This is chapter and the next were originally one, but I thought I was a little tedious to have it posted altogether, so sorry if the ending seems a little sudden/awkward. Please review, I post as much as I can as often as possible. Hope you enjoy!

- GGG

"Hey, do you wanna order pizza? Or should I make some disastrous omelets?" Meredith leaned across the kitchen island, towards Derek, who was reading the newspaper across from her.

"Uh, either is good," he said, without lifting his eyes off the paper.

Meredith wandered around the counter over to him. She rested her hands on the countertop, her head on her hands, angling her face under the newspaper.

"Did you just say my cooking was 'good'? Man, you really are dreamy."

She waited for a reaction. He eyes didn't drift up from the paper. She placed a handle gently on the paper, forcing him to make eye contact with her.

"Hello? Earth to Dr. Shepherd!" His eyes met hers. He rested his cheek on his hands, inches from hers.

"Sorry. I'm just- had a long day. That's all. And you're cooking isn't that bad." He forced a smile. She reflected a sunnier one back at him.

She lifted her head off the counter, and strolled towards the stairs. She waited to see if he would follow her, if she would feel his hand wrap around her hips, and lead her upstairs. But he didn't. He picked up his newspaper. He crossed his legs. Right over left. Left over right. She went upstairs.

"Something weird is up with Derek. Has he said anything to you?" Meredith laid back on her bed. She could see Cristina's curly dark hair out of the corner of her eye.

"Derek? He's probably just, you know, mourning."

Meredith sat up.

"Mourning what?"

Cristina sat up to join her best friend.

"Mourning you. When someone you're close to almost dies, the mourning kind of goes into autopilot and just starts. And then if they pull through, it takes a while for it to stop. That probably why he was so weird about that Jane Doe bone graft."

Meredith plopped her head back down onto the bed.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's probably it. That must be it."

They say in silence.

"Hey, how do I tell Burke I want no religious or spiritual aspect in our marriage or wedding?"

"You just tell him. But telling Burke you don't want God involved in your twisted Union is like telling us we can't panic before any big commitment. You have to make it his idea." Meredith thought about asking the question she knew Cristina was pondering herself, but she didn't.

"How long is Derek going to mourn me? Because he won't even look at me like normal, like I'm gonna turn to stone if he shows any affection. That is, until we're in bed. Then he turns into a high security prison guard. I swear, the last few nights, he never even fell asleep. Too busy strangling my hips with his big surgeon arms."

"Do all surgeons have big arms?"

"Well, they don't have small arms."

"You do."

"Yeah, but I'm not a real surgeon yet."

"When do we get to be real surgeons?"

"Whenever Derek stops mourning your cold blue non swimming twisty soul. When do we get to do solo surgeries?"

"As soon as you tell Burke you're a god-hating scalpel hungry formerly pregnant bride."

"Okay."

"Yeah. Okay."

"Yeah."

"Have you thought about telling Meredith how you feel?"

Derek slipped into his familiar stance on Dr. Parker's couch.

"I've told her. I've told her I love her, she's said it back. I've told her how scared I was. She tells me she's fine. I don't know how else, any other way to explain it to her."

"I mean tell her simply about your insomnia. She's probably noticed it by now, or at least suspected it. Have you told her the connection between how you felt that day and your insomnia?"

Derek tried to imagine Meredith's face if he had told her the day had been haunting him. He thought about the guilt it would make her feel. How she would probably bolt.

"No. I, um, haven't."

"It might help. Often people with survivor trauma find it relieving to let their loved one in on what's been happening since the trauma."

Derek's glance shifted to his feet. They had been sitting flat in the floor for the entire session. The anxiety medicine was helping him fall asleep, less jittery and nervous, but it didn't help with the nightmares.

"Yeah. Okay, I'll try that. Okay. I can do that. You say it helps people?"

Dr. Parker nodded slowly.

"It gives many people a sense of security of their own."

Derek looked at Meredith's closed eyes through the bubbles in the bathtub. He watched her lower her head, submerging her scalp and hair. She say back up, and looked into his eyes.

"What's up with you?"

"Nothing." Derek mustered enough effort for a non convincing smile. It was transparent to Meredith.

"Derek, if something was wrong, you know you could tell me, right?"

"Yeah, I know." He scooped some bath water up with his hands, and rinsed his face.

They say in silence, the only sound being the sloshing of the bath water as Meredith applied her conditioner.

"Meredith?"

"Yeah?" He watched as she wrung her hair out.

"I've been um, I- I don't know if you've noticed, but I haven't been sleeping very well."

Meredith let her hair sink back under the water.

"Yeah, I've noticed. Is it my snoring? Because if it's really bothering you, I can do that laser surgery-"

"No, no. It's not the, um, snoring. I just, I've been, almost reliving, revisiting that day. The ferry boat crash day."

Meredith reached towards his hand which was resting on the edge of the bath.

"Is it what's been keeping you awake? The accident?"

"No, not that part. Just the moments, the hour or so, when you drowned." Meredith's eyes, which had been wandering, focused and studied Derek's face. He was looking down into the water, at their legs entwining.

"Okay. Do you want to talk about it? Do you want me to talk about it?"

Meredith was wracked with guilt. It was her. It was her that had her keeping her awake. It had been visions of her.

"I think- I think if you tell me what happened, it might help me understand, understand why you didn't, why you didn't swim."

Meredith's heart dropped.

"Okay. Okay." She took a deep breath. Closed her eyes for a quick second. "

This patient had an open leg wound. I had secured the tourniquet and cleaned it. But I had no access to IV pain meds, he was in a lot of pain. He didn't mean to, but he lashed out. He pushed me back. Back into the water."

Derek lifted his eyes off the water. He watched as Meredith's eyes now wandered to the bathroom window.

"It was cold. At first I couldn't feel anything. I couldn't feel how cold it was, I was in shock. I kicked. You know, I never thought about how heavy clothes are until I was in that water. Like something was pulling me down, low, lower. I kicked. I remember feeling the water through my sneakers. I could hear rushing. I could hear someone gasping. I looked around. I thought someone else was there, next to me. But it was me. It was me gasping."

Derek reached under the water and found Meredith's submerged hand. It felt numb to him. It felt light, as if made up of nothing more than water