She had been pretty sure she had overreacted. At least that's what she told herself when she had called him the day before. She had been certain that she had just freaked out or something about nothing, because Derek was her best friend. She had just had a crap day and had been in a kind of crap mood when she had gotten to his trailer so she had thought it wasn't his fault. So she had definitely overreacted. That's it. She had been stupid and silly and...except today she had visited her mom before coming here. That was never good, and she really wanted to talk about it with someone. Someone like Derek. Except he was doing it again. And this time, she was pretty sure it wasn't just her fault. She was pretty sure forgiving him might have been a stupid thing to do. Except she had really missed him. She had only actually managed to avoid seeing him, to ignore his calls for a few days and then she had given in. Because it had literally not taken anything at all to miss him and to miss his huge spot on the cliff. Somehow everything had felt slightly messy and confusing without him there. So she had given in and called.
Meredith stared at her hands as she listened to her best friend rant beside her. She should be paying attention. She knew that. She was his anchor or something and she was one of the only people that ever listened to him, so she should be at least listening. He could be saying something really important and she should listen. She would be. Except her day had been crap.
Her coffee maker had broken, she had forgotten to throw her clothes in the dryer, the Holden family all seemed to have decided to come down with a bad stomach virus, therapy had been crap, and then she had gone to see her mom. She hated that she hated going to see her mom. It was what she was supposed to do, but every time she saw her mom, she walked away feeling worthless and unwanted. And now her best friend or whatever it was Derek was hadn't even asked her how it had gone. He hadn't said a word about it even though he knew she had gone to see her mom and he knew she hated seeing her mom. There hadn't been one question and she really needed to talk to him about it. He'd make it better. Or she was pretty sure he could if he listened.
But he was pacing around his trailer as she sat on his bed, her legs against her chest as she tried not to cry. She hadn't cried all day and she wasn't going to cry now just because her anchor was too busy sinking to be her anchor. He had had a bad day, and he had the right to have a bad day. His wife and daughter were dead, he was alone in a trailer, and he had a reason to be having a bad day; she didn't. She could go home later and drag Cristina to Joe's or something. Cristina wasn't as good at the anchor thing was Derek was, actually she kind of sucked at it but at least Meredith could let herself bitch. She could bitch even if it was in vague terms because Cristina didn't know all that much about her, or she did but not about things like her mother being sick.
Not that Derek knew. Derek had no idea. She was pretty her best friend, her anchor, the guy she had once picture actually being with, thought Ellis just lived across town in retirement, writing books or whatever. No one knew her mom was sick, and that's how it was supposed to be. No one was supposed to know how bad the disease was getting, but Meredith couldn't do this anymore. She was drowning.
"She offered to rub my back," Derek ranted. "In the middle of surgery, I shifted and she took that as a sign that I needed a back rub."
"Hmmm hmmm," she breathed, dropping her face into her hands for a second and then looking up quickly. She wasn't going to cry. there was no way in hell she was going to cry right now. Her mother was sick, her mother barely knew who she was, but she wasn't supposed to tell anyone that and crying would lead to that. Crying would lead to telling Derek her mom was sick and she was incapable of forming a relationship with her father. And that she was a completely crap person or something.
"That's not her job. She hands me tools, she doesn't need to rub my back. How many months has it been, Mer? How many months? And she still refuses to stop flirting with me."
"I know, Derek," she breathed, trying to forget her mother's biting words from earlier. It wasn't her fault, it was the disease. The disease made Ellis say things.
"Sometimes I just want to tell her," Derek groaned. "I would love to see the look on her face if I told her. Of course she'd probably just want to give me a hug. Why does she even...she's my scrub nurse. I should get her to leave my service."
"Hmmm..."
"I don't want to be that attending and I know it makes me look like a bigger ass than everyone else thinks I already am but I can't do this."
"Yeah. Yeah."
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I was still...married, or married and you know, Mer. What am I supposed to do? She just...it rubs the wounds or something."
"I..." she took a deep breath, hugging her legs closer to her chest as he paced around the trailer.
"I just can't do it anymore. I don't want people flirting with me. I don't want people even being interested in me and I'm a complete ass to her. I actually try to be an ass to her. I don't even know her name and yet she doesn't take a hint. It's not even a hint."
"Yeah," she breathed. She was not a waste of space. Her mother wanted her.
"I..." he sighed. "Why are you not talking?"
"Hmmm?"
"You're not talking."
"I'm...fine," she breathed, taking a deep calming breath.
"You're not fine," he frowned.
"I'm fine," she snapped slightly.
"Meredith..." he breathed, his eyes widening because she never snapped at him.
"Actually," she looked up at him. "I'm not fine. I'm not fine. There's no way I can be fine. And you know why I'm not fine?"
"Wh...why?"
"Because you're a crap friend," she spat, immediately wanting to stop, but she couldn't. "You're a crap friend. Everyone tells me you're an ass and I try to tell them you're not but you are. You're an ass because I've been on the verge of tears since I got here and you just keep...and I get it. Your life? It sucks. It completely and totally sucks in a huge, massive dead wife and daughter way."
"I...I'm a crap friend?" he breathed.
"I get that your life sucks. I know it sucks. I don't even...but my life sucks too. You're in therapy because your wife and daughter died and that...that sucks. It sucks and it's sad and awful but you've never even...I'm not in therapy because my mom and I don't get a long. I'm not in therapy because I'm generally a happy person, I'm not. Meredith Grey...not a happy person. I'm...dark and twisty, scary and damaged or something."
"I know that," he nodded slowly.
"But you sit and rant and I listen. I listen to you cry about Amy and Sarah, I listen to you bitch about your scrub nurse. I listen. And I help you. But you act...you act like you're the only one who got a shit deal or whatever. And you didn't. Because your mom? Your mom doesn't have Alzheimer's and thinks she's talking to someone other than you and tell you that you were a mistake."
"Oh my god..."
"And your dad didn't just...leave when you were five. He didn't. He loved you and...he wasn't there one minute and then the next morning when you woke up, he wasn't gone. He wasn't gone and choosing a new family over you because apparently, you were a mistake and your parents never loved each other and you never should have been born. And that's why now you have two half sisters who are great but you don't know if you want to know them because they weren't mistakes. They weren't."
"Meredith..."
"And now you're not trying every day to juggle the fact that your mom has Alzheimer's and she's in a nursing home and no one but you knows and the fact that your new family and your ex-dad wants to get to know you and you can't...I can't...so I get it, Derek. Your life sucks. For the past two years, it's really, really sucked. But my life has sucked for a long time and I'm done. I'm done."
"Oh Mer..."
"So, no, I'm not fine," she whimpered as tears streamed down her cheeks. "Because I'm your anchor and you're supposed to be my anchor but I'm like the Titanic or whatever that big boat was and I'm a massive disaster and I'm...you're an ass. You're an ass and a bad friend. So I'm not fine."
"I am so sorry," he breathed, a tear running down his cheek.
"It's...." she took a deep breath as she fell on her side, hugging one of his pillows close to her. "But you can keep bitching about your scrub nurse now."
"No," he shook his head. "Talk."
"I'm fine," she mumbled into the pillow.
"No you're not," he sighed. "Meredith, you can talk to me."
"Hmmm," Meredith nodded, rubbing her eyes quickly.
"Come here," he murmured, offering her his hand.
"What?"
"Come here," he sighed, grabbing her hand. "Bed's more comfortable."
"Fine," she sighed, letting him pull her up.
"Thank you," he nodded, pulling her toward the bed and dragging her down onto it. "Talk."
"I...I don't..."
"You don't?"
"I don't know what to say and..."
"How long has she been sick?" Derek asked, laying on his side to look at her.
"I don't know," Meredith whispered. "I noticed four years ago."
"That's a long time to not tell anyone."
"She made me...I swore I wouldn't."
"She made you?"
"Yeah."
"That's...that's not fair."
"She's Ellis Grey, Derek. She's....she made me swear."
"Bitch," he breathed, squeezing her hand.
"No."
"She made you go through four years of this alone, Mer."
"She's my mom," she shook her head.
"I know but..." he sighed. "Okay, it's still not fair to you."
"I can handle it. I can...I can deal with it."
"I know you can," he nodded.
"I just...I'm done," she whispered, curling into a tight ball.
"Done with what?" he asked quietly.
"I don't...everything," she whispered. "Everything. I see her and....then there's my dad and everything else."
"Oh Meredith," he breathed, shifting closer to her. "Uncurl."
"Hmmmm," she nodded, uncurling her body.
"I got you," he whispered, wrapping both arms around her.
"I was a mistake," Meredith murmured softly as a tear fell down her cheek. "My mom tells me that...I'm a mistake."
"Let it out."
"No," she shook her head. "No."
"Yes," he nodded. "Have a big ugly cry. I promise I won't tell anyone."
"But I...I can't, Derek. I don't."
"You can."
"No. I just...my mother cheated on my dad. She had sex with someone other than my dad and he left and my mom wanted...and now she's sick. She has Alzheimer's. And now I know..."
"Just let it out," he urged. "As an expert on the subject, crying helps."
"Of course, Dr. Shepherd," she laughed, though it came out as a harsh sob.
"I've got you, it's okay," he whispered. "Just let it all go."
"Derek...Derek..."
"It's okay, Mer. You're not alone."
"I can't...Derek," she gasped as her entire body began to shake. She hadn't wanted to do this. The only people who knew about her mom were Dr. Wyatt and Lexie. She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to fall apart, not when she really, really had to be strong.
"It's okay, I'm here," he breathed.
"Mistake...I was...mistake."
"Have a good cry and we'll talk about that when you're breathing again."
"Derek," she sobbed softly as she wrapped her arms tightly around him, surprised when her breathing began to slow down. He was holding her tightly, his body holding hers as it shook violently with suppressed tears. But she didn't want to cry. She didn't want to cry anymore. Because she felt safe and wanted and...something.
"It'll be okay," he murmured. "Trust me, it will be okay."
"Hmmm," she breathed against his jawline.
"You're not alone anymore."
"Derek..."
"Hmmm?"
"I don't know. I don't...."
"It's okay."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, curling into his chest. "Your...your life sucks."
"It does," he nodded. "So does yours."
"Yeah."
"We talk a lot about mine," he murmured.
"We do."
"Talk about yours," he whispered.
"I..." she took a deep breath. "My dad left when I was five. He just...left."
"He left?"
"I woke up one morning and he was gone."
"Oh Mer..."
"He was just gone and my mom..." she shook her head. She wasn't going to tell him everything; he didn't need to know everything. "We moved to Boston and my mom was busy and then I moved here for my residency and then...four years ago I went home and the house...she left her keys in the freezer and kept asking why I was home from school."
"God..." he breathed, squeezing her tightly.
"And then...I found out they weren't letting her cut anymore. She wasn't cutting. The great Ellis Grey wasn't cutting and she told them she wanted to write a book and...she's not writing a book. She's not. Now she doesn't even remember she was a surgeon."
"How bad is it? Where is she?"
"She's in a home," Meredith breathed. "And um...it's advanced. Really advanced."
"That's hell."
"She doesn't...she says things. About the guy she cheated on my dad with and how...how if my dad hadn't wanted a baby so damn bad, the guy...her lover or whatever would have stayed with her. That I just ruined everything."
"Can...can I call her a bitch now?" he asked as she felt his fingers working through her hair.
"She doesn't know who I am, Derek. She doesn't....she doesn't know who she is."
"That doesn't mean she can treat you like that," Derek breathed.
"She's not...it's what she is. It's who she is and I'm used to it and...she doesn't want people to know. She doesn't want people to know and I know...she never would have said any of that if she weren't sick."
"How...how did she treat you when she wasn't sick?"
"Oh..." Meredith murmured and then swallowed. "It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me."
"Why?"
"Why?" he frowned. "Because you're...you're you. You're my Meredith. And you...I'm supposed to be your anchor and I can't anchor you if I don't know exactly what it is I'm anchoring. And you...I want to know."
"We...we didn't get along."
"Why?"
"I...I don't know," she murmured. "She was working. Always. Always working and I hated it and...I rebelled. I rebelled."
"You rebelled?" he smiled slightly.
"I had pink hair," she giggled softly. "I thought...she didn't notice."
"She didn't notice that it was pink?" he frowned, running his fingers through her blonde hair.
"Not until someone at the hospital asked why I had pink hair. She said I was an embarrassment."
"Oh..." he breathed. "I think...you were probably very cute."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously," he nodded.
"That's...I was angry. I wore a lot of black and I was angry."
"You probably had the right to be angry."
"I don't know. She said...she said I stood in doors a lot. And something about people who stand in doors aren't going anywhere."
"You went somewhere."
"I guess."
"You guess?" he frowned. "Mer, you're a pediatrician."
"Which isn't a surgeon."
"Which is," he breathed. "It takes a really special person to be a pediatrician. Kids are...they're our future, they're what we're leaving behind us and someone has to take care of them. And to do it...you need to be so caring and patient and strong and...being a pediatrician is nothing to be ashamed of. You're a kick ass doctor."
"Thanks," she rolled her eyes, smiling ever so slightly.
"It's true, Mer. It takes a lot. You have to..it's kids."
"I know," she whispered.
"Don't ever look down at what you do. It's amazing."
"I try not to," Meredith whispered, curling closer to him, surprised by how warm and safe she felt. "I...just when she remembers I'm not a surgeon."
"It's hard," he breathed.
"Derek...don't pretend you get it. I know it...but having a mom with Alzheimer's? It's different."
"I know it is," he nodded. "I don't get it."
"You don't."
"And you don't get what I've been through."
"I didn't say I do."
"I was getting to a point," he murmured. "We don't have to get it."
"Okay."
"But we get...each other or something."
"We do," she whispered as she smiled softly.
"You're not a mistake."
"Derek..."
"You're not a mistake, you're not a waste of space."
"Okay," she breathed, desperately wanting to believe him as she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist.
"You're amazing," he breathed, hugging her tighty. "You're...I can't think of anything bad to say about you. You're one of the main reasons I can stand. You're just...you're you and I know you don't know what that means but you're you and...you're one of the best friends I ever had."
"Mark's your best friend."
"And you're my other best friend."
"Okay," she nodded carefully.
"You are," he sighed.
"I know, Derek," she whispered. "I know."
"I'm sorry I haven't been a good friend."
"No...I didn't mean that."
"You did."
"I didn't. That was...I didn't."
"Mer, you did. From my experience...when you're mad you say what you mean."
"Yeah...I guess."
"I'm sorry and that...that ends now."
"Derek, it doesn't have to," she shook her head quickly.
"What? Of course it does."
"No, your life really does suck and you're trying to figure out this whole...dead family thing. Which sounded really insensitive and I'm not being insensitive about Amy and Sarah," she said quickly. "They were your family and you have to figure things out and I really, really am trying to be a good friend about it. Good friends listen to their friends about dead families and I just...have a crazy life."
"Good friends listen to their friends talk about their crazy life," he sighed.
"It's beyond crazy. Really soap opera-y and..."
"And I want to hear about it all."
"You really don't. And I don't whine. Except in therapy. In therapy I whine and I talk about myself and my crazy life and...that's why I'm in therapy," she finished. "Not because my family is dead. Not because it's hard to breathe sometimes. Because my mom has Alzheimer's and my dad left and I have sex with boys like a whore on tequila. And because sometimes...sometimes it's really hard to breathe."
"And I'm your friend. I want to know every bit of it. I want to help you...I don't want it to be hard for you to breathe."
"Okay," she breathed.
"Really okay?"
"Really okay."
"Good," he nodded. "So if I'm going on and on...tell me to shut up if you need to talk."
"I will."
"Promise?"
"Promise," she giggled.
"Good," he smiled, tugging gently on some of her hair. "You have pictures, right?"
"Of my hair?"
"Yeah."
"I don't know. I might," she shrugged. "At my house. Which is actually my mom's house, by the way. Not mine.'
"I want to see," he smiled. "And...it's yours if you live there."
"That's not true," she rolled her eyes. "You lived at Mark's house."
"That was different. Mark was there."
"And my room mates live with me. And it's...it's my mom's house, Derek, until she dies."
"Fine," he sighed. "But...this can be yours too."
"I guess," she whispered, curling closer to him. She hated how he made her feel. Well, not hated it. That was a lie. She loved how he made her feel, but she hated it too because he was him and somehow, he made things okay.
"You need a place. And you love it here."
"I do love it here," she nodded. "But it's technically your trailer. And your land."
"And I am sharing with you."
"Okay," she nodded, wrapping her legs over his.
"We both need the escape," he murmured.
"Do you still need it?"
"Sometimes, yeah."
"Hmmm," she breathed, knowing he didn't want to hear how sorry she was. Knowing he didn't want her to tell him that it was going to get better because she didn't know if it was going to. She had no idea if Derek's life would get better.
"Hmmm..." he echoed, smiling softly at her. "We'll be okay."
"I'm not an optimistic person, Derek Shepherd."
"I'm working on you, Meredith Grey."
"When did you become Mr. Optimistic?" she laughed.
"I'm not. But right now you're down. If we're both down...we can't be down together."
"We can't?"
"Well we could be but I'm trying here."
"You're doing a great job," she giggled, running her fingers over his dark curls. "Dr. Wyatt would be very proud."
"Good to know," he smiled.
"I thought so," she murmured, turning to her other side and looking around the room. On the bedside table, there was a small teddy bear dressed in a princess costume and she took a deep breath, closing her eyes tightly. Derek's family was dead. He was her friend and not...he was her friend. And the owner of the teddy bear wasn't here. Not anymore. But she had Derek. She had an anchor.
"You okay?" he whispered, squeezing her waist.
"Yeah," she nodded quickly, turning back over to look at him.
"You sure?"
"Crazy day, Der."
"I know," he smiled softly, running his hand over her hair.
"Crazy day with...just crazy day."
"Meredith..." he sighed, ducking his head down and brushing his lips against hers. "You can talk to me."
"Oh," she breathed against his lips, her eyes falling closed. "I know."
"Good," he murmured, shifting to rest his head on the pillow beside hers.
"You...you can talk to me too. I know you know that but...if you don't want to just be sad and you want to talk about princess teddy bears or...you can," she murmured, her nose inches from his
"I know I can," he smiled.
"Good."
"Good," he echoed.
"Hmmm," she breathed, closing her eyes again as his hand worked through her hair. "I should...I should probably head home."
"No," he murmured.
"No?"
"Stay here tonight."
"Stay...stay here?"
"Hmmm," he nodded. "You can have the bed and I'll take the couch. I don't want you alone tonight."
"Derek...I'm fine."
"I know you are but you've had a bad day and it's her house. Just stay here."
"Fine," she sighed. "But I'll sleep on the couch. It's your bed."
"No. Bed is yours."
"Derek...are you sure?"
"I'm sure," he nodded. "I'm a surgeon, I can sleep anywhere."
"Fine," she rolled her eyes.
"Good," he grinned. "And if you're good, breakfast in bed tomorrow."
"Define good."
"Sleep instead of rambling all night."
"I don't ramble all night!"
"Well then you'll get breakfast in bed tomorrow."
"I...I should probably warn you. There are rumors..."
"Rumors?"
"That I snore."
"What? Did you not think to warn me before I made the offer?"
"I didn't know you were going to offer!"
"I guess I'll put up with it."
"You guess?"
"Yeah," he sighed. "And it's probably..."
But tonight Derek would be sleeping a few feet away from her. She had wanted to suggest sharing but she couldn't do that, even if she felt warm and safe and a bunch of other things in his arms, she couldn't ask to sleep in his arms. But that was okay. Because she would be sleeping near him and somehow his trailer was the one place where she didn't feel so alone.
"Thanks, Der," she smiled as he handed her the clothes.
"No problem."
"It is because you're sleeping on the couch but...thanks."
"Hmmm..." he shrugged. "I don't want to be alone either."
"Bad day?" she whispered. "I mean...other than the scrub nurse thing."
"Not really," he sighed. "Not great but nothing really bad."
"That's good. At least it wasn't bad," she sat up in bed, watching as he stood in front of her.
"It is good," he nodded.
"Derek?"
"Yeah?"
"Are we going to bed...couch now?"
"If you want."
"I don't want."
"Okay, what do you want to do?"
"I don't know," she giggled, holding her knees.
"You don't know?"
"Come sit or something."
"Okay," he nodded, moving back to the bed.
"Good," she nodded, reaching for the remote on his beside table, her hand brushing against the princess teddy bear, nearly knocking it over.
"Be...be careful," Derek breathed.
"Sorry," she murmured, pulling the blankets back from the bed and burrowing underneath them as she turned on the TV.
"It's okay," he sighed.
"I'll be careful," Meredith whispered, resting her head on her hands.
"Hey!" he frowned slightly, reaching to rub her back. "I know you will be."
"Hmmmm," she breathed, her eyes starting to close as he slowly and gently ran his hand up and down her back.
"Go to sleep, Mer."
"Okay," she murmured. "Night, Der."
"Night, Meredith."
"Hmmm," she breathed, turning back to face him as she gently brushed her lips against his and then curled up into his arms.
"You...we're not alone," he murmured, holding her close.
"We're not alone," she echoed softly as the warmth spread over her body slowly. It always surprised her. It always surprised her how warm Derek made her feel, how safe. Because she had had a terrible day, and two hours ago, she had been done. She had just wanted tequila. But Derek was good too. Derek had somehow made her forget her entire bad day, and now he was making sleep easy.