[3] {Shorter chapter and no school today, so I thought I'd post for you all. Appreciate the reviews immensely, they're actually what motivates me to update so soon!}
It was a little after midnight when Meredith finally stumbled out of the bar and into the cab Max had so nicely called for her. She rambled off her address to the driver, who pulled away from the curb and told her that she looked like she'd had a night of fun—referring to all the alcohol he could tell she'd consumed.
"I wouldn't say that much," Meredith mumbled, feeling the migraine from this morning returning to her head.
"You wouldn't say that much what?" The driver flicked his eyes up to the rearview mirror, where an inebriated Meredith sat with her hands in her lap.
"I wouldn't go so far as to say I had fun," she muttered, looking out the window to avoid his sympathetic gaze.
"You look like you've been hurting," he mentioned, averting his eyes back to the road. He drove a lot of people home, drunk after a night of partying or pity-partying. She looked empty.
"Yeah, well," Meredith said, starting to giggle despite herself. "Oh, who would've guessed that I'd end up like this? It's funny, that's what it is. Really funny. You know, Max does call the best cabs doesn't he? Look at you, caring about me. You don't even know me." She sighed, her face serious again as she shook her head at herself. "I am a mess."
The cab driver gave her another sympathetic smile, pulling up in front of her apartment, a large and tall building that reflected upscale Manhattan, New York.
"Thanks," Meredith said, handing him the money she owed as she cautiously climbed out of the cab.
"You look sad," he said, watching her stand on her own two feet wobbling, to say the least.
"People need to stop saying that," Meredith replied, closing the door and turning to head inside. She used the wall as her support while she carefully made her way to her apartment, although she didn't care much about what happened to her. She could collapse in the middle of the hallway and not mind as long as it stopped her heart from feeling like it was breaking. But, she was never that lucky. After a few tries, she inserted her key into the lock and stepped inside her apartment, turning on the light and locking the door behind her. She leaned against the cool door and closed her eyes, fighting the migraine and the alcohol as best she could.
After awhile, she pushed herself to her bedroom, where she changed into that Dartmouth t-shirt Derek loved so much, pulling on a pair of pajama pants as well. She brushed her teeth in the bathroom, even though she wasn't going to be kissing anyone that night. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, Meredith almost didn't even recognize herself. She looked like someone who'd never been loved, but in reality she knew that wasn't true. Derek had loved her so much. And in the end, she'd thrown it all away.
It was almost 12:30am by now, and in her head Meredith immediately knew that it was 9:30pm in Seattle. Was he still there, though? Or had he left, chased away because she'd broken his heart and he couldn't stand to be in that same city anymore? Was he drinking? Or did he not even care, didn't need alcohol to soothe his hurting heart?
She would never know. And anyway, Meredith wasn't sure if she wanted to. She didn't know if her heart could take any more pain.
She crawled into bed, pulling the covers all the way up to her chin and turning off the light. It hurt to remember that if she hadn't walked away, Derek would be sleeping next to her. And she'd most likely be in Seattle—she'd loved it there. The rain, the snow, the sun, everything. She'd really loved it there, and not just because of Derek either. And then the tears came, but Meredith had been waiting for them; a box of tissues was right next to her bed. She cried and she cried, the tears soaking the tissues and her pillow, not like she cared. Nothing mattered much anymore. She'd broken the heart of the man she still loved, and her pride was getting in the way of her going back.
"Don't you think that's enough?" Mark muttered, as Derek ordered another scotch and prepared to drink it much too fast than Mark would like him to down alcohol.
"You always say that," Derek looked at his best friend, but for Mark's sake, he slowed down a tad.
"I say a lot of things, but it's not like you listen," Mark replied, taking another small sip from his beer. He'd ordered one, but he knew that he wouldn't even have finished half of the alcohol when the night was over. He never did; he just spent the whole time making sure Derek didn't do anything too stupid. When Derek ignored him, he added, "You know, normally I'd be picking up girls like it's nobody's business, but you always ruin that for me on this day."
"Ha," Derek scoffed. "It's okay, you never have any trouble taking home girls. I'm sure you'll make up for it tomorrow."
"I think I'll pass tomorrow," Mark said, at random. "I miss her too, you know. She was like a little sister to me."
Derek shook his head as a sign for Mark to stop, but he couldn't help but add, "A little sister? You thought she was hot."
"That I did," Mark laughed. "But she was like my little sister."
Derek knocked back the rest of his drink, wincing as it burned down his throat. "Let's go home." He smirked at Mark's genuinely surprised expression, and while Mark sat there just staring at Derek, Derek paid for both their drinks.
"Derek Shepherd, leaving Joe's early?"
"Don't mock me, Sloan," Derek chided, shoving his hands in his pockets as he left the bar counter.
"And you didn't have to pay for the drinks. Tonight's about you. I pay. I always pay," Mark said, following him out of the bar, but not before waving goodbye to Joe, who looked equally surprised that the pair was leaving early.
"Well, I told you I don't need to be babysat. I'm still too drunk to drive home though."
"Yeah," Mark agreed, looking at Derek skeptically. "You don't sound drunk, though."
"That's because I haven't even had half the drinks I usually have. And this broken heart keeps me sober." He patted his chest, grinning, making a joke. Mark rolled his eyes, getting into Derek's car and starting up the engine.
"Why don't we ever take my car? You're always too drunk to drive," he complained, pulling up to the intersection and glancing over at Derek, who was sitting there quietly.
"Because tonight's about me," he grinned, throwing Mark's words back at him.
"Ha, that's funny, Shepherd. Apparently you're a funny drunk tonight."
"I'm still drunk," Derek sighed, the emotional hole in his chest acting up once again. Mark only nodded, accelerating a bit to get them home faster. Mark had always been fond of Derek's penthouse that overlooked the Space Needle. It had a breathtaking view, and large glass windows that let you take advantage of that gorgeous view. Mark was sure that Derek would've been more than happy to stay in that small, cramped trailer of his, but Mark wouldn't allow it. Not after Meredith left, not ever after Meredith left. He was intent on putting his best friend back together. Four years later, and he was still working at it. Anyway though, he knew that the trailer wouldn't have helped much, which was why he made Derek buy the penthouse. For starters, it was much brighter, and Mark was pretty sure Derek needed all the bright and shiny in his life that he could get.
"Here we are," Derek yelled, clearly drunk as he stumbled into his home, Mark trailing in shortly after. "Home sweet home!"
Mark chuckled, shoving Derek in the direction of his bedroom. "Just get to bed," he instructed, going to sit in the living room while Derek was supposedly getting ready to sleep. He was never longer than ten minutes; Mark knew that with the way he felt, Derek wanted to sleep as quickly as possible. After 15, Mark knocked lightly on his friend's door before pushing it open. "Hey, I think I'm just going to stay in the guest room tonight." One glance at Derek told Mark that his friend was already asleep, sprawled under the covers like a big baby. Good, it was for the best anyway. Any longer awake and the memories would come flooding back heavier than they did on another other day of the year.
He headed quietly into the guest bedroom, and after changing into the spare pair of pajamas he kept there, as well as brushing his teeth and getting a glass of water, Mark headed to bed himself. "You don't know how much you're killing him, Grey," he sighed, setting his alarm to make sure he'd be up before Derek, and promptly falling asleep.