Day 17!

Today's one-shot was partially inspired by Daisy939 on ao3, who talked about Derek's lack of grieving over Mark in a comment.

So...here's some grieving. Enjoy...maybe. :)

"You know, the washing doesn't put itself away."

"Huh?"

Meredith gestured to the pile of clothes beside him. "I said, the washing doesn't put itself away."

He swallowed. He was far too busy in his own world to hear her the first time, but he was just about focused enough on her to hear that. "Right. Sorry."

"Are you okay?" She asked after a second as she watched him stand, collect the pile, and move to the dresser.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Last night, today...it's been a lot."

"I said I'm okay."

"You know she's wrong, right?" Meredith asked. "She shouldn't have said those things to you. She was out-of-line."

"Mmm."

"Although buying a hospital, you know, isn't what I had planned to do in life, that's not your fault. You didn't convince us not to settle generally, and you certainly didn't convince us not to settle because you knew that this was going to happen and wanted your own hospital. We all had free-will. You didn't have a gun to our heads or anything. We all chose and that was the outcome."

"Yeah."

"She was wrong when she said it was your fault. It really isn't. And all that other stuff she said...Derek, she was just so, so wrong about it all."

He didn't reply this time. He didn't even give another sad, blank, single word reply like he had been doing. Meredith had noted very quickly that he wasn't actually relying to her at all.

She stood beside him at the dresser. "Derek-"

"Yeah?" He answered, only because he could feel that she was there. He didn't look round.

"Please stop bottling up how you feel."

She watched his Adam's apple move as he swallowed. Sometimes he loved that she could read him like a book, but other times he most certainly didn't.

"The way she said it...as if I- as if I'm fine now. As if...I don't even care about it or understand it or..." He licked his dry lips. "I was there too."

"I know, Derek. I know that."

"And my hand is better now but...I had months of thinking I'd never use it again for anything at all, nevermind surgery. That wasn't easy."

"No. I know. It was horrible, and she should have acknowledged that you were hurt too."

"And I can't sleep sometimes because I think I'm there, or...can't smile some days because it's all I can think about."

"And she should have acknowledged that as well. She should have considered all of it, and she shouldn't have said what she said."

"And-" He tried, only to find he couldn't go on any further than that.

Her eyebrows creased. "And?"

He finally looked up to her, but she wished he had just continued to look away from her.

"She said- she said some of us died as if- as if- no one who I loved died but-" The tears that consumed his eyes dropped all together in a single blink. "He was my brother. I was seven when we met. I've known him for forty years and she...she says...she says it like...like no one- no one I love- no one I love has ever-"

"Okay, okay, okay-" She wrapped herself round him instantly, and hugged him tight. She couldn't bare to stand and watch him sob any longer. "It's okay, Derek. It's okay. I've got you. Okay? I've got you. It's okay."

"I'm sorry."

"Please don't be sorry." She said as she placed the glass of water she had just collected for him on the cabinet.

"I really...I shouldn't have-"

She sat down beside him on the floor, opposite him instead of against the cabinet. "It's okay to grieve, you know? That's...it's what happens when someone dies, Derek. You grieve."

He stared at her for a long second before confessing, "I've never done it before."

"What about your dad?"

He shook his head.

"You didn't-" She paused out of pure confusion. From the way Derek spoke about his dad, he loved him a lot. He was most definitely someone he would grieve. "You didn't grieve your dad?"

"Mom grieved, and my sisters didn't have the...emotional capacity to stop themselves from grieving because they were so young. So I...cooked, and cleaned, and did my sisters' homework, and...I didn't grieve."

She felt a little sick, if she was honest. He should have grieved. Someone - anyone - should have let him - a child - be actively sad about his own father's passing. Why in the world did someone not help? Why in the world did no one ask him if he was okay? How did no one notice? Why didn't anyone care?

"I think it-" He paused when the baby monitor exploded with cries.

"I'm sorry- but if I don't go, she'll just get worse."

"I know. Go. It's okay." He said, prompting Meredith to stand, and hurry out of the room.

He returned to his trance about ten seconds after she left. He felt horrendous. Partially because of what Arizona had said to him, and partially because he had just broken down in front of his wife. He'd certainly ruined their evening, and come up with a new thing for Meredith to worry about.

"I think someone wants Daddy."

He looked up. He didn't know how her cries didn't alert him to their presence sooner. "Can't stop?"

"Nope. I've tried everything." She replied with a sigh. "I'm sorry, I know that-"

He settled on the side of the bed, and held his hands out in a position that could take her. "It's okay. I promise."

She carefully passed her over.

He couldn't help but smile as he rocked her. No matter how upset or angry or sad he was, she would always make him smile.

"Oh." He breathed as her cries stopped.

"That was quick." Meredith noted, impressed.

"Yeah."

"Maybe she just wanted to see Daddy happy?" Meredith suggested.

He smirked. That was a good point. "Maybe that's what it was."

"I get it because I feel the same; I'm happy when you're happy too. But Derek-"

He looked up from his daughter. "Yeah?"

"If you don't want to be happy, then don't be. You know, if you need to grieve, then please stop holding it all in and let yourself be sad."

He didn't answer for a second before confessing, "There's this grief group on Tuesday evenings at the community centre by the hospital. I was...looking at the poster last week."

"Yeah?" She prompted. "You were thinking you might go?"

"No."

"You don't want to go?" She asked. Why bring it up if he didn't want to go?

"No...I didn't but-" He swallowed, and his eyes sparkled again. "After today-"

She nodded, telling him he didn't need to go on any longer. "I'm really proud of you."

"What?" He asked.

"For talking to me. For telling me about your dad. For letting yourself cry and be upset. For...figuring out what you need to feel better. I'm really happy that you've manged to do all of that. I'm really proud that you've managed to do all of that."

He didn't do anything but stare at her for a second, processing everything she had just said, before smiling. "Thank you."

His daughter prodded at his arm, as if she was upset about being left out.

"Oh! And thank-" He kissed Zola on the cheek, causing her to giggle. "-you too, baby."