A/N 1: Okay so when I first wrote this chapter I wrote an author's note which is A/N 2 but before that I need to say this. I wasn't originally planning on posting this chapter tonight but I am so physically REVOLTED by the Mer/Riggs kiss at the end of tonight's episode that I needed to purify my soul with some MerDer. Physically revolted. Like actually disgusted. Okay. That's that.

A/N 2: Hello, lovely readers! The following chapters are my AU of 1x05, Shake Your Groove Thing. Parts of these chapters differentiate more from the episode plot than usual, but my plan is for that to become the usual. As always, I look forward to your future reviews and I really appreciate all of the ones I have gotten thus far.

We can begin again
Shed our skin, let the sun shine in
At the edge of the ocean
We can start over again
Edge of the Ocean - Ivy

Remember when you were a kid and your biggest worry was, like, if you'd get a bike for your birthday, or if you get to eat cookies for breakfast. Being an adult? Totally overrated. I mean, seriously, don't be fooled by all the hot shoes and the great sex and the no parents anywhere telling you to do. Adulthood is responsibility. Responsibility, it really does suck. Adults have to be places and do things and earn a living and pay the rent. And if you're training to be a surgeon, holding a human heart in your hands. Hello! Talk about responsibility. Kinda makes bikes and cookies look really really good, doesn't it? The scariest part about responsibility: when you screw up and let it slip right through your fingers.

My only thought as I sit across from one of Roseridge's caretakers is that I wish Derek was with me. This conversation, about me taking over my mother's estate and being placed in charge of everything, would be much easier if my husband was with me. Unfortunately, he was paged in early due to a trauma and couldn't join me. I miss being a kid, despite the neglect from my mother, everything was easier. I didn't have to worry about making every decision and I definitely didn't need to worry about going into work running on no sleep. If I needed a nap, it was scheduled. If I needed help, I had a nanny. Being an adult, I no longer have that luxury.

The stress of being an adult is getting to me. This morning I feel asleep in the shower. Derek found me curled in a ball on the floor, the water pounding down on me, when he slipped into the bathroom to apologize once more for having to go to the hospital. Anything that was said to me before I left the house was barely heard. Anything that the caretaker is saying now is simply going in one ear and out the other. I haven't slept in forty-eight hours, other than my ten-minute nap on the shower floor, and my processing capabilities are gone due to exhaustion. To top it off, I'm going straight from my meeting at the nursing home to my first cardiac surgery. It's all a lot and I'm not cognizant enough to handle it.

In the middle of the conversation with the caretaker I stand, "Look, I can't do this right now. Um, I'll schedule something. My husband will come in with me," Grabbing my bag I finish, "But now, just isn't a good time."

I'm leaving the nursing home before the caretaker can say another word.

Right away, Derek knows something is wrong. The look of confusion on his face as the elevator doors slide closed tell me everything I need to know. Granted, it probably is obvious that something is wrong with me right now. I mean, come on, I just held a heart for the first time, I should be thrilled. Instead, anxiety is coursing through my body. During the surgery, I dozed off. It was only for a second but it was enough for me to squeeze the heart. A light squeeze on the heart shouldn't be an issue but before scrubbing out I noticed that my fingernail popped my glove. If it popped my glove, what's to say I didn't nick the heart as well for the split second my eyes were closed. I'm terrified I just sentence my patient to death and I can't even tell my husband because he's an attending. I want to tell Derek but I can't, he'll have to report up and right now I don't even know if anything is actually wrong. A word of advice to all, being married to your boss's boss is not easy.

I need to tell someone about what I think I did, even if I can't tell Derek. Telling George isn't really a conscious decision. It's partly because I need to tell someone and he happens to be there and it's partly that I need to say it out loud, so that I understand what might have happened. It's just the two of us in the elevator and a few moments pass before the words inadvertently fall from my lips, "I think maybe I did something to the heart when I was holding it. I nodded off a little. Squeezed it."

Sweet, innocent, George tries to reason with me, "Oh, please. The heart's a tough muscle. It could take a squeeze or two."

I'm not stupid. I know just a light squeeze on the heart wouldn't do anything. I say to George, "My fingernail popped the glove. Cut straight through. George, what if I punctured Mrs. Patterson's heart?" As I speak I stare straight ahead of me, at the seam of the elevator doors, and use all of my strength to keep my breathing even. I feel like I messed up, like really messed up, like lose my job and never practice medicine again messed up. There's a very substantial part of me that feels like screaming but instead I stare at the doors and count my breathing.

George moves across the elevator to stand next to me and says, "If you had punctured it, you would have known when they reperfused. They got her heart beating. The woman's okay." Despite his reasoning, George seems to now be as worried as I am. We both know I might have really really fucked up.

"So I shouldn't tell Burke? Or maybe Derek?" I ask.

"No, no, not Shepherd. And I mean, tell them what? You know, um, nothing happened. The woman's okay, right?" George struggles to get the words out, as if they're stuck in the back of his throat. I probably should tell them. I should probably at least tell Derek. But that would make it real and I think George and I want to avoid making it real.

I shrug a little, "She's okay."

"She's fine," George tells me.

I nod my head and reply, "She's fine." Except the words feel more like they're trying to convince me than to state a fact. I don't know if she's actually fine. Something could be terribly wrong and it could be all my fault.

After leaving George at the elevator, I go to check on Mrs. Patterson. It takes me a few minutes to actually approach her bedside, I find myself frozen, watching her husband's heartbroken face from a distance. If I caused an issue, if something terrible happens because of me, that expression his wearing will be entirely my fault. I think my guilt is eating me alive.

I ask Nurse Tyler, who is monitoring the cardiac patients today, to read me her stats. They're stable, but Mrs. Patterson could be doing better. There's a churning sensation in the pit of my stomach and a voice in my head telling me the reason her stats are low is me. Mr. Patterson asks me if his wife is okay and as I respond my voice cracks. I wonder if he can hear my guilt.

From Mrs. Patterson's bedside, I sprint to the intern locker room. My breathing is labored and my head feels light. I end up propping myself on my elbows over the sink and splashing water in my face, trying to wash away my guilt and fear. Looking up at myself in the mirror, it hurts to make eye contact with myself. I need to tell Derek, I decide.

Derek's yelling at Alex when I find him and my heart seems to stop. If I tell him what happened, he'll be yelling at me. I'm caught standing there, staring between the door to the research room where Derek is and the open hallway that could be my escape route, not sure what to do. My husband makes my decision for me when he spots me through the research room window and calls me to him.

"Hey Derek," I whisper as I join him, a little scared to speak. As I enter the room, he sticks his head out the door, glancing down the hallway both ways, before quickly closing us in the room. Once he's sure nobody can hear us, Derek turns to me and crosses his arms against his chest. He leans against the door and tilts his head slightly, every movement of his body language exudes concern.

"What's wrong?" He asks me, immediately, "Something was off this morning when I saw you after the CABG. Is it Ellis? Did something happen at the nursing home?"

Slowly, I shake my head, before explaining, "I'm telling you this as my husband and not my boss, do you understand?" I don't speak again until Derek nods, "I think I messed up during the surgery." Derek smiles a little and starts moving across the room towards me, assuring me that the surgery was probably fine. I put up a hand to stop him and confess, "I popped a glove. In surgery, I popped a glove while holding a heart. I think I might have… I think I could have… Derek, what if I nicked the heart?"

"Have you told Burke?" Derek asks, softly. I can't decipher his emotion from the tone of his voice and he's looking down so I can't catch a glimpse of his eyes for a clue into how he is feeling.

"Der," I start, but he cuts me off angrily.

"God, Meredith, what were you thinking? You should have said something in surgery, as soon as you noticed. If something goes wrong, if you did make a mistake, we have no way of knowing until it happens now! If you had just told Burke in surgery, then they could have checked for punctures but it's not like we can risk opening a patient up again just to check that there aren't cuts on her heart that might not be there!" He's seething, and I take a small step back away from him. As he yells at me, Derek paces a little and runs his hands through his hair. Suddenly, he stops walking and looks me straight in the eye. In dead seriousness he instructs, "You need to go to Burke, now, Dr. Grey."

As soon as he uses my title, I'm mad, too. I didn't go to him seeking Dr. Derek Shepherd, I went to him to talk to my husband. "Don't you Dr. Grey me, you self-righteous ass," I hiss, "I went to my husband, not the head of neurosurgery, not my attending, but my husband. You can't get mad at me like this! I need Derek's advice, not the orders of Dr. Shepherd," I soften my voice as I finish, "Derek, I came to you as my husband. I have to be able to do that. None of this is going to work, us both here, if I can't come to you as my husband."

Our gazes meet and Derek holds my stare for a few moments before sighing, his body relaxing and the anger easing away. Running his hands through his hair again, now due to regret and not rage, Derek shakes his head a little. We both take steadying breaths as we attempt to calm down and a mutual silence fills the room. Derek is the first one to speak and he starts with an apology, "I'm sorry," He mumbles, never one to readily admit mistakes, "I shouldn't have yelled. But…"

I cut him off, "No. No "but". Just be wrong. Just stand there in your wrongness and be wrong because you shouldn't have yelled, you're right, and you shouldn't pass this off like you always try to do."

Ignoring my protests, Derek continues, "But, you need to tell Burke. And I'm telling you this as your husband. Burke needs to know, Meredith."

"Fine," I say, "But I'm still mad at you," I point my finger at him.

He shrugs and smiles a little, "Well, let me take you out to dinner tonight to make up for it. Real food, waiters, an apologetic husband, big chunks of carbs in a basket."

"I can't," I reply.

"Izzie's party," We say in unison.

Derek brushes off my excuse, "Forget the party."

I roll my eyes and only half joke, "You can forget the party and spend the night here, if you want to make up for yelling."

Without waiting for his response, I leave the room. I don't spare a glance behind me but I can only assume that Derek has put his hands on his hips, annoyed with being exiled to his office. We'll see if he takes the exile seriously though, I doubt that he will.