Am I allowed to say that I like this chapter? One, it gets to show Derek in all his splendid mcdreaminess. And two, it ties in a lot of things that you may have been wondering about. But wouldn't number one just be enough? sigh

Derek sits at a corner table at Murphy's, berating himself for once again being duped by a slight girl with bewitching green eyes. It's long past the time at which she could be running late. He takes another look at his watch and decides that five more minutes is enough to say he waited. He leans back in his chair and takes a look around at the place Meredith has designated for their meeting. It was only Wednesday night, but you wouldn't know it by the crowd. Patrons fill most of the tables. Groups of people talk and laugh and enjoy the pleasure of each other's company while he spends his time alone waiting on the woman he is pretty sure he is not coming. He looks down to see that five minutes has gone by. He takes a last sip of his now luke-warm beer, places its empty contents on the table, and starts to rise.

"Dr. Shepherd. Is there a Dr. Shepherd here?" He hears called out from the direction of the bar.

He looks over to see the bartender holding up a phone, and calling out to the patrons.

"I'm Dr. Shepherd." He answers, the surprise evident in his voice that someone would be calling him at this locale.

The man swivels when he hears his response and simply says, "You have a phone call."

Derek hesitantly walks up to the bar and takes the receiver, and says, "Hello?"

"Derek." He hears Meredith say in relief on the other end.

"Meredith? Are you alright?" He instantly responds as he hears the stress and worry in her voice.

"Um…yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry about standing you up. I had every intention of being there. It's just that…well…I need to ask you a favor." She manages to get out between much hemming and hawing.

"Sure." He answers tentatively, not sure what he is getting into, but certain it must be something important by the sound of her voice.

"Can you come to Boston?"

Derek has been driving for more than two hours when he finally arrives at the address Meredith has given him. She wouldn't tell him what the matter was over the phone. Only that she would never ask him to do this if it wasn't important. There's still so much unsaid between them, but he couldn't turn down the worried and apprehensive tone of her voice. A part of him asks himself why he's driving all of this way for her, and the other half of him answers that because no matter what he tells himself he is still not over her.

He's in luck to find a tight parking spot just off of the stately brownstone a couple of blocks from Boston Commons. It doesn't take much for him to assess that this is definitely not something a medical school student could afford. And he suddenly realizes what this could be about. But why would Meredith need his help? Why had Meredith come all the way down here on a school day? He makes his way up front steps with all of these questions swirling around in his mind. Before he can even ring the doorbell though, the heavy wooden door opens and Meredith rushes out and closes the door behind her.

"Derek." She says with relief as she slumps against the door.

He has to step down a few stairs when she scoots her way between him and the door. That leaves him only a few spaces away from what he can see is a very flustered and desperate Meredith.

"Meredith, what's going on? Are you all right?" He asks fervently, getting worked up at just how out of sorts she seems.

"No. It's just that. Well, I know we aren't exactly on the best terms. I know we need to talk and stuff. It's just that…well, you said you had tried to call me…and I didn't know you weren't married…but now you're my professor…and I…" She rambles off as she twists her hands together in agitation.

He automatically takes her hands, just wanting to stop the twisting, and says, "It's alright. There are obviously things we need to talk about, but right now there seems to be something more important happening. Am I right?"

She stills when he grabs her hands, but the scared and haunted look never leaves her. "Yes, well, it's my mother. I think something is wrong with her. She…she…she doesn't even recognize me. I called her earlier today about some tuition matters, and she claimed that I couldn't be her daughter because her daughter was only five years old. She just sounded so strange, so I drove down here to see if she was okay. But she…but she…" She reveals and then starts to tear up.

"Shh…shh." He says as he tries to comfort her and pulls her into his chest.

"She won't go to the hospital. She thinks she's perfectly fine. I didn't know who else to call." She mumbles into his chest, relaxing into him. He suddenly remembers the last time he had held her in his arms, and the memory of it jars him into remembering the one and only time he had talked to the famous Ellis Grey. She had claimed her daughter was only five years old then too.

The pieces of the puzzle start to shift together in his mind, and he asks, "Has she exhibited any other odd behaviors? Asked the same question over and over again? Gone to do something only to forget what she was going to do?"

He can feel the wheels of her brain turning around in her head as she thinks about his questions. "Well, there was the one time in the summer where she claimed I was running up the phone bill. She grabbed my phone out of my hand to take it away. I ended up having to get a new phone when it smashed all over the floor. I just thought she was being irrational. We don't exactly have the best relationship." She tells him, looking up at him when she tells him the last sentence.

Oh my God. Her phone had gotten smashed into bits, and she had had to get a new phone. He feels like such an idiot. Why didn't he think of that? He had never gone back to ask if her number had changed. It didn't explain why she hadn't picked up in the first place, but he was starting to realize that there may be more to this story than just his stupid assumptions. He thinks about the nervous way she had approached his office, and he mentally kicks himself in the head. What an ass he'd been. That's not important right now though. What's important is to try and figure out what is wrong with her mother.

"Are you saying you want me to examine her?" He asks gently.

She nods her head in the affirmative as she stares up at him imploringly. "She doesn't think there's anything wrong with her though. She thinks I'm the maid or something."

Her tone is sarcastic, but he can see the hurt and the worry in her eyes. His heart contracts at her show of bravery, and he tries to sound calm when he says, "Well, we'll just have to think of something."

She smiles a little at his bravado, but the smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Thank you. Thank you for coming all this way." She says earnestly as she stares into his eyes.

He'll think of something. He has to. Suddenly it is very important that he think of something. Anything to take away the sadness he sees in her eyes.

Meredith sits in the waiting room of Boston General filled with worry and angst and guilt. Oh, she feels guilty. What was wrong with her mother? Was she going to be okay? Thank God Derek had agreed to come. He certainly didn't have to come. The last thing she had said to him having been to ask him to meet her somewhere that she had never shown up at. He had made it pretty clear in his office that day that she meant nothing to him. But then he had said they needed to talk. And he had said he had tried to call her. Had he really?

She sighs at the thought. He had tried to call her? All of those phone calls she had refused to answer because she was too tired to answer the phone. Get it right, Meredith. You were depressed. Too depressed to deal with that annoying thing called the outside world. Normally, she would pretend to be fine and just pretend that nothing bad had happened. But when she had gone home from that trip, nothing had been fine. She hadn't wanted to face her mother and her harsh judgments. She hadn't want to deal with Finn and her behavior toward him. He would have probably tried to be all supportive and sorry and bring over sandwiches that she couldn't even stomach the thought of eating. She hadn't even want to talk to her best friend. How could she possible explain what had happened in such a short time? How to explain that she had fallen in love with a man that had been getting married in a week?

Except he wasn't married. And he wanted to talk. And he had tried to call her. And he had come to Boston because she had asked him to. He was even now making sure her mother was getting the best care possible as discreetly as possible. She doesn't know how he had done it, but he had somehow gotten her mother to agree to go to the hospital. Apparently, he had some colleagues in Boston that were glad to test the famous Ellis Grey with the utmost of discretion. She was delegated to the waiting room, waiting on news, because her mother didn't even recognize her. She didn't even know what to think about that. Her own mother not recognizing her? How was that even possible? How could you not know your own flesh and blood that was standing before you? She just didn't know.

She sits wringing her hands and letting these thoughts pass through her mind, when Derek finally makes his way out of the area reserved for staff only. She sees him finish up a conversation with what must be a fellow doctor. The white lab coat and scrubs give it away. They exchange a few sentences, then they exchange a collegial handshake, and he is heading her way. He sees her watching him and gives her a reassuring smile. She waits for him to walk up to her chair, but before she can answer, he tells her, "They're still running tests. That was Dr. Johnson. They don't know anything yet. He said he's going to page me when they do."

She doesn't know what to say in response. She's so thankful that he's here to take care of things. She doesn't know why, but she starts to tear up again.

"It's going to be awhile. I'm pretty sure I saw a diner across the street. When's the last time you ate something?" He asks with a tenderness she's not sure she's heard from anyone in a long while.

"I think I had some left-over grilled cheese before class." She admits, the talk of mundane things like food taking her mind off of other things that she can't make herself think about. That's probably what he had in mind.

The corners of his eyes crinkle up in amusement, and a little bit of the old twinkle she remembers makes its way into his expression. "Left-over grilled cheese? That is sad. A good day starts with a good breakfast." He says with mock disapproval.

"I am a poor grad student. We live on pizza and grilled cheese sandwiches, you know." She attempts to tease back as she gathers up her things.

"Don't forget ramen noodles. I remember lots and lots of ramen noodle dinners in my med school heyday." He responds conversationally as they make their way out of the hospital.

"Wait a minute. Aren't you a Duke or something? Shouldn't you have been living off of caviar and pate?" She teases a little.

"Well, I kind of had this period of rebellion where I refused to have anything to do with the entire Duke thing." He reveals as they make their way down the block and sure enough to a little all hours diner.

"What brought you back to your senses?" She asks as he holds the door for her.

"I ate a lot of ramen noodles." He responds succinctly as they take their seats on opposite sides of a ratty little booth with hard seats and a view of the hospital they just left.

"No, seriously." She responds with a tiny laugh.

"Seriously. Have you ever tried to entirely consist on noodles that get most of their nutritional content from a seasoning packet?" He answers before a waitress comes up and offers them coffee.

They both accept a cup and smile at each other over sips of the hot brew. Somewhere between the emergency call about her mother and the walk over here, they seem to have fallen back into the easy camaraderie that they had shared overseas.

They both must realize it at the same time though, because they both try to speak at the same time.

"Why did you…", "Are you…", they say at once.

They both laugh at the incident, and then Derek says, "Ladies first."

Crap. She really didn't want to go first. Well, here goes nothing. She pulls in her breath for strength. "Are you…are you really…not married?" She asks in a rush, holding in her breath as she waits for his answer.

"No." He answers simply as he stares back at her assessingly.

"It's just that…I just assumed that you were…and then I saw the ring on your finger…and you were supposed to be, you know, the next day…" She manages to get out as she starts taking in giant gulps of air.

He must see her starting to freak out, because he takes her hand and pulls it to the middle of the table. He has a very perplexed look on his face when he asks, "You didn't know?"

She calms down with the reassurance of his hand covering hers, but she also feels a giant blush suffuse her features. "Well, um…hmm…how do I say this without making myself sound as pathetic as I'm going to sound?" She stalls as he watches her with an even more confused look. "I…um…didn't exactly watch a lot of tv when I came back. I…uh…didn't want to subject myself to endless news reels announcing your wedded bliss." She says while looking anywhere else but at him.

After she finishes, she can't help but turning to look at his face. It's really not what she expected. Instead of maybe the pitying look that she expected, his face looks almost what she would call dreamy. He puts his other hand over the hand that he is already holding, and says, "I am so sorry, Meredith."

Sorry? "Sorry?" She asks, it being her turn to being confused.

"I….uh…I actually came here to Boston. I hired someone to find out your address. I met someone named Roger. And I…well I assumed a lot of things." He rambles as a slow redness makes its way up his neck and into his face. He even disconnects his hands from hers and rubs one hand through his hair in a nervous gesture.

"Roger? What are you…?" She says before a hazy memory of a boy mixed in with copious amounts of tequila makes itself known to her, and she is flooded with embarrassment.

They both kind of sit there in stupefied embarrassment, when suddenly a laugh escapes from Derek's lips. And as she watches, little bubbles of laughter make their way through his body, until he is laughing so hard he has to cover his mouth to stop the sound from erupting from his mouth.

"What is so funny?" She asks in part indignation and part amusement.

This just makes him laugh even harder though. "I don't know why I'm laughing. I think it's just the relief or something. I thought you didn't care about me. I thought…I don't know what I thought." He says as he tries to calm himself.

Meredith sits back in her booth in shock. He had come after her? He thought she didn't care about him? And then a new though enters her mind.

"You didn't? You didn't not get married because of me?" She finishes with a small voice, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"Meredith." Is his only answer as he tilts his head to the side and his eyes tell her everything she needs to know.

Oh no. Oh, no no no no.

He did not. He so did not.

Her lungs harden in her chest and suddenly it is too hard to breathe. She gulps in giant gobfulls of air, but the air still won't reach her lungs.

"I, uh…I uh need to….um…" She tries to explain as everything in her tells her that she needs to get out of there right now. She fumbles around trying to grab her bag, but somehow it takes her a couple of tries to grab the handle. She doesn't even look at him as she dashes outside.

"He did not just say that. Well, he didn't say it. He implied it. Same thing." She mumbles to herself as she purposefully strides down the block.

"Meredith!" She hears him yell out to her from somewhere behind her.

She ignores him and keeps moving forward. She doesn't even know where she is going. It doesn't matter. She's just walking. Away.

"Meredith." He says again forcefully as he grabs her hand and makes her turn around.

How did he get to her so fast? He must see the panic in her eyes, because he grabs her other wrist too and holds them together in his hands. She still won't look at him.

"Just let me go." She says, trying to tug her hands away from his.

"No. I'm not letting you go. I lost you once. I'm not going to lose you again."

That gets her attention. She stops struggling and stares up into his face. He's completely sincere. His eyes shine with the sincerity of his statement. Her eyes start to tear up.

"Derek, you never had me." She says as the many bitter-sweet moments of their time together zip through her consciousness. Especially the last day. The happiest and best day of all, but for the ever-lurking presence of his fiancé pushed up between them.

She's hurt him. She can see it in the way his face falls and he takes his hands back. Her hands are free, but she has no desire to turn away.

She watches as a panacea of emotions flicker across his face: hurt, anger, acceptance, and then he is the one turning away. This time she is the one to grab his hand. With both hands.

"That's not what I meant. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." She apologizes.

"No, you're right. I didn't have you. But what we shared was special and you know it." He states definitively, as if he is challenging her to deny it. To deny the bond that she can even now feel pulling them together, even without the superficial joining of hands.

"I know." She answers honestly, not able to say anything else in the face of those steady orbs.

An intercept able line of rigidity drops from his shoulders. He must have been waiting for her answer. He honestly hadn't known what she was going to say. That tell-tale sign prompts her to make her next statement.

"We barely knew each other, Derek. We barely know each other now! How can you…how could you…" She tries to ask, but the words won't come out. She can feel herself starting to tighten up again, her chest suddenly feeling much more restrictive.

"It wasn't just you. I shouldn't have implied that. I'm sorry." He says as he pulls her closer to him and gently takes a hand and brushes it through her hair. The soothing motion of his hand calms the furious beating of her heart, but all of these questions still run through her mind.

Speaking to her, but kind of staring off into the distance, he says, "I don't even know how to explain it, Meredith. It wasn't like you broke up my wedding. It's like I never should have been getting married in the first place. It wasn't until I had you in my life that I realized something was missing."

As he's been talking, she has slowly been moving in closer to him. So that when he says his last sentence, her head is resting gently against his chest. They stand conversing in the middle of a sidewalk in Boston, but all there is is each other. His next words kind of sink in, but it is like she is trying to grab them through a fog.

"But what about the picture?" She asks dazedly, her cheek pressed solidly against his chest.

The hand on her hair stops. "You saw that?"

"It was kind of hard to miss." She answers sarcastically, and raises her head to look into his face.

She shows him a look that expresses a jaded amusement, but suddenly finds herself being kissed. Kissed hard. She feels a tentativeness as his lips first make contact with hers, but then his arms had swoop up to cradle her head, and she finds her lips pushed aside to accept his tongue. Oh, it feels good. She remembers things that felt this good. The blending and the frisson that was her tongue meeting his. The soft crackliness of his scruff underneath her hands. The feeling of rightness. The feeling of somehow having come home.

Suddenly, it doesn't feel right though. She pulls apart and says, "Derek, we can't do this."

"Yes we can." Derek hardly responds as he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her even closer to him. The areas where they touch tingles, but she has to remain firm.

"Derek, you're my professor." She iterates breathily as he spreads little kisses along the side of her neck.

"So." He breathes out between kisses, and his hands start to slide down to curvier areas of her anatomy.

Her eyes start to close with pleasure, but she has to try one last time. "Derek, you could get fired."

The hands stop. She is glad the hands stop, but she is not glad they stop. Her body is very willing to have things continue as they are, but her traitorous mind keeps reminding her of those tiny pesky things like ethics and accountability.

Derek slowly straightens up, so slow as to mimic an old man pressuring his muscles to make movement's anathema to his body. When he does move far enough away from her, she is surprised to find that he has seemed to have found his sense of humor somewhere along the way.

"You did this on purpose, didn't you?" He asks in wry amusement.

"What? Purposefully signed up for a class from a man I created an international incident with, just so he could help me out with my mother and then ravage me on a public street at 2 o'clock in the morning?"

" Nope. Save me from a bad marriage, only to have to imagine making love to you every Monday and Wednesday until the semester is over. Or I go insane. Whichever comes first."