Hello!

We've had fluff for too long...time for a little angst!

Enjoy! :)

"Hey. Liz just went to her hotel. How you feeling?" Derek asked as he paused next to his bed, where Meredith was lying. After a rather quiet evening meal, she had requested a quick lie-down for a headache.

"Better, I think."

He smiled. "Good to hear. Do you need anything?"

"No, no-" She muttered as she sat up. "I think I might actually get up. We could watch some TV for an hour, maybe?"

"Oh, right. We really are feeling better."

"I'm wondering whether this is you comparing your experience of migraines because of a traumatic brain injury with my dehydration headaches?" She pondered. "I think the majority of people can get up after an hour of lying down."

"And I'm wondering whether we're going to talk, because I think the majority of couples do that." He returned.

"When we're going to-" She attempted to repeat in confusion.

"You were fine this morning." He interrupted. "And you were fine in the first few shops. But then...I don't know- something changed. You didn't say much at lunch at all."

"I was just enjoying listening to you be a truthful and non-protective brother, that's all. You did really great by the way."

"I hope you're still lying because otherwise my lie-detecting skills are wildly off." He sighed. "You just...I just want you to be happy. I like seeing you happy. But I...well, I suppose like you were saying about me and the chair, I also- I want you to be sad when you're sad. And I want you to be angry when you're angry. And I want you to...feel things. Because I think sad-Meredith and angry-Meredith and emotional-Meredith and...all the Merediths are all great. And as much as I adore having a happy-Meredith, I prefer it much, much more when she's actually happy, not just hiding her feelings."

She didn't respond to that.

"Is this the thing?"

"The thing?" She repeated.

"I think...you understand me because something..." He paused. "Because your life hasn't been great either. Is that...is that what's going on here?"

She didn't speak for a very, very long moment before making a small gesture with her head. Despite the lack of words, he understood, and the next second she was sat on him, her hands around him and his hands brushing her hair affectionately in the hope that it would fix something - anything - in her.

"What are you doing?" Meredith pondered with a weak, half-asleep voice when she found Derek's arm around her.

"Snuggle." He nuzzled his face against her. "You love a good snuggle."

"I do." She agreed. "But you find snuggling painful if you do it too much and you were doing it until I fell asleep last night."

"I know."

Her eyebrows creased. "Then why are you snuggling me?"

"I...I'm trying to make you feel better, Mer. I know I don't really know what I'm trying to help you with but...I'm trying, okay?"

"I'll be okay. I promise. And the fact you care so much makes me feel better, Derek. Please know that."

He couldn't manage a smile, but his frown definitely decreased. "Okay."

"How we feeling now?" He pondered as she joined him, picking up her shoes at the front door.

She sighed. "Derek-"

"I'm sorry. Should I stop asking?" He inquired, before answering the question himself. "I'll stop asking."

"I love that you care but I just...I don't really want to talk about it."

"Okay. I promise...I promise I'll try not to ask, okay?"

She smiled. "Thank you."

"Hi, Amber."

The woman looked up. "I- I'm afraid I don't know your name. I...I remember you, from that room, but-"

"That's okay." Meredith replied. She'd been bought in after a car accident that left her conscious and injury-free, while her husband had been unconscious for the twenty minutes between the accident and them getting to the hospital; she understood why she couldn't remember everything. Besides, her name wasn't important. "I'm Dr Grey."

"You're not...doing stuff for him? Surgery?" She asked.

Meredith settled beside her. "I'm an intern. A newbie. Well- when it comes to surgery, not when it comes to medicine generally."

"Me too. When it comes to...this, not when it comes to being a wife."

She smiled briefly. "I just...saw that you weren't looking so hot; can I do anything for you?"

"Turn back time to make sure my Brian is still okay?" She asked, tears in her eyes. "But...I don't think you can do that."

"No, I can't, and I'm so sorry about that."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"What is an...uh- SBI?" She asked hesitantly, clearly unsure from both her physical and verbal behaviour.

"In what context?"

"One of the doctors said- he said that's what had happened. That...he had one and then some letter and then a number."

"Like...T8?" Meredith suggested after a moment.

"Yeah. You...you know what it means?"

"It's uh- with a C, not a B. And it stands for spinal cord injury."

She didn't respond for a long second before asking, "Is that what I think it is?"

"I think it's better I know what you think it is before I jump into it. Incase you're wrong."

"People who break their spine are...I mean, that's how people are paralyzed, right?"

She nodded. Meredith was glad, she thought, that the woman knew that. "The other thing they said- T8, means that it's only his legs which will be effected, not his upper body or arms."

"But he won't walk?"

"We don't say yes or no to that question- but it's highly unlikely. We try our best to be optimistic, and there are a lot of people out there who improve quality of life, but it's not often someone manages to walk again."

"Brian is a teacher. Primary school. The kids...they adore him. I just-" She sighed. "What am I going to do now? What is he going to do now? I mean...what kind of life can someone live if they can't walk?"

"I'm going to tell you a secret now, okay?"

She swallowed. "Okay."

"About me, and a man- a man who I'm in love with- a man who is an excellent doctor- a man who one day stopped being a doctor and- a man who, too, is unable to walk. Because, I promise, Amber, life won't be like his forever."

"Mary Scott, 28, and thirty-eight weeks pregnant. At her second trimester scan, we detected signs of spina bifida. Today, she will be induced into labour, and Dr Shepherd will perform surgery to fix any complications, and insert a shunt to prevent hydrocephalus." Mark listed, briefly looking to Derek as he spoke. "I will assist to close, as the meningocele is quite large. Any questions, Mary?"

"How likely is it to go wrong?" She asked, placing her hand on her stomach.

"There are complications that could occur, and her spina bifida is quite severe, but the risks are minimal."

"And you're doing this at thirty-eight weeks-"

"Many babies are born naturally at thirty-eight weeks, it's no riskier than delivering at forty weeks. In fact, she won't even be considered premature."

She smiled just a little. "And...I don't want to sound selfish but...how about me?"

"There are even less risks to you, Mary. Please, don't worry. If you want to worry about anyone, worry about this lot-" Mark joked, gesturing to Meredith and George. "I'm going to quiz them an awful lot about spina bifida so they are the ones that should be scared."

Her smile became a smirk. "Perhaps not while you're operating in me though?"

Mark chuckled. "Oh, of course not. Just before...and after...and in a few weeks, just to keep them on their toes. Now...George, can you do pre-op?"

"Of course." He agreed as he stepped forwards, and started prepping the woman.

Meredith grabbed the door handle to leave, only to pause as her name was called. Any other time in her life, she loved Derek's voice. The way if he was trying to calm her, it could be so soft and delicate, but if he was kidding, she could see easily tell from his tone (well, and his cheeky smile and the sparkle in his eye). The way ninety-five percent of time, he would say the perfect thing. He wasn't perfect - no one was - but for someone who grew up with a mom who was the opposite, ninety-five percent made him a saint. But today, she wasn't happy to receive the call of her name.

"Can I talk to you?" He asked as the pair left the room.

She nodded (admittedly begrudgingly) and, just as she had predicted, he didn't stop outside the room, instead heading to the nearest empty exam room. What she was dreading wasn't a public conversation, so the room simply confirmed her suspicions.

She closed the door behind them once they were both inside. "Derek-"

"I just wanted to ask-"

"If I'm okay. I know, Derek. That's all you ever want to know."

"I'm just worried-"

"You don't have to be worried."

"You're still not smiling." He pressed. "I know- I know what I said this morning about asking you questions but...How are you feeling now?"

"Like I have an annoying boyfriend who won't stop prodding me with questions that I explicitly said multiple times that I didn't want to answer."

"I know, I know. It's just- I just wanted to make sure-"

"-that I'm okay?" She finished. "No, Derek. I'm not okay. And, if I'm honest, it's more you than the actual problem that is making me not okay at this point. You don't need to worry about me, okay? So just stop."

"I can't. How can I stop worrying about you? You're clearly not okay- in fact, you have verbally admitted to me that you are not okay, so I know it's not even in my imagination. Therefore, I am allowed to be worried."

"But you're not allowed to ask me so many freaking questions all the freaking time!"

"How am I supposed to help if I don't know what is wrong?" He reasoned.

"I don't ask you about your accident."

He faltered. She was right. He'd set that boundary a long time ago, and she'd never even got near that line before, nevermind overstepped it. "That...that's different."

"How is that different?" She pushed, her amplitude increasing now.

"Because-" He couldn't answer that.

"You're not the only one with a crappy past, Derek, okay? I have...stuff too. And you don't win most traumatic life award over me just because you have a disability and I don't so stop acting like you do."

Now that was one way to get him to stop worrying about her.

In fact, that was one perfect way to get him to never even think about her ever again, or at least make it so every time he did think of her, his thoughts came with spite and anger.

"Derek-" She sighed when he opened the door, and left.

He didn't even hesitate.

"Derek, please. I'm sorry- I shouldn't have said that. I promise I-" She paused when her pager buzzed. 9-1-1. Of course it had to be a 9-1-1. Although the nature of the page didn't really matter, seeing as when she looked up to find him, he was already gone anyway.