"Do you know who is on your service today?"

"Um- uh- what's-his-face. But not you, if that's what you're asking." Derek answered. He gave a brief nod of thanks as she opened the door for him so he could enter the hospital.

Meredith snorted, but was a little intrigued. "Who is what's-his-face?"

"Dr- Dallias? I've only had him once, okay?" He noted. "And don't laugh at me, or I'll blame it on the brain damage and make you feel bad."

She laughed again. "I won't feel bad. You know I enjoy insulting you. But, seeing as I don't get neuro today, make me jealous- any cool surgeries?"

"A craniopharyngioma at nine to start my day."

"To start your day?" She asked, confused as she glanced at her watch. "It's five to seven now."

"I don't start until eight." He explained as they reached the elevators.

"Then why are you here now? Don't tell me you're here because you wanted to drive me to work."

"I have a session."

"Physio?" She assumed.

"Therapy." He answered, purposefully waiting for the elevator doors to close.

"You...you go to therapy?" She asked, surprised. Although, she had no idea why she hadn't thought of that before. From what she'd heard about his last year and a half (or specifically five-hundred-and-two days), he needed a therapist.

"Mmm." He agreed. "But only once every two weeks. It used to be every five seconds, or at least it felt like that. I only go because one of my sisters is a therapist and she said if I stop going, she'll come here and do it herself and- yeah, let's just say the threat worked."

Meredith smiled. "Four sisters, right?"

"Don't remind me." He sighed.

"Ever talked about me in therapy?" She asked, only partly joking.

"Maybe." He muttered.

"Really?" She asked, intrigued.

"Yeah. She wanted to know who the most idiotic, stupid intern was, and my first thought was one that started with a M and ended with a-"

She jabbed his shoulder with her elbow before stepping towards the exit to the elevator. "Just for that, I'm gonna go now."

"This isn't your floor." He noted.

She smiled. "I know. But I also know you can't follow me because I have to go up stairs, and you can't do that."

"You're right; you do enjoy offending me."

"Enjoy being shrinked." She returned as her smile expanded to a smirk.

He waited until the doors shut again before smirking to himself. God, he loved her.

"Why am I struggling more than you?" She sighed as she paused for just a second to breathe, dropping her bag to the floor.

"Need a break?" He asked in a purposefully teasing tone.

She sighed, and picked her bag up before hurrying on. She thought wheelchair-users were supposed to absolutely despise hills, but Derek was clearly an exception. He was definitely struggling, but he wasn't complaining. She, on the other hand, had sighed and moaned the whole way there. "No. No breaks. I'm not going to lose to you."

"Lose to me?" Derek asked, smirking.

"Where are we even going anyway? And why does it have to be up such a massive hill?" She sighed. It wasn't at all steep, but the incline had been going on forever.

"We're going to my favourite place, and it's actually great that it's up such a massive hill, because that's where all my muscles came from."

"Muscles?" Meredith repeated with a creased brow, looking round to him. It sounded like she had never heard the word, or at least had never associated the word with him. She was joking, of course.

"I hate you." He sighed.

"You love me." She rebutted without a thought.

He smirked, simply to hide his panic at that statement. "Sure I do. Now, you see where there are no trees in a few metres- once we reach that bit, you'll agree that the hill was worth it."

"No hill is ever worth it. They're just so...Woah." Meredith sighed as they reached the clearing he was referring to. Maybe this hill was worth it after all.

She was aware that they were above Seattle and that the view would be good, but she didn't think it would be this good. She could see what felt like millions of houses, and Puget Sound, and the Space Needle, and the-

"I like the view because you can see every ferry boat in Seattle from here, no matter where they are." He said, reading her mind. Then again, she probably wouldn't have considered the boats if it wasn't for him.

"Yeah." She sighed, still breathing in the view. She continued to admire the view for a few seconds before walking off the path to the large patch of grass beside it. No one else was sat there, which she thought was odd, but great for them. "This is a beautiful place to sit."

"Mmm." He agreed, looking out. He'd been there almost a hundred times, he estimated, but it never got any less wonderful.

She looked over to him, and her eyebrows creased. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." He answered, confused about why she was asking the question. "Why?"

"I know I said I was struggling, but you look like you were too."

"I don't complain." He said through a shrug. As much as he hated what he had gone through, it changed some aspects of his life for the better. He didn't complain about the hill, despite how horrible it was, because he'd done worse and been in far much more pain before.

"You don't complain because there's nothing to complain about, or because you don't want to?"

"I don't have anything to complain about."

She walked over to the spot just next to their picnic which he had chosen to wait in before putting her hand against his forehead. "You feel like you have a fever."

"I'm a little hot, so what?" He asked rhetorically. He was aware that he was sweating, and that he was feeling a little lightheaded, but he didn't want to ask to stop. Earnestly, he was determined to prove that he was perfectly capable of doing things that an able-bodied counterpart could. Although, he wasn't sure if he was trying to prove that to her or to himself. Either way, he was hiding his feelings. "It's a hot day. I'm fine."

"You need something to cool you down." She said, clear concern in her voice.

He sighed. "Meredith-"

"Put your hand on your forehead."

"Mer, I'm not going to-" He tried before being interrupted.

"Do it." She begged.

He sighed, followed her instruction, and swallowed at the result. He didn't feel any cooler than the patient he had had yesterday with a post-operative infection that resulted in a fever.

"Take your shirt off."

"What?" He asked. He had heard her. Or, at least, he was pretty sure that he heard her, except he had no idea why she would say that.

"Men do it. I saw like two just on the way up here." She explained with a shrug.

"You know why I don't want to."

"Because you're an idiot who wants to sweat to death?" Meredith suggested with a smirk. "C'mon, use your brain, neurosurgeon. Really bad things happen when you're hyperthermic, you know that."

"I'm not hyperthermic though, am I?" He rebutted. "It's hot, but it's not heat-stroke hot."

"Ever read a study on paraplegia and crappy thermoregulation? Your hot is probably heat-stroke hot, you know?" She asked rhetorically; she was sure he had read hundreds of studies into the secondary effects and problems that came with his injury as both a neurosurgeon and a person with a spinal cord injury. "Just take your shirt off. Or I'll have to do it."

"You'll have to take your shirt off?" He said with one of his stupid, but also extremely lovable, smirks.

She paused to frown at him. "Really? You're immature. If you don't take your own shirt off, I will, that's what I meant. Not that I'd be taking my own off."

He snorted. "I'd like to see you try."

"Oh, you would, would you?" She asked with a smirk and a raised brow. A threat. A competition. A dare. She loved all three.

"I would love to."

"Are you sure? Because I'm gonna win." She stated as she approached him again.

"Sure you are." He said, still smirking.

She thought it would be easy, but it wasn't. She made a grab for the bottom of his shirt but, before she could even reach the hardest barrier of his arms, he was grasping her forearms. Damn. She pulled harder, one hand slipping into the gap between his body and his t-shirt in the hope a different kind of force would make her win. She pulled up, stepping forward so she had more power until suddenly...thud.

"Oh my god!" Meredith exclaimed before her hands cupped around her mouth.

"Oww." He groaned, eyes releasing from their previous wince. "Jesus."

He was alive.

Still alive.

Thank freaking god.

She thought she'd killed him, which wouldn't be great for him, or any of his friends, or her because she was in love with him, or her because if he died on a picnic with her, everyone would know there was something going on.

"I am so sorry." She dropped to her knees beside him. "Just- just tell me what to do. Are you okay? Are you in pain?"

"Just a little strain." He muttered as he pushed himself up into a sitting position by placing his palms against the floor. Luckily, he was on grass; he would probably have a head injury if he was on the path and smashed his head into the concrete.

"It was an accident. I'm so, so, so, so sorry." She repeated. She couldn't believe she'd just done that. "Can I do anything to help?"

"I'm fine, really." He reassured her as he grasped his legs to move them out of the uncomfortable position that the fall had put them in before placing them into a loose cross-legged position. That way, he could flip his chair the right way round without having to move quite as much. He looked back to her and smiled with her favourite grin. "It's okay, Mer. Promise."

"It's not. It's not okay."

"I don't have anti-tippers, and that means I fall sometimes. It's okay, promise." He reassured her. Removing them gave him more freedom, but also meant he could fall backwards.

"Are you sure?"

"Sure. Now, can you set up the blanket so I can eat those sausage rolls? I'm starving."

She smirked. "Of course."

After Meredith had set up the picnic blanket purposefully beside him for an easy move, Derek shuffled over. It saved him from getting up, just to drop again. Floor transfers were his least favourite. Scratch that. He despised floor transfers.

"Are you sure that didn't hurt?"

He smiled. "I'm sure. Little twinge, but I have done that plenty of times before, and I'm always fine."

"Are you sure it's just a little twinge?" She asked before letting a smile settle across her lips. "I'm a doctor, you know?"

His smile became a grin. "Believe it or not, so am I. Now, sausage rolls!"

"Oh, right-" She said, turning to look through the bag of food she'd brought with her. She grabbed the nearest item and chucked it in her lap before repeating until the bag was empty.

She grabbed the pack he was so desperate for before turning back to look at him. Time froze when she did that, because he. Was. Shirtless.

"Meredith?"

Nothing.

"Meredith?"

Still nothing.

"Meredith, are you having a stroke?" He asked, because he knew it would catch her attention.

Her eyes very slowly lifted, but she looked like she had just woken up from a long nap and wasn't quite awake yet. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

Then she was red. How the hell did she not realize that he was going to notice her if he had a trance in the direction of abdomen? "Yes."

He sighed, and grabbed his t-shirt.

"What are you doing?"

"I told you they freaked you out. What you said that day you came over was great, and maybe it was true, but they still-"

"Derek-" She grabbed his t-shirt. She didn't tug it out of his hand, but wasn't going to let go either. "I'm not freaking out over your scars. Seriously, I couldn't care less."

"Then what were you staring at?"

"Don't laugh. Promise me you won't laugh."

His eyebrows creased. "Okay. I won't."

"It's just...you have a lot of...lines."

"Lines?" He repeated.

"Of...definition."

He snorted. "I have lots of lines of definition? What the hell does that mean?"

"Um-" She swallowed, feeling her cheeks burn. Why did she do these things to herself? She should have just lied. Or not let her eyes do that in the first place.

"Are you sure you're not having a stroke?" He asked, jokingly, but also with concern, because he was worried about the fact that her brain appeared to be shutting down.

"I think you're- um-"

"That's not a sentence, you know." He whispered, as if he was a reminder, not part of the conversation. "Sentences need meaning."

"Hot, okay?" She finally cracked, speaking quickly so she wouldn't have time to process what she was saying and stop. She'd just have to be embarrassed later. "I find you attractive when you are not wearing a shirt. I'm sure most women would. Good...good lines of definition."

Right. Now he understood what 'lines of definition' were. Although, he dreaded how red she'd turn if she hadn't used a code name. He stared at her blankly for a second before asking, "Do you find me attractive with a shirt on as well?"

She didn't reply, but frowned. The problem was, as much as she wanted to give him the silent treatment, she could see that a smile was quickly approaching. "Don't laugh. You promised you wouldn't so don't-"

He couldn't help it, and chuckled. She was just so, so, so, so damn cute when she was all embarrassed and blushing.

She hurled his precious packet of sausage rolls at him, hitting him in the arm, but the pout she was making when he looked back to her just made him think she was even cuter.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Uh- I don't think so." He said, looking down at the picnic blanket which Meredith was half-way through packing up.

"So you've given up on shirts. Not sure that's allowed at the hospital."

"Oh-" He breathed. He'd completely forgotten that he'd taken his shirt off. He...he'd completely forgotten that he'd taken his shirt off. How had he done that? He was so self-conscious just a few hours ago, and he'd had worries for over a year about it but- Meredith. Meredith was the answer. Of course she was. He'd said to Mark that he was hoping she'd convince him they weren't so bad, and she'd actually done it. "I uh- I think I'll leave it off."

"Really?" She asked. "You know we're going to see people, right?"

"Yeah, I know." He replied with a broad grin.

She looked up at him at the slight vulnerability she could hear in his voice, then read his smile. So, of course, she beamed back.

She loved a lot of things, but seeing him happy was what brought her the most joy.

"What's wrong with Dr Shepherd?"

"What?" Meredith asked, looking up from her book. Before that, she wasn't even listening to their conversation, too absorbed by learning, but that peaked her interest.

"On Tuesday, with that GSS patient- what happened?" Alex elaborated before taking a bite of his apple.

"You noticed that too?" Izzie asked. She didn't want to bring it up, because everyone made slip ups and she thought she was over thinking it, but it seemed different than a simple mispronunciation.

"What are you guys talking about?" Anthony, one of Dr Weaver's interns, asked.

"We had a patient with GSS, and he tried to say the name, but he couldn't say it." Alex explained. "Well, Straussler specifically."

"Really?" The man asked rhetorically. He always found it odd that Dr Shepherd was allowed to be a doctor, so wasn't particularly shocked by a slip up.

"Mmm." Cristina agreed. "I thought I was the only one who noticed too. Did you Meredith?"

"It's German. He doesn't speak German." She stated simply, trying her best not to let her voice rise in amplitude. She wanted to react, but knew she couldn't.

"Neither do I, and I can say it." Izzie said pointedly. "You'd think you'd be able to, being head of neurosurgery, even if he doesn't speak German."

Anthony nodded. "I know right."

"Yeah. It was weird. And then Bailey had a pretend patient to discuss so he could leave." Izzie continued.

Anthony smirked. "Probably screw up his brain when he screwed up his spine. Wouldn't be surprised."

"Why is that funny?" Meredith asked.

His eyebrows creased. "I didn't say it was funny."

"Why are you smiling then?"

"Okay, jeez. I was just suggesting something. I don't know what happened to the guy, do I?" He asked rhetorically. "No one knows. He likes being all mysterious for the fun of it. I mean, I know people call people attention seekers when they go round shouting about their lives, but, honestly, the silent kind is far, far worse. Pretends to be all humble and quiet, but he gets far more from that than he would if he told people. And people don't see through it. You clearly don't."

"Imagine if everywhere you went, people came up to you and asked for your medical history and what happened to you. Do you think you'd want to tell them? Do you think you'd get annoyed after the five-hundredth ask?"

"Okay. Fine." He sighed. That was a good point, he supposed. "But don't you think you should have told someone? Like- the chief? He should be informed of any screw ups like that."

"Bailey was there." Izzie noted. "We shouldn't need to tell anyone, she should have."

"But she didn't, because he still works here." The man replied.

"Why should he be fired for mispronouncing a word?" Meredith asked, clenching her fist under the table in the hope that it would absorb a little of her anger before she burst.

"It's not the fact that he mispronounced a word. It's the fact that he clearly has something wrong with him that caused that to happen. If you can't speak properly, you can't be cutting into people's brains."

"He had AOS. There's nothing wrong with his ability to be a surgeon, he just finds long and foreign words hard to pronounce because he has a disconnect between his mouth and his brain. He is perfectly capable to cut into people's brains."

"How do you know he had AOS?" Izzie asked, eyebrows creasing. "Do you know what happened to him as well?"

"I know because he told me. But no, I have no clue what happened to him."

"Why did he tell you?"

"Because I asked." She answered, which was a lie. He just kind of spat it out in their conversation, but they didn't need to know that. They didn't even know that she had conversations with him other than about patients.

"Look, Grey, why does this even matter to you? He's just some attending. I know he's supposedly good, but like- it would have been so much easier if they just hired someone else, you know? And, before you say something, yes, I know what AOS is but like- seriously, if you can't talk to patients, I still don't think you should be allowed to poke around in their brains. You're just- so defensive. I mean, I know it's 2005 and all- but that doesn't mean you get to push your inclusive ideas on me. If I don't think he should be a surgeon, then I can think that. Free speech. I'm especially allowed free speech when I'm right. Which I am."

She swallowed. All she had to do was think, and not say something stupid. "In high school, I had a friend. Her name was Eloise, and she had spina bifida. I had to sit around and listen to everyone making jokes about her every five seconds in class and at lunch and it just- she used to cry a lot because of how people talked about her. So, now, I just- it's wrong to talk about people like that, okay? If you know when you're wrong or rude, you can correct yourself and be a better person. So, yes, I do that, and yes, I'm defensive. Maybe if you just remembered that people with disabilities are still people, then I wouldn't have to. I don't care about your freaking free speech when you're being wrong. Free speech is supposed to be something good, and you're calling it out when discriminating against someone. How hard is it for you to realize that he's a human with feelings too? Honestly!" She sighed as she stood, pushed her food tray away, and left the cafeteria with a huff.

"Meredith, I need to talk to you."

"Yeah." She replied absentmindedly, not looking up from the chart she was writing on. That meant she didn't see the stern look on her face.

"Privately."

"Oh. Right." She said as she stood. After a quick glance around the hall, she noted that there were no on-call rooms, but she didn't really want to go in one of those with her anyway because of their connotations. She spotted a patient room that she was pretty sure was empty and headed to it. Fortunately, when she got there, she confirmed that it was. "What do you want to talk about?"

Cristina shut the door behind her as she walked in, a not-so-friendly look on her face. "Your friend, Eloise."

"My- oh, Eloise from school. We're not really friend anymore. She's in Boston, I haven't seen her in like ten years."

"Eloise doesn't exist Meredith."

"What do you mean she doesn't exist?" She asked, putting on her best confused face. She did have a friend called Eloise in high school, but had made up the rest. She just needed to deflect so she wouldn't give away her feelings for Derek. Now, whenever she said something defensive, she could just talk about this poor imaginary friend and no one would have the slightest clue why she was really so defensive. It was perfect. Unless maybe it wasn't, seeing as Cristina had clearly seen through her lies.

"I mean you made her up." Cristina clarified.

"She's a real person."

"Sure she is." She murmured sardonically.

"What, you think I just made her up for fun? Why would I make up a person?" Meredith asked, hoping that if Cristina had to question her beliefs, she'd back down.

"You don't like me dating Burke. You think it's too complicated and messy to date an attending, right?"

"Cris-"

"So, basically, you're a hypocrite." She concluded.

"Cristina, I don't-" She tried.

"You're screwing Derek Shepherd." She stated without a quaver in her voice. "I know you are. I'm not blind like the others. To be honest, I don't know how I didn't notice it before."

"I am not screwing Derek Shepherd."

"Meredith, you are."

"No, I'm not!"

"So what the hell was that in the cafeteria? You weren't defensive because you had some poor little friend called Eloise, you were defensive because you like him."

"I'm not screwing him."

"Meredith, you-" She paused as she considered the inflections in her tone, particularly the emphasis on 'screwing'. It told her she wasn't having sex with him, but there was something going on. Which, honestly, she should have considered before, seeing as she had no idea whether the man could even do any of that. "You're not screwing with him?"

"No." She sighed, hoping that the argument would be over.

"But you're dating him."

"I'm not."

"Oh, no. Meredith-" Cristina muttered. If they weren't sleeping together, and they weren't dating, then that meant one thing. "Please don't tell me you're 'just friends' with feelings."

Meredith sighed. There was no point lying about it anymore and, if she had to choose someone to tell, it would be the woman in front of her anyway. "We...we're 'just friends' with feelings."