I'm sorry that I took so long to update. According to WebMD I either have Pneumonia or The Plague, I really hope it's not the plague. That would suck.

Also this might be the last chapter that I write on this computer. I am in the process of ordering a new one (just waiting to talk to my mom so we can discuss the best place to have it delivered) so lets hope that the magic is in my head and in my fingers wink wink and not something to do with the computer that I've been sitting in front of for the past 4.5 years.

So I was going to include dates, with these sections, but then I didn't. Just remember that there is passage of time. I feel it's weird to think this, but sometimes I wish that my chapters could include like… footnotes or have pop up were I could give additional information.

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A cool breeze. Tall mountains all around her. A lake. No sound except the wind in the trees. I inhale pine and cool air.

Peace and tranquility.

My eyes fluttered open. Glancing at the clock, I make a few last notations in my notebook –– March 5th- To do: research regression therapy, Dinner with Martin at 8 –– before taking my glasses off and rubbing the bridge of my nose. Tension headache. It's with a certain amount of regret that I slid my shoes back on under the cover of the desk and stand. I shake my head at my reflection in the window ––I should really buy a mirror ­­–– and straightened my cream blouse and brown tweed skirt –– I still need to loose that holiday weight. I check my hair, tucking back a loose lock of grey hair. What the hell ­­–– I give my reflection a wink. Bracing myself –– like I always do –– I hit the button on my desk and cross to the seating area on the other side of the room.

The door opened slowly –– it always does. She enteres first ––she always does–– him after her still adjust their hands in the hold she has just initiated.

"Hello," I greet them.

"Hi," she sits on the couch, close beside him –– they always start out like that, close.

"Derek," I greet him, "Did you just come from the OR?" he never speaks until I ask him a direct question.

He nodded, "It went well. It's been a good morning."

"What about you Meredith?"

"Kinda slow," she looks down at her hands.

Her hair was still damp. Curls falling out of her ponytail, she needs her perm redone and her roots dyed. Her nails are ragged. "Have you given any more thought to returning to work?"

She shakes her head.

He sighs loudly and shifts slightly in his seat –– the first of many tiny movements that would create a foot of space between them by the end of the session.

She glances at him, the look of betrayal, "I'm not…"

"I know!" he cut her off. He often does that –– doesn't let her speak.

"Derek," I chastise lightly, "Meredith," I smile and nod for her to continue.

She shrugs, "I'm not ready to go back," she looks back down at her hands, "If she had lived I wouldn't have to go back to work yet."

"But she didn't."

"I know that Derek," she spats –– she's been coming to me for just over 2 months and she is just now starting to show her anger to him, "But why should I get less time because my baby died."

"Meredith ––" his tone is exasperated. He can't tolerate her pain and weakness.

"Traditionally the mourning period is one year," I interject –– poor Meredith needs someone on her side for a few minutes, "It's understandable that Meredith would want to spend that year without the added stress of her career." Derek leans back as I say this, not away from Meredith, just back.

"You can take time off too," she suggests quietly –– and not for the first time, "Mark is taking 4 months off to be with Sydney."

"Mark is taking time off to help her with the twins," Derek seems to be fighting to keep his jaw relaxed, "They have their hands full."

She looks at me and her eyes plead.

"Derek, what Meredith is suggesting is not that unfounded. After the loss of your daughter the two of you need to take time to re-bond as a couple without a child, just like your friends are now bonding as a couple with children. When you were preparing your home and rearranging your lives and careers you were also adjusting your relationship to include a new person. Your relationship is different now then it was and you need to cope with that together."

"What am I suppose to do?" Derek asks looking straight at her––he seems calm, but a little to calm. "Stay home and watch to you cry?"

"No!" She exclaims ––bravo–– "I just want you to be there once in awhile. You're always at work and I feel like I am going through this alone."

"Well, Meredith. One of us has to work. We can't both sit around in our pajamas all day drinking $20 bottles of red wine. Someone needs to support us."

XXXX

"It was hurting her to keep her ALIVE" Derek exclaims, "What was I suppose to do? Every time I tried to talk to you, you became hysterical. You were either sedated or crying, I had to make all the decisions because you couldn't."

"You didn't try to talk to me! You just did it! You didn't want her, you didn't care, it was just easier for you to let her die then to deal with a sick baby!"

Derek is so angry I can see him shaking. He has made it very clear that he has only been attending therapy for her. I wonder, does he think they are beyond help? If I could think of a way to reassure him, I would. They are doing remarkably well, better then he thinks.

"You never loved her. You never loved me. You never felt anything. The whole time, you wanted a way out. You wanted her gone. You are selfish. You don't care about anyone but yourSELF."

"Meredith," I have to interrupt, at this point her blame towards him is just anger and frustrations, "What do you mean when you say Derek doesn't feel anything? Do you feel he had no emotional connection to you or Julie, or do you feel that he hides his feelings from you?"

"I ––" Meredith's jaw slackens slightly –– she wasn't thinking about what she was saying, just lashing out in anger. Derek's face is hidden in his hands, his back to her, with his elbows resting on his knees, "I don't know. I ––"

"From now on," I suggest, "When something like that happens, when you have an outburst like that, I want you to take a few seconds to think about what you said and what you are going to say next. Sometimes we say things that we didn't realize we felt. Is that what just happened?"

Meredith continues to stare at Derek's profile; she's not listening to me. Luckily, I occasionally talk just so I feel I've earned my fee.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, glancing down at her hands. We both wait for him to respond, but he doesn't, "I know you love her, you didn't want her to die, I just ––" she silently collects her thoughts, "I've felt alone. Even before she died, I felt that you were just going through the motions for my sake. I –– I sometimes thought you didn't want to be with me anymore, or you didn't need me anymore. I thought that you were going to leave me. I guess I was angry because I thought that you were taking her away from me so it would be easier for you to leave –– maybe?"

Derek sits up slowly and they turn slightly to face each other.

"I was relieved when I found out we were having Julie. It was a reason for us to be together, we were going to be a family. I wanted that, I wanted her to be that connection between us so nothing could rip us apart. We would always have her to hold on to and remind us why we love each other."

They are sitting closer together now, a first after almost 4 months of sessions. Meredith has come so far.

"I never saw you anymore, Derek. You worked all the time and you were always with Mark and Sydney and Addison; and you didn't want me to be friends with them, you never invited me to join you."

Derek is shifting uncomfortably.

"So I thought you didn't need me anymore, you had your friends back and you didn't need me anymore."

"You were so happy…"

"I wasn't. I was terrified that one day you'd realize that I was too damaged for you. When I thought I was pregnant I was scared to find out because I thought that you would leave me anyway, I needed you to stay with me."

"Mer, I was happy we were having Julie. I couldn't wait to be a father."

Derek still has an edge to his voice; something she said is bothering him.

"Well, I looked happy too, how was I supposed to know what you really felt?"

Technically, they are 3 minutes past their allotted 50 minute slot, but this is their last session before Meredith goes back to work and our last session before my 2 week vacation. I love Paris at the end of April. It's best that they continue with this.

"I was worried about you. I love you, I was trying to do what was best for you and for Julie."

"I know. I know. But –– some times it's hard to trust you Derek. You hide things."

"I'm protecting you."

"Like you protected me from your wife?"

Well. I may only have a PhD and have written several best selling books on this, but I'd say that Meredith is a little touchy when it comes to the subject of Derek's ––I'm assuming ex–– wife. Also, I feel out of the loop, I didn't know that Derek was.

"Sorry," Meredith apologizes quietly.

Derek turns his head to look out the window. The difficult thing about counseling couples is that their dialogue extends beyond what they are saying to each other, they read body language and tone of voice. As an outsider to the relationship it's impossible to really follow the conversation, the threads that weave their trains of thought together are visible only to them.

"So what you are saying, Meredith, is that it's all my fault. Everything."

XXXX

Derek has been furious with her since well before they walked into the office today. They aren't even sitting by each other –– she is sitting, he is pacing like caged animal that's been repeatedly poked.

"She took my car!" Derek exclaims.

Meredith rolls her eyes at that; I can't really blame her.

"Derek, sit down," I instruct. He glares at me and ignores me. "Can you tell me why you're so upset that Meredith took your car?"

They are exchanging a long argumentative look –– I suspect that whatever is said next is going to be a lie.

"I wanted to go see Julie and I couldn't find my keys," Meredith crosses her arms and stares at anything not human.

"You should have waited for me," he growls, "I would have taken you."

"When! You're never around."

"You knew I'd be home at 8. I'm always home by 8."

"I couldn't wait."

Something about her tone is triggering alarms in my head; I just can't put my finger on it… "Was this on Monday?" No response, which means I'm right, "Monday was the six month anniversary of Julie's death wasn't it? You wanted to go to the cemetery?"

Meredith nods, "She would have been 6 months old. I had the day off so I…"

"So you drank!"

Meredith stares at him with such profound shock that I'm sure this is the first time he has accused her of this out loud. Frankly, I'm surprised.

"You drank all morning," Derek spats, "Then you drove clear across town to fall apart on our daughters grave, then you drove home."

"How did you know?" she asks in a whisper, not denying anything.

"Because I got home and you had knocked over the garbage cans, you were parked half on the sidewalk, you dropped the keys on the lawn; because I found an empty bottle at her grave Meredith."

"You were there?"

"I'm there every day."

"You never told me that."

For a fraction of a second I think that Derek is going to start pulling things off my bookcases and throw them around the room –– it wouldn't be the first time that has happened with a patient, and truth be told those shelves need to be reorganized.

"I never…" he stares at her in disbelief, "What were you thinking? DRIVING? You could have been killed. You could have killed someone else."

"I wasn't ––"

"You were drunk. I know you were. Who do you think picks up the bottles Meredith? Who carries you up to bed every god damn night. I DO. I'm the one that makes sure there is aspirin and water next to you when you wake up. I make sure there is hot coffee when you finally make it downstairs. I explain to our colleagues that you are just having a rough morning but that you'll be in soon. I make sure your interns are actually learning something on the days that you are too hung-over to make it in in time for rounds. So don't TELL ME that you weren't DRUNK when you drove 20 minutes across town to CRY OVER OUR DEAD DAUGHTER!"

Damn. Okay. "Okay," I say out loud, barely above a whisper, "Derek, why don't you take a seat," I instruct gently as I push a box of tissues towards Meredith. Derek has chosen to sit in the chair adjacent to me rather then on the couch next to Meredith, and Meredith appears both completely defeated and ready to bolt from the room.

Everyone clearly need a few moments to collect themselves –– and I need a new game plan ­­–– so I cross the room and fill a tray with chocolate dipped biscuits and cups of tea. It's not the best plan, I realize this, tea can severely scald the skin when hurled at your partner in anger, but it's all I've got right now.

Meredith has curled herself into the corner of the couch, her knees up close to her chest. I offer her a cup of tea and she accepts it, cradling the warmth close to her face. Derek doesn't even acknowledge my offer.

"Well," I break the 10 minutes of silence –– they only have 7 minutes left to their session anyway, "Meredith," I begin, I'm clearly not going to get anything out of Derek right now ––nothing productive anyway, "Do you feel––" I hate how cliché this sounds "–– that Derek is unfairly accusing you?" I can see Derek glaring at her out of the corner of my eye, daring her to contradict him.

She shakes her head.

"Do you think that this is a problem that needs to be addressed?"

"Of course it's something that needs to be addressed," Derek spats, "She went from being addicted to painkillers to drowning in booze. She's an alcoholic and a drug addict."

"Derek," I reprimand sharply ­­––this is why I never had children. "Meredith has never tried to hide the fact that she masks her pain in self-destructive patterns. Some might even say that her methods of dealing with pain and asking for help are actually healthier then ignoring the problem and keeping everything bottled up. Meredith expresses her pain, and now that it's recognized, we can start to help her. Don't you think?"

Not surprisingly, Derek doesn't respond.

"Meredith? What about today? Has today been a day like Derek referred?"

She shrugs, "I had a glass of wine with dinner. That's it."

"You had half a bottle and barely touched your salad Meredith."

"Then why didn't you say anything Derek? Why couldn't you say 'Meredith, I think you've had enough' or 'Meredith, I'm worried about you' or 'Meredith, why don't we talk for while instead of PRETENDING EVERYTHING IS FINE'!"

"FINE," he concedes, "You want to talk? Meredith, why the hell are you so determined to hurt yourself? I think that you want something bad to happen. I think that you want to get yourself killed."

"At least then I could be with her, instead of stuck here with you!"

I swallow hard, I'm afraid to breath. It's one of those moments where I wish that I could just disappear, when I feel that my presence it doing someone much more harm then good. I try to move without jarring the silence around them.

From my desk I can hear them talking to each other –– whispering, crying, confessing, apologizing –– and when I look up he is sitting next to her, holding her hand and wrapping his arms around her –– holding her, protecting her, comforting her, loving her. She's melting into his embrace, and you can almost see them healing ––just a little.

"I think we should split up."

I look up in surprise.

"Us, together," Meredith continues pulling back and touching his cheek, "I don't think it's working. We need to do it own our own for awhile, we need to heal ourselves before we try to heal together."

"I don't understand."

And neither do I.

"I need to work out my problems without worrying about yours, and you needs to work on yours without having to deal with me."

"So…"

"So." She looks away, "I want to do this on my own for awhile. I just can't deal with you and Julie at the same time. We can talk at home, I just think that maybe we each need an hour a week that's just about us separately."

"Okay," he nods uncertainly, but smiles.

And with that, it's settled. From then on Derek and Meredith no longer attend grief counseling together.

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Well. That was a whole lot of MerDer right there. Overkill? Maybe. Am I going to do it again? Possibly.

Let me know what you think, I was thinking about writing the next chapter the same way, but not them together, them in the sessions separately. Derek, in particular, I think could use an opportunity to vent about everything that is going on in his life. Then we can talk about fixing them, which at this point … I'm not sure if that's possible. Right now I think that the all around best plan for these people would be for Meredith and Derek to just off themselves and for Addison and Alex to move to Boca and work on their tans. From there, I'll continue this fic focusing on the continuing adventures of Mark and Sydney and their terrible twins.