fragments of my life [MERDER]

EIGHT

It had been two weeks since Meredith left.

Two weeks since Derek stupidly let her go, since he lost the love of his life. He had no idea where she was, he had no idea if she was okay... he was just numb. He had the trial, Zola, and Meredith. Then he just had Meredith. Now... now he had nothing. He lost everything that mattered to him, but he couldn't blame himself for it. Not all of it.

This - this was on Karev. If that scrawny little child hadn't been such a sour bitch, so egomaniacal, so evil... so scared to lose out on Chief resident to Meredith, to a woman, the trial would be fine, they'd still have Zola and she'd be here with him. It was all Alex Karev's fault.

Derek was just numb... and angry. Angry at himself , at Karev, at Lexie and Yang for not telling him anything, even though he knew they knew something; they'd just say that Meredith left them in the dark too... but he didn't believe it. He couldn't? Surely Meredith hadn't left her sister and her person in the dark too. Maybe she was just... gone. That couldn't be it though - someone had to know something.

He kept thinking about Meredith and himself. Why did he do what he did? Why did she do what she did - no, that was a stupid question, because he knew. He knew Meredith, and she just... she did the wrong thing for the right reasons, and she got found out, and it backfired. She wasn't to blame for making the mistakes here - it was him, Derek thought... and it wasn't really him, it was Karev. He swore, and had sworn since the day Meredith left, that he could kill that guy with his bare hands.

Derek thought about their relationship... the one night stand, into Addison coming back, into the prom... when she drowned, their incredible breakup sex. The house of candles and the clinical trial, then there was the patient he killed, and he lost his way, then she came and saved him from himself. He operated on Izzie's brain cancer, and George died, and they got married on their post-it. Derek kept thinking about their eternal blue post-it.

No running.

Meredith had ran. She'd broken the rules of post-it.

But at the same time, so had he, and he knew so.

Love each other, even when we hate each other.

When he did... what he did with Rose, he didn't love Meredith. He hated her, but in that moment, where they were kissing and then in the back of Rose's car, Derek hated Meredith but he didn't love her. He wanted to forget about her.

This is forever.

Derek had hope. He had hope that she'd come back, or that he would find her, and he would prove it to her, he would make her trust him again. He had hope that he hadn't thrown it all away on some stupid immature revenge plot.

For now, Derek had some sort of twisted new daily routine. He would sit in his office, twiddling his thumbs before rounds, thinking. He would do a surgery, and go interrogate Lexie or Cristina. He would then proceed go back to his office and cry, and Mark would come and he would bitch at him. Derek would then go and bitch at Richard, because he approved the transfer and let the love of his life, the closest thing he had to a daughter, leave. He'd go to lunch, and not speak to anyone. He would growl and stare and grumble and scream and shout at anyone about anything. He had all this rage pent up inside of him, deep down, at Meredith for leaving, and at himself for letting her.

It had got to that point in the day where he had just finished scrubbing out on a surgery with none other than little Grey. The patient was in an MVC and the spinal and head trauma was just too great. Derek's mortality rate had crept up slowly since Meredith left... he feel like he lost what made him extraordinary. He lost his trial, his kid, his wife, and now he was losing his abilities as a world-class surgeon. Meredith made him extraordinary - like she used to say, extraordinary together, ordinary apart. He was wrecked, he always was after losing a patient... and with the dark circles around his eyes and the clear lack of shaving, he looked like he was losing his mind, like he was half killing himself, and truth be told... he was. He looked broken, and he was.