Roman Holiday Chapter 13, a grey's anatomy fanfic

Okay, so I hope you guys are still with me! I know that last chapter was a bit heavy and depressing. But it had to happen. No pain, no gain, right? But anyway, this was meant be a fun summer story, so expect a lot of laughter with the angst. I dedicate this chapter to anyone whose ever had a really hot prof. Eye candy is good for the brain, right? ;-) Oh, and there shall be some foul language down below. Perfectly justified, I assure you. To my characters at least!

Suggested soundtrack: 'Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole' by Martha Wainwright

Poetry is no place for a heart that's a whore

And I'm young & I'm strong

But I feel old & tired

Overfired

And I've been poked & stoked

It's all smoke, there's no more fire

Only desire

For you, whoever you are

Meredith and Christina sit at Murphy's, or more locally known as Murphy's on the Green: a locale hang-out of the Dartmouth crowd that had been dubbed "Most popular restaurant in the Upper Valley" for nine years running. A quaint little Irish bar, turned restaurant, located at the corner of Dartmouth Green. But that's not why Meredith and Christina are there. They wanted to get drunk. And drunk they are. Sure, it's the first day of classes. What could two bright eyed and bushy med school students possibly have to complain about barely more than 12 hours into the semester? Apparently, a lot.

"So, what did that asshole say to you again?" Christina asks, both of them far enough into their chosen spirits as to have achieved a heady state of philosophical nirvana.

"That I would just be another number in his grade-book." Meredith grumbles as she clumsily breaks a peanut in half and lets the shell bits fall where they may.

"Asshole." Christina responds, just as angry as if it had been her that he had said that to.

You bloody mother fucking asshole

Oh you bloody mother fucking asshole

Oh you bloody...

I will not pretend

I will not put on a smile

I will not say I'm all right for you

"Mcmarried asshole." Meredith agrees dazedly, but then adds, "And currently my neuroscience professor that I had the best sex of my life with." Her head drops into her hands that are currently resting on the bar.

Christina is quiet for a moment. There really isn't anything you can say after a statement like that. After a while though, she does grudgingly admit, "He looks like he'd be good." As she stares off into the distance.

"You are so not helping." Meredith mumbles from beneath her arms.

"Do you think he's some kind of philandering Don Juan of Duke's that preys on innocent American girls as they tumble out of the plane?" Christina asks as the alcohol sloshes around in her brain and cuts off any barriers connecting her brain to her mouth.

"Still not helping." Meredith mumbles again, still not moving from her defeated position.

Christina ignores her. "I wonder if the wife knows." She wonders, and then a light bulb goes off over her head, and she proceeds to scavenge around in her purse for something.

This prompts Meredith to finally lift her head, but only enough to see what Christina is doing.

"No one messes with my person." Christina mumbles to herself as she continues to rummage through her purse.

"What are you doing?"

"You'll see." Christina promises with relish, and then cries "Aha!" as she pulls out her palm pilot and turns it on.

"You better not be doing what I think you're doing." Meredith warns as Christina begins to type away on the tiny keyboard.

"What was her name again? Allison? Ambrosia?" Christina asks, totally ignoring any misgivings on Meredith's part.

"Addison." Meredith grumbles, knowing that nothing she says is going to change Christina's mind. Instead, she moves closer and tries to see what Christina is doing.

Christina swivels her bar stool to the right so Meredith can't see.

"Hmm. No Addison Shepherd. Maybe she kept her maiden name. Let's try google." Christina says to herself as she types away and then gasps.

"What?" Meredith demands, peering over Christina's shoulder to try and make out what is shocking enough to ruffle her usually stoic friend.

Still staring at the tiny screen, and appearing to be scrolling, Christina declares, "He is so NOT married."

"What do you mean?" Meredith demands, literally turning her friend around to make her tell her what the hell is going on.

"Dr. Derek Shepherd, Duke of Savoy. You're sure that's who you shared the best week of your entire life with?"

"I'm certain. Why?" Meredith asks in confusion.

"He's not married then." Christina declares with finality and hands the palm pilot to Meredith.

Meredith hesitantly picks up the tiny device and is surprised to see pages and pages of news stories with titles like, "The Double Dealing Duke", "Wedding of the Year Cancelled Over Groom's Infidelity", and many other such awful things. Most have symbols to indicate that they have been translated from Italian, but some even have Associated Press and CNN typed out underneath. She clicks on one story, only to gasp at the picture of her and Derek smiling back at her from what could only be their last dinner together.

"But he was wearing a ring. I saw it. A big giant gold thing with a big 'S' on it." Meredith utters in disbelief.

Christina takes the palm pilot from her and is clearly amused by the picture in the window. "Just when I think you are boring, you rise!" She declares as she continues to scroll through story after story in rapid amazement.

Meredith is too shocked to say anything.

"According to this, this picture came out the day before the wedding." Christina relays as she continues to flip from one story to the next.

"The day I flew home." Meredith comments dazedly.

"And the bride immediately cancelled the wedding."

Meredith's mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

"They do not know who the mystery woman is, but the last Duke of Savoy was known to have a score of mistresses. A lot of talk about the son following in the father's footsteps and a bunch of other crap." Christina finishes and puts the machine down.

"You know what this means, right?" Christina asks with barely suppressed excitement.

"What?" Meredith asks, not really wanting to ask, but doing it anyway.

"You are an international floozy!" Christina announces with a huge smile.

If at all possible, Meredith's jaw drops even farther.

"I think this deserves another drink!" Christina announces with a congratulatory jab to Meredith's shoulder.

Meredith thinks that is a great idea.

Recommended Soundtrack: 'I'm Not Okay' by My Chemical Romance

Well if you wanted honesty, that's all you had to say.

I never want to let you down or have you go, it's better off this way.

For all the dirty looks, the photographs your boyfriend took,

Remember when you broke your foot from jumping out the second floor?

I'm not okay

You wear me out

Derek sits in a soft plushy couch that is the staple of all of Starbuck's pseudo Northwest decorated coffeehouses. In one hand is a full cup of venti double espresso and in the other a print-out of his upcoming lecture. The professor that had quit had put together a very comprehensive lesson plan meant to introduce the basics of neuroscience, but that didn't mean he could teach it to the students. He could diagnose a neurological injury a mile away, pick out an aneurysm from a blurry CT, and perform brain surgery with the best of them, but he had no idea if he could teach that to someone else.

He has spent the past couple of days familiarizing himself with his new job. He spent the rest of Monday getting up to speed on administrative stuff, but Tuesday had been his first full day at the hospital. God, it had been great! While he had been standing there yakking it up with some of his new colleagues, a five-car pile-up had been brought in to the ER. He had been thrown right into the ring, and he loved it. The fast-thinking, the fast-moving, and the stamina it took to save lives. It brought back the way he used to feel every day in his surgical residency. Why had he ever moved to private practice? Oh yeah, Addie. Which brought him back around to Meredith. Why couldn't he just forget about her?

It didn't help that she was now a student in his class. It didn't help that the woman who had ripped his heart out and stomped on it would now be a routine part of his Mondays and Wednesdays. No, that didn't make anything easier at all. It didn't matter that the entire time that he had been lecturing on Monday it had taken every inch of his willpower NOT to look at her. No matter that the entire time she had been standing in his office, he had just wanted to shout "Why?!" Why didn't you answer my phone calls? Why didn't you answer my messages? Why even talk to me in the first place? Why even take the time to come to my office? Why even come back into my life when I was just starting to get over you?

Just as he is about to take the morning's first sip of his tasty brew, he notices one very familiar women, and who he is beginning to realize is her Asian sidekick, waltzing into the Starbuck's. Because his day was just bright and shiny as it was! It's not enough that they find themselves in the same class. Apparently they have the same taste in coffee.

What will it take to show you that it's not the life it seems?

(I'm not okay)

I've told you time and time again you sing the words but don't know what it means

(I'm not okay)

To be a joke and look, another line without a hook

I held you close as we both shook for the last time take a good hard look!

I'm not okay

You wear me out

"I can't believe you bought a motorcycle." Meredith tells the Asian woman as they walk forward to get in the drink line. They face away from him, and he's a little off to their right, so they don't see him sitting there. The other woman is wearing the same brown leather jacket she had worn to class on Monday, but this time she has a motorcycle helmet under her arm. His vision barely registers the fact though as his eyes are drawn immediately to the woman he would like nothing more than to just simply forget.

He takes a hard look at this woman, trying to figure out just what it is about her that had drawn him in that fateful summer day. She looks like any other college student: long-sleeved bright orange sweater with tight jeans, serviceable campus-walking shoes, and messenger bag thrown over her shoulder with what must be books and such. What does this little sprite of a creature have that had so completely fooled him into thinking that she had cared about him just as much as he had cared about her? He couldn't have made it all up in his head. Could he?

"I can't believe you went home with 'Mr. You-Have-To-Get-To-Know-Me-To-Love-Me' guy." Christina retorts with air-quotes around the name.

Oh God, he didn't have to sit and listen to this. He starts to get up, when he hears Meredith respond sarcastically with, "What? I'm just trying to live up to my moniker."

The barista calls out to them for their drink order before the other woman can respond. Moniker? What the hell are they talking about? He pauses as they order their drinks, and then hears the other woman tell Meredith, "What? World Sluteth Supremeth isn't enough for you?"

What?! What did that woman just call her? He's about to jump up and intervene, when he hears Meredith call back, "Bitch". Was she laughing when she said that?

"Whore." The other woman says back to her as her drink is put up on the ready stand.

"Slut." Meredith calls back as she grabs her own ready drink. She has to turn slightly to pick up her drink, so he can actually see that she is smiling as she says it. He is stunned.

Forget about the dirty looks

The photographs your boyfriend took

You said you read me like a book, but the pages all are torn and frayed

I'm okay

I'm okay!

I'm okay, now

(I'm okay, now)

They both turn in his direction to head back out the door, so he can see the smile that just graced her face fade to a frown. Softly, and a lot more serious, she says, "You know they're all just…"

"McDuke the Douche bag, I know." The friend finishes with an understanding look and a comforting pat to the shoulder.

This is when they both notice him; his mouth hanging open, because they both stop in shock. Meredith's eyes widen in what he can only guess is supreme embarrassment at what she has just said. But then something changes. Her eyes narrow and she pulls herself together, almost as if preparing for battle, and practically spits, "And just what are you looking at?"

He has no time to form a coherent thought, before the other woman staring daggers at him pushes Meredith out the door. But not before she can utter scornfully, "Why don't you just be not married somewhere else!"

What the hell was that about? He sits there in shock for a couple of seconds and then realizes that class is about to start in five minutes. He stuffs his notes back in his bag, throws it over his shoulder, and heads out the same door. Meredith is nowhere in site, but he knows where she's going to be in ten minutes: in his class. Fuck.

I'm not okay

Well, I'm not okay

I'm not o-fucking-kay

I'm not okay

(Okay)

Wait a minute. She's mad at him? How can that be? She was the one that didn't answer any one of his phone calls. He thinks to himself as he walks through one of the sets of double doors that lead into the auditorium. His eyes immediately find her, even though he can only see her from behind. Oh, so she's not avoiding him today. Last class she/they had sat in the furthest reaches of the auditorium, as close to the exit as possible. Today, she was somewhere in the middle. Granted, still in an end seat, so she could still bale pretty fast, but it was still an improvement.

He walks to the front of the room, the floor sloping down under his feet in a room that is a quarter circle with the podium at the narrowest end. Two double doors lead two paths that bisect the auditorium into three sections. Meredith and her friend are in the middle left and about a hundred other students are scattered around in a room that could easily fit twice that.

He puts his memory stick into the USB port under the podium and begins the process of pulling up his PowerPoint presentation. But all the while words ring in his ears: "Why don't you just be not married somewhere else" & "You know they're all just…McDuke the Douche bag, I know." Something was definitely not right here. Go be not married somewhere else? What is that supposed to mean? There is more going on here than meets the eye, and there's only one way he knows how to find out.

Meredith sits in her chair embarrassed beyond belief. Had he actually heard her say that? Judging by the shocked look on his face, she was pretty sure he had. Just what she needed. Not only did her professor know what she looked like naked, but now he knew that she thought about him when she was doing you know what with other guys. She watches him set up for the day and thinks, why did he have to look so good? Why couldn't things that professors normally wear, like tweed jackets and button down shirts, make him look dowdy or something? Shouldn't some sort of warning like "Will break your heart" be tattooed on his forehead? You know, like a warning to all unsuspecting women who fall victim to his twinkling eyes and easy charm.

She slinks down in her chair even more at that thought and watches as he rips out a piece of paper from his notebook, writes something on it, and tucks it into his hand. He presses the last few buttons to project his lesson for the day onto the big screen behind him, and with a tentative view at her, he walks up to the front of the class.

He takes a sweeping view of the stoic audience, and says, "Good morning. Now I know your syllabus says something about introduction to neuroscience, or something like that. The last professor who taught this class had a very nice lecture about definitions and the history of neuroscience and such, but I would like to try something a little different."

He leans back on to the table set up next to the podium, and sees a hand immediately shoot up. Meredith's friend.

"Yes." He says as he indicates her to ask her question.

"Will we be expected to know that stuff for the test then?" She asks dutifully.

Hmm, that's a good one. He really hadn't even thought that far ahead yet.

"I would say be familiar with the recommended readings. I'm going to try and stay as close as possible to the previous lectures, but I may veer off at times when I think it's appropriate." He says, trying to sound confident, like he knows exactly what he is saying. They all seem to be satisfied with that answer, so he continues, with, "I thought, seeing as how you all want to be doctors, I would sort of give you an introduction of what neuroscience will mean for you. Could someone please get the lights?

Meredith watches as a way too eager student jumps up from one of the front seats and throws a switch. The room dims to allow the presentation to be seen but there are still dim lights that allow for note taking. She takes out her notes that she has printed off before class and prepares to listen. Dr. Shepherd presses a button and a picture of a young blonde-haired girl fills the screen.

"This is Jane Doe. She was a 16 year old patient that was flown to Dartmouth Medical Center for an extreme case of grand mal seizures." He starts off. But as he is talking, she watches him walk up the aisle to her seat and drops a note on her desk. He gives her a little look of entreaty before he puts the note down, and then turns around to click for the next slide. He does it so stealthily, that she's pretty sure Christina is about the only person that notices. Everyone else is fixated on the screen.

She opens the note, and sees the words, "We need to talk" scrawled across the top. Now he wants to talk?! Now? After months of devastation? After four months of thinking he was off happily married to someone else? She'll give him an answer all right. He is still standing beside her, apparently waiting for an answer, so she leans down to give him her answer.

He looks down to make sure she is writing something, before he says, "Now, the first step in a case like this is to run scans and do a full work-up. Grand mal seizures are very dangerous, so the more information that you have about the patient, and the quicker you can figure out what is wrong, the better."

He clicks to the next slide, only to see her holding the note up to him with her head averted straight ahead. Her right elbow is placed squarely on the desk, with the note placed coolly between two fingers. Her straight spine tells him he is not going to like the answer. He quickly grabs the note, and continues to talk as he walks further up the aisle.

"The scans came back pure. Her labs were clean. Does anyone have any idea what her diagnosis was?" He asks to the class in general. While they're all trying to think of something, he opens the note to read, "About what?" He stifles a groan. What did he really expect?

The class is eerily quiet. He writes something down quickly and tosses it back on her desk as he flies back to the front of the room.

"Come on, take a guess." He offers with a friendly grin. "This is what you're going to be doing as doctors. You run scans, you take a family history, and then you take an educated guess."

A couple of hands go up. He points to the first one: a random frat boy looking guy on the far right.

"A tumor." He says.

"Good answer, but incorrect. The scans are pure, remember?" He responds good-naturedly, and then looks around for more hands.

Her friend is another one of the hands. Why not? He points to her and she answers, "Could the MRI not have picked it up?"

"You're on the right track." He tells the friend with an encouraging smile. He smiles even more when Meredith tentatively raises her hand. He nods to indicate she should ask her question, and she says, "Could she have fallen recently?" He's sure his eyes light up in approval, but he makes himself turn to look elsewhere when he realizes what he is doing.

"Yes, she had." Meredith hears Dr. Shepherd answer as she takes her first opportunity to read his response. She flips open the half-sheet and reads, "About why you didn't answer any of my phone calls." What phone calls? What is he talking about? She writes down the first thing that comes to mind and delicately waves it in front of her. She sees him see her maneuver and waits.

"It turns out that Jane here is a rhythmic gymnast. Earlier in the week, she had taken a minor fall in practice." He says as he makes another tour back to her side of the auditorium. "She twisted her ankle, but got back up and everything was fine. It was so minor her doctor didn't even think to put it on her chart." At this point, he reaches her desk and takes the paper from her without looking at her. It is her turn to stare up at him in puzzlement, as he says to the class, "But it turned out, upon a higher-level MRI, that she had sustained a subarachnoid hemorrhage. She was bleeding into her brain."

He waits for his words to sink in as he takes a discreet look at what she has written. He reads, "What phone calls?" Just what he thought. She could be lying, but somehow he doesn't think so. He remains silent as he walks back up to the front of the class.

"Everything is not always how it appears. This class is going to be about you learning the clinical signs and symptoms of neurological diseases. But the first lesson of any good doctor is to not assume anything." He says to the class, but suddenly the words strike a little too close to him. "The chances that a minor fall could burst an aneurysm are one in a million, but one in a million still happens."

His eyes come to rest on Meredith all on their own. His next line is meant for the entire class, but it ends up being especially for her. "So that's your first lesson as wanna-be doctors: don't assume anything." He says with finality, and class is over. They both seem to realize that they are staring at the same time, and both look away.

The class starts gathering up their books, and he walks back over to the podium to start powering everything down. Out of the corner of his eye he watches Meredith and her friend argue about something. The other woman finally gives in and huffs her way up to the double doors. Not without giving him an evil glare though. He closes his presentation, disconnects the USB port, and within a surprisingly short amount of time it is only him and Meredith in the auditorium.

As he's putting the last of his materials away in his bag, he sees her come to stand before him. He raises his eyes to see that hers are troubled, and knows he has made the right decision.

"We need to talk." He says softly, wanting to reach out to touch her but not knowing if it is the right thing to do.

She opens her mouth to say something, but seems to change her mind, before saying, "How about Murphy's at 8?"

She doesn't smile when she says it, only holds onto her satchel more tightly. "Murphy's at 8 it is then." He answers just as soberly, holding his hands to his own satchel just as tightly.

They both stare at each other, unsaid words filling the space around them. But then Meredith breaks the spell and turns around to leave. He watches her walk up the aisle, frozen in his position behind the podium. And with one last look behind her as she leaves the auditorium, she is gone.