Where You Belong

19

It had been three days.

Three days since the bomb had gone off, turning two solid people into infinite pieces of matter, liquid and air. Three days since she had held that same bomb in her hands only moments before. Three days since she had almost died.

It had been three days, and Derek had barely left her side.

The OR floor was still out of operation, with crews working double time to ensure it would be up and running soon. Walls, floors and ceilings needed to be replaced. Every electrical outlet and connection needed to be checked. Every inch of surface area needed to be scrubbed down and disinfected.

Much of the surgical staff were given time off, or at very least put on a light schedule. Most post op patients were forced to remain at the hospitals they had been transferred to during the evacuation. If something went wrong in their recovery, Seattle Grace was not equipped to help them. Some of the Attendings and upper year residents were subbing in at the other hospitals, helping with the overflow of patients. Derek was not working anywhere this week.

Seattle Grace's surgical wing was quiet and nearly empty. All of the staff members in close vicinity of the bomb were required to attend a one hour therapy session. Meredith and Derek had both had theirs the day before. Derek had taken them in to the hospital. She had gone first, and had then wandered the eerily quiet halls waiting for him to finish. It had gone okay. She had known that nothing that day had been her fault, but it was still nice to hear the therapist say it. Yesterday hadn't been too bad.

Today had been horrible.

Today she and Derek had attended the memorial service for the two fallen members of the bomb squad. The chief had been there. And Cristina and Burke. And Hannah. And Mr. Carlson's wife and three kids. And the surviving members of Dylan's team. It had been surreal. She had cried.

She had felt numb the evening after the bomb had gone off, when Derek had held her in bed and she had fallen asleep in his arms. She had been more herself the next morning, but still numb to certain feelings. A few tears had been shed during her therapy session. But today she had sat beside Derek on the hard wooden chairs, clutching tightly to his hand, and she had cried. Silent tears had streamed down her face from beginning to end.

These men had saved her life. And now they were dead.

"You okay over there?" Derek called from across the car.

She turned to him and offered a gentle smile. "I don't know."

He turned his attention back to the road.

She sighed and reached her hand across the center consol to rest on his lower thigh, her thumb absently brushing along the dark fabric above his knee. He was still dressed in his black suit, and she couldn't help but think he was as handsome as ever. She had never seen him in a suit before. They had gotten dressed up and gone out to dinner a few times, but he had never worn a suit.

"It felt real today," she divulged after several moments of quiet.

"Hmm?" He glanced at her quickly.

"I feel like, all week, it's been...not real, like this is all a weird dream or something. But today it felt real. It really happened."

He nodded.

She sighed heavily, her energy deflating like a shrinking balloon. Her thumb stilled its ministrations. "I feel..."

"What?" He prompted gently.

She shook her head. "I'm not... I can't put my finger on it."

"Okay." He believed her. They reached the end of the road, and Derek got in line to board the ferry. It would only be a few minutes. His hand came down atop hers and rested comfortably, his fingers just curled around the edges of her palm.