Hello!

Another mid-week (or, again, mid-Friday) post for your enjoyment, featuring some more Liz-Derek relationship-building stuff and an informative flashback about their relationship.

I promise you shall get the answers you desire in the next chapter, along with a big wave of fluff and cuteness.

Enjoy! :)


"I hate waiting."

Derek didn't even move his eyes at his sister's comment. They remained as empty and fixed on the floor as they had been for about twenty minutes, and the rest of his body remained as tense as it had been throughout that time too. Nothing changed.

"I hate waiting for anything. But...waiting here- waiting for this-" She continued, watching him carefully.

Still, nothing.

She'd love to think that at least him calling her when he needed me is a good sign, but he didn't. Mark Sloan did, telling her that they'd lost two ORs to a bomb, and that Meredith Grey was in the vicinity at the time. Well, after very carefully and explicitly reassuring her that Derek was completely and utterly unharmed. Or physically unharmed, at least. She had very quickly learnt that he wasn't okay psychologically, although she had already guessed that.

The fact that he couldn't even make that call meant that he hadn't actually done or said anything since it had happened, or since she entered the on-call room he was in. At all.

"Derek, you're supposed to tell me I don't understand how you feel. You're supposed to shout and cry. You're supposed to scare me because I don't know how loud you can shout. Tell me about how much you love her and that I don't understand so I should shut up tell me something like that. Please." She begged. "Please."

He shook his head.

"What's going on? Is this your AOS? Can you actually not speak?" She pressed. She just wanted him to say or do anything at all.

"There-" He swallowed, and licked his lips. "There was a bomb."

So he could speak. Just about. That was something. Screw that- after the last twenty minutes of silence where Liz was becoming increasingly convinced that her brother had become a statue, that wasn't just something, that was freaking everything. "They said Meredith was okay. Just...a few injuries. They said she's going to make it, Derek. You heard Bailey when she came in here."

"Yeah."

"Then what? Please. Communicate. I'm begging. Even if I don't like what you say, just say anything."

"She said she felt dread."

"Dread?" Liz repeated.

"This morning." He continued, although Liz wasn't really listening.

"What do you mean 'dread'? What 'dread'? Like she didn't want to go to work? Anxiety?" She pushed. Of course, she knew what the word dread meant, but she knew she was missing something.

"No. Dread-" He didn't speak for a very long second. "It's what I felt."

"What you felt? What you felt when?"

"The morning-"

"You felt it this morning as well?" She pressed when he didn't continue. He wasn't making a lot of sense.

"No." He uttered. "The morning of..."

She wanted to be sick. "The morning of the day you were paralyzed?"

"And now- I mean-" He wanted- needed to be sick too. "I felt dread one day and now I can't walk."

"They said there was no reason to think there were any serious injuries. They just needed to do all those scans to check and make sure- and they've got Russ from Seattle Pres for neuro and you know he's really good."

"So was Silva. In fact, he was better. Far better. Didn't change anything for me."

She sighed. "I'm going to be your therapist now then- if Meredith can't be right now, okay? Because I know you and even before your accident, you loved to think of the worst. Not everything is some kind of disaster. Not everyone dies when they're hurt. You didn't die. You didn't die and we- we almost freaking unplugged you, Derek."

Her mother, somehow, looked worse than she imagined. She didn't know how. She thought she'd seen her mom at her worst before and attempted to prepare herself for something like that, but it didn't help.

Mark didn't look any better.

Both of them had red eyes, and empty stares, and white, almost grey skin, and this weakness to them that made Liz think that if a hurrying nurse ran past one of them and even touched them slightly, they'd collapse to the floor in an instant and never manage to get up again.

"Say something." Kathleen begged after a very long moment of silence. "Say he's okay."

"So he- um-" Mark didn't even know where to start. He was pretty sure he could physically talk, despite the overwhelming urge to vomit coming from his throat, but he didn't know what to say. "He's...alive."

Liz knew that. Somehow, she felt as if they would have looked worse if he wasn't. Then again, as she had already thought, she was surprised by how destroyed they looked already. She didn't know a person could be so obviously and so painfully drained by just emotion.

"But- he's not-" He sighed. "He wouldn't be if we took away the machines. Even...even one and he- he probably wouldn't be alive."

"How long until he can survive off of them?" Nancy asked after a heavy swallow.

"They don't know."

"Days? A week? Multiple weeks?" Nancy pressed, desperate for any kind of time frame.

"They said...they weren't sure. They um-" He licked his lips. "They're not sure whether he'll come off of them...at all."

No one spoke for a very long moment after that.

"But his brain is- it's still-"

"The EEG shows brain waves. Significant enough brain waves for...for them to say he's still alive." Mark said. He didn't think he was interrupting Kathleen, seeing as he wasn't convinced she'd ever manage to finish her sentence.

"But...he might not- like- breathe."

"They said they'd talked about a permanent trache." Mark said in agreement. "With the...traumatic brain injury, they just- they don't know what he'll be able to do in the future."

"What else did they say about his TBI?" Nancy asked, although she wasn't sure she really wanted to know.

"The damage is to the left- um- kind of frontoparietal. That's where Broca's is. Also- the primary motor and sensory strip so-"

"There could be...a lot of- bad things." Nance concluded, tears in her eyes.

"There was also a transtentorial herniation. They don't know...they didn't really say a lot about what that might mean. But um- I don't think they're too hopeful about him waking up for at least a few days." He continued. "He's not in an MIC. So...we can't even control the coma. We just...we just wait until he's ready."

"Did they estimate how long that might be?"

"Minimum of a few days to...well, he could-" Mark paused. This was all so much. "He could um- not wake up at all. But- they said he might need a few weeks to wake up but- he wouldn't wake up if he didn't for two months."

"So...then- that's when we'd take him off life support? Because- he should have woken up by then."

That was the one thing he couldn't handle. He could handle all of the injuries. But he did not want to talk about Derek dying.

"That's...it's not a decision we're making now, Kath." Carolyn said. She had remained silent, in pain, while Mark had talked, but she just about managed a reply to that. "We don't want to think about it. We're being optimistic."

"Things are going to be hell for him - and us - but we're just- aiming for him to open his eyes and be able to communicate in some kind of way. That's...that's where we're at. And, you know, he's a miracle man- if he can give us this one miracle, then that's all that really matters to me. So...talking about that- it's not something we're going to do. It's- not even something we're going to think about."

"What about his arm?" Nance asked after a long moment of silence. She didn't really want to ask now, seeing as the conversation had shifted a little, but she was desperate to know about the rest of his condition.

"They- stimulated the nerve in surgery. His fingers twitched. Function is technically restored after the dislocation but that doesn't...she said she wasn't going to make any kind of prognosis yet."

"He couldn't feel his legs either." Liz added.

Mark licked his lips. "They said...they said they couldn't fix that one."

Liz felt new tears form in her eyes. "It's a spinal cord injury?"

Mark didn't make any response for a long second before nodding.

"So...when you said you weren't sure about breathing and function in the-"

"No, no-" Mark interrupted. He couldn't bare for Kathleen to thing that for one second. Derek was not quadriplegic. "The injury is in the lower thoracic region. It's- it's not- he'll have some kind of quality of life."

Mark was correct in his thinking that Derek would have some kind of life where he could participate in some forms of activity, but he missed a lot of other considerations out. He could do things if he woke up. He could do things if he was able to regain function of his hand. He could do things if he didn't suffer too much brain damage. He could do things he didn't have too many other symptoms which would interfere with motor tasks. He could do things if he could even comprehend a task he was being asked to do. He could do things if his brain didn't mess with his consciousness so much that he wouldn't need constant rest. It was all ifs. And there were so freaking many of them.

"But he won't be able to walk?" Liz assumed.

Mark shook his head. "They don't think so. But there were some fractures in his legs that are quite serious as well so- I'm not sure it would have ever been a particularly optimistic prognosis...mobility-wise. But...provided he recovers in other areas, I think...I think we can all...and he- one day, at least-" Mark paused. He didn't know what he was going to say after that. The idea that Derek would be fine after this was rather absurd to him. "What I'm trying to say...is I think we'd be too happy that he's alive for us to worry about the fact that- things aren't going to be the same as they used to."

"What if he doesn't recover in other ways?" Nancy asked. "Then what? What if he does need some kind of machine for him to live forever and...and he doesn't understand what we're saying or- can't do anything?"

"He can't answer that, Nancy." Liz said, breaking the previous chain where the conversation would bounce between Mark, and either herself, Nancy or Kathleen. Amelia hadn't arrived yet, and Addison was at the airport waiting for her. "I think...we just sit and wait for something to change. And then...then something else. And we just...eventually, we'll know enough, and then- then we can figure out what we'll do. Definitely rehab. Maybe-" She swallowed. "Maybe long-term care. But- we just...we just have to wait, right?"

Mark sighed. He'd really love to disagree because he'd really love her answer to be incorrect. But it wasn't. "Yeah. We just have to wait."

"It was horrible waiting for you too. Not...not knowing anything for hours and hours and then...even once you were stable, no one could tell us for certain."

"I..." He paused. He was going to say that he could only try to imagine, but he didn't want to. "I don't...I don't want to even try to imagine it."

"But you're here now. Since that day, you defied...every odd except not being able to walk." She replied. "I know rehab was horrible for months, but- we sat and talked about full-on long-term care in facilities and all sorts. You don't even live with anyone anymore. In fact, you don't even have carer visits to help you around the house or occupational check-ups. You went from us thinking of you literally doing nothing ever again, to a fully independent adult."

"What if I'm an exception? What if Meredith isn't so lucky?"

"You worry too much, Derek. They said she was fine; you're catastrophising.

"I know- I know I catastrophise and I know I worry too much but-" He paused. "We both know that I'm happy with who I am today, but we also both know that this isn't a life I would have chosen. That feeling- that dread and what comes with it...it's not something that I'd wish upon anyone."

"I know. I know all of that. But, Derek, I'm suggesting that she could have a concussion and a broken rib and that's it. I'm serious." She replied. "You think if someone survives a life-threatening event then they're changed for every. Not everyone is. People can be okay. Actually, properly, okay. That is something that can happen in the world, no matter how badly it's treated you. And I get why you feel this way but-"

"What if you're wrong?" He asked.

"What?"

"What if you tell me all this and I get there and she's...she's lost an arm? What is the point in reassuring me when you don't actually know anything?"

"Because then you can be mad at me. And that will make you feel better because you are a human being and that is how we work. You'd have to...message Kath for an explanation on that one but- hating me would lessen the pain. So either way, it's worth it. I promise."

He stared at her for a long second before asking, "What if she is deaf? Or blind? Or- has a permanent injury. Or...whatever."

"Then you'd love her anyway."

"But...her career and-"

"I'm talking to a paraplegic neurosurgeon, who is happy ninety percent of the time. I am sure that one day, if you're right, then Meredith would make an excellent...deaf paediatric surgeon. Besides, you already know sign language, and I know you of all people would never leave her for an injury like that."

He sighed. He didn't know what to say to that. Luckily, he didn't have to come up with something himself, as there was two short knocks on the door before it opened.

"Mark-" Liz named instantly as he stepped into the room.

He smiled for a short second before speaking, "You can see her now, Derek."

"Is she okay?" Liz asked when Derek didn't. Or, rather couldn't.

"She-" He sighed. He didn't look at Derek as he answered. "She needs surgery. But she's going to be fine."