Hello! Happy Easter! :)

I'm sure you've already guessed the canon event from Meredith's significant feeling of 'dread', but you'll definitely know by the end of this chapter.

I'll admit that I've done a classic writer move and drawn it out a little for the suspense. If it helps, I'm hoping to do another double post next week, if I can get some chapters done this weekend to make up for my extra posts!

Anyway, I squeezed in a little bit of Bailey-Derek near the end for fun because I adore their relationship in Grey's so much. I haven't really specified too much of everyone's back story, but I feel like I've implying/been thinking in my own head that Mark, Addie and Derek all did their internships and residencies in Seattle instead of New York, so Bailey and Derek have also had this friendship for a little bit longer than in the show (pretending we're in like season 2 currently).

Anyway, enjoy!

"How are you doing?"

"I think you're supposed to ask the patient that." Meredith returned without looking up. She had been sat with the patient for about an hour, as Derek didn't want to give her any hard work. All she needed to do was get through today, and he was trying to make sure that happened to the best of his ability.

"The patient is unconscious." He pointed out.

She smiled. "So why are you here then?"

"I um-" He smiled too. Damn it. Caught. "Why do you think I'm here?"

"Well, Mr Opla does need a neuro check but considering the fact that he is still unconscious from anaesthesia, I don't think he's going to pass his neuro exam- so, I'm thinking you're here for me."

"Mmm. I'd say that is a possibility." He admitted.

"I'd say the same."

He paused beside her. "I'm not going to ask you more questions or anything like that about that day we went shopping- I really do believe you're coping and I trust you when you tell me what's best- I'm just checking for myself that you are okay in terms of...you know, this thing."

"No one has hit me in the head, I'm not having a stroke, my chest is not tight, and I am in no pain or discomfort at all so- I don't know, maybe this dread thing is wrong?"

He sighed. "I hope so."

"It's so weird...feels like there's nothing I can do but just- wait it out."

"My advice- if someone asks you out for a drink, say yes."

"Yes?" She repeated, confused. "I feel like a good way to die is to get drunk and stumble into a road. I think I want to be as clear-minded as possible."

"Mark invited me for a drink. I said no because we were having this fight at the time and-" He paused. "I think it's the reason he is so...committed to making sure I'm okay. He was always there in the hospital and always there at rehab. Physically and emotionally."

"You think he feels guilty?"

"Yeah." Derek agreed. "It's not his fault, really. He knows that. But- if he hasn't started that fight then I would have gone to the bar with him after work, and if I hadn't gone home at- whatever time- you know- I wouldn't have been where I was at that time."

"And you'd be walking today."

He didn't reply for a second before nodding.

"He can't blame...whoever did this to you instead?"

"No one really-" He paused. "Finding who to blame is really complicated."

"Was it your fault?" She asked cautiously.

"No-" He breathed, his voice airy. He licked his lips. "But um- there is someone to blame but- it wasn't really his fault either."

"Sounds complicated."

He gave a small smile. "You could say that."

"Have you met him?"

"The guy?" He assumed. "Yeah."

"Jeez." Meredith sighed. She wasn't sure she could even try to imagine what it would be like to meet the person who had paralyzed you, put you in a coma and given you a severe speech disorder, among other things. "What was that like?"

"There was...a lot of apologising."

"Did you ever blame yourself? Because I know you love doing that."

"I...sometimes I think I should have just sucked it up and gone drinking with Mark- I think I was probably being too sensitive or something at the time but...the thing itself-" He swallowed. "That really wasn't my fault. I know that. I didn't need therapy to know that."

"Well I'm really glad. Lots of people- you know, something happens and they blame themselves, even when it really isn't their fault. That's a really hard thing to get through."

"Meredith."

Her brows dropped a little at his tone as he called her name. He sounded worried. "Yeah?"

"I'm sure it wasn't your fault either."

She swallowed. She loved that Derek could see through her...but she also hated that Derek could see through her. "I know."

"But you felt like it was?" He asked. The way she had talked very easily gave away that she wasn't talking in the context of him, nor the general population.

"I'd say I spent 3 months of therapy with her just beating me with the words 'that wasn't your fault'." She said with a small smile.

"Are you confident that it wasn't your fault now? Did it work?"

"It's...better. Definitely better."

"But the feelings aren't gone completely?"

She shook her head.

"I had 6 months of therapy with my therapist beating me with 'you're worthy of love and not a burden so shut up'-"

She giggled. She was ninety-nine percent sure that Derek had paraphrased that. If not, he had one very rude therapist.

"-and that didn't work on me."

Her smile faded very quickly at that.

"But you- you loving me and you telling me I'm worthy- that cured everything in me in just five minutes."

Yet again, she failed to reply to that, but she did feel her emotions start to grow.

"I know I'm not cured- you and I both know sometimes - when things are bad or something happens - I will still think and say things that I probably shouldn't but- they've gone from these constant, honestly mind-destroying thoughts every ten seconds to- well, I only ever think about it if we're in a certain situation or talking about something specific but, even then, it's not so-"

"-loud." She finished for him when he stopped.

"Yeah." He breathed. "And...you did that. You, Meredith. When we first met- before we'd become friends, I think because you didn't see me that much or that...intimately, you never saw that side of me. By the time we became friends, you'd already started making me happier so- when I let myself be me in your presence, that was no longer-" He paused. "Well, as we've discussed I still-"

"I get it, Derek. It's okay." She interrupted. He had much better thought patterns, but that didn't mean his thought patterns were perfect.

He smiled. "So...no dying, okay? Because I'm gonna lose it otherwise."

She smiled back. "Well- I wasn't really planning on it anyway but...okay."

"Hello, Dr Shepherd. How are you feeling today in terms of pain?"

"Five." He decided after a second.

"Is most of the pain in your knee?" Bailey asked, taking a skim of his chart before writing in it herself. Luckily, she was writing positive notes about his monitors and most recent blood test, which indicated his post-surgical infection was getting better extremely swiftly.

He looked to his casted knee, and nodded.

"Would you like some more pain killers?"

He shook his head.

"Okay." She agreed with a short smile before pondering, "How is rehab going?"

Derek had been transfered from the hospital a few weeks prior, but a revision surgery on his knee had sent him back for a day, and a small infection around his surgical incision meant he was still there now, for monitoring.

"No...brains."

She smiled, but this time it remained for more than a moment. "So it sucks, I'm guessing?"

He smiled back. "Yes. No brains...bad."

"I'm not at all surprised that you think that."

"How is..." He paused. That was far too many syllables for him. "Here?"

"How is the hospital?" She assumed. "We're doing okay. An idiot has taken your place so we're most definitely missing you. Dr Silva talks about you all the time."

"And- how...are you?" He asked, worried. He could see through the smiles and jokes.

"Me? I'm fine, Shepherd. I'd just worry about yourself."

He sighed. Now was one time where he really needed his words. "You feel..." He paused. Damn AOS. "Sad. You have- have people who-" He swallowed. "People- they die. And- it- it feels...not good- to feel...sad. But- the sad- that- that is the-" He shook his head. He couldn't do this. When he was limited to three-, four or five-letter synonyms of what he wanted to say for ease of speaking, he was never going to ever properly articulate what he wanted to say.

Her heart truly broke for him. She knew AOS well from her own research after hearing about his accident. In his own head, words were as clear as day but when it came to actually getting them out, nothing ever came out right.

"Keep going. Please. I don't mind how you speak." She encouraged.

"You...are good. You feel- and that- that is what..." He just couldn't. Physically, and mentally. "You are good...doctor."

That was the last thing she wanted him to say. "Except yesterday, Kelly Mannor was alive, and today she's dead."

Derek didn't have any idea who Kelly Mannor was, nor her conditions or cause of death, but that didn't matter. "But...you feel-"

"I know!" She burst, her eyes watering in a single blink. "I know I feel sad. But I just- I really wish I didn't."

"I feel. I-" He paused. "I felt."

She couldn't reply to that. She was complaining to a man who used to be a doctor and likely could never be again, about being a doctor. She bet he'd give almost anything for this, to be worrying about a patient instead of whether he'd ever be well enough to live in his own house alone. Complaining about the trials of her career was the worst thing she could be doing. Ever.

"And I...I was good. I felt and that- made me good. So...when you feel- sad- that is good. Means you- care."

Her tears slipped, but not because she felt worse at his comment. "I just...feel like I'm not supposed to feel like this. And I'm so sorry- I came here to do your chart and see if you needed more morphine and now I'm just-"

"It's okay." He reassured her. "I...just want-" He paused. "Happy."

"God, Derek-" She sighed. "You can't even talk properly and you're giving me motivation speeches."

"Did it...fix?" He asked.

She smiled. "Well, if crying over dead patients means I'm like neuro-god Derek Shepherd, then I think I'll proud of my next tears."

"You know, you have terrible posture- you're gonna end up with some kind of...chronic spinal problem if you keep sitting like that.

He laughed. "Thanks for the advice. I would hate to have a problem with my spine."

"I'm serious, Shepherd." Bailey said as she sat on the sofa that was opposite him, her lunch in hand.

"I know." He agreed as he sat up from the way he was before that was allowing him to read, relaxing against the back of the sofa.

"How is the pain these days?"

"Manageable." He shrugged.

"Right. Totally." She agreed, although her tone didn't suggest that she believed him whatsoever.

"Mmm." He murmured.

"Trouble in paradise?" She pondered. "Or is it just that I'm pestering you about your chronic pain and that's probably the last thing you want to talk about?"

"Why trouble in paradise?" He asked.

"Meredith doesn't seem very happy either today. Not sure she's said more than a few words today, now that I think about it."

He didn't speak for a second before asking, "Have you ever felt dread before?"

"I threw up before about ninety percent of my end-of-high-school exams. Luckily, I had just about figure out a solution by med school, so that wasn't so bad." She confessed. She wasn't a woman who often talked about her experiences and feelings but, firstly, she didn't mind talking about previous self so much and, secondly, she'd formed a rather peculiar friendship with the man. "Is that what you mean?"

"I mean- yeah- but-"

"Yeah but no?" She assumed.

He smiled. "This dread is- like you're being followed by a black dog."

"Meredith thinks she's going to die?"

"Yeah." He breathed. "And I'm terrified. I dumped her with a patient who has been knocked out and sedated for the last like 5 hours in the hope that there's no possible way she'll be hurt there or- I mean, I don't know. I don't think there's anything I can do. I'm not sure there's anything she can do either."

"She's changed you."

"I'm not disagreeing but-"

"You are a secret nerd so you know stories and tales about all sorts- but you don't believe them. You are the least superstitious, most realistic person I know, I think." She said, already knowing what she was trying to say. "She's changed you."

"I only believe in dread as a...a thing that isn't actually a thing." He replied. "You can't see into the future, I know it shouldn't be a thing."

"Yet you believe in it right now?"

"I experienced dread once, and now I'm parayzed, Bailey. I have a reason to believe in a thing that isn't a thing, okay?"

"But you-" She paused when her pager buzzed.

She pulled it off of her belt and read it, but didn't move, nor speak.

She remembered being handed a sheet on her first day as an intern outlining a variety of protocols, which she read, while her fellow interns dumped their straight into the bin. It was a long list and she was sure she'd forgotten a few by now, but this wasn't one she'd forget. In fact, she was pretty sure if she asked Mike Robinson, a man in the same intern year as her who dropped out within three weeks, what it mean, he'd know. Everyone knew. Because no one would not take note of a protocol like this.

"What?" He asked at the look on her face. "What's happened?"

"Look at your pager." She uttered. She wasn't sure she could read those words. Especially now. Especially after the conversation she'd just had with Derek, about his girlfriend her sense of deep dread.

He pulled his own pager from his belt, and read the note.

"I um-" She swallowed as he looked back up to her. "I think your girlfriend predicted a Code Black."