A/N – So, my third chapter. Finally. Just as last time, I thought this would be a short chapter. Kind of like a filler between the last and the next. But just after two scenes, the story had expanded enourmously. I even had to cut it at the end and save some things for next chapter as I got some new ideas to work into the story. Despite the ridiculously long time since last chapter, this wasn't that hard to write. It was tedious to edit, though, and now I have no patience to do it anymore. I hope there are no errors, but I'll always be glad for a PM if you find one.
As usual, thanks to everybody that reviewed - it's so motivating! I recently found out that you can reply to reviews (!) so from now on, I'll try to do that! The chapter begins a couple of hours after the end scene in my last chapter. I hope you'll enjoy it.
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Meredith staggered the last steps and heaved the box on the doorstep, gasping for air. It was the last one. She turned around to make sure she'd locked the car and confirmed that the red alarm was sparkling in the dark. The four boxes towered before her and she hurried to put the key in the door to escape the torrential rain. Not that she didn't plan not to change into sweats pants anyway, but the longer she stood here, the more her jeans would glue to her thighs and her hair transform into this water-dripping cloth that could create a little pool entirely on its own on her bathroom floor if she soaked it. She felt no desire whatsoever to tilt her head and catch some raindrops and felt a sudden sympathy towards those that used to say that sure, they liked rain. If they were inside. Entering the hall, she discerned Alex and Izzie in the living room, both with their back to her. One part of her hoped that neither of them would notice her sneak in, but another part of her was too tired to care at all. She guessed that the dragging of boxes over the floor would probably tell on her anyway, so she didn't even make a decent effort of being quiet.
"Meredith?" She heard Izzie's feet on the floor; the mere second it took for her to appear in the hall witnessed of her jump out of the couch and unceremoniously throw of the magazine she'd been reading on the table. "Is that you?"
"Hi, Iz," Meredith answered wearily, trying to look as if she knew what she was doing instead of merely pushing a couple of boxes over the floor with no purpose. She couldn't have been that successful, going by how Izzie was frowning and eyeing her up and down.
"What are you doing? And why are you looking like a drowned rat?" She put her hands in her side, her gaze changing from slightly apprehensive to reproachful. "You know Shepherd's been here asking for you?"
Meredith only mumbled something in response, trying as hard as she could to pull thoughts of Derek out of her mind for the moment and struggled out of her coat. She let it slip to the floor, not bothering to pick it up even if she saw the look Izzie shot her. As she continued to haul the heaviest box towards the stairs, Izzie followed her, reaching for her coat and hanged it neatly onto a hook in the process.
"Actually, I'm a bit mad at you. You left me alone with Alex tonight and you know I feel awkward around him. I thought we at least could hang out all of us, now that he's apparently is invited here permanently." Izzie cast a glance backwards into the living room, where Alex still lay on the couch, seemingly interested in a Seahawks game. "It's not like we've been sitting and painting each others toenails the whole evening." She giggled. "Well, I guess we wouldn't have no matter what conditions."
Meredith listened with only a half ear to Izzie's ramblings without being able to evoke even the slightest interest. Izzie seemed to finally catch her silence and palpable weariness and her voice softened as she remained standing only a few steps from her friend.
"Meredith, are you okay?" she asked uncertainly, managing not to fire twenty more questions. Meredith turned around to face her, to her disgust feeling tears in her eyes again. She swallowed and looked at Izzie. Even if she probably could fool her with a quick response and a hasty retreat to her room, she found that she couldn't slip the magic words. What she was supposed to have learned today kept popping up in her head. It was okay to share. She should share. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to start practicing already. She tried to smile but she knew it came out bleakly and she fumbled behind her before she found the last step of the staircase and sat down, her body too aching to carry her anymore.
"I've... I've been picking up my mother's things. It's all in here." Her words had been voiceless but she couldn't stop them from breaking ever so little before she stopped talking. Izzie stared at her for a second. Surely she was bursting with curiosity, but she didn't express even an ounce of it. She simply took the few steps separating them and sat down at Meredith's side. She put her arm around her and squeezed her in a kind of hug. It was brief, but strangely comforting and Meredith tried to blink away her tears. She didn't even think she was upset anymore; she was just so immensely tired that every little thing seemed to unbalance her.
She felt comfort in the silence that lingered between them as she let go of the stiffness that had held a tight grip of her the whole evening and rested her head against Izzie's shoulder. To her surprise, she was the one to speak first.
"I thought it would be hard," she said quietly. "Clearing it out... it would make it all too real." She felt Izzie's cheek move against her hair as she nodded; it made her own body to rock a little back and forth and she closed her eyes. "Nothing was easy, you know. And it's too late to change anything." She draw a breath, but it was neither too heavy nor too shallow as so many times this night, and she continued with an almost thoughtful voice. "So... hard, yeah. I didn't know it would be like this though."
Before Izzie could say anything, the murmuring background sound from the TV quieted and Alex appeared in the doorway, frowning at them where they sat and at the boxes, by now spread over the whole hallway.
"What's going on?"
Meredith opened her eyes and made an effort to disconnect from her trance and focus on him. With difficulty, she managed a small smile that she knew didn't reach her eyes and rose, her head already missing the warm comfort of Izzie's shoulder.
"It's nothing," she said. "I'm just terribly tired and really need some sleep. I'm just gonna drag those boxes into the den." She tried to blink away the exhaustion that lay as a thick layer draped over her body and took a hesitant step towards the nearest box.
Alex looked around the hallway as if he tried to grasp the situation, then shrugged. "I'll help you," he said. "They look pretty heavy."
"You don't need to," Meredith said as she bent down for the first box, but was resolutely sidestepped by Alex, who grabbed it as if it was nothing and made his way towards the little room. Meredith glared at him with all the irritation she could muster. "You don't have..."
"You're tired and you're tiny and I'm out here anyway," Alex broke her off and disappeared without waiting for her to reply. Meredith rolled her eyes and looked at Izzie for support, but she merely nodded.
"He's right and you know it. Just let him help you." She hesitated. "I know you're tired, but as I said before, Shepherd's been here asking for you. He hasn't called you? You might want to give him a call anyway. I think he was kind of worried about not knowing where you were."
Meredith just shook her head and didn't bother to come up with what thing would be the best to do. "Tomorrow," she said. "I'll talk to him tomorrow." And with that, she lifted a second box and followed Alex. She was lucky it was a lighter one, because she almost staggered under its weight and she knew she'd been perfectly fine carrying it before. She could feel Izzie's eyes on her back as she climbed the stairs after having unceremoniously dumped the box just inside the door of the den and went straight into the bathroom.
Like before, she avoided looking at herself in the mirror and quickly brushed her teeth and wiped off what little remained of her makeup. When she entered her bedroom, she felt a slightly guilty gratefulness towards Alex. She could have handled it. She shouldn't have burdened him. She promised herself to make it up to him somehow, but right now she was too unfocused to do pretty much more than going straight to bed. She fished her phone up from her pocket, wormed out of her jeans and threw her sweater on the floor. A faded blue t-shirt that was Derek's would have to do for the night; it was what lay nearest. Crawling under the cool sheets, she thrust her bare feet in the mattress, trying to get rid of the icy coldness between her toes. She reached for her phone to switch it off; going by Izzie's tone, chances were that Derek would call and she knew she wouldn't be able to handle it. Plus, she really needed her sleep right now. The short restless slumber she'd fallen into at her mother's bed hadn't really served any purpose at all except maybe making her even more tired. She had no clear memory of how she'd gotten out of the room and even less home in the car. She had a vague memory of a nurse having said something about driving carefully, but she was sure she hadn't bothered to as soon as the autopilot had kicked in.
As soon as she touched her phone, her screen lit up and announced five missed calls and three new messages. She knew from who without needing to check and the sight of Derek's name flashing across the tiny screen brought a metallic taste in her mouth. She hastily pushed the power button and threw the phone unnecessarily violently at the nightstand. Then she turned and curled up like a kitten beneath her sheets. She shut her eyes closed and tried not to think about the reason she'd been distracted to the extent that she could miss all those calls.
Behind her closed eyes was not the calm, painless darkness that she very much had hoped for. A clutter of feelings lay splashed on her retina like daubs of colors on an easel. It seemed like a spitting metaphorical image of her life. She was always the messy one. Never could her road seem to follow that straight line against a specific destination. Like Cristina's, for example. It was rather in a zigzag, like the seams in old sewing machines. Again and again, she was at the far end of that zigzag curve; unable to settle with the simple and uncomplicated.
Her mother hadn't made it easier for her. At the age of 18, she had once again since the whole pink hair phase tried to make her approve of her and expressed a wish to go to medical school, hoping to impress her with her ambitions. Her mother had just looked at her and dismissed her by saying there was no way she had what it took to be a surgeon. That she'd never make it. Although she would never have showed her mother how deep that had hurt her, she knew that comment had been responsible for most of her excessive partying during college. Which by no means had given her any clue to what she would do with the rest of her life. And, ironically, in her desperation to get Meredith away from her crazy post-college partying and lack of ambition, what had her mother suggested, but not medical school? Not that it had made her do it. No, it had to take her mother to get really sick for her to finally get her to decide anything at all. So, yeah, messy.
She shifted sides in the bed and wrapped the blankets tight around her. Those thoughts weren't new to her, rather, they were so well-known that if felt like coming home returning to them. But while the young Meredith had coped by stomping loudly around the edges to avoid dealing with the hard and cold inside, her present self tripped cautiously, careful not to stir up any old wounds. Muddling through life didn't need to be further complicated by making up with the past.
Trying to shut her eyes even more closed didn't seem to make those colors go away, so Meredith forced herself to relax and focused on taking even breaths. Emptying her mind did seem pretty impossible at this point and she didn't bother trying. She let her thoughts fly and only tried her best not to catch any of them, no matter how close they came to that place in her brain that seemed to feed her with darkness. Now that she was totally allowed to sleep; when she really needed to, it wasn't as easy as she had wanted. Annoyed, she flipped her pillow and tried to enjoy the coolness against her left cheek.
She could hear Alex and Izzie moving around the house, supposedly getting ready for bed. The light was lit in the hallway outside her room that she hadn't noticed being dark and quiet until now and she thought she could hear footsteps in the stairs and maybe a door opening and closing down in the hall, but she wasn't sure. And in that very moment, as she so well needed, she fell asleep.
She didn't notice how her own door opened and the light shone in on her sleeping figure. She didn't see Derek looking at her with that mix of concern and gentleness she was so used to by now. She didn't catch him quickly undressing, arranging her haphazardly thrown clothes on the same chair that he hung his own. She certainly wasn't aware of how he got into his side of the bed and gently covered her with the blankets she somehow had managed to kick to the footboard. Still, she instinctively moved closer when he lightly stroke her bare arms and let his lips touch her hair before positioning himself just behind her. Slipping his arms around her waist, he smiled slightly at this unconscious sign of trust and promised to keep her safe from whatever could be haunting her tonight.
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Derek woke up first in the morning, just in that second between the alarm's little snap and its actual signal, and he quickly reached to quiet it. He looked at Meredith where she lay next to him. She seemed to lie in the exact position as she had when he had curled up to her less than six hours ago, but he knew that she hadn't been motionless all night. He had woken several times by her anxious movements and muffled moanings, and his half-awake strokes had only served to calm her down for a short time. He hesitated. He knew he needed to wake her up to not make her late for work, but it was hard to scatter the sight of her laying there, for once peaceful and relaxed. He knew that once she woke up, she would frown, and question him, and shy away.
He didn't have had to bother. Meredith stirred a little and suddenly stifled a lazy yawn before opening her eyes. Her gaze was unfocused and she let her eyes travel around the room before really taking anything in. Derek's satisfaction with her sleepy peacefulness quickly turned into worry when her face no longer was obscured by her long eyelashes or her stray strands draped over her cheeks. Her paleness was so palpable that he thought he could take on it if he tried. Dark shadows that more resembled bruises played under her eyes. Not wanting to consider any other possibility for this shell of his girlfriend, Derek raised his hand, wanting to stroke her face and cling on to the belief that she had just caught the flu, or a bad cold.
His hand become uncertainly stuck in the air as Meredith's focus suddenly became clear. She smiled tiredly at him before frowning hesitantly as she racketed her brain to remember.
"What are you doing here?" Her voice was hoarse and she weakly tried to clear her throat a couple of times before giving up. "I thought..." She broke off, and her eyes glimmered suspiciously. "You're hovering again," she stated.
"I'm not," Derek answered. "But Meredith, you look like..." He trailed off, not wanting to make her miserable. Still confused over his presence, Meredith was about to make a snappy retort, but as memories from yesterday grew clearer she bit her tongue. Maybe she wasn't ready to spill... okay, share, yet, but she could refrain from snapping at him and making it worse. Besides, she didn't doubt that she looked what he had been kind enough to not articulate. Her head throbbed and the prospect of going up felt far from inviting. She closed her eyes again, wanting to drift back to sleep and make yesterday blur away.
"How do you feel, Mer?" Derek asked hesitantly. "Sick?" he quickly continued as he felt her stiffen and on the verge of any of her usual short answers she always seemed to have ready whenever he entered the invisible line of her private sphere. His voice had a slightly hopeful pitch to it; revealing his desire that her ashen complexion was something that could easily be fixed with some rest and hot tea.
Meredith's voice was a little muffled from being pressed against the pillow and she lay perfectly still, but even without visual clues, Derek thought he could make out a quiet no and he felt the by now well-known dread welling up inside him.
"Okay," he answered, unsure of what to say next. He wanted to push her, but he didn't want to push her. He wanted to blow life into the pale and motionless figure that lay next to him, reminding him a little too much for his taste of another time when she had lay lifeless in a bed. If only she could give him something to work with. He could fix it. He hadn't been able to last time, but now was different.
"Did something happen yesterday?" he tried. The lack of response gave him his answer and he felt a clinch to his gut that had nothing to do with the fact that she lay next to him with only a shirt, radiating that scent that was only her own. That was a thought he much rather would have held on to, but it wasn't hard let it go when those dark shadows kept obscuring his mind. "Do you want to talk about it?"
More silence. He took it as a no. He didn't know what he was supposed to do. He knew exactly what she wanted; for him to drop it and leave her alone. Part of him wanted to show her that respect, to accept her wishes not to talk about it. The other part of him knew that wouldn't do any of them any good. He wouldn't be able to help her, wouldn't be able to make up for what he so badly had messed up the last time.
"Meredith..." He waited for some acknowledgment and continued when she moved a little under the sheets. "I want to help you. Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"
The sheets rustled when she shook them off as she finally turned to face him. Her gaze was slightly dazed but she glared at him all the same. "What makes you think I need help?"
Derek studied her gravely. "When you won't even tell me what happened. It means it's something bad. It means you're upset. I want to be there for you when those things happen, Mer. Why won't you let me?"
She dropped her gaze down to the sheet, starting to fiddle with some thread only visible for her eyes. She bit her lip, looking for some way out. Derek thought that he could see her inner turmoil and sighed inwardly, barely able to keeping his growing frustration to himself.
"I..." Meredith began hesitantly, but fell silent once again before finishing her sentence.
"I called you... I don't know how many times," Derek said, unable to stop himself. "And I left messages. I even came over." He regretted his words as soon as he'd said them, knowing that she'd been on the verge of letting him in on some little bit of yesterday.
"Surely you know how to survive one evening without my company?" she asked. Derek frowned at how sour her words sounded and didn't know if he should interpret the look in Meredith's eyes as guilt or regret, or as anything at all.
"It's not about that and you know it." He sighed, loudly this time. The moment was over. He might as well say what he had in mind. "You're free to do whatever you want on your own. I'm just asking for... maybe some heads-up that we're not spending the night together, or heading home together, like we've been doing for quite a while now." He swallowed. "For all I knew you could have lain dead in a ditch somewhere." Or in a lake. His voice broke a little and he actively pushed his immediate associations back in his mind.
Meredith looked at him. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. She seemed to battle with herself for a second, then shrugged. "I was having a bad day. But Derek, I'm so tired. Now is not a good time to talk. Okay?"
He studied her carefully, trying to see if she'd said it just to avoid a conversation or if she actually meant it. She had closed her eyes and was lying down again, and his worries took over his frustration. Avoidance or not, she really did look exhausted, and the day hadn't begun. He had to let her off the hook.
"Mer, for the record, I want to be there for you – with you – on your bad days. Please, don't leave me out when you're down." He stroked her hair as he spoke, but she didn't answer and looking past her, he caught sight of the alarm. It was way past what it should, and he momentarily let their discussion go. "We really need to get going. I'm gonna take a shower. You should get ready."
At that at least, Meredith opened her eyes. She nodded slightly and raised on her elbows. "I'm coming," she mumbled. Derek shook off his sheets and placed a quick kiss on her cheek as he rose and disappeared into the bathroom. He had hardly closed the door behind him before she fell back against the pillows. She knew she had no time for this, but it was like she had no impact on her limbs. No matter how much she tried to tell them to lift and stand, sleep seemed to win and drag her deep down. Her eyes flicked only a couple of times before they were totally closed and she floated away in a dark slumber, quieter than any of the others she had attempted at earlier in the morning.
"Meredith!" Derek saw her jump at the sudden call of her name, blinking profusely to get a grasp of what was going on. He looked reproachfully at her, standing by her bedside only in boxers and with wet hair. "You were supposed to be ready. We're gonna be ridiculously late by now." He stepped closer and couldn't help a worried frown from appearing in his face. "Maybe you should call in sick today," he suggested. "Nobody that saw you would protest. I don't think you got much sleep tonight either."
Meredith sighed and made a huge effort to stand up. She wobbled a little, but regained her posture almost at once. "I'm fine, Derek. And I'm an intern. I don't do sick." He wanted to object, but she cut him off. "Do we really have time for arguing? I'm down in a couple of minutes, go ahead."
Still dressed only in Derek's shirt, Meredith stumbled out in the bathroom. The air was thick with hot fog still lingering from Derek's shower and she breathed it in, thankful for anything that would make her body shiver a little less. She went straight for the bathroom locker, resisting the desire to just sit down at the tub edge and close her eyes again. She rummaged the shelves for her Ibuprofen, muttering under her breath as she didn't find them at once. Someone seemed to have moved them. She knew that they had been on the middle shelf as recently as three days ago, when she'd needed some for her cramps. Looking up, she caught a glimpse of the small box on the top of the locker. She had to make a little jump to reach it, which her head certainly didn't appreciate. She shook two pills out in her hand and swallowed them without bothering with water.
She knew she had no time for a shower, so she reached for her hairbrush. Her movements were slow and lacked her usual competence as she drowsily dragged the brush through her hair. She had never bothered with Cosmo tips of at least 100 brushstrokes every morning, but as tiresome as it was lifting the brush repeatedly, the idea of just standing there and doing nothing else seemed pretty tempting. She sighed when her right arm started to protest and put her hair up in a simple ponytail with an elastic. No shower equaled no loose waves. Out of habit more than actively wanting to look in it, she wiped the fog from the mirror over the sink. The face that met her almost made her gasp and she had no problem understanding Derek's concern. Still, she couldn't appreciate it. She wanted so badly to function normally and he made it so hard. What could she do to make him understand? The fact that she actually knew the answer to that question didn't really make her feel better. Give him something. Anything. He wants to help you. She bit her lip and tried to shut her inner voice out. But she knew it was right. Derek wanted so badly for her to let him in so that he could help her. God knows what he thought she needed help for, or what he actually could do, but there he was. Derek the savior. Derek the knight in shining... whatever. That was who he was. And not letting him be that guy... it hurt him. She knew it did. Maybe she could give him something, just a little piece, to still him. It might give her some space from the constant concern that right now was threatening to destroy something of the precious relationship they'd slowly built again.
Almost going crazy over the constant debate inside her head and her inability to decide anything at all at the matter, she focused again on her face in the mirror. She suddenly wished she had a concealer hidden somewhere in her locker, but the only makeup she ever wore was a little mascara and occasionally some lipgloss. Izzie probably owned an army of concealers, but Meredith had no energy to make the long trip to Izzie's room and back, especially undressed like this. She had to do without. Maybe the shadows would disappear during the day, especially with the magic of a coffee or ten.
She settled on just splashing her face with a lot of cold water and to her surprise, she found that it helped a little bit with the dim tiredness she currently felt herself wrapped up in. Avoiding a second glance in the mirror, she turned to return to the bedroom to find something to put on. A light knock on the door made her remain standing, unsure if she should answer or not.
"Dr. Shepherd? Meredith? Are you okay in there? Um... I don't want to bother you, but I was getting ready to go and I was just wondering if you wanted a ride or..." Even though it probably was intent on being quiet, she could hear Izzie's whisper pretty clearly. She hesitated, not knowing if Derek still was in the room or not. But then she heard his mumblings through the door.
"We're okay, Izzie. But we're probably gonna be a little late. We're taking our car, you go ahead." Meredith heard Izzie's muffled steps down the stairs, and some moments later, Derek's heavier ones. Entering the bedroom now that it was empty, she searched the floor for yesterday's clothes, but noticed they were neatly draped on the back of her chair. Derek must have done that. She almost smiled inwardly at him taking the time for something so insignificant. She wouldn't have picked him for an even so slight OCD disorder. She reached for her shirt, but swore quietly when she discovered the stains on the middle of it. When had that happened? Disgusted, she threw it away, not caring the slightest where it landed.
Her closet was messy, she stated when she opened the doors to find something else. And empty. When had that happened? She rummaged through sweatpants, hoodies and unused dresses without finding one single pair of jeans or regular shirts. Where were they? There must be a reason her closet was only a quarter of its original size. She closed her eyes and forced herself to think. Damn. It was her laundry week. She was supposed to gather everybody's dirt and clean it. And she hadn't delivered. She hadn't even looked at the laundry basket all week. It must be totally overspilled. If not... Izzie could have saved her ass this week. It wasn't entirely impossible. Maybe the laundry room would shine with new, washed clothes, neatly hanged and tumble-dried and all ready to wear. Either way, she would have to head down there to find something. She sighed, but grabbed her phone and purse and looked around the room to check that she hadn't missed anything. The bed was made. As late as they were running, Derek had still cared to do that. She shook her head slightly at his priorities before she closed the door and thundered down the stairs.
Izzie hadn't performed any miracles. The laundry basket was overfull, mainly with her own clothes, and she made a mental note to really get it done when her shift ended tonight. She grabbed a blue shirt on top of the pile and eyed it suspiciously. No visible stains, at least. She sniffed it. Maybe a faint scent of sweat, but it would have to do. The pair of black jeans that stuck out from under a mismash of socks and underwear too.
She thought she could hear a quiet conversation from the kitchen as she approached, but she wasn't sure, and as soon as she stepped in, nobody talked. Izzie stood at the counter with her coat already on and hovered uncertainly. She scrutinized Meredith and tried to catch her eye. Meredith could see her unspoken questions, but she had no energy for secret body language codes and merely nodded and put on a small smile. Izzie frowned, but cleared her throat.
"I made some breakfast if you're hungry. You're running really late, so you could bring it in a napkin and eat in the car or something." She gestured at the plate with pancakes, accompanied with the mandatory maple syrup. "There's coffee, too," she added and for the first time that morning, Meredith's face broke in a genuine smile. Coffee. That was what she needed.
She grabbed the black mug with Seattle Grace's logo that at some point had been brought home and never returned and filled it with the steaming beverage. It smelled of promises of a good morning and at least a slightly less miserable day. She cast a glance at Derek sitting at the table. His plate was already wearing traces of syrup, and he wiped off his chin with a napkin as she sank down on the chair next to his.
"Um, so.. I'm gonna go," Izzie said. "Alex is waiting for me in the car. Take your time, Mer. I'll cover for you." She made a pause. "About tonight..."
"I'm almost done," Meredith broke off, not paying attention to Izzie's last words, but she had nothing for her effort. Izzie exchanged a look with Derek, who gave her an approving nod and tilted his head against the door. Izzie threw Meredith a last, concerned gaze before disappearing, her bag bobbing against her hip. Meredith frowned at Derek while she stood up and began rummaging the kitchen drawers for a travel mug.
"What was that about? I'm ready to go. I'll just bring my coffee instead of burning my tongue."
"Take your time, Mer." Derek stretched his legs under the table as he repeated Izzie's words. "You need to eat to get through the day."
"I can't eat," Meredith stated. "I'm sorry Derek, but I'm really not up for pancakes right now, and I'm sure my day will be crappy enough anyway without having Bailey bailing out on me for being late." For the second time this morning, Derek looked like he wanted to object, but she continued. Give him something. Anything. "You should have let me get a ride with Izzie if you wanted to take it slow. I'd rather go right away. Are you ready?"
Derek sighed, his expressions suspiciously like a sad puppy, but he refrained from coaxing her further, scraped off his plate and followed her out in the hallway.
-----
Meredith slipped out through the locker room door as she struggled with her lab coat, peeling desperately around for a sight of her resident. Unlike her mother, who never had hesitated to tell her whose fault it was she didn't get to work in time, she had only herself to blame for being late. She'd missed rounds. By the time she and Derek had arrived at the hospital, it had been no use for her to try catching up with the other interns, not even if she had skipped changing into scrubs. Which meant she needed to find Bailey as soon as possible to get an assignment. Finding Izzie to align their cover stories would also be helpful.
She took right at the elevators, thinking that Bailey might be by the end of the patients' rooms, bossing somebody or other around. She wasn't. Neither was she by any coffee cart Meredith knew about. Or getting labs. She sighed and checked her pager for at least the third time. Still quiet. And she hadn't even glimpsed a sight of anyone she knew by now. She turned and began making her way over to the nurses' station. Nurses were gossipy people. They had an amazing ability to keep track of everyone's business.
It wasn't exactly still and quiet at the floor's center point. Orderlies run past with patients in wheelchairs, eager medical students with notepads and shiny name tags tossed around; doctors stopped by to confirm prescriptions or ask for charts and all kinds of nurses did their best to serve everyone. Meredith saw George stand at the far part of the counter, seemingly going over a chart together with a short, chubby nurse. He nodded as she pointed to something in the papers and absentmindedly scratched his hair with a pencil.
"George!" Meredith hissed loudly enough for it to be audible to him at that distance. She motioned for him to come over as he looked up. Excusing himself, he shut the chart, placed it under his arm and went over to where she was leaning against the desk.
"Tired, huh?" he said gently. Meredith arched her brows before remembering her mirror image from this morning, and then, the cloud of exhaustion that still lingered but that she'd managed to put in the background.
"I guess a little." How do you feel, Mer? She shrugged, not letting George dwell on the subject. "I need to find Bailey. Do you have any clue where she is?"
"Well," George answered. "Rounds are over. She might be in the gallery. She and Izzie are gonna scrub in for Burke later but I don't think they're prepping their patient yet."
Gallery. Meredith wondered why she hadn't thought of that herself, but clipping with her eyes to fight the fatigue from merely standing up, she remembered why. She mouthed a thank you at George and headed for the galleries. It seemed like a long way. She considered getting some coffee on the way, but thought better of it and instead quickened her pace. So Izzie would be with Bailey. That gave her a pretty slim chance of talking to her beforehand. She had to improvise and hope Izzie would somehow lead the conversation.
The galleries to OR 1 and 2 were empty. Looking through the glass window into OR 3, Meredith saw Izzie's blond ponytail whipping up and down as she gestured, perhaps asking their resident about something happening down at the table. She tried to read Bailey's back to determine her mood, but the only she could see was nodding and gesturing back and she couldn't make anything out of that. She swallowed, then opened the door and poked in her head.
"Um... hi," she said somewhat hesitantly. She hoped none of the women would comment on her tired looks as they turned around. Izzie flashed her a quick smile and nodded eagerly as Meredith raised her eyebrows at her in a silent question.
"Hi, Mer," she said breathlessly. "So there you are. I told Bailey about your alarm clock. Wouldn't hurt to have an extra, right?"
Meredith stared at her. She'd told Bailey that the alarm hadn't shrilled? It was really lame, and she could tell from her look at Izzie that Bailey didn't really believe in that. She didn't push it though, but frowned at Meredith.
"Are you all right?" she asked briskly.
"Yep," Meredith replied. Did something happen yesterday?
"You missed rounds."
"I know. I'm on pit again, aren't I? I'll be heading down at once," Meredith hurried to say, careful not to sound disappointed by her assignment. But Bailey surprised her by shooking her head.
"You're not on pit. Sloane's requested you." She looked a little reproachful at this, but shooed Meredith towards the door when she remained standing, her face a picture of bemusement. "Don't waste anymore time than you already have, Grey, and go find him."
Meredith blinked, but obeyed and stepped out of the gallery, a frown still on her face. How had Mark managed to request her already? He wouldn't even know that she was in. He was bound to choose one of the other interns, the one most eager and clever when rounding on the patient. She didn't know what to make of it, so she guessed the best she could do was wandering the halls to track him down. She just wished the corridors hadn't been so long in this place. Her legs were already aching with the effort of just not sitting down.
She found him in a small office down the hallway near the nurses' station. He was sitting in front of the computer, but was not looking at the screen. He flipped through a thick chart, humming to himself whenever he found something worth scribbling down in the margins. Meredith lingered in the doorway more than two minutes, not wanting to disturb him, before he looked up and caught sight of her.
"I figured I'd save you from the pit today," he greeted without further ado, twinkling at her. Meredith nodded slowly, still not grasping what lay behind this sudden thoughtfulness. Both being members of the dirty mistresses club, she and Mark were allies in a way Derek would never understand. Still, even with that in mind, she'd never expected him to step up like this for her. Her eyes narrowed, but before she had a chance to speak, another voice cut through the air.
"Mark." Derek sounded tense as he walked towards them. "Hey," he continued as he leaned in to Meredith and kissed her cheek. She looked at him and sighed, but smiled nonetheless. Apparently, he was trying to smooth things between them since their silent ride to the hospital. "I thought we were gonna meet at the nurses' station," Derek said as he turned to Mark again. "But apparently you and Dr. Grey are busy with a cosy little gathering."
"Actually, I was on my way. Just wanted to read up on a few things first," Mark replied. "Dr. Grey just got here. Shall we, then?"
Derek frowned and looked at Meredith. "Did you need anything? Are you on your way to the pit?"
Meredith looked from Derek to Mark, not sure of where this was going. She had thought she would working with Mark, but maybe she had misunderstood something. She wouldn't call her judgment sharp and alert for the moment and Derek obviously seemed to suppose something else entirely. "I... um," she began uncertainly, but Mark stepped in.
"I asked Dr. Grey to assist today," he said calmly. "I'm sure she'll learn a lot and it's been a while since I had her on plastics."
Derek's expression darkened visibly. "She just had time off after a... " He hesitated and searched for the right word. "A real trauma," he decided at last. "She doesn't need a lot of pressure in the O.R. this soon."
Mark arched his brows. "Are you back at work, Dr. Grey?" he asked politely.
Meredith cast an annoyed glance at Derek. They had driven to work in silence; she in the passenger seat with her eyes shut and her hands on the travel mug in her knee to warm up a little and he with his jaw clenched that way he thought it wasn't visible and his eyes very focused on the red lights. Do you wanna talk about it? But no matter their private relation, he had no right telling her what was best for her at work like this.
"Or should I take it you're not interested in scrubbing in on a cranial vault reconstruction later?" Mark interrupted her thoughts, the corner of his mouth twitching a little.
Meredith gasped. "Are you serious?" These reconstructions were made on children with craniosynostosis and those cases were pretty rare. She had never seen one done before. Mark grinned at her.
"Meredith..." Derek interrupted. His eyes were dark, concern mixed with poorly hidden anger and frustration. She thought she could see some sadness there too. "Are you sure you're ready for this? You don't have to do it."
"I'm fine, Derek," she bit at him, irritation building up in her. She regretted it a little when she saw his face. Why won't you tell me what's wrong? She didn't want to argue with him. Wasn't she the one to steer them away from uncomfortable subjects just this morning? "Besides, plastics and neuro? Any day about a million times more exciting than the pit," she tried to ease the tension.
"I thought so," Mark said, seemingly oblivious to Derek's stares. "Will you prep the patient? Andrew Hudson in 2212."
"Sure," Meredith said breathlessly. She took the chart he held out for her, pivoted on her heel and headed for the patients' rooms at the end of the hall, wanting to get as far away from the dispute that no doubt immediately would rise in the office.
When she stepped out of 2212 fifteen minutes later, her tiredness was a little less obvious. At least her feet were not shuffling along the floors. Prepping patients was sometimes a bit tedious and not at all as thrilling as the actual surgery, but she usually enjoyed talking to the patients. It was certainly better than running with bloodworks. And it forced her to push her own problems back in her mind for a while. She walked resolutely through the hallway. She was supposed to call and book time for Andrew to have his preoperative photos taken so that Derek and Mark could have his latest pictures during the surgery. Except checking his vitals and doing a blood workup, this was the only prepping she had to do. Since he was only nine months old, he had to be sedated for CT scans, so those had been taken yesterday to avoid putting him under anesthesia twice the same day. She cast quick glances into the rooms whose doors stood open as she went, and in one of the last ones, a glimpse of dark hair and a deep pink sweatshirt made her stop.
Julie Fowler sat cross-legged on her bed, her now loose bangs sweeping in her eyes and her focus on the television in the far corner. The pillbox and the water and the few other items that had been standing at the bedside yesterday were gone, and the sheets were neatly stretched around the bed edges like someone had been changing them recently. Meredith took a step into the room.
"Hi, Julie," she said gently. The girl turned around and her face split into a small grin.
"Hi, Dr. Grey." Her hospital gown was gone and she was dressed in the same clothes that she had come in yesterday. Which meant her mother hadn't been there with new clothes, Meredith realized. She took up Julie's chart that was clipped to the bed and scanned it quickly.
"You're ready to go home?" Meredith asked and smiled at Julie. "I can see that they're letting you out of here. How do you feel?"
"I still have a headache," Julie shrugged. "Watching T.V. isn't really helping either, I guess. But that's all I can do with my arm. And I'm still a little tired. But I'm better than yesterday."
Meredith nodded. "That's normal. You hit your head. It's understandable that it still hurts but it will vanish with time and rest. But your vitals have been stable during the night so everything looks just fine. You just enjoy a day or two at home before going back to school."
"Yeah," Julie said hesitantly. "Actually, I don't really like being alone home. I know it sounds really childish, but..." She trailed off, looking down at her lap. Meredith was quiet for a moment. Looking back, it sometimes surprised her that there actually had been a time where she had come home to a house neither pitch black or dead quiet. Those memories were associated with a home she didn't really remembered and a to family that later merely became a distant dream. She had worked hard at suppressing her childhood memories but she would always remember the darkness and the silence and the constant need to fight it.
"Your mother wasn't here visiting you yesterday, was she?" she asked at last. It wasn't really a question, and Julie just shook her head without looking up.
"She was busy at work. I mean, she has this really big client so she can't really afford taking time off whenever." Meredith couldn't really tell if she sounded defensive or if she just explained what she thought was obvious. "But she promised to pick me up today after lunch." Julie looked at Meredith. "I hope she didn't had to cancel some lunch meeting, though", she added in a small voice.
"Where does your mother work?" Meredith asked, trying to sound like this was a normal conversation and not one that scratched the surface of the part of her brain that hosted all her ugly memories.
"She's a lawyer," Julie answered. "She's an associate at her firm, so she has a lot of responsibility. She even takes on charity cases, which she says are the most demanding ones. So she really has a lot to do."
Meredith nodded. This was getting more and more like her own story and she didn't like it at all. She hesitated. She didn't want to get too personal with a patient, but remembering her twelve year old self, she thought Julie could need to hear that she wasn't so alone as she might thought.
"My mother worked a lot when I was a kid," she said quietly. "I was by myself a lot of the time. I know it can be scary." She wondered if she should say something more. Offer some advice. But Julie spoke first.
"Yeah. I figured," she said, looking straight at Meredith. Seeing Meredith's perplexed expression, she smiled a little. "I thought I could see it in your eyes. Or maybe it was that you didn't push it. It's like you see a kid on the schoolyard, and without knowing her, you just know she's a loner. I think it's something in the eyes."
Meredith blinked. She was stunned that Julie had read her so well. She wondered if it was her being really transparent, open like a book for everyone to read, or if it was Julie being really perceptive. She opened her mouth to ask, but before she could come up with something to say, her pager beeped.
"Crap," she said in a low voice. She checked her page. It was Derek. She wasn't sure if he wanted the status of the patient or another go at convincing her to take it easy, but either way she really needed to get going with Andrew's prepping. "Julie, I'm sorry," she said earnestly. "I must answer this." She put her hand on Julie's shoulder for a moment. "I try to check back on you later, but if you're already out of here then... take care. Okay?"
Julie's shoulder slouched a little, maybe disappointed that their talk must end so abruptly, but she nodded and managed to smile. Meredith looked at her, cursing that her pager had chosen this moment to go off and hated the fact that she had to leave Julie in the middle of their talk. But her pager beeped a second time, and she had no choice but get going.
Once outside Julie's room, she had to stand absolutely still for a moment to fight the wave of dizziness that towered above her. And to swallow a few of the sobs that desperatly clawed to get their way up her throat. Her mother wasn't dead. Despite the beautiful urn in the back of her closet, she still managed to jump out of a corner and scare the hell out of her. Somehow she still found her way into this hospital. Into old photos. Into her head. Meredith had thought that their meeting in the tunnel would have served as some kind of closure. That her mother's hug had somehow meant that everything was fine. No hard feelings. No bones to pick.
Apparently, she had been wrong.