Hello!

Today's chapter features everyone's favourite thing in the world: high Meredith.

If you enjoy this chapter and want more, chapter 19 of 'October', my fictober one-shot collection, also features Meredith on morphine.

Enjoy! :)


"You know, I don't think my friends would mind." Meredith observed, rather out of the blue.

"Us being together, you mean?" He asked, intrigued.

"You're super hot. Plus, you're their boss; they're not allowed to mind."

"I want your friends to like me, not feel pressured into pretending they are okay with dealing with me because otherwise they'd get fired." He replied. "Those are two very different things."

"And you're super hot." She reminded him.

He beamed, but not because she was complimenting him. "How many drugs did Mark give you?"

"Not that many." She muttered as she sat up a little.

"It sounds like he gave you quite a lot. Do I need to go and do the boyfriend thing and give him a talking to?"

"You are just...one of many men I am dating."

He couldn't help but snort. "Oh, really? Is that right?"

"Mmm." She agreed.

"Are any of these other men going to go and beat Mark up for overdosing you with morphine?"

"No...they have-" She paused. "-tiny ineffectual fists."

"You have other boyfriends...and they have tiny ineffectual fists?" He asked slowly. Meredith sure had one strange world going on in her head. "Do I need to add hallucinations and delusions to your symptoms?"

"Snowy and Chocolate." She muttered.

"Oh-" He chuckled. "Right."

"Handsome dog." She muttered, smiling at her creation.

"Dogs aren't handsome." Derek returned with a creased brow as he looked from Meredith to the crocheted creature. "Cute, but not handsome."

"How come my dogs are more handsome than you then?" She asked with a cheeky smirk, picking up the brown dog that she had crocheted earlier and placing it next to the white one on her lap.

"Why don't you date them instead then?"

She pouted. "Maybe I will."

"Really?"

"Are you judging my relationship with my crocheted dogs? We're a very happy trio, I'll have you know."

He laughed. "Yeah...right."

"Not sure they're gonna help you now though." He replied.

"Maybe...they're good for cuddles."

"I'm good for cuddles as well."

"You are. And...and I think you're great. Of course I do." She said. "I always think you're great-"

"But?" He prompted, although he was a little scared of where she was going with this. People could become extremely honest on opioids.

"You just...you're such a silly billy."

He snorted. That was not what he was expecting her to day. "I'm a silly billy?"

"Well...no. Not really."

"You literally just said I was!" He reminded her. She also appeared to have the memory of a goldfish.

"But your name is Derek. So...not Billy."

"Okay." He agreed. Perhaps she didn't have a shot memory, but rather a new desire to be extremely correct and extremely literal. "But- pretending my name is Billy for a second, tell me what makes me silly."

"Your brain."

"Right." He agreed shortly. She really didn't like giving full answers either. "Can you elaborate on that?"

"You think you suck. But you're really fabulous. All the time. Too nice. I think...I think you're too nice." Her eyes widened. "It's scary sometimes, you know. There's too much niceness. Too much. Too many nice...nicies."

"Well...I'm glad you think I'm nice."

"But you don't think you're nice. And it's really annoying because you are. You're lots of things and I-" She sighed. "You're really silly."

He smiled. "You said that already."

"I know." She agreed. "But you're so silly that you need it more than once."

He swallowed. This was probably a bad idea. He was using her vulnerable state to shake answers out of her and that was wrong, but he couldn't help it. "Does that annoy you? Do...do the things I say and the things I think annoy you? Do you mind that you're always having to reassure me?"

"It makes me sad." She paused as she frowned, as if she was actually upset. Exaggerated emotions were also going on the drug-symptom list, Derek noted to himself.

"Sad?"

"I'd like to be you. Not..." She smiled. "Not a man. And not have dark hair-"

He smiled at the fact that those were the things she went with. Between his gender, hair, and disability, it was the first two she was the most concerned about.

"But...if I was as amazing as you, I'd want to think that. I'd think...I'm Meredith Grey and I'm super amazing. And then I'd be happy. So...it makes me sad." She explained. "You should say-"

"I'm Derek Shepherd and I'm super amazing." He muttered.

She smiled. "Yes. All day. Think that.Say that all day long, even. That's what I'd do if I was you. Because...I'd be right."

"How about my chair?" He asked hesitantly. "How...how do you feel about that?"

"I-" She sighed. "Um-"

He swallowed. Maybe he'd pushed this too far. Sometimes, he supposed, it was better not to know certain things and live in bliss over knowing the truth and hurting because of it. Then again, he couldn't live a lie forever.

"I...I wish I got more hugs. I like Derek hugs- not other people's hugs, really, but Derek hugs are super good. But I don't think you do it that often because it's harder than able-bodied hugging. But...we should do more hugs."

He didn't- couldn't reply for a long moment before asking, "That's it? That's all you've got to say about it?"

"Yes." She agreed. "What else might I want to say?"

"You could have said a hundred other things. Your processing is like a sieve and you're going with...you want more hugs? Your most honest assessment of my disability is that it annoys you because you want more hugs?"

She stared at him blankly for a while before agreeing, "Yeah. Basically."


"How are you feeling now? Better?"

He smiled. Of course. Of course she was asking. "For the tenth time, Mer, you are the one in the hospital bed who needs to be worried about, not me."

"Just answer the question." She pleaded.

"I am fine. Still probably silly though."

"Silly?" She repeated, confused.

"Do you not remember?"

Her eyes widened slightly as she cautiously asked, "Remember what?"

"When you first woke up from anaesthetic- do you not remember that?"

She swallowed. "No."

He smiled. "It's okay. You didn't say anything bad."

"But I said stuff? Stuff I can't remember?"

"Well-" He sighed. "I'm going to be honest, because I feel bad, I asked you some stuff I probably shouldn't have."

She sat up at that. "Like what? What did you ask me about?"

"No- no, no-" He breathed, realising what she thought he was saying. "Not about that stuff you were upset about. I would never take advantage of you like that. That would be...cruel. You didn't tell me any secrets, don't worry. I promise."

She sighed. "Oh."

"It's okay. Breathe." He squeezed her hand, watching her. She was physically breathing more than she was a minute earlier.

"So...what did I tell you about?"

"How much you love me. And all about your biggest pet peeve about my chair, which, to my surprise, was not the fact that it existed or anything like that- but the fact that it meant you don't get as many hugs as you want."

She smiled. "Well...non-morphine-me isn't going to disagree with that."

"And you also called me a silly billy about three times."

She smiled. "Seriously?"

"You think I'm weird for not being happy with myself. And it makes you sad. Which...is something I kind of knew but-" He sighed. "I'm sorry I make you sad. But...I'm glad you don't think I'm annoying."

"You don't make me sad, it's just...I wish you could see what I see." She replied. "I think- It's...saddening, that you don't see it, rather than actually upsetting for me, if that makes sense?"

"I understand." He agreed. "I just- I'll be less saddening."

"No, because that's called lying. As I've said many, many times-"

"-honest-sad Derek over lying-happy Derek, I know."

She smiled, "You know me so well."

"And you know me so well." He returned. He may have known what she was going to say, but he only knew that because she'd read his mind so many times.

"Mmm. But I-" She paused as the door opened. Crap. "Chief-"

"It's quite alright Meredith. Me and Derek talked while you were having surgery."

"Oh." She breathed. "Right."

"Hence why I am here to-" He paused as he held two small stapled stacks of paper. "-offer love contracts."

"Love contracts?" He repeated. Derek took both of them out of Webber's hand, and passed one along to Meredith.

"It's a HR thing; it means you can stay together without one of you having to leave."

"Right. Thanks."

He smiled briefly. "No problem. You can just bring them to my office once you've signed them, and it will be completely confidential. For now, I'll let you be."

"Thanks, Richard." He said, watching as he left.

"So...love contracts, huh?" Meredith said, reading the first page.

"Mmm."

"You said the L word yesterday."

"Lrap?" He suggested. "Or was it Lhit?"

She smiled, and wished she was sat nearer to him or next to him so she could jab him in the arm with her elbow or give him a little shove with her leg. "Love, you idiot."

He smiled back. "I know."

"You've never said that before." She pointed out when their smiles naturally faded.

"I know that too."

"I...feel like you're supposed to break up with people who don't say I love you back."

"But I've never said it back, and you're still with me." He returned.

"I wasn't going to give you up just because you're hesitant about taking the next step."

"That's..." He swallowed. "It's not really-"

"You weren't hesitant about the next-" She paused. "I don't really want to say step but I don't know what else to say."

"It's okay." He reassured her. Language was a horrible thing to have to change. "But- yeah, you're right."

"So...you don't love me? Or didn't, past tense?"

"No. I've loved you- I've loved you freaking ages, Meredith. But...as someone who not very long ago totally lost the ability to speak, words are- they're just not really that...important to me, I suppose. Not like they were before. You know- I didn't speak, but people still knew what I was feeling because of how I behaved or my expressions, and I very quickly learnt that you don't need words to express things."

She nodded.

"Words are just..." He sighed. "Well, they're just words, aren't they? There's no point me saying I love you and then treating you like crap."

"You've never done that. I don't think you'd ever do that either."

"I just-" He paused. "I love you. But I don't need words to tell you that. I would much rather spend my time and energy kissing you, and cuddling you, and bringing you breakfast in bed - or at least trying to, and teaching you how to crotchet, and...even testing you on the stuff you're still shaky on so you can be a better surgeon. And...well, sex, obviously, too."

She smiled. "It's um-"

"Are you okay? Is your ear hurting?"

"No...no-" She swallowed. "It's just you so often say these things to me and- you're just- you're so different than- anyone else in the world."

"Well, I'm widely known as the world first and only paraplegic neurosurgeon so...statistically, I'm rather unique. Very unique."

"You know that's not what I meant, Derek."

"I know." He sighed. "I just...you know I still find it difficult when you say certain things. But...I mean- it's good-different, right?"

"Freaking-amazing-different." She replied.

"Is it um-" He paused. "Are you talking about your mom?"

"Mom?" She repeated. They hadn't talked about her ever really, barring two brief conversations to do with what she was up to now. She had a feeling Derek knew that she hated having a legacy and being related to the woman every hour of every day.

"This...lack of love- is it to do with Ellis? The fact that she...wasn't that great as a mother?"

She swallowed. There was something...off about the way he was talking to her. "Do you know?"

He faltered. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to that. "I uh- I was taking to Richard while you were in surgery. We...he said some stuff."

"Right."

"I just- I didn't want to bring it up when you were still tired and crazy from the morphine because I knew that you wouldn't want that to be when we talked about it, but I probably should have brought it up once you started feeling better because now it feels like I'm lying to you, but-" He paused. He was rambling, and he knew it. "He said your mom died about a year and a half ago. And he said it was...complications of Alzheimer's disease."

"Are you mad?" She asked.

"Mad?" He repeated.

"Are you angry that I didn't tell you about it?" She elaborated, her voice still small.

He stared at her blankly for a long few seconds before asking, "Why would I be angry?"

"Because...I didn't tell you...I lied too- said she was doing research."

"No, I'm not mad. I just...want to know if you're okay- want to know what you need- how I can help." He returned.

"Oh." She breathed. He wasn't mad. He wasn't angry. There was no shouting. There was no screaming. There was no...nothing. He wasn't anything but kind and thoughtful and worried. "I'm okay. And I don't need anything either. It was a long time ago now and she wasn't anything but the woman who gave birth to me and the woman who felt the need to critique my every decision. She wasn't my mom. She was never my mom."

"Then why are you crying?" He asked softly, raising his hand to wipe the one tear that had dropped from her eye.

"Sometimes you make me feel so loved and I think about how crappy my life used to be and it...it makes me stupidly emotional." She replied honestly.

"Because of your mom, you mean?"

She swallowed. "Yeah." She replied, lying.