"So, you ready?" Meredith smiled at him from under her surgical mask and handed him the scalpel.
"I- I think so," he sighed apprehensively as he took the blade and stared at it.
Meredith frowned her forehead looking at him. She thought she was giving him a treat, an occasion to exercise his fingers, outside the bedroom that was. She knew he missed cutting, the rush of the surgery. Mind you, neutering a dog was no craniotomy but still- However, he didn't look at all content and happy to cut. In fact, his face was steadily changing colors from healthy through pale to green.
"I- Do we really have to do this?" he asked, clearing his throat.
"What do you mean?" She eyed the table in incomprehension. Everything was in order. Fluffy, Mrs. Marsh's pup, was prepped for the procedure and already unconscious having breathed in the gas.
"I mean, do we have to- you know-?" he said uncomfortably.
"I know what?" she shook her head.
"Ugh, remove his... I mean, castrate him," he coughed.
"Well, yeah, Mrs. Marsh brought Fluffy to neuter him. And it's our job to do that," she shrugged. "What is your problem?"
"I don't have a problem," he bit back a bit defensively. "It's just- inhumane-"
"It's just a castration, Derek. He'll be as lively leaving the practice as he came in," she argued.
"I think not," he snorted. "He's going to go out of here- emasculated."
"Well, that's kinda the point," she nodded.
"That's animal cruelty!"
"What? No, it's not! He'll be better after the procedure-"
"He will be better?" Derek snorted. "Or Mrs. Marsh who will not have to worry about him peeing on the carpet and running around female dogs. He doesn't even- know fun, you know? You're ruining his life at the age of two months."
He was interrupted by Meredith's outburst of laughter. "Seriously?" she guffawed behind her mask.
"I don't see how it is remotely funny," he snapped, going red in the face.
"Well, I do. Solidarity of penises" she doubled up in laughter stepping away from the table.
"You can stop laughing now," he rolled his eyes at her. Fine, he felt for the dog but she didn't have to mock him for it. "Can't you talk Mrs. Marsh out of it?"
"No, I can't Derek," she said firmly when her breathing returned to normal. "Mrs. Marsh is an old lady, I'm not going to guilt talk her to drop it and worry about her later. He'll be less aggressive, he won't go roaming after females in heat and he won't have tumors"
"Of course, he won't have tumors, he won't have a place to have tumors in the first place!"
"This is ridiculous," she rolled her eyes even if she was still amused by Derek's ardent defense of Fluffy's manhood. "Obviously, you're not going to do it. Scalpel," she reached out to him expectantly.
"I-" he gulped and she had to carefully pry it off his fingers.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," she rolled her eyes and positioned herself to make an incision.
"Wait!" he pleaded.
"What now?" she snapped.
"Can you just- give me a minute?" he asked, stepping next to Fluffy's head. "So, Fluffy- Just hang in there, okay? It's not like the end of the world" he said halfheartedly, though his face indicated it actually was. "You can still be a happy dog, you know-"
"Derek, that's enough. Stop whining or I swear you'll be the next one," she hissed and his own testicles retracted in fear. She looked almost formidable in the surgical attire, the scalpel in her hand. He would actually be turned on if his balls weren't afraid to peek out.
She once again took the position to cut. Suddenly she flexed her wrist so fast he thought she was dropping the blade. She didn't, she only flipped the blade to achieve the most comfortable angle to make the incision. He couldn't help but be startled, what she just did required extraordinary dexterity and skill.
But before he had a chance to question her about it, she asked, "So you do that before your every surgery? Give a patient a depressing pep talk?"
"No," he said dryly.
"What do you do then? What's your ritual? I mean, I heard surgeons have those-" she cleared her throat, her eyes steadily on her task.
"It's a beautiful day to save lives," he smiled despite the fact that what he was watching at the moment was slightly disturbing to him. "That's what I say every time I'm about to cut."
"What's on your scrub cap?" she asked curiously.
"Ferryboats, I have a thing for ferryboats," he chuckled.
"No ferryboats in the vicinity, I'm afraid- Suction," she waited for him to drain the excess of blood.
"You know awfully much about surgeons' habits-"
"So, I'm using the so-called open technique," she interrupted him immediately before any awkward questions were posed. "It's more time consuming but much more advantageous than the closed technique. We face less complications. Forceps," she requested. "I'm going to close with buried subcuticular sutures, they're stronger than the external ones and do not irritate the pet. It prevents the dog from licking or chewing the incision site-"
Derek's eyebrows raised curiously as he listened to Meredith's lecture on dog castration procedure, he was having a vague déja vu of his severe resident instructing him during the times of his internship.
"You'd make an excellent surgeon," he said when she finished her flawless sutures. "Where did you learn this?"
"From a book," she shrugged. "And thank you."
"From a book?" he gasped. "You learnt how to operate on a dog from a book?"
"Yeah, I watched William doing it once too- You mind taking care of him while I clean up? Actually, you could observe him for the rest of day, if you want to. He should wake up soon and if everything's okay he can go home in the evening."
She wasn't really lying, she thought as she collected the equipment to sterilize it. She hadn't castrated a dog before her arrival to Rachel. But she had an extensive surgical training, damn, she was a surgeon and she was keeping it from Derek. Hiding the truth from him became increasingly difficult since their trip to Vegas two days ago. Something shifted between them that day and night. She knew Derek felt it as well, that's why he was no longer looking depressed. As if- as if he could sense all the feelings she carried for him, feelings that confused and worried her, but in the face of which she was left powerless.
She experienced an inexplicable urge to voice these feelings to him, too. Each time he said 'I love you' an invisible force seemed to push her to say something. However, she never did.
She was afraid. She knew it was Derek, the world's most perfect man, but she was afraid. She had once trusted a man with everything she got and he had broken her. This time she had an advantage though. She knew exactly who Derek was. A reputable New York surgeon. On the other hand, she had never met him in person before and she did know a lot of surgeons.
She shook her head in frustration and shame. Did she really have these qualms about him? But then an unbidden voice in her head won; better safe than sorry.
**********************************************************************************
Meredith paced up and down in front of her desk on which rested her laptop. A google page was currently loading on the screen, or more precisely a page of findings to a phrase she typed in. She wasn't sure if she wanted to have a look or not, and more importantly, whether she had the right. Was it too much of an invasion of privacy to google Derek? Behind his back? She would certainly be mad at him if he did it to her, which he certainly hadn't given that he wasn't treating her like a medical god. But she expressly stipulated she didn't want the topic of her past ever to be brought up. Whereas, he was always too chatty, he liked to talk about everything and nothing. Besides, it wasn't like she was fishing out for some personal information- She wanted to do a check on him from the doctor's side, or rather the neurosurgeon side. He prided himself in his skills, that much was obvious, and she was curious to know if he had grounds for it.
She strained her memory for the scraps of conversation with Helen that might have pertained to Derek. She remembered her friend telling her about Crichek being replaced as head of neuro at Pres. The time frame seemed to concur. In the months between the moment her life as she had known it ended and her new one began in Rachel, Helen made numerous attempts to reintroduce her to the surgeons' environment. She might have said something about him back then but Meredith didn't listen. She had been a wreck and going back to work at the hospital was the furthest thing on her mind.
She took a deep breath. She had to do it. She had to look at those search results or her mind wouldn't know peace. She was broken that way.
She sat down at her desk and browsed the page. Derek Christopher Shepherd was indeed a surgeon, a well renowned neurosurgeon actually. And, holy crap! His birthday was in two days! Why didn't he say anything? What was she going to do now? Whatever, she was going to worry about it later, she had more pressing matters on her mind now. She browsed through her findings.
Derek's career was bound to New York Presbyterian Hospital but he was featured by many other hospitals where he had gone with consults. He was widely published too, especially on the topic of malignant gliomas. Meredith's hand shook momentarily on the touchpad, it rang so close home- She had worked on gliomas at the very beginning of her career, she was awarded her first Harper-Avery for it. How many times during the last few years did she wish she had stuck to it-
Pushing the memories of her early career out of her mind, she clicked open one of Derek's articles. She couldn't deny she was curious, curious to hear a Derek surgeon. As she got immersed in reading, her whole body language changed, her expression sharpened. She unintentionally reached for a piece of paper and a pencil, immediately starting to scribble down notes, ideas that exploded in her brilliant mind with a force of a river that was restrained by a dam for far too long.
**********************************************************************************
Meredith pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes briefly to relieve the soreness. She spent almost the entire day in her office, seeing patients and in between doing something she judged completely irrational. And she was doing it anyway. She was researching, expanding ideas from Derek's article. It didn't mean that Derek's article was bad, quite the contrary. It was excellent but too much on the safe side for her liking. From his publications she had scanned she got a clear picture of Derek the neurosurgeon, and it was quite different to what she had been. It wasn't an insult to Derek's skills or intelligence though. She was quite happy for him to be honest.
She had been, and she still felt the vestiges of that person inside her today, a completely different type of doctor than Derek. He was praised for his skills, his precision, his perseverance in long, demanding surgeries. She had had that all but she was a different kind of doctor, aggressive, pushing boundaries, questioning the impossible. She was- her mother's spitting image. She was restless, once an idea entered her brain, she could do nothing but pursue it. That was why her career veered from surgery in the strict sense to experimental procedures and finally working on meds for epilepsy and Alzheimer's. That was why she was scribbling ideas on the edges of Derek's article she printed out earlier.
She was startled by the sound of a car pulling up in front of the practice, in the space facing her office. Derek must have been back, he was so invested in Fluffy's case that he personally volunteered to take him home to Mrs. Marsh.
Meredith bustled herself to shut down her laptop and hide the article and her notes in an old battered paper folder which she stashed into the bottom drawer of her desk. She opened one of the charts before her and pretended to be double checking it. she heard the front door being opened, the sound of footsteps in the lobby and a soft knock on her door.
"Come in!"
"You're still working?" Derek asked quietly.
She lifted her head up and smiled though her insides were squirming guiltily, "Just filling in the blanks in chart work, I've turned really sloppy lately."
"I can only expect it to decline at this hour," he quipped.
"I had to occupy myself somehow, I was waiting for you. What took you so long?"
"I wanted to make sure he was okay," shrugged Derek.
"Aw, that's so cute," cooed Meredith, clearly snickering.
"That was not cute," he rolled his eyes.
"It so was," she smirked as she got to her feet, turned off all the lights and moved towards the door.
"Take that back!" he said, blocking her way out as they both stood in the obscurity.
"Oh, do you feel as emasculated as Fluffy?" she giggled.
"Why do women do that?" he asked. "To feel in control?"
"That too," she shrugged nonchalantly. "But it's real fun in the first place."
"Hm-" he hummed, his hand weaving around her waist.
"Hm?" she chuckled. "D'you want to punish me with hot primal sex in the darkness of my office?"
"As tempting as it is" he whispered, nuzzling his face against her, "I'm really shattered for some reason. Why don't we go back home, have dinner with a glass of wine, and then we can think of that hot primal sex."
"Sounds perfect to me," she smiled, taking his hand in hers and leading him out.
A couple of minutes later they pulled up in front of William's house and were greeted by Bert's enthusiastic barking.
"Hey, buddy!" Meredith squatting down to scratch him playfully behind his ears and he licked her hand gratefully.
"Be careful there, man," Derek said seriously leaning against the hood, a smirk on his face. "You might lose your balls if you stay too close to her."
"You mean like you did?" she snickered, making him glower down at her.
"I'll let you know that my balls are just fine!" he muttered.
"Oh, I know," she nodded exaggeratedly, enjoying the way his jaws clenched. "I keep them on a silver platter, sometimes I even take them for a walk."
"You're gonna pay for that" he promised in a deadly whisper.
"Can't wait!"
A sudden sound of someone clearing their throat close by interrupted their banter. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything nasty," said sourly Miranda instead of a greeting.
"Nasty?" Derek quirked up an eyebrow.
"Yes, nasty. Like have-to-close-up-the-windows-to-block-your-sound-effects nasty," she quipped.
"So what's up, Miranda?" Meredith hurried to ask before Derek could retaliate. "Would you like to join us? I mean, for dinner, Derek was just about to make some dinner."
"I'll pass, thank you," she drawled, the corners of her lips twitching slightly, and looked at Meredith meaningfully.
"Ugh, Derek? Can you start on that dinner?" Meredith smiled at him apologetically. "I'll be right with you."
"Sure," he nodded, rolling his eyes and beckoned Bert to come with him. "Come on, buddy, you don't want to listen to vagina monologues, it might scar you for life."
"Excuse me?" Miranda put her hands on her hips menacingly.
"Uhm, dialogues, not monologues, dialogues," he chuckled, hurrying into the house.
"Smartass," snorted Bailey and narrowed her eye at Meredith. "I almost expected to find you in the final stage of depression. Not- chirpy and giggly"
"What? Why is that?"
"I had a little talk with Cristina today-" Bailey trailed off.
"Oh," Meredith hung her head guiltily.
"Oh?" Miranda mimicked her with a snort. "She doesn't have a clue what is going on with you. And frankly, she could use someone to freak out to as well."
"Why?" Meredith breathed out nervously. If she had ignored Cristina while in need, she would never forgive herself.
"You'll have to find out yourself," shrugged Bailey. "I'm tired of being a messenger, I don't even get paid for that. Oh, don't panic, she's fine," she waved dismissively.
"I know I've been a crappy friend," sighed Meredith. "But I was...I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready to tell- to tell her some things-"
"Her?" Miranda said quietly, "or him?"
Meredith flinched, feeling herself being x-rayed by her friend.
"She wouldn't force it out of you, you know that. And- you can't get ready for everything, Meredith, life doesn't work like that."
"I guess it doesn't"
"Are you- are you ready now?" Miranda asked gently.
"I don't know" Meredith shook her head frantically.
"Oh, I think you know," Bailey smiled at her and squeezed her arm walking back to her house. "Enjoy your dinner!"
For a few long minutes, Meredith stayed outside listlessly, her head darted up. Miranda was right, she knew that, you couldn't be prepared for everything. She didn't use to be that careful. This was the post-Mitch Meredith who avoided taking risks like fire. Would she be herself again if she told Derek everything that was in her heart? And...did he really want to be the old version of herself? She just wanted to be free of the manacles of her past, she wanted to be free.
"Mer?" The quiet evening air effortlessly carried Derek's soft voice from the kitchen window. "Dinner's ready, you coming?"
Meredith shook herself off her stupor. At least dinner was ready.
**********************************************************************************
The meal was soon over and the dishes left in the sink waiting for a moment when they wouldn't be so tired. Derek sat down on the porch swing, a glass of wine in his hand, and waited for her to join him. However, Meredith surprised him by lying down with her legs bent to fit in the small seat and her head on Derek's lap, instead of sitting next to him. Her hand absent-mindedly tapped his knee while his serenely combed her hair.
"Derek" she said quietly.
"Mhm?" he murmured, sipping on his wine slowly.
"Can I ask you something without you getting mad or?" she said in a small voice.
"Fire away," he chuckled.
Meredith waited for a truck to rocket away down the road, took a deep breath and whispered, "Do you love me?"
His glass froze midair, his hand stilled in her hair. Was he hallucinating? Was he drunk? He sure didn't drink that much. But Meredith wouldn't surely ask him that-
"Do you love me?" she repeated the question, her tone even feebler.
"Yes," he answered hoarsely. "I love you, Meredith."
He waited in tension for her next words. He could sense a change in her breathing.
"Why? Why do you love me?"
He drew a long breath. "I- I don't know-"
"Hmm-" she bit on her lip nervously.
"Don't take it the wrong way," he hurried to explain. "It's just so hard to explain. I love...trying to see the world through your eyes. I love to feel your strength when you hold my hand, to see the tenderness in your smile. I love the flowery scent of your hair on the pillow every morning. And I love thousand other things about you, even the ones that make me mad-" he paused, slightly flushed and breathless after his confession.
"Thank you, Derek," she murmured softly, her eyes fluttering. She had never heard more intimate words yet. Even Mitch with all his cunning and suaveness could never rival that, or maybe precisely because of that. Derek's words made her feel safe like never before. She wanted to relish that forever. That was why Derek wouldn't hear tonight the words he probably craved so much to hear from her. She felt like she might even be brave enough to say them. But not tonight, tonight she just wanted to bask in that newly acquired comfort.
"I...You're welcome?" he said confusedly.
"The sky is beautiful," she remarked randomly, relaxing in his lap, her eyelids drooping down.
"That- that it is," he nodded at the vastness of inky black over their heads.