Shadows Without You

Chapter 4: Running on Empty

The night was silent, suffocating, filled with the cries Meredith could still hear in her head Zola's wails, Bailey's confusion, Ellis's tiny fussing. She had spent the daymoving through the motions of motherhood on autopilot, every movement mechanical, every word a ghost. But inside, she was crumbling.

She couldn't do it. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not with the weight of Derek's absence pressing down on her chest until she could barely breathe.

She sat at the kitchen table long after everyone else had gone to bed. The house was dark except for the faint glow of the lamp overhead. Derek's chair sat empty across from her, mocking her with its silence. She could almost see him there messy hair, tired smile, eyes crinkling at the corners as he teased her.

Meredith gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles whitened. She couldn't stay. She couldn't keep pretending to be strong. Not when every hallway, every photo, every laugh of her children reminded her of him.

Her chest heaved. The walls pressed in.

Before she could stop herself, she was on her feet, moving quickly, frantically. She grabbed her coat, her keys, her bag anything within reach. Her movements were sharp, rushed, as though she were afraid she would change her mind if she slowed down.

She paused at the base of the staircase, her eyes drifting upward toward the bedrooms where her children slept. For a fleeting moment, she thought of going to them, of kissing them goodnight, of whispering apologies into the darkness. But if she saw their faces, she knew she wouldn't be able to leave.

So she didn't.

She whispered into the silence, "I'm sorry," and turned away.

The car engine roared to life in the driveway. The sound was foreign, wrong, in the stillness of the night. Meredith gripped the steering wheel, her hands trembling. Her vision blurred with tears, but she pressed her foot to the gas anyway.

The city blurred around her. Streetlights streaked past like ghosts. Her breaths came fast, shallow, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't know where she was going only that she had to go.

Grey Sloan loomed in the distance as she sped past it, the hospital lights flickering like a beacon. But she couldn't go there. Not tonight. Not with Derek's shadow still haunting every corridor.

She drove until the roads grew empty, until the city gave way to open stretches of highway. The hum of the tires on the pavement was steady, numbing, almost hypnotic. She clung to it, letting the rhythm drown out the storm in her chest.

For the first time since Derek's death, she felt the smallest flicker of release not peace, not healing, but escape.

Back at the house, Alex woke to the sound of silence. Something gnawed at him, pulling him from sleep. He padded down the hallway, checking on the kids first. They were all asleep Zola curled up with her blanket, Bailey sprawled across his bed, Ellis stirring faintly in her crib.

But Meredith's room was empty.

His stomach dropped.

"Mer?" he called out, his voice low but urgent. No answer.

He checked the kitchen. Empty. The living room. Empty. The front door unlocked.

Panic surged through him. He grabbed his phone, dialing her number. The line rang and rang until it went to voicemail.

"Meredith, it's me. Where are you? Call me back. Please."

His voice cracked, his worry escalating. He paced the kitchen, raking a hand through his hair. She had left. She had actually left.

The kids were upstairs, asleep, blissfully unaware. But Alex knew they would wake to a nightmare.

Meredith drove until dawn painted the horizon in shades of pink and gold. She pulled off at a quiet rest stop, killing the engine. For the first time in hours, silence enveloped her.

She leaned back in the seat, her body trembling from exhaustion. She pressed her forehead to the steering wheel, the cool leather grounding her.

Her phone buzzed in her bag Alex, again and again. She couldn't answer. Not yet. She couldn't hear the judgment in his voice, the disappointment, the reminder of what she had just done.

She closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she whispered into the stillness. "I just... I can't."

Because running was the only thing she knew how to do when the world collapsed. And this time, she hadn't just run from the hospital, or from her friends. She had run from her children.

And she didn't know if she'd ever be able to forgive herself for that.