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Derek's Point of View

To say I can't think straight right now has to be the biggest understatement of my life. Mind you, how can I possibly think straight with everything that has happened? I thought I would feel relief once I had found the answer to why Meredith left or at least a little relief. But the only three things it has done is left me reeling, left me more worried and left me with more unanswered questions.

But then every question I ask, mom seems to have the answer. Like, why she didn't come upstairs and see for herself that I was alive, even if she was shown 'the death certificate'? Why didn't she talk with the family because they would have never have blamed her? Mom says that I have to remember Meredith's state of mind before the accident. That we have to remember exactly what Meredith was told by Rachel and thanks to an hour long phone call to the FBI consultant who specialises in lip reading, I now do.

What the hell was Rachel thinking?

Why would she do something like that?

I wish my mind could switch off for just a minute; a minute where I could be in bliss and not think about anything or anyone. When I'm not thinking about answers to so many unanswered questions, I'm thinking and feeling the guilt of what my poor mother is going through. Her heart broke all over again last night. None of this is fair on her. Absolutely none of it!

Then there's the guilt attached to Meredith. What must she be going through right now? Is she coping okay? Is she still practicing medicine? Does she think about us? Is she worrying about her mom? Is she in pain? Is she hurt? How will she react when she finds out I am not dead?

Although it was incredibly hard to hear what Rachel told her, it made some things make sense. Such as why she signed over power of Attorney to Richard in regards to her mother. She sold her house quickly and for a steal but I'm glad I bought it back because she loves that home. She grew up in that home and she'll need it for when she comes back. The guy she sold it to was a bloody con though. Mom told me I was crazy for giving him double for what he got for it but I didn't care because all I wanted was that house in my name to keep it safe for Meredith's return.

Having to tell our entire family, this morning, exactly why Meredith left was the hardest thing I had to do. Amelia and Mum sat in the conference room with me as I explained to Richard, Adele, Bailey, Teddy, Cristina, Owen, Alex, Mark, Izzie, George, Callie, Arizona, Nancy, Kathleen and Sophie. Most had the look of sheer shock, dismay, anger and disapproval on their faces. Izzie and Sophie were in floods of tears the moment I told them. Alex, Mark, Owen, Richard, Adele, Bailey, Nancy started shouting which lead to an argument. Arizona, Teddy and Callie all looked shocked. Kathleen was the typical psychiatrist, trying to get everyone to calm down and talk to one another. And then there was Cristina. Cristina simply stared at me through absent eyes. Before I could even offer any words of comfort, she walked out the conference room door, Owen quickly following behind her. I was then left to do damage control.

Everybody wants answers. Everybody wants to know why Rachel did what she did. They all wanted to be here with me now – apart from Cristina as I never had the chance to speak to her. She basically spent the rest of the day avoiding me.

Mom was desperate to be here with me and it broke my heart to tell her that this was something I had to do on my own. For all I know, Rachel could know where Meredith is and she being here would only wind Rachel up which would mean we would get no answers out of her.

Today I kept asking mom if she was okay because like Cristina, she had an absent look about her. It was as if there is more to the story or she's thinking things and she doesn't want to tell me what. I asked several times but each time, she shut down and simply responded 'I'm fine'.

Exactly like Meredith would.

"Sir," I hear someone whisper from beside me. I look up from the table to see a beaming waitress smiling back at me. "Can I get you something else to drink while you wait for the other half of your party to arrive?"

"I'm…" I'm about to say I'm fine when I look down and see that I've already finished my second glass of Scotch. I better not have another because as much as I need Dutch courage, I also need to keep a clear head. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" The young girl asks politely.

"No, I'm not," I laugh, feeling my nerves boil. "I'll have another. I have a funny feeling I'm going to need it."

"Difficult day?" she asks, giving me a sympathetic head nod.

"You could say that," I mumble. It's not as if I can actually tell her. I can't snap at her either and tell her to hurry up and get me a drink which I really want her to do.

"You have that look," she breathes, giving me an odd look.

"What looks that?" I ask as I look around the crowded restaurant.

"The look that says your about to break up with someone," she laughs lightly, making me laugh too.

"The break up has already happened," I smile politely. "This conversation I have planned is much, much worse than that."

"I'm sorry," she smiles sadly. "You must think I'm incredibly nosy."

"I don't thi…"

"He does," a voice interrupts me. The waitress steps out of the way for us both to see behind her. "There's no point flirting with my boyfriend," Rachel laughs bitterly, giving the waitress an evil look. How much more possessive can one person get? "He's taken and before you say anything else, he is incredibly happy and satisfied," she smiles smugly at our now bright red faced waitress before she turns slightly to wink at me.

Oh god.

You bitch!

I give the waitress a sympathetic look before she scurries away faster than Cristina hearing there is a bloody surgery available for her to scrub in on.

"Darling," she whispers, giving me that patronising smile. "I just knew you would call," she breathes smugly, giving me a peck on the cheek and sitting across from me.

Bite your tongue Derek. Don't say anything too hasty.

You can't blow this.

This is for Meredith. This is for Meredith. This is for Meredith. Meredith. Meredith. Meredith.

"You did?" I ask, mocking surprise. How could anything surprise me after what she did to Meredith and my family?

"Of course," she smiles, clasping her hands together and putting her elbows on the table to lean in closer. "I want you to know that I forgive you."

"You forgive me?" I splutter out slowly. What? She has to be kidding me. She can't be serious.

"Of course darling," she laughs lightly. "You've been under so much pressure with your recovery, your family, work, the wedding and then…" she hesitates looking at her hands.

Do I detect a guilty conscience?

Obviously not. If she had a guilty conscience then it would mean she had a heart. If she can sit by and watch my family go through such devastation, devastation caused by her, then she clearly does not have a heart.

I can't believe the problem was under my nose all along.

"Meredith," I finish for her, as I watch her avoid eye contact with me.

"Yes," she nods with a little hesitation. "Since I left yesterday, I've been thinking about this and you don't have to worry because I've been thinking about how we could alleviate your stress."

She looks at me eagerly, desperate to tell me her plan of action.

"You do remember what happened yesterday?" I ask, stunned by her boldness.

"I do. And it is okay darling because I know it was down to stress," she breathes, reaching her hand across to squeeze mine but I quickly pull back. I can see the pain flash across her face but she's quick to continue.

"Anyway, I was thinking that you could cut back on your hours, we could hire a wedding planner and as for…as for Meredith, I think that we should maybe talk about…"

"No!" I interrupt abruptly. I feel sick as I hear Meredith's name come out of her mouth.

"I know you don't want to give up on her sweetheart but I think you have to call off the search," she whispers, giving me a pleading look.

You bitch!

Bite your tongue Derek! This is for Meredith.

"No!" I repeat, feeling myself lose my cool with her. I look around the restaurant and a groan escapes my lips as I see how busy it has become.

Shit!

This is for Meredith!

"Look darling, I know that this feels impossible but giving up the search for Meredith…"

"I'm not just talking about Meredith. I'm talking about everything," I groan loudly. "And will you stop calling me darling? It patronising!" I add, feeling the anger boil from inside me.

"Derek," Rachel whispers in dismay, looking around the restaurant with embarrassment as people turn their heads in our direction.

"We have broken up Rachel," I start aware of how angry I sound.

"No we didn't. We…"

"We did," I insist. How did I get landed with someone this psychotic and clingy? "We have broken up Rachel and that hasn't changed."

"But…but you invited me out to dinner," she stutteres with a hurt and embarrassed expression on her face.

"I think you'll find I asked you out for a drink because we have something to talk about. You were the one who insisted on booking a table and meeting at this restaurant," I retaliate, not giving her an inch.

"What do we have…" Rachel begins but I have to cut her off because I have had enough of this.

"Where is she?" I blurt out to a hurt Rachel.

"Where is who?" she asks, completely taken aback by the question.

"Where is she?" I ask again, emphasising every word.

"Where is who?" she asks continuing to play being oblivious. "Who are you talking about? Meredith? Darling, I…"

"Yes, Meredith!" I shout, feeling as if my body was about to jump out of the chair. "Of course Meredith!"

"Why would…"

"Because you told her I was dead," I seethe, feeling sick as I do.

Rachel looks completely stunned.

"What? How could you think that I could…"

"We found CCTV footage and got a lip reading specialist in to tell us exactly what was said between the two of you," I whisper bitterly as the waitress comes along with a glass of Scotch and a large glass of wine. Rachel has a habit of snapping her order at the first waitress she sees before even removing her jacket and being shown her seat. I notice that the waitress isn't the one who took my order before. I can see her at the other end of the restaurant taking orders. She probably wants to avoid us and I couldn't blame her in the slightest for that.

We keep our mouths shut as she places both drinks out in front of us. Rachel actually appears frightened. I hate to admit it but it is slightly satisfying. I need her to tell me everything she knows. The question is whether or not I'll believe everything she tells me.

"Are you two ready to make your order?" the waitress asks politely, smiling as she tilts her head at both of us.

"Yes, we are," Rachel smiles sweetly. "I'll have the soup to start and the Chicken Caesar salad for my main. I would like the salad dressing on the side, not pored over. I would like for there to be enough chicken in the dish to be able to say I had a chicken Caesar salad. Last time I only had a couple of pieces of chicken and I could have sworn they had been cooked the day before. And Derek will have…"

"Another Scotch," I finish, as I gulp back the one that was put in front of me only a minute ago.

"Don't you want something to eat?" Rachel asks me, flabbergasted.

Have a meal with her? She has to be joking.

"No," I murmur, glaring at her. "I want another Scotch."

"Maybe you should slow down," she warns, indicating towards my empty glass, as I refuse to stop myself from staring her down.

"I'll give you two a few moments," the waitress whispers sheepishly, stepping away from our table.

"No, no," I insist, not taking my eyes off a confused Rachel. "She's given you her order and all I want is a very large Scotch."

"If you're sure," she whispers hesitantly. I feel for her having to serve our table but what can I do?

"Oh, I'm sure," I murmur, as I sense her walk away. "Now, where were we?"

"I…Derek, I honestly have no idea what you are talking about," she whispers defensively. "What has gotten into you?"

"Really?" I question, trying to control my temper in order to play her at her own game.

"Really," she insists. "Oh Derek, you must be exhausted and this expert you got in must know what you're going through and decided to scam you for money."

"You printed a fake death certificate!" I scream, as everyone in the restaurant turns around to stare at us but I could not care less because the one person I care about is not here and I need her. I need her here.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I start, standing up, instantly having everyone's attention.

Derek, what are you doing?

"Derek, what are you doing?" Rachel whispers, instantly going red. I'm wondering that too.

"Sit down," she insists in a warning tone. I look her in the eye and I know exactly why I am doing this.

This is for you Meredith.

"You see this woman sitting right here," I start, looking around my audience as I point towards Rachel. "She is a woman I convinced myself I loved. To be honest, I think I did at one point but then it is hard to maintain when the person you think you love is a manipulative shrew! You see ladies and gentlemen, this woman could not cope with the fact I have a female best friend…"

"Derek…" Rachel attempts to interrupt but there is no way I am allowing her.

"…My best friend has helped me through so many hard times. She's always been there and when it came to the one time she needed me…when she needed me," I breathe, feeling myself begin to panic until I see two familiar faces sitting at the bar. Mark is giving me a huge smirk, indicating with his head for me to continue and Amy is staring at me in a state of shock. Just like the rest of the restaurant.

"Because you see, this woman convinced me to walk away as it was what was best for her. When I finally come to my senses and stop being an idiot, my best friend and I end up in a huge car accident where I suffer spinal trauma and end up in a wheelchair. I should point out that the accident was caused by a drunk driver. Meredith suffered serious injuries too. That's my best friend," I smile, saying her name as I see Rachel cringe with tears rolling down her face. "She had major surgery and not even a couple of hours out of surgery, she is told by my so called loving girlfriend that I'm dead," I speak slowly to add full emphasis.

"Derek, please," Rachel pleads.

Why aren't any of the waiters or waitresses stopping me? Why hasn't the manager stopped me?

"She even printed a fake death certificate and told her she wasn't welcomed at my fake funeral as the family that had brought Meredith in and considered her as one of them blamed her for killing me! This resulted in my best friend going missing and me waking up to be told that I was paralysed and that my best friend had left without a word of warning. This woman who I proposed to sat back and watched my family go through agony and turmoil. Agony which she caused! She even told my mother that she would lock her up in a mental institution if she continued to search for Meredith!"

There's a collective gasp from the restaurant and I can feel my anger alleviate slightly.

"You see ladies and gentleman, I met this woman tonight in the hope that she could at least be honest with me and tell me where Meredith is but my best friend always told me that you can never reason with the unreasonable. She may know, she may not but the only thing I know is that I will never believe a word that comes out of her mouth again!" I shout, directly facing Rachel's tear stained face. I lift the jug of ice cold water on the table and pour it over Rachel's head.

"Ahh!" she screams as I smile and turn to the rest of the restaurant.

"I apologise for the disruption ladies and gentlemen. I hope your evening hasn't been completely ruined," I smile sadly before keeping my head down and walking straight towards the restaurant door.

I feel Amy and Mark at my side as I reach the door. Amy slings her arm in mine while Mark pats me on the back.

"That was awesome mate," Mark whispers and I know he is smiling with pride. We make it outside and the cold air instantly hits us. Meredith always loved the cold air of Seattle. I wonder if where she is, is just as cold.

"It felt pretty good," I smile, hating to admit it.

"Meredith would be so proud of you," Amelia whispers sounding genuine as she gives my arm an encouraging squeeze.

"Thank you," I smile.

"Dr Shepherd!" I hear someone call from behind us. I turn to see the waitress who first served me, running towards me with my coat in hand. "You forgot this!"

"Thank you," I smile at her. "I am so sorry about in there but…"

"Don't apologise," she insists with a smile. "By the sounds of things, she had that coming."

"She did," Amy and Mark chime in brightly.

"Can I ask you something?" I ask the waitress in the hope she will answer me.

"Sure," she shrugs, as she tucks her hair behind her ear.

"Why didn't any member of staff stop me in there?" I ask.

"Are you kidding?" she laughs loudly. "That woman has treated us all lower than the dirt on her Jimmy Choo's for years. We've been waiting for her to show a small sign of humanity or even better, an ounce of humiliation and you certainly delivered on that front!"

"Well, that's true," I whisper cringing.

"I'm sorry about your friend," she whispers sincerely.

"Thank you," I nod. "Uh…sorry, can I ask your name?"

I can see Mark, Amelia and the waitress cringe. It isn't until I see the name tag, do I realise why.

Meredith.

"Ah," I laugh. "Well, thank you for everything Meredith."

"I hope you find your Meredith," she smiles. "Have a nice night," she nods before heading inside as the three of us chorus a goodbye.

"Right," Mark whispers, rubbing his hands together to heat up. "Joe's?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Amy laughs as I allow them to both guide me towards the car.

"I'm already drunk," I murmur into the cold night air.

"After that performance big brother, you deserve another drink," Amy laughs, sounding proud.

"That was for Meredith," I chuckle.

"That was for Meredith," Mark and Amelia chorus.