Re: working on my backwards walk - meredith, pg-13citron_presseMay 26 2010, 05:03:21 UTC
God, this is heartrending, but so real and so very well done. There's a kind of bottom-line clarity during a traumatic event; but then there's the fallout when you get back to routine, and you portray that with so much insight here.
Every word is beautifully written, but this line
Planning for the future just doesn’t make as much sense, in her mind, when she’s seen where the plans of those who died got them.
did something so bleak to me. So sad, so inevitable, really. I wonder if this is how it will happen on the show?
Awesome work.
(Also - if you're in the mood for a request, I would love to see what you'd do with a fic that showed each character in their obligatory session(s) with Dr. Wyatt.)
Re: working on my backwards walk - meredith, pg-13slybrunetteMay 26 2010, 12:20:53 UTC
I don't think it will happen on the show. I think there's too many fans who would bitch and complain because they wouldn't understand and I don't think these writers are that brave. But I did feel this odd sense of wondering, you know, how can these characters really ever be fully the same again?
Your request made me lol. You know why? It's the first story idea I jotted down post finale. I'm already working on that exact fic. Great minds huh?
Breathe - Meredith/Derek, Gliquid_courageMay 24 2010, 23:02:58 UTC
She's begging.
"Stay awake, Derek. Derek!"
He opens his eyes slowly; takes a gasping breath. She looks terrified; her eyes are begging him to stay awake. To live.
"Breathe," he whispers, though all she seems to hear is the hiss of his breath. He needs her to breathe, so he can breathe.
Cristina is gone. He doesn't know where, but he knows that it is just them.
It takes all of his strength to reach for her palm, but he does. They connect with a slap, and he tugs her closer.
He tries again. "Breathe."
"Derek, I..."
"Breathe," he responds, coughing in pain. "You breathe, I breathe."
It takes her a moment, but she gets it. He watches her take a slow, deep breath, and it fills him too. "Cristina will be right back. We're going to take you to Dr. Altman. You're going to be fine."
"Mere..."
"I'm breathing." He half-smiles and his eyes start to flutter. "Derek, stay awake. Derek. Derek! I'm breathing, Derek, stay awake!"
His voice, playing over and over in his head, is the last thing he knows.
Re: Breathe - Meredith/Derek, GabvjMay 25 2010, 00:14:29 UTC
This is so lovely. I've really found a whole new love for this pairing (despite not liking Mer in the beginning and not really caring for Derek right now) and this inexplicably demonstrates why.
From yesterday, the fear... - Lexie, implied Lexie/Alex , PGwaltzmatildahMay 26 2010, 08:09:53 UTC
From yesterday, the fear...
-
He's home three nights before she finally lets herself fall apart.
Before that there'd been a rampant gunman to protect him from, blood transfusions to run the gauntlet for, ex-wives to impersonate. Before that there'd been emergency surgeries to sit through. Waiting room coffee to consume.
Traces of his dried blood to scrub from her hair.
Before he'd been home for three nights there'd been a ventilator to communicate around, silent, stony terror in his eyes to try and smooth away without actually talking about why it was there in the first place.
There'd been a heart rate monitor that effectively filled the long minutes and hours of silence as he slept and sedating pain medications that blurred his words and weakened the permanent grip his fingers now had on hers.
But it's been three nights now. He's been home for three nights when she walks into the bedroom, more 'theirs' now than 'his' despite the fact that she's barely slept in it for a month.
Comments 341
Meredith, regression
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Every word is beautifully written, but this line
Planning for the future just doesn’t make as much sense, in her mind, when she’s seen where the plans of those who died got them.
did something so bleak to me. So sad, so inevitable, really. I wonder if this is how it will happen on the show?
Awesome work.
(Also - if you're in the mood for a request, I would love to see what you'd do with a fic that showed each character in their obligatory session(s) with Dr. Wyatt.)
Reply
Your request made me lol. You know why? It's the first story idea I jotted down post finale. I'm already working on that exact fic. Great minds huh?
I'm glad you liked this hun! Thanks!
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"Stay awake, Derek. Derek!"
He opens his eyes slowly; takes a gasping breath. She looks terrified; her eyes are begging him to stay awake. To live.
"Breathe," he whispers, though all she seems to hear is the hiss of his breath. He needs her to breathe, so he can breathe.
Cristina is gone. He doesn't know where, but he knows that it is just them.
It takes all of his strength to reach for her palm, but he does. They connect with a slap, and he tugs her closer.
He tries again. "Breathe."
"Derek, I..."
"Breathe," he responds, coughing in pain. "You breathe, I breathe."
It takes her a moment, but she gets it. He watches her take a slow, deep breath, and it fills him too. "Cristina will be right back. We're going to take you to Dr. Altman. You're going to be fine."
"Mere..."
"I'm breathing." He half-smiles and his eyes start to flutter. "Derek, stay awake. Derek. Derek! I'm breathing, Derek, stay awake!"
His voice, playing over and over in his head, is the last thing he knows.
"Breathe."
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Beautiful, beautiful stuff.
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Sorry, it is too long to be posted as a comment :(
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-
He's home three nights before she finally lets herself fall apart.
Before that there'd been a rampant gunman to protect him from, blood transfusions to run the gauntlet for, ex-wives to impersonate. Before that there'd been emergency surgeries to sit through. Waiting room coffee to consume.
Traces of his dried blood to scrub from her hair.
Before he'd been home for three nights there'd been a ventilator to communicate around, silent, stony terror in his eyes to try and smooth away without actually talking about why it was there in the first place.
There'd been a heart rate monitor that effectively filled the long minutes and hours of silence as he slept and sedating pain medications that blurred his words and weakened the permanent grip his fingers now had on hers.
But it's been three nights now. He's been home for three nights when she walks into the bedroom, more 'theirs' now than 'his' despite the fact that she's barely slept in it for a month.
Barely slept in anythingBarely slept ( ... )
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