Derek parked at a side door to the hospital. Meredith didn't move. She heard the click-ding-slam of him getting out, like she had when he'd parked in front for Lexie to take Zola in alone for the first time. Meredith had rallied, then. She'd smiled, kissed her baby, told her she loved her. Zola knew. She knew she was loved. She hoped. She hoped. She hoped.
This time, she didn't have to rally. Her knees didn't come to her chest, but she pulled up as far as she could. Five minutes. He'd take the paperwork up to Kepner, and then they'd go home. She hadn't fought against riding over. Home alone, she would've given into the urge making her dig her nails into her shoulder. It was pathetic that she could be sure of that, even after—
The door she was leaning against opened. Derek caught her shoulder before her brain could register the feeling of falling. Her heart still started pounding hard enough that she imagined it fracturing ribs. (Could that happen? Cristina would know. She knew. She'd known.)
"Let's go, love," Derek murmured, leaning in to unfasten her seatbelt..
"I'm not going in. I already called in crazy." She'd actually taken a personal day, and the scheduler had made a knowing sound when she realized Meredith didn't have surgeries to be pushed. Let everyone think she was avoiding the skills lab. At least she wasn't fucking up patients' lives like she did everyone else's.
"I didn't. I called Dr. Wyatt."
"You said you'd..." She pressed a fist against her mouth. What right did she have—
"I'm staying with you," he said, like she'd finished her sentence. "I…I don't know what to do if we just go home. This isn't my field, so I called for a consult."
"There's no point."
"You don't think that."
"You don't know what I think! No one does! I don't. I try. I try to…to explain everything, and challenge my thoughts, and I just can't do it—"
"—alone—."
"—I'm a lemon."
"That's not true. It never was. You know that. Look, no treatment plan is perfect. Yours might need adjustment, or it may be a time thing…. I don't know, but Dr. Wyatt will. So, either you walk in, or I'll carry you until we come across an empty wheelchair. Your choice."
For a second she was an intern, seeing everyone realize the woman screaming about their incompetence was her mother. It could be her one day.
But not today.
Going quietly didn't have to mean going cooperatively. She started the process of unfolding her limbs by raising her middle finger. Even that felt like an accomplishment.. Everything was heavy. The air, her legs trying to move through it, her head. Like trying to walk through Jell-O
Derek put an arm over her shoulders. "Thank you."
She wanted to pull away and run, and maybe never stop running. Lexie had probably felt like that the other night at Thatcher's. She'd wanted to go over there even after Lexie had left to tell Dani what she thought of those stupid purses. To ask Thatcher if he was capable of considering two people at once. If he was in some sort of Stockholm situation and needed help. If he planned to alienate Molly next, in which case, he should reconsider. Derek had talked her out of it. Today, she didn't feel like a person who could have..
"Do you want me to wait out here, or go in?" Derek asked in front of the bank of chairs that flanked Wyatt's office.
"Round on your post-ops."
"Already delegated for Operation E.R.,"
"Go do that. Find Kepner."
"Out here or in there."
She thought of Zola yesterday morning, protesting against the clothes they'd laid out. "No ov'alls!" She'd been the one to calmly repeat, "The purple or the yellow, Zo."
"Fine. In." He'd talk. He couldn't help it. He'd talk, and she could—what? Go over it in her head again for the hundredth time?
The urge-want-need to run hit her more strongly at the threshold of the office. She grabbed Derek's hand. Taking off on her own in a hospital was such an appealing option that it scared her. Sharps. Heat. Needles. Death tried everything once. I never rulled out doing them twice.
She wasn't interested in giving up; that wasn't it. She only—She'd fucked up, and she could barely feel Derek's fingers on her hand; she was numb almost everywhere. She didn't deserve that. She deserved the way her head was pounding, and something was broken in her chest. Broken in her.
Her free hand closed over her left forearm. Pain pooled underneath it. She could feel that. It hurt. It should hurt. It should hurt for-fucking-ever.
She slid back to the far corner of Wyatt's sofa, and stared at the knees of the stiff maternity jeans she'd bought out with Callie and Lexie. How had she been that person three weeks ago? How had she been the person she was yesterday?
"Tell me what happened, Meredith," Dr. Wyatt instructed. Meredith waited. Derek was bound to jump in. The man couldn't stand silence. "We've been here before. You know I can't help you if you don't talk to me."
Of course they'd been here before. That was how it worked with a lemon. Like in school, where she'd go through periods of actually putting an effort in, impressing her teachers, and eventually her grades would slide again, when her mother nabaged to find fault in a nearly-perfect report card. She couldn't do it for herself.
But this wasn't about her.
"Last night, Zola saw."
"Tell me what happened."
Derek shifted. "She—"
Meredith thought she regretted not seeing the expression that quelled him. She didn't feel it. "Zola saw."
"What did she see?"
Meredith yanked up the sleeve of her hoodie. It pulled the gauze off at the same time, uncovering a cut—a tear. Jagged. Imprecise. "This."
"What did she see?" Wyatt repeated, as Derek brought the hand holding hers closer, extending her arm to tug the bandage back down. She didn't blame him. It was an ugly thing. It would leave an ugly scar.
"She saw me cut myself," Meredith ground out, her teeth clenched. The words made her nauseous, but that wouldn't eject the vile thing in her. That was probably able to cross the placental-wbarrier and infect the fetus trying to survive in a hostile uterus.
"Okay. Tell me what happened."
Forget not looking at Wyatt, shame was already mixed in wwith the roiling nausea. She raised her eyes to glare at her. Wyatt held her gaze, and Meredith searched her face for disdain, pity, exasperation, disgust—any of the reactions my two-year-old saw me cut myself should garner.
"Mer." Derek shouldn't be able to look at her like he was, either. There was more concern than usual, his features were drawn, but he wasn't upset at her. "You haven't logged this one. You need to do that."
"Why? It's not working! Nothing is working!"
"That's not true. Look." Derek held up the journal she hadn't seen him grab leaving the house. "The sixteenth. The twenty-ninth What was yesterday?"
"It doesn't…. The seventh," she mumbled. "Thirteen days, then ten. That…it's hardly better."
"What are the other dates on this chart? There are a lot more of them."
"The times I didn't. That I wanted to, but you get me past it."
"Where was I on the nineteenth? The third? Last night?"
"Wrong column."
"Yeah, I'm not convinced. I don't think that wound was wholly intentional."
She shrugged. It didn't matter. What happened was what mattered was what happened. Intentions got you damned.
"There's a cat scratch directly above it. Right here." He gestured with the back of his finger hovering above the gauze, like he'd done showing her an isolated fourth ventricle on a scan. "Those usually come in pairs around a cut. Why?"
"Sometimes…Sometimes it's enough. The first sting. It's like the rubber band. But…if I can't feel it, even pressing harder…. I have to…to see iblood. To feel it hurt. That's why they're not a reasonable alternative; too likely to get worse. Still using a bladeo on my skin. Still something that she shouldn't have seen."
"She didn't, did she? See the cat scratch?"
"No. I don't even remember doing that. I only…I…." She swallowed and pressed her palm to her forehead.
"Hey." Derek rubbed her shoulder. "You're trying to start in the middle. Rewind with me. We went to dinner. Lexie got free soft pretzels by flirting with the waiter. You said it was Dani's influence. If her cup hadn't had a lid, you would've taken a soda shower. We talked a little bit about what the hospital will be like without an E.R., and what it'll mean for the other hospitals in the area."
She nodded. One of Lexie's new friends had a husband who was a nurse at Virginia Mason, and some of the Roseridge staff had connections to Pres, and she'd been getting waylaid since the news broke.
"You dropped me at the hospital. Four hours of spreadsheets later, I realized I hadn't heard from you."
"You were busy."
"Usually, that gets me more pictures of Zola. Karev texted me. He had to go in on a bowel obstruction, and you hadn't, quote, 'used the codeword,' but you were, uh, in your head and not having much luck with distractions."
"Tattletale."
"I started to call, but then Lexie put that she was on her way home into the group message. Needing a better tie for today was the only other excuse I'd come up with, and you could've easily brought one with you today. You're better at choosing them, anyway."
"Dark blue, so the people you should be convinicng to save the E.R. will think you're trustworthy."
"April's got it."
"April failed her boards, people'll say 'conflict of interest' once, and she'll deflate. You can sell any—"
"'We need an E.R.,' shouldn't require salesmanship."
"But you have it. We…We're why this happened, so we need to help fix it. You're all Irish eyes, silver tongue charming, and people feel comfortable doing what's right, not what's popular. It's not…I know you hated being chief, but your a born leader, so…. You need to be up there. We can do this part later. I'm not going to fight you on it."
"On what?"
"I'm crazy and made of pregnancy hormones, but not stupid, right? That's your line. I get it. You're sending me down the hall. It's….I'm…nothing's…fine, but if they're sure—There are psych meds that are safe enough? If it's a matter of…of not getting worse?"
"There are," Dr. Wyatt said. "If you decide that's something you want to try."
"I-I don't…. They just…tend to default to that. So. So. Okay. It's okay."
"Is that…? Did you…? Do you think you need to be admitted?"
"I'm not super up on my own judgement today."
"Do you want to be?"
"I…I mean, who does? 'Voluntary' just means 'not forced by law,' and I didn't make you drag me."
"Wait—"
"I-I don't have any big cases coming up. Dunno when I will. We need the E.R.. There are so many patients out there who won't come in otherwise. Have you told Cahill how many aneurysms and tumors we diagnose from walk-ins?"
"How many you discover. Mer—"
"So, there's just…Can you make sure Bailey handles Larkin's next dilation? Richard might not…. He could handle her tics, but he might not appreciate her humor."
"I-I would do that, yeah, but Mer…stop for a second. Can you…look at me, please."
She wasn't going anywhere, but she didn't blame him for needing the reminder that she was with him. She wasn't going to disappear into herself like Cristina had done.
She lifted her gaze, and almost flinched away, like she had when she was an intern who hadn't known what to do with all the emotions she'd seen in them. He looked like he had telling his mother about Mark, the glistening only excentuating his anguish.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you we were coming here. I can't believe you came in with me thinking…." He sighed, and all she could see was the weight she'd put on his shoulders. "I didn't make this appointment to get you admitted. I don't think it's necessary. If I'm wrong, please tell me. "
"But…Zola saw. She's…She's so smart, and she comprehends more than we know. Even if she's not…. If she doesn't think…doesn't understand…she could say something. What if she nabs a play knife and reenacts the whole thing next time she's the mama playing house? You don't think they'll have questions?"
"I think we're surgeons. I think they know we're teaching her knife safety in the kitchen. I think she could say she was cutting like Mama, and they'd think she meant your work."
"You think the Wench will give me the benefit of—?"
"She's never in the playroom. Her teachers talk to us first. If you have to tell them that there was an accident—which there was—no more questions will be asked."
"Cristina's gonna…. She knew…. She…She knew this would happen. Why didn't you? You…You…You know all of it, and you let me…! You let me take her home…. You trust me with her, and I-I did the one thing—!"
"Did you tell Zola to come to our bathroom last night?"
"No, but—"
"Did you tell her not to?"
Did you plant the seed like your mother did to you?
"No. I thought… I checked. She was asleep. You couldn't have…when you left…I was…I was okay. Taking care of her, I'm okay. Then… I was reading…trying to…but I started thinking…. My brain was just…spinning over the E.R. What we said at dinner. How people are gonna lose their jobs. Lose income. Even if they get reassigned—They shouldn't. E.R. nurses like Tyler have skills that belong in an E.R. They probably knew Cahill was malingering, and were taking their time before dealing with a drug-seeker. They were doing their jobs…and so was she. I don't know what she's been through to leave surgery for that, but I've been through plenty, and I'd never close an E.R. at a trauma center. I don't what I'd do if I couldn't operate.
"I'd be okay, though. Financially. Which isn't fair. We sued f-for Mark, and…and equipment, and surgeries. I made the numbers higher. But I was on the plane. It did affect me. I wouldn't be like this if it hadn't. All anyone knows is that I got banged long could fifteen million keep an E.R. Going for? E.R.s aren't about profit. It's about equality, but…but the money….
"I didn't…. I don't know what to do about it. There was definitely nothing I could do last night. I have no background in admin, or finance, or…or anything. We'd be losing so many patients—so many opportunities. If she actually gets her hernia clinic, that could be my future. All hernias, no Harper Averys. That was such an Ellis thing—the idea of jumping ship was so Ellis—I had those thoughts cycloning through my mind, and at the same time, all I was thinking was…. It was my fault. It was almost worse than the woods. I knew it wasn't. No one was dying…yet. But it felt like that.
}I'd think about doing something actually on the list, and…and.… I couldn't. I can't. When I'm alone,. I'll decide, okay, I'm going to work out, and I'll shower, and Lexie will be back, and that will play out in my head, like I'm watching myself from above. Like, I'm a Sim."
She paused, raising her eyes first to one listener, then the other, to make sure they got the reference. She'd played it to prove to herself that she wasn't only interested in medical simulator games. As primitive as those were, every time she'd thought duh, doesn't everyone know that? had been a boost in the gray Grey years where pursuing medicine in any real way felt impossible.
She'd gotten past that.
"I-I guess this is dissociating, but it doesn't feel like…like how that usually happens to me.I'm the Sim, but I'm also the player. The one watching. Judging. And no matter what I was gonna do, I imagine myself doing it and it feels…foolish.
"Alex and I had been texting about the potty provocateur—"
"That's it! That's what we're calling that whole situation. The War of the Potty Provocateur. Er…." Derek looked askance at Wyatt, who nodded, once. What else did Meredith have to talk about when she didn't want to talk about herself? "Sorry."
"Nah, I like it. Says what's true: she's got five kids under three asking to be trained so they can break a stupid rule."
Derek gave her the our kid is perfect smile, with his eyebrow raised, and she's just like you. She looked down at her hands. He'd cleaned them with a washcloth, but every other time she'd thought about it, they'd still felt sticky with blood.
"I told him I was guilting out over the E.R. He had practical points about some of my catastrophizing, but then he had to go. He suggested the ice thing. I saw myself standing in the kitchen with Zola's butterfly icepacks, and I cringed. At the image, and at…at why I'd be doing that. The more I need to interrupt the cycle, the more ridiculous and shameful it feels.
"That's where I was when Lexie texted. I had forty-five minutes before I could focus on her, and usually that…it works. That wasn't long, but it was too long. I knew I'd be better off staying downstairs, but I'd done the dishes, and picked up Zola's toys. The one idea that didn't feel ridiculous was finishing the packet about DBS that I've been putting together for Larkin and her mom. My laptop was upstairs.
"I checked on Zola. I did. She was asleep. I wasn't planning to stay up there, but the monitor started beeping. It was just as easy to put it on the charger and sit on the bed. But I couldn't concentrate, and I was so frustrated…. I looked at the monitor when I got up, I swear. She was asleep. I swear, she…."
Fuck. She buried her face in her arms. She hadn't cried. Not since the first confused moment when she'd felt the shock of the jab brought more pain than she'd expected—needed, wanted—and looked over into Zola's curious brown eyes, and been sure she was in a nightmare. That couldn't be actual pain. It was the last cut, seeping in the second she woke up. She had to be waking up. Wake up wake up.
"Mama cry. Owie?"
Mommy cried. She cried, and she cut her arms, and she cried, cried, cried.
Derek ran his hand from the crown of her head to the back of her neck. "You're almost done."
Liar.
How long would it be before every time she managed to think of something else wasn't followed by reliving the whole thing? Should she be allowed that?
She raised her head, and the tears that had been seeping onto her arms rolled down her cheeks instead. There were tissues on the table, and he still cast them away with his sweater. She remembered making herself cry for that third-party (third-rate) shrink who'd stolen Altman. She'd spent the past two years sure that she'd been in the right. She would have been fine in the O.R. But if she'd kept ignoring the miscarriage, and not telling Derek how much his speeding scared her; she might've held in the next thing, and the next. it would've affected their marriage—might've made it easier to fold into herself with Zola gone, and what that could've led to made her shudder. It could've affected everything.
She had to do this.
"I…I didn't feel like I deserved to be affecting so many lives, and I needed to stop bitching at Cahill because I did this. I needed a reminder. I'd…I'd take care of that, maybe get some work down before Lexie got home, and I'd be fine to go to bed. I don't even…I believe you that there's a scratch…. But in my memory, I positioned the blade, and had just seen the first drop of blood when I heard her. I was startled, but it wasn't just…." She stared at the gauze; the ends had already started to fray from her picking at them. "I felt so…devastated. Shameful. Disgusting." She put her head down again as the ghost of this feelings made her want to rip the bandage down again and jab her finger into the jagged edge she'd made, knowing her toddler could see. "I-I didn't stop right away," she admitted.
Derek's hand flattened on the top of her spine. His left hand had stayed enclosed in hers since he'd recovered the wound, protecting it from infection while her focus was elsewhere. She wondered if she should relax her grip. Eleven weeks post-op, and he only put the brace on a few nights a week. He pouted far more than he would have if it hadn't been a conservative measure. He was made to be a practicing neurosurgeon. There was no doubt of that. She'd rarely felt that certainty. The knowledge that you, your loved ones, the whole universe were all in agreement about what your life should look like. It'd been there with him, too soon. She'd gotten there with Zola. Was her uncertainty hurting the next member of their family?
"Derek, you came in then?" Wyatt asked.
"Mama?" "I didn't stop right away." It was all she could do not to hide her face again after having it all play out in her head again.
"I'm not sure." Derek's hands stayed steady. His voice didn't. "Lexie and I en ded up on the same ferry. I didn't see the cab until we were disembarking, but it's not as though I could've put her in my car. Gotta bite the bullet on that soon. She…I'll tell you later.
"I think we must've woken Zola. The cars, or the doors…. I paid Jean-Philippe. Got Lexie inside, and something felt…." Different. Nothing's different. Meredith stiffened."Off."
She drew in a sharp breath. It wasn't an exact call back, but the rhythm…. His hand shifted to one side—pulling back, slightly, looking at her. Head tilt—and then his fingers curled—slumping, realizing. Both hands moved, gripping her shoulders.
"I…I put you through that again. Having to go in…knowing what you'd—"
"Stop. That's not—Last night wasn't fun for either of us. You…You scared me. You did not do something that completely upended my life. Do you see the difference?"
"I guess." Did it matter? Did the effect matter if the experience was so similar?
"Hey." He touched his forehead to hers. "You know you were the first person I told that story to? Not my sisters. Not my mom—though I did say 'fucking' in front of her for the first time in my life when she asked what happened. When it came to trusting someone with the whole of that trauma? You were it. You are it."
So trust me. That was what he was saying. She wished hearing him say things like The whole of that trauma didn't give her a version of the feeling she got considering replacement skills. This would all be easier without her instinctual disdain for psych. Was it just her generation, made more aware of mental illness by deinstitutionalization, but not more accepting. "God, you're so depressing. Someone call Charter!" Her mother, who pretended her own breakdown never happened? "Meredith, if you can't get it together, I'm taking you to get your head examined." Had she done it to herself? If the counselor ships me off toMclean, Mom will disown me.
His mother had ensured that he and Amelia spoke to whatever form of counselor or therapist was en vogue in '78—and it'd still taken him two yeas to tell her about his dad. He had told her, though. Like he'd told her about another major trauma, sounding almost exactly like he did summarizing last night.
"You…. When you came in, did you—?"
"I didn't—I can't have sensed anything, or I would've gone straight to you. I didn't hear Zola, but we didn't pass through that way. Lexie…. We're going to do a run-through on which of her meds can and can't be mixed with alcohol."
"Seriously? Is she crazy?" For the first time in twelve hours, Meredith's mind completely shifted focus. Fury at the situation her sister could've put herself in made her throat tighten, and the pressure of tears built up near the bridge of her nose. Then, she realized what she'd said, and the tears coincided with laughter. "No. She's a freaking Grey. Was she…? She seemed okay this morning."
"She was just out of it. I've seen worse."
"I've been worse; that's not the point.
Had Lexie been given the clubbing talk by some older sorority sister? If so, too bad. She was going to get it from her actual older sister, too.
"We used the sling to transfer her, and that takes a minute. I was leaving her room when I heard Zola…." He cleared his throat, and clasped his hands in front of him. "Mer, I don't…. I let…I feel like I let you down."
"Huh? Go back, I missed a turn. That only happens when we're in the O.R.," she added as an aside to Wyatt. Trying to explain what had happened last year had involved a lot of floundering; how could she explain the lack of.a feeling? How giving up something she cherished that quickly was nothing like telling Clark to shoot her; that she hadn't given up on her dream to keep him—even if she was willing to throw away her new dream on the chance of having it back.
"There wasn't a feeling. I was focused on Lexie—but something made me come home. I told myself I'd sensed that soemthing was up with Lexie—it wasn't her usual texting style—but that wasn't it. When you hadn't come down by the time we were inside…. I can think of so many excuses, but it wouldn't have woken you. Seeing the possibility that you'd be pissed over being checked on as a risk isn't harm-reduction. It's…cowardice."
"What?" Really, this was not an appropriate time to make her pay for all the times she mystified him.
"Were there ten minutes between you noticing Zola, and me coming upstairs?"
(There was forever. Everything happened so fast.)
"Probably not."
"Were there five?"
("Ma—" "Ow!" fu "—ma?" ck. Zola's here. She can't be. Wake up, wake up, Meredith. "Zola-Zola…." Hurts. Should hurt. I should. " Don't b-b—" She can be scared. Of course she's scared. Drop the scalpel. "Mama's okay…it's only a…" a cut a cut she saw me cut. She covered it with her hand. "Shh—hurts…S'only a…" Blood oozed up between her fingers and trailed down Mommy's arm. "blood…." Did she say that? Only a blood? No...Mom…Mommy said, it's only blood. Mommy said, don't be scared. Meredith saw. Zola saw. Zola was there. Zola was…. Zola wasn't there. She'd lost it; that was a nightmare, hallucination, break with reality. "Mer?" Derek? "Hi night, Daddy!" Derek was at the hospital. "Hey, princess. What are you doing, huh?" "Up-tairs! Mama has ow!" Derek was here. He heard Zola. Zola saw, Zola saw, Zolasaw….)
Had that been more than five minutes? Five minutes less than an eternity? "I don't…."
"When I called to you, I was halfway up the stairs."
Had she already let her trembling knees by then?
("Let's get you back in bed, so I can take care of Mama— Mer, I'll be right there. Hold on. Just…stay. Please, baby—Mama is a big girl. Sometimes 'baby' means someone you love with everything you are.")
No. That was where she'd crumpled.
(Stay with her just stay with her I'll be I can I can bleed here that's what I wanted what mattered more than her nothing matters more than her nothing nothing nothing how could I how did I do that tell me I didn't do that tell me she didn't see please please please tell me I'm not that person tell me I'm not that mom.)
"I took her to her room. I…I wanted to put her down and run to you, but I needed to be sure she'd stay. I asked her what all the excitement was about. She said, 'Mama fly,' so, I can tell you she only knows one meaning of excitement.I asked her if she'd just gotten out of bed. I was told she wasn't wet. Did she go to Mama's bed? 'Mama not for-sleep.' That probably means 'asleep,'" he added to Wyatt. "But she's very perceptive."
Hey, I'm sleep-positive. Just bad at it."
"Mmm, your philosophy in relation to your actions is probably beyound her grasp. But she…she told me you weren't in bed. She…She said… Mama ow,' and she held up her arm. I knew that if she was reporting correctly, the situation was even worse for you than I was anticipating. Even cat-scratching there would mean you didn't feel like you had a choice."
"I did. I always—" Dr. Wyatt tapped her pen against her notebook. "I made a lot of choices to get that point, and some of them were good. Some of them weren't good or bad, they just didn't work out. Next time…." There can't be a next time. There can't. "I left the bathroom door open to hear the monitor. Obviously, didn't work. I need to take it with me, or stay where it is. If you hadn't been there—"
Zola might have stayed where she was. Meredith would've had to keep it together to get her in bed. If she hadn't, she could've grabbed a washcloth or toilet paper, or something that absorbed blood. She could've gone after Zola…. Who hadn't been going to suddenly learn to vault the baby gate. She would've come back. Would've been okay, for the time it took Meredith to snap back into reality. Who would've been rapt watching her get it bandaged up, maybe to the point of forgetting how it'd gotten there. It'd only been once she'd heard Derek pick her up that she'd given up.
It would've happened at some point. She understood her patterns well enough to accept that.
"Sometimes listening to her sleep helps," Derek pointed out. "You breathe with her."
"That's something I'd like to take further," Dr. Wyatt cut in. "Does your reaction to using replacement skills in that situation apply to the breathing and mental grounding exercises? Things someone watching you wouldn't be able to see?"
Meredith raised her shoulders, the band-aid covering the steri-striped cut on her shoulder rubbing against her sleeve. Reopening that made no sense, whatsoever; she'd known it, but it'd still felt necessary. Maybe she'd understand if she had to fight that feeling off again, or when she was ready for it to close.
"I'm not sure. I needed something to fill the time. When I'm wound up like that, I think I'm always gonna feel that way, so it's better to do something that's moderately productive. If I think about just trying to breathe for a minute…the time will still be there, except I'll have a minute less of it. Not if it works, obviously, but I'm usually sure nothing will."
"And time is something else being taken from you."
"Yeah."
"Your replacement skills that feel awkward to you, like you're being judged, what's the judgement?"
"That I'm…doing something st—silly. Pointless. Or…or that I wouldn't be doing if I could regulate my emotions like a norm— like someone who was given the skills to do that, and/or had a totally different life."
"Nice save."
"Felt kinda transparent."
"You're not at your best today. Give me an example of a replacement skill that feels pointless."
"Um. Drumming? I'm not gonna be performing again."
"When you were first learning to play, was performance the only reason you ever sat down behind a kit?"
Hell no. Oh. "No. That was why Mom made me play piano, and I hated it. Drums were mine, and there were probably times where I used them to divert and didn't know it."
"Good. Before your next appointment, I want you to go through your list. Without putting thought into it, mark everything that causes that feeling. Then, go back and look more closely at three of those. Consider that dichotomy. If something is pointless, why? Who decides that? Does not having a 'point' preclude meaning? For activities you deem meaningful, who benefits?"
"Wait, is there a worksheet, or…? I don't even have my phone—Derek, you…brought my notebook."
He held it out to her, open to where he'd copied down all of Wyatt's questions. "Your phone is in my bag."
"You don't even know her homework buzzwords, no freaking fair."
"I brought you here under subterfuge, the least I can do is take notes."
"I'm not gonna hold a grudge over that. I get it. It must've been…. I mean, it felt like my worst-case scenario. It wasn't…it wasn't, quite, but…but I still—It was so much closer than I ever…. I'm the pessimist, right? The one who thinks it's gonna start raining stilettos. But I honestly…I thought I'd hear her. I thought not wanting her to see….
"I don't want her to know, but one day…she's a girl in this world. I'll tell her everything if it'll help her not feel alone. I don't want her to discover a whole new side of me when I'm too far gone to explain the progression. It's…it's worse that she's so little, because if we never mention it again, she might not remember, or she will, and she won't have context. We're not gonna know right away. We might never know, and I….I needed Cristina not to be right about this."
"Do you think she was?" Wyatt asked.
"She said Zola was going to see."
"She said Zola would come down to the kitchen, and find you," Derek corrected. "That's not what happened. You weren't in a communal space, or Zola's space. You were in our bathroom. I'd bet Yang's next words were going to be 'bleeding out.' That…That is not remotely what happened. We can honestly tell Zola you were holding something sharp, and you had an accident."
"I could've…I try to avoid being near a vessel, let alone putting that much pressure into it, but that could've…it's not remote enough for me. It's not remote enough from what Mom—"
"You did not sit down and use her to orchestrate a scene that had nothing to do with her, but would traumatize her nonetheless! There was not one part of that situation that was accidental."
"She didn't think to make sure Richard was working. He must've always taken that shift. Zola almost always gets up at night."
"Cristina said other things too in that argument, didn't she?" Wyatt asked.
Derek snorted. "Argument? You described that as an argument?"
"I argued! I'd cornered her; she lashed out. Who's that sound like?"
"Me. I've done that. I've said horrible things to you. And I've learned from it. You stood up for yourself, like you always do! She said—"
"That I shouldn't have the baby like this? I remember!"
Wyatt kept Derek from replying with one hand. "What did you think at that point?"
"That…um…. That I've always been like this. If it hadn't gotten bad this fall, it could've been triggered by postpartum, and wouldn't that be worse? And that by the end I might not be. The flare or whatever could be done. Maybe for good. I don't want it to be part of how I cope, but…here we are.
"I didn't tell her. I didn't lie, but I left it out. She's never seen the scars. For her it's like…like I'm seeking the gunman out."
"You're not?"
"No."
"You want to bring a baby into the world, even with all you've gone through? All you're going through? All your sister is going through?"
"Yes! Yes, because...because that's not all there is. It's not for me, and it won't be for my kid. If they're cursed at birth, it won't matter because their mom is the dark fairy, and even to me, our good days are better than the bad days are bad."
"That's how you feel today?"
"Yes."
"Is today a good day?"
"Starting at midnight? Definitely, no. Could be salvageable. Could get worse. No one we know is actively dying."
"And last night?"
"Was a very bad night."
"You believed Cristina was right about the first part."
"So…did I think she was right about the second? I…I thought she could be. I don't know that she's not. I never wanted her to be. I don't want to have done the one thing….Mom let that day define who she was. I saved her, but the other part of the plan—Derek's right, the one part she wasn't in control of—fell through, and nothing I did after that mattered. I'll always wish I'd grabbed the monitor last night. My mom…in my place, she'd have made it my fault for waking up.
"That's not about the unborn one, is it? Except…like I told her, there's no other option. The stuff that's stressful, it'd be there no matter what, and I don't know if everything will be resolved by the time it's born—or if it'll be born, but the point is, I'm not gonna say, hey kid, rough luck, bad timing.
"I didn't think it could happen. All those months we tried, not knowing Zola just hadn't made travel arrangements…. I don't think a…condition, situation, whatever, that I know can be temporary would ever be a good enough reason for me to call it on a baby. Maybe that's selfish, but I think…even if I'm the crazy mom…I can still be a good one."
"Does that help, Derek?"
"Ah, yeah, it does."
Meredith, who'd been staring Wyatt down for several minutes, followed her gaze to Derek. He rubbed his face before he turned to her. His eyes were red. "Love, you scared me this time. Not with the wound, or that Zola saw. After.
"I should've put her in our bed, or something—anything to get to you immediately…. That was bar-none the worst panic attack I've ever seen, and you weren't responding to me. I was afraid I'd misunderstood, and you'd hit your head. That something was wrong with the baby. Even once you were talking, you'd only tell me to go to Zola, or that she saw. I told you she was in bed, asleep. That she'd been fine. That I wasn't going anywhere."
"That was all…almost all that was in my head, save that I couldn't breathe, and that was bad for the…the baby. Kept waiting for you to say that."
"As though that wouldn't have made you feel worse? No. I just wanted you to know she was okay. I knew the monitor wouldn't be enough proof…I didn't want to leave you—definitely wasn't going to leave you in the bathroom—"
"It helped. That you could just put me down on our bed like I wasn't…toxic waste."
He didn't have to say Jesus, Meredith for her to hear it in his sigh. "Filming her sleeping by the glow of her nightlight wasn't gonna get me Dad of the Year, but if she'd woken up, it might not have been the worst thing. That's what worked this summer. It was definitely more effective."
"Yeah, but for a reason. Last night...you didn't do any of it wrong. You…You were Zola's knight-in-shining-whatever. She was safe, asleep, surrounded by her guys. Like nothing happened. She was okay, because you were there."
"And that's how we got to 'take her with you and go back to work?'"
"You could fix the E.R., and…and keep her safe. I wanted you to go, so I could go over how much I'd screwed up, in detail. You wouldn't let me just not matter."
"Never. Especially not when you kept disappearing."
"Blue screen of Meredith."
"No, that's just…a web processing error." He grinned. So pleased at his cleverness. So right in his understanding of her mind. "Refresh happens quickly, and generally comes with a solution to a problem someone brought up five to ten minutes earlier. Sometimes, it's memory-related…. Those look a lot like the flashbacks from this summer. You're you, but your eyes go further away. I just started really seeing the nuances, but I think you experienced more of your life as trauma than you realize, and those are the memories you're accessing. I can point to a couple times where there was definitely a trigger. When you truly dissociate—"
"That's…. It's not a regular thing. Just at my intern exam, and…and that time with…. The times we talked about in the woods."
"And twice in the past six months. When you're…when you think you're doing something to Zola that Ellis did to you. Something that hurt you. In July, you were totally frozen. Once she was with us…full system reboot. Last night, that wasn't happening. It'd seem you'd clawed your way back like when I brought the video, and then you wouldn't respond for half an hour. I almost went to get her so many times, but I didn't know what I'd do for either of you if it didn't help.
"I didn't know what to do, period. At no point in the past few months have I thought I needed to search out your tools or…or worried about the prescriptions in the house. While I was puttjng Zola down, I could hear you, excrutiating as it was to know you were panickingn and not being there. When you went quiet…knowing this was your biggest fear…. I was afraid to leave you for even that long."
She'd seen where his words would land, but she still flinched at touchdown. She glanced over at Wyatt who only urged her to on with her pen. Zero percent helpful.
"It would've been a lot easier if I'd been able to think, welp, that happened; it could happen again; she's better without me. I couldn't. I believe that if it affects her, she deserves to have me there explaining why I didn't lock every goddamn door. Why I couldn't keep my shit together until another adult was in the house. Why I didn't grab the freaking monitor.
"I fought to get to be her mom. I don't want to risk not getting to see her grow up. So, it's not just that I'm pregnant. Not just her, either. My head was not a well-lit place last night. I didn't have a clear idea of what today or tomorrow would be like, but I-I wanted to get through them.… I don't always recognize feelings or flags…but I do know what it's like to want—to be okay with the idea of dying."
"I wish you didn't."
"Me, too. Except…. It's good to know the difference between the two. Wanting to die versus not wanting to live. I…I'm mostly okay with what the future looks like, except…. Zola…I'll never hurt her, but she…she could be hurt by me."
"We're gonna make a plan for if it happens again. What you'll do; what I'll do. We'll talk to her. We're going to make sure she always has the words she needs."
"Have you told her about the baby, yet?" Wyatt asked. Meredith side-eyed her, and she smiled. She never used any other word for the fetus.
"Soon. I've got to pick up the pile of library books I put on hold. Easier to find than What's Mama Doing with That Blade?"
Derek shook his head, but he was smiling. "If she remembers anything about being two, I think it will have to do with her sibling."
"Their appearances tend to be notable."
"I wouldn't have minded just coming home to help Lexie last night."
"Wouldn't have made sense. I was there."
"You're caring for her twice as much as I am, and I know it sometimes takes you back to the woods."
"Not often, now that she's doing so much on her own. She's my sister. I'm grateful that I could help her fight."
"And you haven't had a break since."
"That's life."
"Both times Cristina has—"
"I'm very much not—"
"—letting me talk?" Derek's hand went to his hair, and Meredith sat up straighter. There it was. "Both times, she's needed a break," he continued, and the calm had already returned. He was going to get mad at some point. Couldn't they get it over with here? "After the shooting, Lexie needed a break. Bailey did, too. Both times, you started working before I was off leave."
"Not in the OR—"
"Not in the one place you're least likely to think about it?"
"I took a month this summer."
"But you didn't take a break."
"I'll be on maternity leave in a few months."
"That's not…that's keeping a newborn alive. I know this is your first year—"
"What if it's not?"
Derek tried to hold it back, but she could see the excitement blossom on his face, second only to her telling him she was pregnant. It might have bothered her, if she hadn't had a similar, if tentative, feeling. "You mean…?"
"When I…lost it last night, it wasn't… it was the E.R., but…I got scared," she admitted. "It's…." Stupid, selfish, ridiculous. "It seems…petty, considering the money, and I think that's what tipped the balance on…on what I could manage….The possibility that I might take on more training, it's new. Feels new. I'd given…. It hadn't…. I'd let go of neuro the second I offered to. The time you wanted me back, I expected that it wouldn't go well. You don't change that fast, Derek. That's why I'm still so…skittish about it. I might be for…until it feels real. I guess that's why it hadn't already occurred to me to consider what the E.R. closing could mean for that.
"We won't have traumas. That eliminates a lot of what Nelson will actually do—" The man loved nothing more than a just-in-case craniotomy. Low risk, high reward. "—you'll get the pain management patients, since you have that. Inoperable tumors will always find you. But no SCIs, not with UW getting the acute traumas; they've got several studies going. No acute TBIs. Can I even get the hours I don't have without an E.R.? I'm not ready to think about moving again, and Lexie's not, and maybe that's not what's meant to happen. Maybe that's why…."
Her voice broke, doing nothing for her lingering sense of being faulty. Saying it all made it feel more pathetic, but not as irrational as some of the tangled netting she got lost in—Derek used webs to describe how her thoughts seemed to him, but she didn't like using that silky analogy to describe the knotted mess that she had to cut her way out of.
"The E.R. closing is not a sign, because I'm not going to give up on teaching you that easily," he said. "And before you think so, it wasn't easy last year. I'm promising you, okay?" She nodded. "If that's what you're thinking, you could take some time—"
"I can't. I have a contract, and there's a chance I could…shift back to general. I'm not putting a gap like that on my CV. I'm especially not gonna do it right after being awarded fifteen mill—"
"That's exactly when you do it!"
"No, it's not! People will think money is my only reason for working. Followed by my husband arranging for a remedial residency in a service that just happens to pay more? They'll—"
"You don't care what people think."
"About my career, I do! I have to. I'm accepting that it'll look like I changed my mind on maternity leave. I don't know if Owen would let me work part-time hours to at least follow through on cases—"
"Why not let me worry about that? Structuring neurosurgery residencies is my purview. I'll want your input, obviously. I want your input on everything all the time."
She stopped from rolling her eyes. Her difficulty accepting it shouldn't influence how she reacted to something he meant sincerely.
He quirked the corner of his lips. He knew exactly what she was thinking. Last night, that had been a terrifying prospect. I hinking about how things could always get worse wasn't helping her like it used to. Things could improve; too. They could change. That had been a chasm she'd fallen into as a child with no control over her life. As an adult, maybe she could start taking that back.
A/N: This chapter is one I put a lot in to, and I hope it resonates. Unlike the rest of her crappy coping mechanisms, cutting is an option even with the changes in her life-more than drinking or anonymous sex. With those, she didn't have to hit a wall. This has been a pattern in her life for so long, even going to Wyatt is her trying to speed that up, at least partially. She needed a push to want to break the cycle. One breakthrough isn't going to be the end of things (what did you think this is, canon?) but it's a pivot point.
Got new glasses this week! They're not as good as a lens will be, but they are a tad better than the old ones.