Disclaimer: Nothing recognizable is mine. A lot of the dialogue is direct from the show. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: This is a continuation of "Into the Fire," this chapter is based off of episode 2, The First Cut is the Deepest. While originally I planned on having this as a separate fic from "Into the Fire," I really like the idea of having this as a multi-chap story. So until all of this episode is posted, this story is going to be listed as incomplete. I'm going to be honest with you, I'm not sure how many episodes I'm going to cover in this fanfic, which is why after each episode is posted I'm marking the story as complete again. Hope you enjoy!

Got kicked in the head
So I started a fight
Cause I knew I was right
But I learned I was wrong
The Cardigans

It's all about lines. The finish line at the end of residency, waiting in line for a chance at the operating table, and then, there's the most important line. The line separating you from the people you work with. It doesn't help to get too familiar. To make friends. You need boundaries between you and the rest of the world. Other people are far too messy. It's all about lines. Drawing lines in the sand, and praying like hell no one crosses them.

"We don't need roommates," I argued, "We can afford this house easily."

Spooning a scoop of muesli into his mouth Derek grinned, "Yeah but wouldn't roommates be fun?"

I sighed and put the newspaper I had been reading down on the table. I grabbed Derek's upper arm and pulled a little so he would look at me. It had been a week since I had started my first year of residency as an intern at Seattle Grace and everything seemed to be a blur. I couldn't remember a time in my life where I had gotten so little sleep or been spread so thin. Never, in the eight years of knowing Derek, had I seen my husband so little. If anybody tried to tell me sleep is for the weak, I would probably punch them. Sleep is for anybody other than me, it seems, and I really wished I was sleeping more. Instead, I survive on caffeine and sugar and probably set a terrible example for my patient's dietary needs. My lack of energy made Derek's insistence that we get roommates all the more grating because arguing with him slows down my coffee consumption.

"Where would we even get roommates, the hospital? This is ridiculous, Derek."

Putting down his spoon, Derek leaned over and planted a quick kiss to my cheek. He then reached across the table and handed me a small stack of roommates wanted print-outs. "Look," He said, "We have this large and mostly empty Ellis-like house that makes both of us uncomfortable. I figured we could fill it up with other people. I mean roommates is as un-Ellis as it gets, right? So I printed out a couple of flyers for you. It's your decision." He stood up and grabbed his empty bowl and my own to bring over to the sink. "I'll see you at work?" He asked, already knowing the answer, as he left the kitchen.

Watching him leave I sighed. He had been smiling because he knew he had won the battle. We were going to be getting roommates.

I rolled my eyes as two of my fellow interns begged to move in with me. I couldn't tell my friends why they couldn't move in with me, the reason of course being my secret marriage to an attending, and instead had to seem like a terrible friend to two people in desperate need of a place to live.

"I just want two total strangers who I don't have to talk to, or be nice to," I explained before going on to defend the mocha latte I brought for Bailey. I lied though. I told Cristina the latte wasn't a bribe but it was completely and utterly a bribe. When Derek first had interns they would often bribe him into surgeries and being a man with an insatiable ego, any bribe almost always got a lowly intern to observe, if not cut. Apparently Bailey is of a stronger will than my husband. She just took my offered coffee and left me with the trauma patients, no surgery in my future.

When Bailey shouted at us to move the four of us scattered instantly. I snatched a pile of charts from the nearby nurses' station and went to wait with the elevators. Even before I was in front of him, I felt his eyes on me. To be honest, I'm pretty sure Derek is finding the secrecy of our marriage to be a joke. It's not like we're lying about being married, it's just nobody has asked and I'd like to keep that information out of public knowledge for as long as possible. But he's been having fun with it. He's been flirting with me and making eyes at me and acting as if we don't know each other but as if he'd like to know us.

"Seattle has ferry boats," He says nonchalantly as he stands a few feet behind me, not looking up from his phone.

Looking straight ahead I smile a little, "Yes," I decide to play along with him. While I find the secrecy important, I really don't need the added ridicule from my peers that would come from me being married to the head of neurosurgery, having a secret between the two of us is a little fun. The other night when we were lying in bed we were joking about how our life felt like a spy movie. He twirled my hair around in his fingers as he declared me his personal Bond girl. It was a peaceful and perfect moment, just the two of us together in our house, which is one of the reasons I don't want to know my roommates. If I let Izzie and George move in with us, Derek and I will need to sneak around our own house which sounds a lot less appealing as a married couple than it did as a college student in love with a first year resident.

"I didn't know that," He continues, my phone vibrates for a moment in my pocket and I can only assume it's a text from him that he's typed up right as we spoke, "We've been living six weeks, I didn't know there were ferry boats."

Nodding, I respond, "Seattle is surrounded by water on three sides."

"Hence the ferry boats."

At the ding of the elevator, I smirked. If he's going to have fun with this, so am I. Riling Derek up has always been one of my favorite past times.

"Now I have to like it here," He told me as he looked up from his phone, "Now I have to like it here. I wasn't planning on liking it here. I'm from New York. Genetically engineered to dislike everywhere, except Manhattan," As Derek talks we both board the elevator. I hit the button for my floor and stand near the back of the elevator, still smirking. "I have a thing for ferry boats."

Once the doors slide close I insist, "We're still not telling people."

"Did I ask you to tell people," He looks over at his shoulder at me for a second before going back to facing the door, "Do you want me to tell people?"

"I'm not telling people," I reply, "And we're definitely not doing anything in the hospital," He sighs as he's about to respond but I cut him off. I can practically feel him rolling his eyes, "And don't say you don't want to sleep together in the hospital because the sexual desire is radiating off of you like a horny teenager. You're my boss."

"I'm your boss's boss."

I snap at him, "You're my husband. But you're my teacher. You're my teacher's teacher. And you're my teacher."

With each word Derek tosses his head to the side to emphasize his point, "I'm your sister, I'm your daughter."

"Derek," I declare, "I'm drawing a line. The line is drawn. There's a big line."

I can practically feel Derek's smirk, despite the fact that I can't see it, when he asks, "So, this line. Is it imaginary, or do I need to get you a marker?" He turns to look at me, his smirk still painted on his face.

It takes me a moment. I'm not longer thinking. For a second the grip on my charts tightens before I drop them. They go scattering across the floor of the elevator and I flung myself at Derek. I know he wasn't expecting me to do this because there's a delay in his arms coming to wrap around me. I push him against the wall of the elevator kissing him desperately. It only takes him a second before he's kissing me back with just as fervor. He picks me up for a moment, his hands roaming my body, and he spins us so now I'm pinned against the wall instead of him. Still kissing, I spin us one more time. All too soon the ding of the elevator causes us to break apart. I pull away from him and as the doors slide open I drop to the ground to pick up my charts. Derek stands beside me and he seems to be in a daze. I smirk knowingly as I exit the elevator.

"We'll talk later?" Derek calls after me, a hopeful tone to his voice. I roll my eyes as I continue walking away. He's going to be insufferable after this.

Unfortunately, after leaving my impromptu elevator makeout session I find myself paged to a trauma room with a rape victim. I process her injuries, my eyes scanning over her bloodied body feeling sick to my stomach. When my eyes fall to her shoes the world seems to tilt off the axis. She's wearing my shoes. Those stupid leopard print shoes that squeeze my toes that I always complain about. The ones that I've had since college and should have thrown out years ago. The shoes that for some unknown reason I wore today.