes. "Just… just because."

I smiled back weakly at her. "Thanks. But you really didn't have to."

"But I do, so here," She says as she shakes her head, slightly pushing the cup towards me. "I gotta go." Lexie gives me one last small smile before she scoots off to the mercy of Cristina. I, on the other hand, picked up the cup and took a sip. Mocha latte. Smart girl, she knows what I like. Or maybe George told her what I like. Whatever. I turned to my interns, waving my hand at them to approach me. George reaches me first, his eyes quiet and somber as he looked at me.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I ask him the moment he stopped in front of me. He shrugs, his gaze immediately dropping to the floor. Instead, I roll my eyes at him and hand him a chart. The interns have congregated in front of me, all of them waiting for their assignments.

"Whatever." I mumble quietly, and shooting one last look at George, I click my tongue at him before facing my slaves. "Thomas, you're with Sloan; Lee, pit; Andrews, Hahn; George, come with me. You're with Tuck today. Then go find the Chief afterwards and do his pre-op." I hand them their assigned charts, and I call out before they were all gone. "Don't make me regret setting you loose around the hospital!"

They all scoot off to their assigned tasks with the exception of George. He's just standing in front of me, and I stare right back at him in confusion.

"What?" I ask and he opens his mouth in some sort of reply but he stops himself. "What?" I repeat, and he finally shakes his head.

"Are you okay?" George's voice was soft, and I look at him blankly.

"Of course," I mutter quietly as I gathered the remaining charts on the station, "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"Oh," He says and he follows me towards the halls leading to the pediatric ICU. The elevator was thankfully empty and we both step inside, George falling a step beside me as he pressed the button. "I was just… you know, just wondering. Cause last night you weren't okay and…"

The truth is I'm not okay. But last night, as I lay down alone on my bed, I realized that I needed to grow up. Not for Derek, not for finding the one person I want to spend the rest of my life with, but for me. I need to grow up for me. So I decided that today, I'm going to be fine. Not just Meredith fine, but actually fine. If I can manage it.

"I'm… fine," I tell him, and the elevator stops at our floor, "I'm doing well, I think."

"I was just making sure."

Ten minutes later, I left George in the ICU as he fed Tuck, while I found myself walking the halls alone with my cup of coffee and the feeling that I'm going to meet someone that I really didn't want to see right now. Looking across the hall towards the bridge, I find Derek slumped on the ground looking defeated with Mark towering over him. I stop, and my brain tells me to run the opposite direction but Mark spots me and I stand rooted to the spot.

"Oh, hello Grey," Mark greets sarcastically, his eyes immediately locking with mine, "Nice to see you're doing better than this idiot sitting on the floor."

"I… Dr. Sloan." I reply, my eyes immediately sweeping towards Derek. Mark faced me; his arms crossed over his chest his eyes unusually blank and seemingly frustrated. I try to come up with a response to save myself from the immediate humiliation that was to be left alone with Derek after I bit his head off—unfortunately, nothing comes to mind, except for one lame excuse. "I have to go…"

"You're not needed elsewhere, Grey," Mark grunted, striding across the floor, bypassing me, "I'll leave you two to talk."

Mark's footsteps faded away and I found myself standing in the same spot, looking at Derek who was still slumped on the floor. So much for plans of avoiding him today. Taking a deep breath, I walked to where he was seated and stopped short in front of him.

"You look like crap." I tell him, and Derek looks up at me briefly with those sad blue eyes of his before letting his gaze drop back on the floor.

"I feel like crap." He replies solemnly, his eyes still fixated on the tiled floor in front of him. I sigh heavily, my coffee cup laden hand immediately rising to meet my lips for a sip before it stops midair in front of his face. He looks back up at me and the coffee cup, his lips slightly parted in surprise.

"You look like crap," I repeat, slightly shaking the now half-empty cup. Derek's still staring at me in confusion, and I simply stare back at him, my hand still steadily holding the cup in front of him. "Are you going to take it or am I just gonna hold this in place for you while you sit there?"

Derek takes the warm cup from my hands and cradles it in his own. "I… uh… thanks." He mumbles before taking a sip and letting it rest in his hands. I tower over him, much like what Mark was doing earlier, only, I'm a whole lot smaller and it really made no difference. Derek's still staring at the floor and my hands drop in defeat. What am I doing here, anyway?

Looking down on the man in front of me, I find myself watching Derek's every move. His hand occasionally ran up and down the coffee cup, his index finger unconsciously tracing the embossed letters on the top of the cup. And then I finally see how he looks like today. For the first time since I met him, I see Derek's normally perfect hair sticking out in all directions, like he's been running his fingers through it in frustration. He's still wearing his clothes from the day before and he looks like he walked in the rain, the ends of his pants darker than the rest of his clothing. Derek looks up at me, and I silently gasp. His normally piercing blue gaze was now strangely distant and dim, with bloodshot eyes and a runny nose to match.

Yeah, he sure looks like crap today.

We stay like this for a while—Derek sulking on the floor while I try to at least menacingly tower over him. Crossing my arms over my chest, I look down at him, and somewhere between the minutes that ticked by, silence consumed us. That creepy, almost deafening silence that always lingered around you when you don't know what to say. And right now, we certainly don't know what to say.

Derek finally looks up at me, and he looks slightly better. Like a little light had turned on inside him. Seeing that he's better, I turn on my heel, fully expecting to get away from him as far as possible. I've barely taken more than three steps away when he called out to me.

"Meredith," He whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking as I turned my back on him, "Don't go. Please."

Do you know how it is when you want to run, but your legs just won't obey you? Like they have a mind of their own and all you can do is stand there, staring at the escape route that is ahead of you. Yeah, that's how I feel right now.

"Meredith…"

Somewhere deep inside my head, there's a little voice telling me to shut everything out and run. Leave him there sulking on the floor. Forget about him.

But there's also this other voice, the one that I'm more prone to listen to telling me to stop, turn around and face Derek. I should run away—I know, but I don't. So I'm standing here, three steps away from him staring blankly at the hallway in front of me.

"Meredith," Derek repeats, softer this time, like he's struggling to form the words. I turn slightly, looking down on him from my vantage point. "Stay," he murmurs quietly, setting down the coffee cup beside him as he turns to look at me, "Please?"

Ignoring the voice inside my head, I walk past him, opting to sit a good foot and a half away from him. We both sit in relative silence for minute (and it seemed longer), not until I decide to speak first.

"This isn't going to get us anywhere," I tell him, my shoulders sagging in exhaustion. Derek sighed.

"I… Yeah… I…" He stuttered, taking another sip of coffee, "I know."

"What are we doing Derek?" I ask him, cradling my head in my hands.

Derek paused. "I don't know."

I blink, staring at the tiled floor as I contemplated on his words. I knew we were bound to go somewhere, either better or worse, or probably something in between, especially after that screaming thing last night, but…

Right now, I'm surprised that Derek doesn't know what we're doing. Because Derek Shepherd is a world-renowned neurosurgeon, and he's always going to be that arrogant, cocky jackass (and as much as I hate to say it), the only guy I've fallen in love with. Well, at least up until the point I screamed and all hell broke loose on him.

Who the hell am I kidding; I'm still in love with the stupid guy.

Lifting my head up from my hands, I look squarely at Derek as he sat there slouched on the glass wall of the bridge drinking what remained of the bitter liquid in his hands. He looked like a mess.

"Are you drunk?"

Derek half-shrugs, half-slumping helplessly on the wall behind him. He pinches the bridge of his nose before he brings himself to look at me.

"No," I stare at him and he relents, "Maybe. A little bit. Not as much as I was six hours ago."

"What happened to your date?"

He closes his eyes, now leaning fully on the wall. "I don't know. I can't remember," Derek retorts, shrugging his shoulders and sighing heavily, "Probably left her there or something. I don't know. I don't care."

"You can't just leave your dates out in the bar."

"But I just did."

Derek is not perfect. Sure he's dreamy and everything, but he's not perfect. He's flawed, he's screwed up, and he's just as messed up as everyone else. Case in point: he's sitting on the floor in his clothes the day before and he's drunk. And he left his skanky date in the bar last night.

I know I should be happy or proud or something—anything should work seeing as the moment presents itself to boost my ego. But I'm not. Instead, I just sit there, staring blankly at him as if it didn't mean anything.

Yeah, it didn't mean anything. Because I don't care about the skanky nurse date named Rose, because frankly, I'm better than her.

We sit quietly on the floor, and Derek suddenly turns to face me, his sad, brooding eyes looking straight at me. My breathing hitches a bit, and I groan, because even in the middle of this mess that we're in, I'm still hopelessly in love with him.

"You probably hate me right now." Derek states, his head hung low. I smirk and roll my eyes, not even bothering to look at him as he said those words. "You should probably hate me right now."

"Why?" I ask bluntly, "Do you want me to?"

"Would it make me feel better knowing that you hate me with all your guts?" Derek stops, slightly facing me before pulling up his legs to have somewhere to rest his heavy arms. He groans, shaking his head as he leans back on the wall again. "God, this isn't going as well as I hoped."

I know Derek, a lot. And I don't just mean that in the physical way seeing as I've had sex with him countless times. I know Derek about a lot of other things too—like the fact that he never stammers even if we're in the middle of a fight, or that he rarely gets nervous when he wants to talk about something. He's too damn perfect to do the twitching, stammering, nervous things insecure people like me do.

But tonight, Derek Shepherd looked like he doesn't know what to do.

"Tell me if I should walk away Derek," I tell him, as calmly as I can before facing him, "Tell me if I should walk away so that you'll be happy and I can move on with my life. Tell me if I should walk away so I don't feel the hurt of being left behind again, Derek. Tell me."

Derek ran his hand over his tired face, exhaling a breath that he's been holding for a while. "I don't want you to walk away."

"Then what are we doing now Derek? Are we just going to sit here and wait until we rot, or are you actually planning on saying something?" I snap at him. He slumps down on the floor lower, his legs being the only support for his body. "We're not okay, Meredith. We're definitely not okay."

"I know." I reply softly, looking down back on the floor.

"Then… what," He stopped. He was seething, and Derek pulled himself up to stand in front of me, "Damn it!"

Derek's voice echoed around the empty hall, and the people below all turned to look up at us. I had managed to stand up as well to face him, my arms crossed over my chest as an act of defense. Derek ran his hand through his hair, pacing the small space in front of me.

"What do you want Derek?" I ask, finally giving in to the silence between us. He looked at me.

"I'm sorry." Derek whispered, his words sinking on to me, "I'm sorry I had to do those things. I'm sorry I broke your heart… again. I just…"

"What?"

"I just didn't want to be alone Meredith."

If this was another guy, I would've laughed at him. You know, like seriously laughing my head off kind of thing. But I didn't. Because this was Derek talking and what he said, was what I felt. I looked down on the floor, quite unable to look at him.

"I know," I tell him quietly, my eyes locking with him before I continued, "But I'm used to it."

Derek closed his eyes, once again running his hand over his weary face. "I hurt you, Meredith." He says, and I look at him in confusion.

"Yes."

"And I'm sorry."

Derek slumps, his tone weak. His normally strong stance deflates in front of me, and his eyes mirror his emotions. He's hurt, he's broken, and I know that deep down, he didn't mean to do these things to me. But he did, and it hurt—a lot, to a point that I felt like I could never pick myself up again.

There are days when you feel helpless. It's what I feel right now, because deep inside, I shouldn't be forgiving Derek. But I find myself that I am… even for a little bit.

"I can't trust you."

"I know."

"You didn't want to breathe for me," I finally say, stepping to his side to lean over the bridge. The surgical floor was surprisingly empty for this time of the day, with the only exception of a few nurses and interns hurrying up to check on their patients. Derek's leaning with his back on the bridge, his elbows supporting his wobbly frame. "And you didn't show up."

Derek simply stares at the empty hall in front of him, blinking idly as I stared at him.

"I can't live without you," Derek mutters, his blue eyes finally finding mine, "I… just can't."

"Well," I scoffed, rolling my eyes at him, "You've got a great way of showing it to me then, huh?"

"You died," He finally says, his eyes back to staring blankly at the hall in front of him, "You… you died."

I rarely get angry. I mean seriously, I rarely get angry. I'm an only child, and as an only child, I've never really had the chance to be angry at a lot of people—well, maybe except for my mother. But right now, I am, and I think it's quite evident with the blazing look as I turn to Derek.

"I didn't," I hiss back at him, my eyes blazing with anger. Derek shakes his head. "I didn't."

"You did Meredith. You died." He repeats, and I shake my head, fending off the tears starting to fall. "You died, and I didn't…"

"I DIDN'T DIE!" I screamed, my voice echoing through the halls. People from downstairs all looked up at us, but I didn't care, though I really didn't want to start another fit in front of the hospital. But Derek is making me angry, and yelling, as I've learned is the best way to deal with this. "I DIDN'T DIE DEREK."

Derek stiffens, and his eyes narrowed menacingly. "YES, YOU DID," he says, his voice rising in anger, "YOU DIED. YOU WERE BLUE AND COLD, YOU DROWNED, AND YOU DIED."

"Oh, so this is what all this mess is about?" I hiss, my face dangerously close to his, "All of this because I died?"

"YES!" Derek explodes, his hands finding purchase on both my arms. He shakes me gently, as if shaking me will make everything better, "YOU DIED! YOU LEFT ME, MEREDITH, AND I SPENT THE SCARIEST DAY OF MY LIFE WAITING FOR YOU!"

He was screaming. The people below us were listening and really, the screaming should stop. But he didn't and Derek continued.

"And I love you. I love you so damn much that I can't live without you. You haunt me when I wake up, when I walk this hospital, you fucking haunt me in my dreams and I'm always scared that at some point, you'll leave me again, that once again, you'll die and I could never have you back."

"But, I'm here…" I stuttered, and Derek's still shaking his head.

"Things are always going to be hard Meredith, and I can't have you not breathing…"

"I never asked you to breathe for me, Derek."

"But I want to," he says desperately, "I want to breathe for you, I want to breathe with you,and I can't do that if you always leave me behind."

Derek doesn't understand where I'm coming from. I don't think he's even sure of what he wants from me.

"I just want to be with you Meredith," Derek says despairingly, "I just want to be with you because I can't live without you. I'm too tired to not be with you because I love you. I love you, Meredith."

"How can you say that?" I spat back, my eyes blazing in anger. Derek looks on.

"You're the love of my life."

"Oh," I reply sarcastically, "I'm the love of your life? Really?" I stepped in front of him, moving my face closer to his, "I'm the love of your life? Seriously? Do you want me to believe that? Cause really Derek, I'm finding it hard to do that.

"I…"

"You say I'm the love of your life. Three days ago, you were kissing the nurse in the scrub room. Am I really, or you just tell that to every other girl you date because you're fucking Dr. McDreamy?" I reply bitterly, my eyes betraying the anger that boiled inside me. Derek seemed to sink lower. "The love of your life isn't going to be every other girl you meet Derek, because for the record, the love of your life should be the only one that holds your heart."

"But you are… And I love you."

"Figure out what you want from me Derek," I tell him, before I stepped back, "Because I love you too, but I don't know what you want and I've been giving everything I can to be with you, and I still can't figure it out." Releasing a heavy sigh, I turn around, walking away from him.

"Go Meredith," Derek says angrily from behind me, "Go do that. Go walk away again. That's what you do best right? Walk away? Things are getting hard, and once again, you're walking away."

My breathing hitches and I stopped, closing my eyes in complete anger when I heard Derek's words. I turned around, and without knowing what I was doing, I charged at him like a raging bull, stopping short in front of him. Derek stared at me, breathing heavily and for a split-second, my vision darkened and my hand rose, slapping him straight across the cheek. The impact echoed, leaving us both empty and silent at the same time.

"I didn't leave you Derek. Not once, not ever. Because all this time—all this time you've spent leaving me, I've always stayed, waiting for you. So no, you don't get to tell me that I constantly leave you, because you're the one who always do."

Derek watches me carefully and I breathe, my finger once again finding its place stabbing Derek's chest.

"And you know what; I'm the one who couldn't ever leave you. I'm not the one who walks away because things get hard, IT'S YOU.

"Remember when your ex-wife cheated on you? You ran away, Derek. You flew halfway across the country to get away from her. She shows up here and you run away again, choosing her over me because it's the easier choice."

I can feel that my world is spinning, and I steel myself from the oncoming wave of nausea that is threatening to surge my body. Derek instinctively reaches out by I step away, instead, holding on to the bridge's handrail to steady myself before I continued.

"And sure Derek, I've made mistakes, but I never left. Sure, I didn't tell you things, and I know it's my fault. Because I'm the one with the daddy and mommy issues and the abandonment issues and the trust issues, but I never left you because I didn't want to leave you behind." I hiss at him angrily, facing him head on, "And I didn't die."

"Yes, you…"

"I DIDN'T DIE!" I remind him again, screaming at him just in case he didn't understand. "DEAD PEOPLE DON'T COME BACK DEREK, THEY DON'T STAND IN FRONT OF YOU BREATHING AND SCREAMING!"

I stepped away from him, tears streaming down my face. "I didn't die, Derek, and I'm going to keep telling you this until you understand," I told him, looking straight at his eyes, "I may not be breathing or my heart may have stopped back then, but I didn't die. Because dead people don't come back and I fought death for you. I fought death to be with you because I can't be in a place without you. So stop, just stop telling me that I'm always leaving you because I NEVER DID.

"And this? This mess that we're in right now? It's all on you. You can go off kissing scrub nurses and dating and whatever, and I won't care, because really, if you're happy, then go on. But I'm not going to pretend that I'm not getting hurt. Because I'd rather be somewhere else without you doing things that keep breaking my heart."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying sorry Derek."

"I should've showed up."

"Yeah," I say, once again stepping away from him, "You should have."

There are things where we don't have control. Like me, fighting for something that I never thought I'd never ever have in my life. Or leaving Derek to slump back down on the wall, utterly defeated.

I didn't let Derek defend himself today. And I didn't let him defend himself last night. And right now, as I'm walking away from him while he looked like a sad, little puppy, I'm happy to say that I've done my part. For the first time in my life, I'm making sure that I'm doing the right thing for me, not for anyone else, but for me.

"I love you, Meredith."

Derek calls after me as he watches my retreating form. I, on the other hand have decided to move forward, and grow up.

I'm not walking away, I'm really not. But I can't trust Derek, and I've given him my heart more than once, only to have it back broken and battered. Sure, I'm used to the pain, but it doesn't mean that I'm okay with it—because really, I'm not.

I love Derek, I really do. And I'm still fighting for that chance with him, and I'm hoping he does too.

END