Derek Shepherd was not fat. He didn't care what Mark had said to get him off the couch and running down the street. Mark had said something about him getting fat, right after saying something about endorphins cheering him up. But he wasn't fat. He had gotten a little soft around the edge in the last year because it had seemed like too much work, but he wasn't fat. It didn't even make sense that Mark would call him fat. If anything, he has lost weight. And muscle mass. He didn't need muscle mass, he didn't need to impress anyone, so it didn't even make sense that Mark would think he was fat. Of course, Mark didn't think he was fat. Mark was just...trying to bring endorphins or something. But Derek didn't want endorphins either, he didn't need endorphins
He wasn't fine. He wasn't an idiot or anything, he knew he wasn't doing okay. Not that he expected to be magically happy when he moved to Seattle, he hadn't expected everything to just fade and to slip back into the man he remembered being years ago. But he had kind of figured that it was going to be easier by now than it actually was. Breathing shouldn't hurt. But everything hurt. Over the last two weeks, everything had been hurting more and more. He had tried to think of why. Tried to figure out if it was Amy's birthday, or Sarah's birthday, but it wasn't. And it wasn't his anniversary. That wasn't it at all. So he had no idea what was wrong with him. Except he was starting to figure out that it might be Sarah's first week of school, if she were alive.
He had never really thought of it. When she had died, it had been too early to start thinking about childhood. He hadn't been thinking of what it would be like to get her all dressed and climb into the car to take her to her first day of school. It hadn't even crossed his mind, but it was happening now. Or it would be happening and he could only figure its why it hurt so much. His little girl was supposed to be nervous about school. She was supposed to be asking him thousands of questions and wanting to dress like Sleeping Beauty for her first day. But she wasn't. She wasn't asking questions or wanting to dress like Sleeping Beauty. She was...Derek didn't want to think of what his daughter was as the breath caught in his throat and he stopped jogging, fighting tears. Mark paused beside him and didn't say a word. Mark didn't ask question, especially not stupid questions about whether or not he was okay. He didn't try to make it seem like it was okay. He just stood there and Derek kind of hoped that one day he'd figure out how to thank his brother for all of this. If it ever stopped hurting to breathe, he would do something to make this up to Mark. His hands tightened into fists as people walked by them, pausing to look at him. He wasn't going to break down in the middle of Seattle. There was no way he was going to break down over the idea of his tiny little girl wanting so badly to be a princess. "Breathe, man," Mark said carefully.
"Trying," Derek gasped slightly. "Trying."
"Another panic attack?"
"Starting," Derek nodded.
"Right," Mark nodded slowly, pushing him hard against the wall.
"What...what are you doing?" Derek breathed.
"Getting you out of everyone's way."
"Oh."
"Just breathe, man."
"I know, I know," Derek nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and willing himself to see nothing.
"Good," Mark sighed, squeezing his shoulder.
"Just...need a minute."
"Giving you a minute."
"I know."
"Breathe," Mark nodded, gulping down his water.
"I am...or trying..."
"Slow down, Shep."
"I am."
"Good," Mark nodded slowly, not even bothering to look at him as he looked out at the people walking by them.
"First week of school," Derek whispered.
"What?"
"It would be Sarah's first week of school."
"Oh," Mark breathed, nodding carefully.
"So...yeah..." Derek breathed, running his shaky hand through his sweaty curls.
"She would have loved school."
"She would have," Derek murmured.
"That kid was smart as hell."
"Course, I'm here Dad," Derek tried to laugh but it sounded kind of strangled.
"Damn smart. I told her she was too smart for her own good on the phone that day."
"You did?"
"Yeah. She told me I was silly."
"She always said you were silly."
"Yeah, I know," Mark murmured.
"I still miss her constantly," Derek whispered, rubbing his eyes.
"I know, Shep."
"She was..." he sighed and then shook his head. "No."
"What, Shep?" Mark asked quietly, his own voice shaking.
"We're not doing this here."
"Fine, get your ass jogging again."
"I will," Derek sighed. "And...maybe later."
"Come on," Mark nodded as he jogged again.
"Coming," Derek breathed, moving to jog after his brother. He could talk to Mark about it later, do the crying thing later. He was jogging and he wanted to be normal. He wasn't sure anyone understood how badly he wanted to be normal again, or at least be a little better than this. He'd settle for that. He wasn't going to cry in public, he was just going to jog with his brother. Crying in public wasn't an option anymore. It had never been an option, except in the past year, he had spent more time crying in public than he was willing to admit. His entire body was begging to fall apart, begging to stop trying to be normal and just crawl into a hole and never move. Dr. Wyatt kept telling him this was normal, but he was done with the grieving process.
He just wanted to be happy or something. Or maybe not happy, he wasn't sure he'd ever actually be happy again but there had to be something between this and happiness, some middle road that he would settle for. He just wanted to look forward to the day. He didn't expect to ever bounce out of bed again but he wanted to open his eyes with the simple belief something good might happen. But nothing good had happened in the last year. Since the moment he had found out his wife and daughter were dead, his life was all about the bad. He tried to remember that he was healthy, he had a job, he had friends and family who loved him, but he wasn't ready to remember any of that. He wasn't ready to remember that his life was able to go on without Amy and Sarah constantly making him smile.
He was not going to think about any of it right now though. He just had to jog. It was easy and it was mindless and he knew whatever Mark had said about endorphins was right and he could use anything that might help. It was better than sitting at home. It was more normal than spending his entire day off on the couch, the tv on even though he didn't watch it. It was how he spent his days off now. He stared at the TV blankly, desperately fighting the urge to change it to the Disney Channel to see what show was on, to see if his daughter's favorite shows went on without her. He ignored the medical drama Amy had always loved. He just stared at the screen, everything hurting. So he was going to jog today. He was going to jog and try to forget the mess that was his life.
And maybe somehow today it would work. He was doubtful but Dr. Wyatt seemed to think that one day he would do something, not even thinking and the pain wouldn't be there as much. She kept talking about how it would come unexpectedly, how it would be slow but one day he'd be there, in that better place that he was hoping for. Maybe a day spent jogging would be that day.
"So you're off over the weekend, right?" Mark asked as they jogged together.
"I am," Derek nodded.
"Good. I'm taking you fishing."
"You are?"
"Yeah. Found this great place. Ferry boat ride away."
"Camping?"
"That's what I'm thinking."
"That...that sounds good," Derek nodded.
"Figured you'd like that. I'm willing to hike up a mountain for you, man."
"You love hiking."
"Yeah, yeah."
"You do."
"Sure. So we'll do the camping thing over the weekend."
"Can do," Derek sighed.
"Come on, Shep," Mark groaned.
"What?"
"You sound ecstatic."
"Mark, I'm...I want to go."
"Just making sure. I could try to screw Grey instead if you'd rather sit on your fat ass."
"No," Derek rolled his eyes. "It's...I'm trying here. I want to be normal and...camping is a good step."
"It's a damn good step."
"It is," Derek nodded. "And it's...no painful memories."
"Now you're catching on to why Mark Sloan is a genius."
"I don't remember calling you a genius," Derek frowned.
"Well, I am one."
"I don't think so."
"You wish."
"Mark, I've known you way too long to think you're a genius."
"You should catch up on the times."
"The times?"
"The times that say Mark Sloan is clearly a genius."
"There are times?"
"Of course there are times."
"You're full of it."
"Genius."
"You don't even have an example."
"Genius plastic surgeon. Genius in bed..."
"Too much information."
"After twenty years it's too much information?"
"Yes. It always has been," Derek sighed.
"You're just jealous I'm getting some," Mark chuckled.
"I...oh," Derek breathed.
"Shit," Mark groaned, stopping to look at him. "Sorry, man."
"It's...it's okay," Derek nodded.
"Yeah, except you look even worse now. It's just how...sorry."
"It's okay," Derek whispered. "We...that's how...you were...joking...what we do."
"Yeah," Mark sighed, running faster.
"I'm...it's okay."
"Shep, cut the bullshit. It's not fucking okay."
"It has to okay."
"And it's not. Punch me out if you want."
"What? Why would I punch you?"
"Might help," Mark shrugged.
"If I thought punching you would help I would have kicked your ass a year ago."
"You just haven't cause you know you can't."
"I could kick your ass."
"Dream on, shrimp."
"I could kick your ass," he repeated.
"Huh uh."
"I could."
"When was the last time you managed to kick my ass?" Mark laughed as they stopped in front of the coffee shop.
"Mark," Derek breathed. "I know what you're doing."
"What?"
"Trying to trick me into kicking your ass."
"You're right," Mark nodded. "I need some entertainment."
"Mark..." Derek groaned.
"It's true."
"Stop it."
"Pussy."
"You actually want me to punch you?"
"I'd like to see you try."
"You're actually making me want to."
"Yeah, I need my morning coffee first," Mark grinned, walking towards the counter.
"I'm not going to punch you," Derek sighed, following close behind him.
"Figured you weren't."
"I could," Derek nodded. "Just wouldn't help. You're not who I want to punch."
"Who do you want to punch?" Mark frowned.
"God."
"You want to punch God?"
"Yeah," Derek breathed.
"God. Not the bastard who killed them. God."
"Accident wasn't anyone's fault, Mark. It was an accident."
"The guy fell asleep at the wheel."
"And you've never nearly done the same?"
"Didn't kill a kid and a woman though."
"But you could have."
"But I didn't. That bastard did. And all he got from it was a fucking broken arm."
"Yeah, I've already been through that. It's easier to blame God."
"And the shrink thinks that's healthy?"
"Of course not."
"Whatever works, man. I personally want to kill the son of a bitch."
"I wanted to but I'm over that. I just want my family back."
Mark went silent at that and instead turned to stare at the menu, his chest rising and falling quickly. Derek wasn't sure if his brother was trying to catch his breath after the jog or try to stop himself from crying. This was something else he hated. He hated that he could turn something like this, something so fucking normal, into the jog from hell. He knew Mark and Sophie were mostly over the accident, and it only made him feel even more alone. He wanted to be over it, or not over it. He would never get over the loss of his family but he at least wanted to be able to jog without not being able to joke around about anything with his brother. He wanted to jog to get back in shape, not to try to make himself remember not to cry. He needed to breathe again and he needed something different than this.
"Usual?" Mark asked, his voice shaking slightly.
"Yeah," Derek nodded, reaching and squeezing his brother's sweaty arm.
"Good," Mark nodded, taking a deep breath and stepped forward. "Yeah, venti coffee and a tall hot chocolate, extra whipped cream."
The girl behind the counter nodded and Derek took a deep breath of his own as he leaned toward his brother. "Besides...I...I can't punch you. Can't...risk the hands."
"That's the excuse you're using now," Mark nodded, reaching to rub his hand over his eyes.
"It's the truth."
"I know," Mark forced a laugh, reaching for his hot chocolate and staring at it for a second.
"I'll..." Derek breathed. "Wait till some angry husband hits you."
"I try to stay away from the married ones these days," Mark chuckled, taking a sip and closing his eyes before opening them again. Derek ignored his brother's wet eyes. The hot chocolate had been Mark and Sarah's drink. The day of the accident, Mark had dragged Sarah for a hot chocolate, giving Derek and Amy some much needed alone time.
"Good," Derek breathed as he led Mark out of the store, trying to remember to breathe. They had been jogging. They had been jogging and trying really hard to be normal. Mark had been normal and then a stupid joke had turned them into two silent people, and they were never silent. It wasn't normal. He didn't want this to be his normal and he was starting to think it would be.
Mark had been Sarah's godfather. It was easy to forget that. But he had been. After the funeral, Mark had gotten completely trashed and cried for hours. It wasn't something Derek had ever easily forgotten, but he really wanted his brother to be better. He had a feeling that before he had shown up, Mark had been better, but now he was bringing him down. It wasn't right. None of this was right. Derek needed something to change. He had no idea what could change at this point, what could make any of this better, but he needed something to shift in his life. He needed Mark and Sophie to be able to be themselves again, and he just wanted to be able to do something that didn't involve fighting the urge to cry. He always felt like he was fighting the urge to cry right now.
"Crap!" he suddenly heard a voice exclaim as he and Mark walked down the street. "Crap!"
He frowned and turned his head toward the sound and nearly stopped walking. It was her. He had to call her her because he had no idea exactly who she was except for the fact she was beautiful. It had been the third time he had seen her at random. He still couldn't believe how beautiful she was. Her blonde hair was a mess today, pulled into a ponytail and her head was buried in her purse. The first time he had seen her, she had been in jeans and a sweater, the second, black dress pants a vest, today she was bundled up in a raincoat as she dug through her large tote bag. "Crap," she repeated and he stopped completely, almost wanting to help her. There was something about her, even when she was a mess, that he needed to be around her. Because he didn't want to cry.
His chest had stopped burning, the constant tightness had disappeared. He had no idea what it was. He never thought of her, so he hadn't even tried to figure it out but looking at her digging for something, muttering under her breath some choice swear words, he felt about a hundred times better than he had in the entire last year. She was a complete stranger and she made breathing easier.
"Finally," he heard her exclaim as she dug her cell phone out of her bag and suddenly, their eyes met. Not for very long, he was pretty sure it was only a second, but their eyes met and her entire face seemed to brighten. He couldn't believe how beautiful she was, how absolutely gorgeous she looked even when she clearly wasn't trying. A smile grew over her lips and he nodded slightly to her. She smiled back, her teeth catching her bottom lip again before she smiled again at him, nodding ever so slightly and he actually found himself wanting to smile. He couldn't remember the last time he had considered smiling at the way she smiled made him want to smile. It was infectious. She was infectious. And strangely, he kept running into her in a huge city.
"Shep!" Mark called over his shoulder, breaking Derek out of his trance and the girl quickly walked away, her hand still tightly around her cell phone.
"Oh..." Derek breathed. "Sorry."
"You okay?"
"Yeah...yeah."
"You sure?"
"I am."
"Just making sure. You look like you saw..." Mark trailed off. "A unicorn."
"A unicorn? I look like I saw a unicorn?" Derek laughed slightly.
"Or something else strange."
"No," Derek shook his head. "Just...the blonde."
"The blonde?"
"The one that was with the brunette you're trying to sleep with."
"Going to need you to be more specific, Shep."
"The one in the cafeteria...the beautiful one."
Mark frowned for a second and then nodded. "You're still thinking about her?"
"No. I just saw her."
"Again?"
"Yeah."
"Maybe she's stalking you," Mark laughed. "Fatal attraction style."
"No. She seemed shocked."
"Strange."
"Yeah."
"Why the hell dont' you talk to her?"
"I don't know," Derek breathed.
"So that's...third time you've seen her?"
"Yeah."
"Weird," Mark shrugged and then started walking away.
"Wait for me," Derek frowned.
"Walk faster, shrimp."
"I was...I wasn't even walking," Derek frowned.
"Then get your ass in gear," Mark laughed.
"Why are you walking so fast?"
"Why are you walking so slow?"
"I'm not."
"Yes you are."
"I was just...thinking."
"About?"
"The blonde."
"You're thinking about the blonde," Mark grinned widely.
"Not like that," Derek said quickly.
"Oh come on, Shep. She's hot."
"I don't want to have sex with her."
"Then what are you thinking about?" Mark asked. "Or do I even want to know?"
"Talking to her."
"So turn around and go talk to her."
"Now?"
"Why the hell not?"
"Wouldn't that be weird?"
"You've seen this chick three times."
"Yes."
"It can't hurt to ask her what the hell is going on."
"Or she could look at me like I have two heads."
"Fine, don't talk to her."
"I will...or I might...eventually."
"Whenever you're ready," Mark imitated Kathleen..
"Stop that. I just...I don't know her."
"Okay."
"I'll think about it."
"If you ever see her again," Mark laughed.
"True," Derek frowned.
"Too late now, Shep."
"I know," he nodded, looking over his shoulder.
"She's not there."
"I know."
"So what's the deal? You don't want to screw her...are you talking a date?"
"No," Derek denied. "She's just...I think I want to know her. For some reason...I want to know her."
"Fucked up, Shep. That's fucked up."
"How is that fucked up?"
"She's a hot chick on the street."
"No, she's...you don't...you don't see it," Derek sighed.
"Can't say I do."
"Oh."
"If you want to date her..."
"I don't!"
"Fine," Mark shrugged.
"Amy's my wife, I'm not dating. And I know that eventually...eventually I have to stop thinking like that but not now."
"Okay, Shep. You're married."
"I am."
"Then forget it," Mark nodded carefully, falling silent.
"What, Mark?"
"Nothing, Derek."
"Mark..."
"Derek, Amy's been gone for a year. You're not wearing the wedding ring...and I don't remember the last time you found another woman hot."
"I know, Mark."
"But if you want to be married still, go for it. I just don't think Amy's going to make a comeback to kick your ass."
"I'm not ready, Mark. Do you honestly think that in the shape I am I should ask her out? That would be fair to her?"
"Not unless you get on some drugs."
"I'm not getting on drugs just so I can date someone new."
"The drugs would stop those panic attacks."
"They would. And when do I know I'm better enough to stop?"
"No idea," Mark sighed. "Come on, we'll watch a Yankees game or something."
"Sure," Derek nodded. "Mark?"
"Yeah?"
"I know you're trying to help. Just not the drug route, not yet at least."
"Don't worry, Shep, I'll start sneaking it into your coffee at some point," Mark smirked.
"Remind me not to accept drinks from you."
"Will do."
"I'll figure this out."
"I know, Derek."
"Good. So Yankees?"
"Yankees."
"Sounds good."
"Figured you'd like that," Mark laughed and then fell into silence again as they walked down the street.
Derek moved down the street, finding himself looking over his shoulder again. He had no idea how this was happening. Three times in a large city he had managed to see her and each time he had had the same reaction, suddenly breathing had become easier. He had no idea what it was. He didn't even know her name or anything about her and yet he made him breathe. There was something about her, something he couldn't place his finger on. He knew absolutely nothing about her, except that she was in therapy and ate lunch at the hospital, but otherwise, he knew nothing. Except for the fact that the second he saw her, he could breathe again. He could take a deep breath and feel almost like the person he had been before the accident a year earlier.