I thank you all for your reviews to the last chapter, and I love your enthusaism for the story. I'm sorry I haven't been able to respond to all of you personally lately, but time has been flying by, and before I know it the week is gone again. One of you asked about whether I was continuing the story once the case/scenario was done - quite honestly, I don't know. My main focus was telling the story as it is, so we'll have to see once we get that unravelled.

The site has been having some troubles today, so I hope you're able to log in and read this. Here we have MerDer escaping some of the stress, and Meredith sharing her past with him; and then Derek reverts to his old ways, with things not going according to plan...

Chapter 14
Into the Dark

Meredith shivered as the damp invaded her jacket, standing along the rail of the ferry beside Derek. He slipped his arm around her, pulling her in against him, and she welcomed the heat of his body.

"We could go inside," he said, grinning at her.

"No, it's fine." She tipped her face up to look at him. "This is nice, I forgot how peaceful it is out here."

"It is."

For a few minutes they were quiet, wrapped up in their own thoughts. Then she laughed softly. "That was an amazing ride."

"I didn't scare you, then?"

"Not really." It had been exhilarating ride, leaving her breathless, but not scared. With her arms wrapped around Derek's waist, leaning in against him as he expertly took the curves and sped along the freeway, she had felt sure he was in control.

"I thought I heard a little squeak once or twice," he teased her.

"I never squeak!" Meredith protested.

Derek glanced over his shoulder, noting they were alone before kissing her temple. "I wouldn't let anything happen to you, Meredith." His arm tightened around her, as he dropped another light kiss on her cheek. "I don't know what's going on with the blackmail, what Callie's involvement is, or who is behind it all, but I know that when I'm with you none of that matters. You matter to me, and it's not just hormones out of control. I like to think we're past the teenage hormonal stage, after all."

Meredith touched his cheek. "You have a lot to worry about, Derek. I don't want to be a distraction. What we have…"

"...is totally unexpected, and I don't want to lose you."

"I'm not going anywhere." She lifted up on her toes and kissed him, pressing close to him, feeling the heat rise between them as it had from the beginning. Everything else fell away, as she slid her fingers through his damp hair, and the kiss deepened. For a few moments they let themselves indulge in the kiss, before voices of some of the other people on the ferry intruded. They broke apart, and leaned back against the railing, content to just enjoy the quiet and each other's company without talking.

"Do you know who was just in here?" Callie demanded, pacing around her shop with her phone at her ear. "Meredith Grey, that's who! Claiming to be writing an article about my shop for her damn paper! Writing an article, my ass!" She still felt unsettled after finding Meredith waiting for her in the shop's display area.

"Did you tell her anything?"

"What, am I an idiot? Did I tell her we're planning on selling forged paintings to make a fortune but Gareth got in the way? Sure, that would go over real well."

"Just calm down. I'm sure she can't tie you to anything."

"Listen, if you can't get that painting soon, I'm outta here. I still need to pay my bills, and waiting around for this big deal to come through isn't helping. I have other work to do."

There was a deep sigh on the other end of the phone. "Are you threatening me, Callie?" he asked, and the tone of voice sent a chill down her spine. "Don't forget who's running this deal. I have a plan in motion to get the painting, so please don't push me."

Callie sucked in a breath, stopping her agitated pacing. "Fine. No pushing, I got it."

"If all goes well, we should be in business soon, and Derek and his nosy girlfriend will be out of the picture...pardon the pun."

Rolling her eyes, Callie grabbed her purse from the desk. "Good. But until then, I have work to do." She ended the call and stormed out of the shop, setting the alarm and locking the doors hastily. She did have work to do, but she needed a drink first to take her mind off the mess she'd gotten herself into. Her conscience still bothered her about Gareth; forging art was one thing, but murder was something else altogether. Was the money really worth that?

"Are we talking about Callie?" Meredith asked, once they were settled on the deck of Harbor Public House. The restaurant was one of the most popular in Bainbridge Island, within walking distance of the ferry. The air had warmed and the mist had burned away, leaving them a wonderful view of the sailboats on the water. The waitress had just taken their orders and left two glasses of Shiraz for them.

"No, we're taking a few hours for us. Look at that view, it's too good not to appreciate," he said, taking off his jacket revealing the black t-shirt underneath. It fit perfectly, clinging to his muscled chest in ways that made her eyes drift away from his face for a moment.

"Um…okay. You know that shirt fits you really well, and I'm having trouble looking at the other views?" she sighed, sipping her wine.

Derek winked at her. "Sorry."

"No, you're not." She kicked him under the table. "What are we talking about?"

"Just tell me about you, Meredith. I've bared my soul to you, after all. Have you always lived in Seattle?"

"No, I was raised in Boston, where my mother was a very much in demand surgeon. So much so that she drove my father away, and pretty much left me in the care of others most of my life. Mom made a pretty good living, and she spoiled me a lot to make up for not being there." Meredith spoke calmly about her past, as if she'd come to terms with it long ago. "But I was kind of a brat and did my best to ditch my nannies or the housekeeper when I could. I wanted to look after myself and not rely on anyone. Of course, I managed to get into trouble a lot, but nothing serious."

"That sounds like a lonely life," he said, touching her hand. "I mean, I didn't always have the best of everything, but Mom was there for us. I have a lot of good memories of being a kid. What kind of trouble did you get into?"

Meredith laughed softly. "Usual high school crap...sneaking out of class, getting drunk, dying my hair pink and black..."

Derek's eyebrow went up at the last comment. "I bet you looked cute with that color combination."

"You have no idea! I thought I was the coolest girl evah..." She tossed her hair playfully. "Thank god I grew out of that phase. But Mom thought it might be best to get me out of that crowd before things got too out of hand, so she took a job here at Seattle Grace and we moved before my senior year of high school."

"Ouch, bad timing," Derek sympathized.

"Tell me about it. The only thing that saved me was meeting Cristina. She'd just moved here with her mother as well, and we kind of meshed together in a twisted sisters kind of way. Mom always liked her since Cris had plans to go to med school. I had no desire to get sucked into that." Meredith paused, and gazed out at the sunlight bouncing on the water. "Then after I graduated high school, Mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. She hung on for a long time, I think due to sheer stubbornness, hoping that I would make something out of myself. Unfortunately, she died without seeing that…"

"I'm so sorry, Meredith." Derek moved his chair a little closer, catching the little tremor in her voice. "I'm sure she knew you would find your way eventually." He stroked her arm gently as she blinked away some tears that she hadn't expected.

"I don't know. She was always so certain about her own work, she couldn't understand my indecision," Meredith sighed. The waitress returned with their food; bowls of clam chowder and plates of steamed blue clams and pan fried oysters. It all looked mouthwatering, and she took the opportunity to pull herself together.

"So when did you get into the newspaper business?" Derek asked, once they had sampled the food.

"Oh god, not right away. Writing always came easy in school, and after Mom was gone, I decided I couldn't float around Europe like a hobo anymore after all."

"Wait...Europe? That sounds like a story right there."

"Trust me, Derek, you don't want to hear about it. To make a long story short, I came home, took some writing courses and started doing freelance pieces. The job at the Enquirer came open, and here I am!" She gave him a crooked smile.

"What about your friend Cristina? Is she still here?"

"Oh yes, she's at Seattle Grace, one of their brightest attending cardio surgeons. I'll have to introduce you sometime."

"Meeting your friends...that sounds serious," he said, winking at her.

"Well, I've met your friend Richard."

"True, he's more of a mentor than anything, but I have known him for years."

"Yes, you mentioned that. Do you trust him?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

Shrugging lightly, Meredith took a sip of wine. "Guess I've read too many novels; no honor among thieves and all that."

Derek felt a flash of irritation at her suggestion, but he pushed it away. "What would he hope to gain by betraying me?"

"Just forget I mentioned it, Derek. I'm sorry." Meredith squeezed his hand. "We aren't talking about that right now anyway, as I recall. Why don't we go for a walk and enjoy the rest of the afternoon once we're done here?"

Later that night, however, the conversation came back to haunt Derek, as he checked the address Richard had given him earlier. It was a house in one of the areas of Seattle where the old money reigned. He was parked on the street, in a car he'd rented under an alias; it was a waiting game at the moment, watching to see if there was any activity inside, or if anyone was stirring on the grounds. Which left his mind turning over the possibilities of what Meredith had asked him. Though his gut tightened at the very idea that Richard would betray him, Derek decided to keep that in the back of his mind for now and concentrate on the job at hand.

After he was certain that everything was quiet, he slipped out of the car and made his way towards the gates fronting the street. He took a deep breath as he prepared to do something he'd sworn never to do again. But he had no choice; this was the only option he had at this point. He reached into the slim tool pouch attached to his belt and pulled out what he needed to pick the locks. As he suspected, the gate was merely for illusion, the lock was flimsy and more decorative than functional, and it was only moments before he was making his way carefully along the perimeter of the yard.

As always, his adrenaline was kicking in, and he felt the old familiar sense of the thrill of the moment. He'd done his usual advance scouting of the alarm system, and he knew where the cameras would be placed for the best sweeps of the yard. His dark clothing blended with the shadows, as he moved stealthily towards the back of the house. It didn't take long to find the best place to break in, partially hidden by large cedar bushes. He could see the alarm system lights blinking inside, and he set himself to the task of picking the locks carefully. Blocking out all other thoughts, he was pleased to find his fingers were still adept as before and he slipped inside quietly. Within another minute, he had the alarm efficiently disarmed, and he breathed a little easier.

He took a moment to get his bearings, before venturing away from the door. According to Richard's information, the owner of the house had a special climate controlled room where he kept his artwork. The stolen Monet was only one of several masterpieces that had been assembled, only to be appreciated by the owner.

The house was quiet, obviously the owners were gone, but Derek wasn't taking any chances. He used his small halogen penlight sparingly, as he made his way up the spiral staircase that reminded him of some examples of DNA strands he'd seen once. Part of him appreciated the gorgeous architecture, no money had been spared in building this.

After checking several rooms, he found the right one. Cool air swirled around him as he stepped inside and he stopped in his tracks at the sight of so many rare paintings on the walls. It was like a miniature museum, and he nearly whistled. Then he spotted the empty frame, still on the wall, marking the place where the Monet had once been.

"Perfect," he whispered, quickly unfastening a canvas tube from across his back. He could just reposition the painting for the owner to find and...then a sudden creak behind him made him whirl around, prepared to duck behind the curtains. He could see a shadow moving in the hallway, lit by the moonlight, and then he picked up a familiar fragrance in the air. Shaking his head in disbelief, he moved towards the doorway and intercepted Meredith just as she was about to step inside.

Her eyes went wide, as he pulled her against him. "What the hell are you doing here?" he hissed in her ear. "This isn't a good idea."

"I j-just had a bad feeling about w-what you're doing," she stuttered quietly. "I followed you."

"For god's sake, Meredith. You could get us both in trouble." Derek released her, and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. "Damnit..."

"I was careful! Don't yell at me," she hissed back at him.

"I'm not yelling. I'm just..." he started to say, when he heard another sound. This time it was barely audible, but he indicated for her to be quiet as he guided her away from the doorway. Once they were concealed, he wrapped his arm around her, feeling her breathing quickly against him. She was trembling slightly, but there wasn't anything he could do at this point to comfort her. He took a chance and peered around the curtains, seeing the silhouette of another person waiting quietly at the door, and he found himself holding his breath.

"You can come out now, Derek, I know you're here..." The voice was pitched low, but it made them both jerk in response.

Meredith looked up at Derek in shock, and their eyes met. "I know that voice..." she whispered in his ear and he nodded grimly. "He was the one who caught me in the parking lot. He..."

"Just come out here, I'm getting tired of waiting."

Derek put his mouth at Meredith's ear. "You stay here. Do not move, understood?"

She nodded, just as he kissed her mouth quickly. Then he stepped away from the curtains, confronting the man waiting for him. "I assume you came for this?" he asked, keeping his tone neutral and almost bored, as if he had been expecting the interruption. He held out the canvas tube with the painting inside, looking at the shiny barrel of the gun pointed towards him.

"You've been a damn sight uncooperative before, toss it over here."

"How do I know you aren't going to shoot me when you have it? Set the gun down and you can have it."

Behind the curtains, Meredith covered her mouth, feeling sick with apprehension. She couldn't quite see what was happening, but hearing Derek mention a gun made her knees buckle. Gun? Oh my god, Derek, don't be stupid...don't get shot...don't get shot... Then she remembered she had her cellphone in her pocket, and she fumbled to pull it out without making any noise. She thanked god she'd ha the foresight to shut off the ringer before as she silently tapped out a text message to Mark.

Call Det. Hunt, we need the cops, hurry! Then she added the address, and hoped he had his phone on and close by.

Meanwhile, Derek was still holding the painting as he waited for the gun to lower. "Just come and take the painting. I won't stop you," he said quietly. "But I want to know one thing...why did you kill Gareth? Just tell me that...Richard..."

Meredith stifled another gasp as Derek spoke, before looking at her phone again. Mark hadn't replied yet, and she bit her lip in concern. She could only imagine Derek's turmoil at discovering his old friend and mentor was the one behind the blackmail. How the hell were they going to get out of this now?

So yes, I still refer to the hospital as 'Seattle Grace', it will always and forever be that to me. And I hope I surprised some of you with Richard...though I'm sure some of you figured that out.